#it’s been months I can’t stop thinking about it

[withlovemark]

“SORRY, HEART”

pairing: fwb! mark lee x tutor! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 29k+

synopsis -> sex helps him focus. focus he needs for your tutoring sessions. it was a win-win for mark lee when you proposed to add a stress-relief session to the schedule. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesn’t believe in love equals the ultimate friends with benefits set-up. it’s the perfect dream team! but uh oh…it seems like mark has been shot by cupid’s arrow. will mark survive all of your attempts at pushing him away?

warnings -> grab the tissues! (can be used for multiple reasons) pet name unlocked: kitten, so much dialogue, they’re both yappers, mentions of: periods, reader has avoidant-attachment issues, a little toxic, a lot broken, mark is so down bad it hurts me, angst, +18, crude language, fuckboys, a party, alcohol, starts off with a lot of smut! edging!!!, mark whines and whimpers and cries, oral (m+f), he loves eating pussy, nipple-play, fingering, blow-job, sex on the desk, rough sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, sensory play, overstimulation, a fake orgasm, mentions of: period sex, masturbation (m).

an -> third installment of the loverboy series is yours! i did so much research for this holy shit (shoutout to quizlet, friends with benefits, prom-pact and ariana grandes: eternal sunshine album). i don’t know anything about advanced music theory or history please i got it all off quizlet. if it’s wrong, do not come for me! important things to note -> you do not have to read stupid cupid or flying kiss to understand this story but 1) mark is the favorite fuckboy. he’s very upfront. tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. 2) jeno and bunny’s story is simultaneously happening 3) jaemin and his gf, angel, are happily together. have fun reading! with love, c.

“i don’t feel it,” your voice bites through the night air, cold and detached.

“i don’t love you.” you add with absolutely no remorse, just the tired truth of someone who stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.

mark can’t help but think back to how exactly he got here — watching you walk away with the heart you shattered into a million pieces, drowning in the silence, wondering how he ever thought he could be the one to change your mind.

ᓚᘏᗢ one month ago. april 2. wednesday.

mark bursts into the study room like he was being chased, slightly out of breath and as usual, thirty minutes late to your tutoring sessions. you didn’t even bother looking up from your notes.

“you’re late. again.” you said flatly, highlighting a passage in the textbook as if his presence didn’t affect your mood at all. it did. the wasted time makes your irritation grow sharper. it was only three days of the week and he still couldn't show up on time.

“sorry, was busy,” he said, running a hand through his mess of dark hair, lipstick stain on his neck, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.

you arched your eyebrow, “that’s the third time, mark.”

he offers an apologetic smile, dropping into the chair across from you, pulling out his notebook, “i know, i know, she just…took longer to finish.”

you slammed your highlighter down, “just because i’m your friend doesn’t mean you can completely act unprofessional,” you roll your eyes, “this is my time you’re wasting too.”

he looked at you, your signature eyeliner and maroon lips making you look sharper, meaner, ready to pounce at any minute.

a mixture of guilt and fear flickers briefly across his features before he sighed and slumped forward, “y/n, i’m sorry. really. it just helps with the stress you know? clears my head so i can focus.”

“mark,” you leaned in “is your sex life really more important than your three failing classes?,” you remind him of the reason why you were here in the first place. he doesn’t respond and the silence was answer enough. you look at him, brain already calculating ways to solve this problem, until you got to one conclusion — it’s a ridiculous idea but it would be the most effective.

“fine,” you said, tapping your pen against the table, “we can have sex,” you propose.

mark whipped his head towards you like you’ve just grown two heads, “what?!”

you shrugged like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, “i can’t have you missing another session, you need to pass these classes,” you reason. “i have a 100% success rate mark, i’m not letting you ruin that because you need to get your dick wet…so show up earlier, we add a stress relief session then start tutoring right away,” you explain like you’ve been thinking about this the whole week.

mark chuckles, an eyebrow raised. sounds like a pretty great plan to him — too great…actually.

“what’s the catch?,” he asks, eyeing you suspiciously, elbow on the table as he leaned towards you.

“no catch, i just have one rule” you smirk, pointing a finger up. he nods, urging you to go on.

“you can’t sleep with anyone else,” you say simply.

this makes him laugh.

“i don’t go exclusive, y/n.”

“please,” you scoff, “i don’t want to date you mark,” you say clearly, “i just don’t want to catch a disease.”

you were very aware of mark’s title — everyone’s favorite fuckboy, leader of the dream fraternity, co-captain of the university’s basketball team and can play guitar. everyone wants a piece of him. and almost everyone has gotten a piece of him.

“i’m clean!,” he argued, looking offended.

“yeah? for how long?,” you shot back, a teasing smirk on your face.

he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair, “fine…then i get to add a rule too.”

“that’s fair, what’s your rule?,” you ask.

“you can’t fall in love with me.” a smirk on his lips.

this makes you laugh.

“well, isn’t your lucky day, mark lee,” you say with a sly smile, “i don’t believe in love.”

he studied you for a moment, confusion flickering behind his eyes, a subtle memory from freshman year playing in his mind until the smile on his face faded into something quieter, “i’m serious, y/n,” he says with conviction.

you raise a brow, “and i’m serious too mark…the day i fall in love is the day money starts raining from the sky.”

he watches you then lets out a short laugh, “okay, just wanted to be clear,” he nods, a grin creeping in, “so…friends with benefits then?”

“exactly,” you hold your hand, “deal?”

mark laughs before accepting it, sealing the deal with a firm handshake, “deal.”

without warning, you yank him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that steals his breath — it’s quick, sharp, deliberate. before he can respond, before he can even think about deepening it, you’ve already pulled away, a smirk on your lips as you start packing your things in your bag.

“this room’s only reserved for an hour and you just wasted it,” you say over your shoulder.

“my apartment. friday. 6PM. if you’re late we’re going straight to studying.” you warn him before leaving him there feeling like he just won the lottery.

it was the perfect situation for him — he’ll pass his classes and get to have sex without having to do all the extra work of chatting up a girl and trying to impress them just to get in their pants. it hasn’t even started yet and he already felt like a winner.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 4. friday.

mark knocks on your door at exactly 6:00 pm on friday evening. his backpack hung on his shoulder.

“huh…so you can arrive on time,” you tease, leaning on your apartment’s door.

“what can i say? i’m stressed and i need to be relieved,” he shrugs, a childish grin on his lips.

“alright, come on,” you grab his arm, dragging him past your living room and straight to your room.

“so…how do we do this?,” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps inside, standing in your room awkwardly, backpack still on his shoulder. he looks around, noticing your bare walls and how everything seemed to be neat and organized.

“what? sex? aren’t you supposed to be the expert?,” you quip, raising an eyebrow in amusement, snapping his attention back to you.

he rolls his eyes, “well usually, i flirt with the girl first before i get in their pants,” he reasons.

“nu-uh, we don’t have time for that,” you cut in, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your red lacy bra and the tiny black pajama shorts that hung low on your waist.

mark’s eyes widen slightly, glint with amusement, unabashedly checking you out, “dang dude, you’re fucking sexy.”

“is that how you talk to every girl you’re about to have sex with?,” you chuckle.

“that’s how i talk to my friends,” he smirks, earning a snort from you.

“are you gonna take off your clothes or are you just gonna keep gawking?,” you tease, lips curled into a smirk. mark rolls his eyes, finally setting his backpack down by the edge of your bed and removing both his t-shirt and sweats with ease, leaving him in his black boxers, still standing across from you — it was your turn to check him out. he’s lean, more toned than you expected, abs on display, the outline of his cock prominent through his boxers.

“nice,” you mutter, making him raise a brow in amusement. in one smooth motion, you slide down your shorts and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side somewhere as you stood proud and tall, in your red matching panties, not shying away from his gaze.

your confidence (tits) draws him in, stepping forward, closing the distance. both his hands come up immediately, cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing smoothly over your nipples with open fascination. you hitch your breath, the sensation of his fingertips making your pussy clench around nothing.

mark almost can’t believe what’s happening right now, “this is silly,” he breathes out, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, his hands still massaging your boobs.

“my boobs?,” you ask flatly, a little offended.

“no, your boobs are great, dude,” he says quickly, “i meant this situation is silly, i’ve never had sex with a friend before,” he says, still rolling your nipples in between his fingertips.

“you can always back out, we can skip this and go straight to tutoring,” you say, giving him a chance to change his mind.

he lets out a dry chuckle, eyes flicking down between you, “y/n, you’re kidding right? my dick is hard as shit and i’m playing with your boobs…we’re not going straight to fucking tutoring.”

you grin, biting back a laugh, “i’m very aware that you’re playing with my boobs and if you don’t plan on fucking the shit out of me in the next minute, i’m putting my clothes back on,” you warn him.

he doesn’t wait for a second warning. his boxers hit the floor and you follow suit, slipping your underwear to the ground. grabbing a condom out of his wallet, he rolls it on smoothly. then, with no hesitation, he makes his way back to you, lifting you off the ground. mark was a lot stronger than you thought he was, picking you up like you were as light as a feather. your back hits your mattress with a bounce as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent, that devilish, childish grin sitting on his lips.

then his mouth crashes onto yours in an instant, messy and hungry. the kind of kiss that’s all teeth and heat and no hesitation. you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from him, urging him closer as your tongue meets, battling for dominance. his hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, hips, waist like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin.

“hurry up mark, you’re on the clock,” you pant, fire curling low in your belly.

“you said fuck the shit out of you right?,” he growls against your throat, voice low, barely restrained.

“if you can,” you tease, challenging him to pick up the pace.

he was tired of the mocking. mark aligns himself against your entrance and with no warning, no gentleness, he slams into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs — the stretch was delicious, filled with pain from the lack of foreplay, groans bouncing off of each other’s mouths, “fuuck y/n, you feel insane” he grunts as he thrusts with a rhythm that makes the bed squeak.

you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him in even deeper, harder, pussy sucking him perfectly as you calculatingly start clenching impossibly tight for him, “h-holy shit,” he groans, sweat dripping from his temple, “-quit doing that,” mark warns but doesn’t relent his unforgiving pace, chasing the edge like he’s starving for it.

all the while, you just wanted him to get there – the faster he finishes, the faster you can start tutoring. your hands wander throughout his body, leaving goosebumps all throughout his skin until they land on his nipples, you rub him until he was whining and groaning against your mouth, “fuck-mm close,” he manages to say in between his heavy pants, “me too,” you lie.

the pleasure in your stomach was building but you weren’t at all close to the finish line.

“yeah?,” he hisses, thrusts getting messier and messier as he fights back the urge to cum, waiting for you. his lips latch on to your neck, licking and kissing.

you decide to end his torment, “i’m cumming,” you announce, exaggeratedly, forcing yourself to clench around him as much as you can, watching him topple over. he grunts beside your ear, his release finally taking over as he spills into the condom.

“oooh, yeahh,” you moan, faking your orgasm as you push him off of you and into the bed beside you.

mark barely has a moment to catch his breath, chest still heaving from his orgasm, when he turns sharply toward you, narrowing his eyes, “wait…did you just fake it?,” he asks, feeling betrayed.

“uhh, no,” you mutter out, focusing on the ceiling, pretending to catch your breath.

mark shuffles beside you, clearly unconvinced, “that’s not how girls cum, y/n”

“that’s how i cum!,” you argue and mark shakes his head. he wasn’t stupid. he’s been with enough ladies to know that that was a fake orgasm.

he shakes his head, frowning, “no way, i feel like i just used you,” he says, the words leave a sour taste in his mouth — mark never leaves a lady unsatisfied, which is the reason why he kept on showing up late to the past three tutoring sessions. it doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’s not leaving the bed until they are done…until you are done. it’s a point of pride. call it ego or decency but either way, he doesn’t half-ass pleasure. how else do you think he got the title of the favorite?

“it’s fine mark, we need to start our session,” you say, sitting up. but before you could get further, mark tugs you back into the pillows.

your eyes widen in slight shock, “what are you doing?”

“pretty sure friends with benefits means were both benefiting,” he smirks, “i’m not moving on until you cum,” eyes glittering with playful determination, earning an eye roll from you.

“we don’t have time for this,” you scoff, trying to push him away. but he was a lot stronger than you, grabbing your hands and pinning you down the mattress.

“give me ten minutes,” he says, voice low. you look at him amused, “you think you can make me cum in ten minutes?,” you mock, an eyebrow going up.

“just shut up and reap the benefit,” he bites back as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, leaving no room for arguments.

“no hickeys, mark,” you warn him. he ignores you but doesn’t leave a mark anyways, lips trailing lower and lower, stopping for a moment to suck on your nipples, your back arching towards him. he takes a mental note of the way your body immediately responds every time he gets near your breasts.

that familiar pleasure starts to pool in your core again, unmistakable and creeping in fast. and when your hands go lax in his grip, he knew he won this time. he looks up at you with an amused glint in his eyes, hands slowly letting go of your wrists as he let them roam all over your body, mouth still worshipping your breasts, watching your every reaction, taking note of your satisfied little hums, the softs gasps and the way your lips part unconsciously.

he travels lower and lower, tongue leaving a warm, wet path behind. then, he pauses “hmm, what’s this?,” his fingers ghost over the tiny artwork placed on the right side of your hip, just above your underwear line.

“a cat.”

“cute,” he says with a grin, kissing over your tattoo, “why a cat?”

“i don’t know, i was drunk,” you were growing impatient, the frustration was getting to you. you’re pretty sure he’s already used up half of his ten minutes. now’s not the time for small talk.

“hurry up, mark,” you say, taking matters into your own hands and pushing his head lower – exactly where you needed him.

mark chuckles, the warmth of his breath making your thighs twitch, “feisty,” he teases, “the cat is fitting.” you’re ready to fire back with a smart remark but the words get caught in your throat when he slowly licks a strip between your folds.

“mmm, you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, kitten-licking in between your folds before finally dragging his tongue up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud. a moan slips from your lips, all thoughts of tutoring and snarky comebacks dissolve, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue lapping against you.

you haven’t been eaten out in so long, your last and only boyfriend absolutely hated going down on you and the other one night stands you had never seemed like they knew what they were doing – always leaving you to finish what they started.

mark settles comfortably between your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as he continues sucking, licking, spitting, completely consumed with the kind of hunger that makes it feel like he’s the one being pleasured. your hips instinctively move, grinding against his face as you tried to reach the high that was slowly but surely building inside you, “fuckk mark, f-feels so good,” you whine against his touch.

you feel him smirk against your clit before he slides two fingers in, following the curve of your pussy, learning the way your body molds. his mouth doesn’t stop, still locked onto your sensitive bud, sucking with relentless precision. and as soon as he found that spot, you can't help but shut your eyes in pleasure.

“oh goddd, mark,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed, head flat against your sheets as your fingers made it’s way to his hair, lightly tugging, making sure he stays exactly where he is. he lifts your legs over his shoulders, adjusting his angle, pushing his fingers in deeper as his mouth continues its worship. he eats you out like a man starved, the noises of your juices squelching filling up the room and it felt so, so good.

you can feel the heat rising through your body. mixtures of ragged pants and high-pitched moans tumbling out of your lips helplessly as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. then his free hand slides up to your torso, pinching your nipple just enough to tip you over the edge, completely at his mercy, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, im cumming, im cumming,” you gasp, repeating it like a prayer, fingers digging into the sheets until you’re knuckles were white, trying to ground yourself on something. your orgasm completely washes over you, body trembling as you were left gasping for air, jaw slacked, eyes rolled back, toes curled.

mark doesn’t let up, drawing out every aftershock until you’re twitching, overstimulated. you push his head away and only then does he pull back – grinning, breathless, face decorated with your slick.

“now that’s how girl’s cum,” he says proudly, licking his fingers clean, looking smug as hell.

you roll your eyes, trying to snap out of the haze, “you said ten minutes, that was definitely longer.”

“whatever kitten, we still have twenty minutes left of the tutoring session,” he smirks.

“kitten?,” you repeat, confused.

“it’s fitting right?,” he shrugs. you shake your head, reaching for your clothes with a playful scoff, ignoring the way your legs still feel like jelly. twenty minutes was not enough time but you grabbed the flashcards you had meticulously prepared earlier anyway.

“fine…time for music theory,” you say as mark groans dramatically beside you.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 6. sunday.

mark: wyd? come to the dream fraternity party

kitten: can’t. busy.

mark: but i need to relieve stress…

kitten: mark, it’s only been two days.

mark: yeah two days too long 😩

kitten: we’re literally seeing each other tomorrow

mark: why are you blue balling me? 🤕💔

kitten: im not. you can still use your hand! 🤗

mark: it doesn’t feel as good ☹️ not warm enough ☹️

kitten: go heat up a sock and figure it out 🫶

mark: are you sure that rule of yours is final? a really hot girl just walked in and my dick is pointing towards her direction 👀🍆🥵

kitten: go ahead 🙂‍↕️

mark: bro, really???

kitten: yep! but don’t expect to get your dick anywhere near me tomorrow 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark: nvm 😑

kitten: see you tomorrow 😇

mark begrudgingly walks up the stairs, ignoring all the girls who were glancing his way. he can’t risk it, the deal had just started and yesterday was too fun to spoil — settling into his sheets, he pumped himself up and down until he was spilling into his hand.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 7. monday.

when mark walked into your apartment, he was ready to pounce, eyes already scanning you like you were his favorite dessert. but he stopped short, confusion flickering across his face – you were wearing layers upon layers, “uhmm, you do know it’s spring right?,” he says.

“i know,” you say, a playful smile on your lips as you lead him towards your bedroom.

“so what’s with all the extra layers?,” he trails behind you, suspicious.

“we’re gonna play a game,” you say simply.

“noo, y/n, the deal was i get here, we have mind blowing sex, then we study,” he groans.

“yeah, well that didn’t work out last time,” you point out, remembering the fact that it took the two of you almost the entire session just to finish, “so i decided, we’re gonna mix the two together,” you finish, a sly smile on your lips.

“what’s the game?,” he narrows his eyes, though he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in him.

“for every question you get right, i take off a piece of clothing,” you say, explaining the rules, “and for every question you get wrong, you remove one of yours.”

he perks up immediately, spark dancing in his eyes. mark loves a good game. loves it even more when he wins — he sits at the edge of your bed, already looking far too cocky for someone who’s about to get mentally grilled. you sat on your computer chair across from him, flashcards in hand and fully clothed.

“alright, i’ll start off easy,” you begin, flipping through the flashcards you barely used during the last session, “what’s a major key with 6 flats?”

he laughs, “please, a G flat.”

“correct,” you nod, peeling off the scarf around your neck and dropping it to the floor. mark smirks. if all of your questions were this easy, you were going to be naked in no time.

“next, what do you do to write an aeolian scale?.”

“you use the natural minor of the note given,” he says with ease, relaxed and confident.

“lucky guess,” you mutter, slowly removing your cardigan.

“i’m not that clueless,” he explains, finding it all amusing. his eyes dropping to the now visible thin tank top you were sporting.

“then why are you failing three of your classes?,” you shot back.

“because the assignments are dumb and i don’t have time to do them, i already know how to apply them in real life,” he shrugs, “why do i need to know all these terms?”

you study him for a second, “mark, you can’t expect to skip steps and magically pass all of your classes,” you say.

“yeah, i’m learning that the hard way,” he pauses, his shoulders tense, the stress catching up to him once again, “now ask the next one so i can suck on your tits,” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, asking the next question anyway, “in scale degrees, major scales, what are the augmented triads?”

“trick question,” he smirks, “there are none.”

“correct,” you smile at him, removing one sock.

“you’re taking off one sock?? that barely counts!,” he groans like a spoiled child.

you shrug innocently, “still clothing.”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “okay fine, give me the next one.”

you raise your eyebrow, “what’s a hemiola?”

mark frowns, racking his brain for an answer, “uhhh…”

you grin, tapping your foot.

“something about a repeating melodic phrase representing a theme?,” he asks, head turned like a curious puppy.

“wrong. thats a leitmotif,” you correct him, “shirt’s off, mark lee.” he groans but obeys, tugging it over his head. you do your best not to stare too hard at his abs but he catches you.

“define consonance and give an example,” you grin wickedly.

“seriously?” he asks. “this is cruel.”

“take off your pants if you can’t answer,” you tease him. he mutters under his breath about how unfair this was before his pants come sliding off, leaving him in his boxers.

“what is a long note divided into shorter, usually melodic, values?,” you continue, holding up the next card.

“oh! i know that one, it’s a diminution,” he says proudly. you remove your other sock.

he narrows his eyes, “you’re cheating.”

“nope. you’re just losing,” you tease.

you flash the next card, “alright, what is existing or occurring within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?”

“...i hate you,” he mutters as he gives up on pretending to answer, accepting defeat and sliding off his boxers. his semi hard cock on display.

you laugh, fully dressed except for the missing cardigan and socks, “awee, look at you…all naked and we’re barely halfway.”

mark glares, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “this is the most academically humiliating foreplay i’ve ever experienced.”

you laugh, “where is the tenor clef sign located?,”you give him an easy one, knowing that he needs to have motivation to keep going.

“one space above the alto clef,” he says. you hum, pleased, stripping off your leggings, showing off the white lacy underwear you wore just for him. his eyes drop instantly to the undeniable wet spot of your arousal and you part your legs slightly, inviting him, teasing.

“you sick little, kitten,” he swallows, “this is actually turning you on?,” he asks, mildly confused and little turned on.

“what can i say? i love humiliating men,” you smirk, earning an eye roll from him, “what’s a cluster?”

“a chord consisting of at least three adjacent notes of a scale,” he answers, voice low, tense. more determined now to get the answers correct.

“good boy” you purr, lifting the tank top over your head, that little praise makes his mind go absolutely crazy, his cock twitching. your sheer white bra does nothing to hide your hardened nipples and mark fights back the urge to pull you into his lap and fuck you senseless, his boner getting harder within each passing second, restraint visibly cracking.

“define neoclassicism,” you ask, voice steady, brows raised.

mark blinks, then answers slowly, “uhh a general revival or interest in classical cultures and usage of themes and styles from ancient greece and rome?”

you look up at him, impressed, “can’t believe all it takes is wanting to see my tits to get you this focused,” you grin, unclasping your bra and tossing it right into his lap. he catches it midair, eyes instantly zeroing in on your now bare-chest. you roll your chair closer to him, spreading your legs and placing them on either side of him, effectively caging him in. mark’s breath hitches – it was getting real hot in here and he was fully naked.

he reaches for your breast but you slap his hand away, “touch me and the session ends. we’re done.” you warn — having control turns you on more than you care to admit. the way his eyes darken but obeys anyway. the tension practically pulsing between your bodies. he looked so small in between your legs and it makes you want to break him even more.

“hurry up and give me the next one,” he mutters, jaw tight, trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. it was torture. having a sexy half-naked girl right in front of him and not being able to do anything about it. your breasts were on full display, sitting prettily on your chest, your panties were practically dripping and he wanted nothing more but to taste you. wanted nothing more than to hear you moaning under him once again — you were a cruel vision of pleasure he’s not allowed to touch.

“a phrygian is which degree for the key?”

“uhh fifth?,” he guesses.

“wrong,” you say, lips curling in amusement. he groans, cock twitching.

“a mixolydian is which degree for the key?”

“third!,” he tries this time.

“wrong again,” you say, nearly laughing now. his patience was starting to blur. he’s one wrong answer away from losing his mind and you’re relishing every second of it – enjoying every grunt that passes his lips. his cock twitching so close to your core, making you clench.

“you got them mixed up,” you correct him before asking the next question, “a lydian is which degree for the key?”

he groans. he was barely holding on. he shuts his eyes, pausing, taking a minute to think about it, “...fourth?”

you lean in, voice silk and smoke, “are you asking me or are you telling me, mark lee?”

“i-i’m telling you,” he says, voice shaking with the amount of restraint he was trying to hold on to. you were so close now, heat practically radiating off of you. you smirk up at him, tossing the flashcards to the side and smashing your lips on his. he responds immediately. lips chasing yours, urgently and needy.

“correct,” you whisper in between the kiss. his hands immediately latch under your thighs as he pulls you into his lap. you feel the hot, hard press of his cock against your soaked underwear.

“take these damn panties off,” you murmur against his ear. he grunts as his fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling down the last barrier between you.

“fuuckk, you’re dripping for me,” he praises, dragging his fingers through your slick, rubbing up and down your folds before sliding two deep inside of you, making you moan against his lips. this time, his fingers immediately find that spot that makes your toes curl.

“r-right there, mark…d-don’t stop,” you whine, the tension between you rising as your hips start riding his digits, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling inside you. each thrust sends sparks through your belly, pressure building fast. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast but precise circles that have your head falling back, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you continue to bounce on his fingers. his lips close around your nipples, tongue flicking, sucking furiously, drawing out the high you can’t hold back — your orgasm came crashing down embarrasingly fast, leaving you breathless.

“can’t believe humiliating me got you this fucking soaked,” he smirks, breath hot against your skin, “you’re such a dirty girl, kitten,” he teases, licking his fingers clean. before you can recover, he flips you over with practiced ease, ass up and back arched just the way he likes it. you hear the familiar crinkle of foil as he tears open the condom wrapper, then feel the thick heat of him pressing against your entrance before he slides in, deep, the stretch making your teeth clench — the wait was worth it. you were so wet for him…so warm he almost busted as soon as he entered.

“you’re cumming on my cock this time,” he growls, determined, as he adjusts his member, searching for the angle that makes you scream. as soon as he found it, his fingers dig into your hips, thrusting into you from behind, sharp and relentless, your face pressing down on the sheets as the slap of skin echoes throughout the room.

this new angle hits you perfectly, “f-feels so good,” you manage to gasp, voice shaking with every snap of his hips as your hands continue to grip the sheets for stability, moans growing louder with each movement.

he growls in response as he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, “this what you wanted, kitten?, to tease me until i snapped?” you can barely form words, nodding helplessly, body jolting forward with the force of each thrust. his hand snakes around to press against your lower belly, holding you still as he drives deeper, harder, making sure that you can’t fake anything this time.

“cum,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he starts sucking on your shoulder, “cum all over my cock.”

“fuck mark–i’m so close!,” you cry out, voice cracking under the pleasure, building fast and unforgiving. your knees feel weak beneath you but his grip keeps you grounded, keeps you exactly where he wants you. sweat sticks to both of your bodies now, the heat almost unbearable. then, without warning, he pulls you up, your spine arching as he pressed you against his chest. one arm wraps around you tightly, holding you in place while the other dips between your thighs, fingers finding your swollen clit, circling in perfect sync with the relentless thrust of his hips.

“c’mon, kitten” he breathes against your neck, voice low and rough, “give me another one,” he grunts. you cry out, whimpering, overwhelmed — your release finally taking over as breathless whines of his name slip from your lips.

you came all over his cock, body jerking in his arms, head falling back against his shoulder. mark holds you through it, grinding deep inside, chasing his own release with a sharp muffled groan against your skin. for a moment the room is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the faint creak of the mattress, savoring your shared orgasms until he finally pulls out, flopping backwards onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, arm draped over his eyes. you let yourself melt into the pillows, limbs heavy and boneless, chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. he lies beside you, chest glistening with sweat, rising with each breath.

“well,” mark pants, breaking the silence, “if we keep studying like this, i’m definitely passing all of my classes with an A+”

you laugh breathlessly, turning your head to the sound of his voice, “A+ huh? that’s bold of you.”

“please,” he says, cracking one eye open to look at you, “you saw me, I was focused, determined…inspirational,” he exaggerates, a playful smile on his lips.

“you got half of the questions wrong,” you point out, “we’re far away from an A+,” you tease.

he smirks, “fine by me, that just means more tutoring sessions,” he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

you kick him out of your apartment as soon you both calm down, mark leaving completely satisfied. this is, by far, the greatest deal he has ever had to make.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 9. wednesday.

you sat cross-legged on the bed, flashcards in hand, watching mark settle into your desk chair with boyish excitement written all over his face. he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the armrests. you weren’t wearing a ridiculous amount of layers today, which meant he was going to be able to fuck you faster than last time.

“so,” you begin, flipping through the stack, “today’s game is a little different.”

his brows lift in curiosity, an eager smile playing at his lips. of course it was. he should’ve known you always came with surprises. always keeping him on his toes.

“for every question you get right,” you say, pausing just for dramatic effect, “i suck your dick.”

mark’s eyes widen a little too fast, the thought of your mouth around his cock so appealing. this was going to be too easy, “you’re joking?,” he breaks into a smug grin.

“i’m not,” you smirk, making your way over to him and sinking to your knees in front of him. you look up, expression all wide eyes and faux innocence. he knows better by now. “but don’t get cocky,” you warn, smirking as you settle between his legs, “i’m not moving if the answer is wrong.”

that wipes the grin off his face, just a little, “i’m not getting any of them wrong.” he came prepared this time, actually paying attention in class and reviewing his notes in order to be able to be rewarded by you.

you chuckle as you tug his sweats down, revealing his already semi hard cock, “no underwear?,” you asked, an amused smile on your face.

“why bother?,” he shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips. with no warning, your fingers wrap around his member, stroking slowly, giving him a preview of what’s to come — mark immediately groans at your touch, head tipping back slightly at the sensation of your warm hands, cock already twitching in your hand. you looked so tiny around him and he’s already struggling to keep his composure. then your tongue glides along the side of his shaft, slow and deliberate, before swirling around the tip, collecting his leaking precum. the taste lingers on your tongue as you look up at him through your eyelashes. he was too relaxed, too comfortable, eyes focused on you with a smug on his lips. without breaking eye contact, you take the tip of his now fully hard cock into your mouth, sucking gently. it earns a low grunt from deep in his chest, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, but just when he leans into the sensation, you pull away completely, lips slipping off him with a soft pop.

frustration flashes across his face as you casually reach over and grab the stack of flashcards beside you and he’s reminded that this was the game. perhaps, this is not as easy as he thought it was going to be. he sighs in defeat and all you do is wave the flashcard lazily in your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. mark sits up straighter, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing in front of you, twitching with every passing second.

“alright,” you begin, voice sweet, innocent and absolutely lethal, “what is existing within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?,” you repeat the question he got wrong last time.

mark squints, trying to focus, despite the way your fingers are slowly tracing circles on his inner thigh, not quite touching him. “diegetic or source music,” he answers. you raise an eyebrow, impressed, a hum of approval slipping past your lips.

“correct.” before he can smirk, you lean forward again, lips wrapping around him once more, this time a little deeper. his head falls back instantly, a low grown escaping. you suck him in slow and warm, letting the reward sink in and just as he starts to melt, you pull away again with a soft gasp of air, reaching for the next card like nothing happened.

he looks down at you, flustered, chest rising faster, “kitten, you’re insane.”

you flash him a dangerous smile, “define mickey-mousing.”

he doesn’t answer right away, jaw tight, trying to stay focused while his cock stands there, glistening and so so hard. “a film technique that syncs the accompanying music with the actions on screen,” he says, breathing hard.

“look at you, actually paying attention,” you tease before leaning in again, placing a kiss to his tip, taking him once again, just a little deeper, a little wetter. his whole body shudders and he mutters something that sounds like a prayer. you were only three flashcards in. he doesn’t know how much of this edging he could take. he hopes, god, he hopes he knew all the answers. when you let go again, you smile sweetly, tapping the next card against his thigh, making him clench slightly.

“what are the notes of a D major triad?” — “D, F, A,” he manages to say.

“hmm, wrong, those are the notes of D minor triad,” you correct him, leaving his cock neglected as you sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. “no mouth for wrong answers,” you tease as he groans, head falling back dramatically.

“you’re actually evil, kitten.”

you only smile, reaching for another card. he glares at you like a man on the verge of a breakdown, “hurry up, i'm going to die.”

you ignore him, “list all major intervals,” you ask, resting your elbow on his knee like this is the most casual game of flashcards in the world. like his dick wasn’t right in front of your tits — the image has his cock twitching extra hard. he had to get this one correct. he racks his brain for the answers, recalling what he learned in class.

“it’s major second, major third, major sixth and major seventh,” he answers shakily.

your hand curls around the base of his cock again, making him suck in a sharp breath “correct,” you take him in all over again. he exhales hard, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding himself. you’re slower this time, deliberate and precise, letting the praise build in your mouth just like the tension between you. he did give you four correct answers. when his hand tighten a little too hard, you pull off again.

“fucckk, i hate this,” he whines shakily.

“scale the degrees in order,” you smirk.

“tonic, supertonic, mediant, subdominant, dominant, submediant, leading tone,” he answers quickly, determined, voice breathless with need.

“wow…all correct,” you say, a light shock in your tone and a proud smile tugging at your lips. he doesn’t even get a second to bask in it before your mouth is on him again, wet, warm, perfect. he moans, hips twitching up slightly and you let him, just for a second. the reward is intoxicating. and you have half the mind to continue sucking him until he was writhing under your touch. but you pull away once more, wiping your lips with a devilish smile.

“alright, next one,” you say cheerily, like this is all just a friendly trivia night.

mark looks like he might cry.

“why are you doing this to me?,” he gasps.

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you say, “besides it’s working, you’ve only missed one question so far,” you say proudly.

“yeah, because i’ll literally die if i miss another,” he whines — this went on for a good thirty minutes more. mark only getting a couple wrong, until you were down to your last flashcards and he was teetering at the edge. ready to bust every single time you put your mouth on him but not quite getting there.

his cock is so red, throbbing, leaking to the point it hurts. a couple drops messily on his thigh, a couple on his stomach but never enough to reach his full release. there were tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips quivering. he was absolutely gutted. absolutely vulnerable.

“what’s the natural minor scale pattern?” — “minor diminished major minor minor major major,” he answers, getting the words out as quickly as possible.

this time, instead of wrapping your mouth around him, you reached for the condom you had ready, sitting pretty on your desk, anticipating this moment. his breath hitches as you tear the wrapper open with your teeth, wrapping it on his hard cock, mark practically growling under your touch. you smile sweetly, removing your shorts and crawling into his lap, knees pressing into either side of his hips. the heat of your soaked underwear brushing against his cock makes him hiss through his teeth.

he can’t take it anymore.

“what are the chromatic intervals?” — “minor, diminished and augmented intervals,” he whispers, barely hanging on.

“good boy,” you praise him as he breathes heavily under you. pushing your panties to the side, you lined him against your entrance. his breath catches, fingers finding your hips as you start to sink down onto him, inch by inch, teasing slowness, warm and tight until he’s fully buried inside you. his cock stretched you just right. a strangled moan escapes both of your lips.

“holy shit,” a low, wrecked sound escapes his throat, as he grips your hips tightly, trying his best not to unload right there, “thank you,” he trembles, breathing shakily.

he was obviously not going to last long. and it was so extremely hot. you discard the flashcards as you rolled your hips once, slow and deep, each movement designed to drive him out of his mind. mark’s hands are everywhere now, on your back, thighs, gripping your ass as he helps guide your motion, pushing up into you with desperate need. everytime you drop your hips, he lets out another choked curse, eyes glued to the way your body moves against his. you feel his cock twitch inside you, a telltale sign that he was incredibly close to coming undone.

“you gonna cum for me?,” you whisper against his ear, teeth gently grazing the lobe. he nods frantically, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. he’s never felt this kind of pleasure before, the kind that makes him lose absolutely all sense of logic, just nodding like he was some sort of yes-man.

“-fuucck kitten, yes, d-don’t stop, p-pleasee,” his whines encourage you, dragging your hips in a deep circle that has you both gasping. it doesn’t take long. the tension you’ve built the entire session finally snaps as he groans your name, hands clutching you, hips buckling up hard, coming with a gasp buried into your neck.

you don’t stop bouncing. continuing to fuck yourself into his cock, rubbing your own clit.

“k-kitten, it hurts,” he whines. you block all of his pleas of stops, all of his whimpers, the way he’s fully crying out, fingers gripping his own hair, until your thighs are shaking, orgasm taking over, a loud moan slipping from your lips as you cling to him, both of you gasping, bodies slick and trembling.

you absolutely wrecked him — mark’s vision blacks out for a minute too long. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he tried to catch his breath. hair sticking to his skin. that was the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had and he’s had a lot.

and just like the past two tutoring sessions, mark was out the door as soon as he got dressed and it doesn’t get any better than this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 11. friday.

mark enters the university’s basketball court, searching for your frame. you’d texted him to meet you here, a lot earlier than the usual tutoring session. the court was empty, echoing slightly and he spots you instantly, sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand — he wonders what today’s game is, a little worried about the public location you chose.

“hey dude,” he redirects your attention to him, “are we about to indulge in exhibitionism?,” he teases, an eyebrow going up.

you laugh, closing your book. “no mark, we can’t have sex today,” offering him a sheepish smile.

he looks at you like you just delivered the worst news he could ever hear, “is everything okay?,” he asks, taking a seat next to you.

you nod, “everything’s fine, i’m just on my period,” you say casually, turning toward him.

his eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment before a grin breaks out of his face, “you know…,” he leans in, whispering, like you weren’t the only two people in this room right now, “a period only stops a sentence,” he teases.

you roll your eyes, lightly shoving his face away, “nu-uh mark lee, no way,” you say crashing all his dreams of period sex down the drain, a light smile on your lips.

“why not?, i heard somewhere, it helps with all the cramps and stuff,” he continued, still trying to convince you.

“i’m on my second day, everything’s too messy,” you say flatly, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “—anyways that’s not why we’re here,” you rise from the bleachers, grabbing one of the basketballs on the side and tossing it to him.

mark catches it easily, “we’re gonna play basketball?”, he asks, a brow raising.

“yup, i read somewhere that physical activity helps with memory retention, so we’re gonna play a game while i tutor you,” you explain, standing a little below the hoop.

“you can play basketball?,” he asks, clearly amused, as he starts dribbling the ball in front of you.

“i’m no co-captain of the basketball team or anything but i’ve got a few moves,” you reply, stealing the ball from him with a cheeky grin, “and…if you win, you get to choose what we do during the next session.”

his brow raises, a smirk on his face, mind already racing of things he wanted to do to you. he could have you in his lap as he fingers you until you cry for him. he could have you bent over your desk as he fucks into you. he could spend the whole day eating you out. the possibilities were endless.

“alright,” he says, already feeling competitive, “game on.”

mark dribbles lazily as he awaits your question. you narrow your eyes, “the classical era dates are?”

mark answers quickly, “1750-1820,” like it was a piece of cake. he really is getting better at paying attention in class.

“correct. take the shot.” he does and it bounces off the rim, a curse slipping from his lips. you catch the ball with a grin.

“the romantic era dates are?,” you ask, already dribbling towards the other side. mark gets the answers correct again as you ducked under his arm, tossing the ball into the net.

“okay, showoff,” he mutters playfully, jogging to grab the ball. the game goes on for a solid fifteen minutes. the two of you jogging back and forth. you call out questions, dates, composers, and mark fires back with surprisingly accurate answers. it was a good game between friends, a good session between a tutor and her student.

mark was winning now with several points ahead of you. he hasn’t missed a single shot since the first one, while you were just getting lucky every time you made the ball in your net. he can’t help but find it adorable though – the way your face would light up every time you made a shot. the way you would do a mini celebration, a happy little dance. it was so different from your usual serious, focused, studious side. this side of you is loose, giddy, warm and he’s having way more fun than he expected to.

“alright,” you say breathless but still trying to keep up with him, “dates of the modern–”

you don’t get to finish your question. a sudden wave of pain crashes through your abdomen, so sharp it knocks the air right out of you. you double over mid-step, the ball slipping from your hands and bouncing off to the side, a yelp coming slipping from your lips.

“w-what’s wrong?!,” mark practically bolts to your side as you inhale, trying to catch your breath.

“sorry, just a really bad cramp,” you say, shutting your eyes as the pain traveled all throughout your body. he watches you for a second or two, eyes scanning your figure, registering the pain before he closes the distance, crouching in front of you. he has no idea what to do. he’s never dealt with a girl on her period before. his hands hover for a moment before resting gently at your sides, fingertips against your lower abdomen in slow circles.

you flinch, surprised at his touch, “what are you doing?”

“don’t massages help?,” he asks softly, big brown eyes filled with worry. his touch is careful, like he’s afraid of making it worse. you don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t really help, not with cramps this intense. still, the gesture alone tugs something warm in your chest. so for a moment you just let yourself sink into it, leaning against his chest for support like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests there, tentative at first, then heavier. it’s a moment of vulnerability you haven’t shown anyone for a long time – not since your ex made you feel like needing comfort was a flaw, like softness was a burden.

mark stills when you rest against him, almost like he’s holding his breath. then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you, careful and steady, not sure if any of this is okay. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you, warm and solid, his chin brushing the top of your head as you breathe through the pain. no teasing, no jokes, no snide remarks – just quiet presence.

eventually, you gently pull back, and he feels himself straighten as if waking from a trance. “i think i have to cut the tutoring session short today,” you say apologetically.

“kitten, don’t even worry about that,” he says immediately. the nickname — usually tossed around with a grin, lands softer now. you don’t think too much about it, brushing off the feeling as soon as it came.

slowly, you got up from the floor, pushing through the lingering pain, “i’m gonna go home and die now,” you say with a weak laugh. he chuckles quietly, standing with you.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offers and you turn it down immediately.

“it’s okay, mark,” you make your way back to the bleachers, gathering your things. “i’m a big girl,” you add, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “i can take care of myself,” you shoot him a smile as he follows you out the court.

“you sure?,” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s still not convinced.

“yeah,” you say gently, “thank you, though. i'll see you on monday,” you lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek, quick, grateful. then you turn to leave, not waiting for his response.

behind you, he stays still on the court, watching your figure walk away like he’s not quite ready to let the moment end. the kiss on the cheek lingering on his skin.

once he got back to the dream house, mark still can’t help but wonder if you were okay. he’d showered, changed, even tried zoning out to whatever song was playing through his speakers but his thoughts kept circling back to you. the image of you doubling over in pain, your face twisting as you tried to play it off, like it was nothing, kept replaying in his head like a song stuck on loop.

and he hated it – hated seeing you hurt. hated the way you pretended it wasn’t a big deal. hated the way you apologized for needing a break and absolutely hated the way you waved him off, like his concern was too much.

he told himself it was normal. this was normal. he is your friend. it’s normal to be worried about your friends. that’s allowed.

when he walked into the living room and found jaemin sprawled across the couch, glued to his phone and jeno halfway through a protein bar, he didn’t stop to think before blurting out, “what do you do when angel and bunny are on their periods?”

the question dropped like a brick. jaemin blinked, his gaze dropping from his phone to mark, “uhh why?,” he asks, a curious grin on his face.

mark shrugs, flopping down onto the couch “nothing, just curious.”

there was a beat of silence, then jaemin replied, “well, angel’s gonna murder me for saying this but she gets needy…wants me glued to her side the whole time with extra cuddles and kisses…heating pads are a must,” jaemin chuckles, “oh and sex helps too,” he says with a wink.

mark huffed a quiet laugh, “what about bunny?,” he turns to jeno.

jeno choked on his water, “uh–what? bunny and i don’t have sex,” he says flustered.

mark eyes him suspiciously, “yeah, i know. that’s not what i meant,” he says slowly, “i mean she’s your best friend and you’ve known her since forever right, you should know what she’s like on her period?,” he asks, a playful grin on his lips.

“oh..right,” jeno mutters, “uhm she’s the complete opposite, she locks herself in her room like she’s going into hibernation mode, she just texts me with a list of snacks she wants and i leave those at her door and leave,” he explains.

mark chuckled, but it faded quickly. his mind was racing with a million thoughts of how he could make you feel better. what were you like? did you want to be left alone? did you want snacks? cuddles?...is cuddling even allowed?

jaemin tilted his head, studying him. “wait…is this about your girl?”

mark blinked, “she’s not my girl.”

jeno gave him a long, skeptical look.

“she’s really not!,” mark repeated, more defensively this time, “we’re just friends and i care about my friends well being, okay? that’s all,” he convinces himself more than he does them. before they could say anything else, mark stood up, headed for the door.

⟢

when your phone buzzed, you squinted at the notification from your cocoon of blankets, blinking away the throb of cramps that hadn’t quite given up yet.

mark: hi friend

mark: i’m outside

mark: just want to make sure you’re okay lol

you hesitated, considering pretending to be asleep but something in you tugged toward the door. that soft, stubborn part that wanted not to feel alone tonight. curse these hormones. you cracked it open to find him there, hoodie half zipped, a plastic grocery bag in hand.

“hi,” he said, a little breathless, “i brought you some things.”

you opened the door wider, letting him in, “i told you i was okay.”

“i know but as your friend i had to make sure,” he practically shoves the bag in your hand as you inspect what’s inside. the bag was filled with different kinds of snacks, chocolates, candies, and three boxes of heat patches.

you took the heat patches out and raised a brow, “three?”

“listen,” he said, flopping lightly on your couch, “jaemin said they were ‘a must’ and i panicked,” he says casually and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept up. it’s been a while since the last time you’ve let anyone do anything for you.

“thank you,” you breathe, the words soft and sincere, stripped of your usual teasing edge. the smile you give him isn’t your usual sly smirk either, it’s quieter, gentler and it makes something in mark’s chest flutter unexpectedly. he looks at you a second too long, heartbeat catching like it’s suddenly forgotten how to work properly.

minutes later, the snacks were spread out on your coffee table, a heating patch working its magic under your hoodie and to all the boy’s i've loved before playing on your t.v. mark sits beside you, a careful few inches of space between your bodies. he didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to cheer you up with jokes or distractions. he was just there – steady and warm and quiet.

when the credits roll, he finally speaks, voice low, “you know,” he says, glancing over at you with a soft smile, “for someone who doesn’t believe in love, i wasn’t expecting you to put on a romcom,” he turns his body towards you as you sat end to end on the couch.

you laugh, shifting slightly under the shared blanket, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a tired smile, “please, your favorite movie is spiderman…do you believe he’s real?”

“how do you know spiderman’s my favorite movie?,” he asks, a light smirk on his face.

“sophomore year, film elective class, you were totally geeking, practically bouncing up and down next to me,” you remind him, exaggerating the detail a tiny bit.

mark huffs a laugh and nudges your knee with his, “ok but it’s different…spiderman is a fantasy character.”

“exactly,” you say, your voice softening, “so is love.”

the words aren’t bitter. just…matter-of-fact. like something long accepted and carefully folded away.

mark turns his head toward you, studying your face in the dim glow of the screen. shadows play across your features, softening the hard lines you've spent building — he thinks back to the first time you met during freshman year orientation. you were the first person he’d ever talked to, bouncing up to him in a soft blue sundress and a smile too big for the room. you introduced yourself with sparkles in your eyes, asking him if he believed in soulmates, like that was a completely normal ice breaker. you were glowing then, all wide-eyed and wonder. all heart. spilling stories about your high school boyfriend like love was the most natural thing in the world. he hadn't even told you his name yet, and there you were, already peeling yourself open for him, talks of forever from your pink lips. you were all blush-colored hope and reckless honesty. he remembered thinking you were kind of intense. too trusting. overly romantic. he hadn’t understood the way your whole world seemed to spin on the axis of love.

now, years later, that sparkle has been replaced by a colder fire, a guarded kind of strength he’s grown used to. the kind that keeps everyone at arm’s length. the kind that never let’s anyone close enough to see where it hurts. your smile — once easy and disarming, has taken a brittle edge, still beautiful, but sharpened by something heavy and unspoken. you don't talk about soulmates anymore. you don't talk about love at all, not unless you're tearing it down.

he noticed the change during the last semester of freshman year. people whispered about your breakup, but no one knew the details. just that it ended and something in you shifted. like someone had quietly reached inside and flipped a switch — it became more evident when even the way you dress has changed. your light, gentle dresses were replaced by blacks and deep reds, structured silhouettes that made you look untouchable. strong. sharp. sometimes he wonders if you’re hiding behind those clothes or they just mirror what’s left…he wonders when exactly the world taught you to stop believing in forever.

“what made you say that?,” he asks finally, voice low, careful not to press too hard but needing to understand.

you hesitate, eyes not meeting his just yet. debating whether its safe to give this piece of yourself away. and maybe it was the vulnerability of the night. maybe it was your hormones messing with your brain, like you’ll tell yourself later. but right now, you find yourself answering him.

“it’s just…” you exhale, like the words are caught in your chest, “love doesn’t last. people swear it’s forever and then suddenly, it’s not. one day you’re holding hands and dreaming together, you have a ring on your finger and the next they’re telling you that you’re too much. too needy,” you blink slowly, memories flickering behind your eyes, “that he only loved me because it was easy. and the second it got hard, he left.”

mark stiffens beside you, “you were engaged?,” he asks, surprise threading through his voice.

“shocking, right?,” you force out a dry laugh, bitter around the edges, “i almost fell for the scam.” your voice is steady, each word carefully measured, telling the story without letting it touch you. but your eyes betray you, they've gone distant, unfocused, like you’re watching a memory you wish you could turn off. there’s a smile on your lips but it’s all muscle memory. empty. the kind of smile people put on when they’re used to pretending they're fine.

mark’s jaw tightens. there’s a sharp flare of protectiveness in his chest, something hot and furious aimed at the ghost of a man he’s never met.

you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “so yeah, spider-man, love, same category…fiction.”

the silence that follows is thick, heavy, but mark doesn’t rush to fill it. he sits in it with you, lets it stretch out between the two of you without trying to clean it up. the pain in your voice isn’t loud, but it’s there – woven through your words like thread through fabric. he doesn’t throw some cliche about how the right person will come along. does not insult you with hollow optimism that people usually responded with. he doesn't try to talk you out of your truth or tape over a wound he can't even see the full shape of.

instead he nudges your knee again, gentler this time. a small touch, reassuring.

“i don’t think you’re too much,” he says quietly, the words careful and real, “not even a little.”

you look at him then. you don’t say anything for a while, neither does mark. and he’s not sure if that was something he was even allowed to say. you’ve built so many walls that even kindness feels like trespassing…then, in true fashion, you break the weight with a teasing smile, “who’s your favorite spiderman anyway?,” you ask.

the shift it so perfectly timed, so you, that it makes mark huff a laugh. he knows its your way of giving you both room to breathe again and he's grateful for the shift.

“tobey,” mark says with zero hesitation.

you groan dramatically, hands flying to your face, “no way, everyone who says they’re favorite spiderman is tobey is blinded by nostalgia! his spiderman was a creepy stalker!,” you argue passionately.

you lower your hands just in time to see mark laugh…really laugh. the kind that crinkles his eyes and pulls a genuine sound from his chest and it makes something bloom in yours.

“okay well, who’s yours then?,” he asks playfully. “andrew.”

he scoffs, “nope, his peter parker was great but his spiderman was not ‘spidermanning’ at all!,” he argues back, the made-up word slipping out so confidently it makes your brows lift.

you roll your eyes, a smile on your lips, “i didn’t say i liked him for the spiderman of it all.”

“oh?” he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “then what?”

you shrug, slow and teasing, “he’s the prettiest one…and,” you lean in a little closer, mark watching you, “i like looking at pretty things.”

his smile falters for a split second, eyes flicking to your lips.

“do you now?,” he murmured, voice lower now, the space between your faces shrinking by the second.

“mhm,” you mutter and then, without overthinking it, you close the space and kiss him softly, slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of something fragile, unsure if it’s meant to be held at all. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. it’s not like any of the others you’ve shared before – not playful, not messy, not reckless. this one feels like stepping into something unknown.

it doesn’t last long. just a few seconds. just lingers enough to feel real.

when you finally break apart, neither of you speaks right away, just looking in each other’s eyes like you unlocked something dangerous. the stillness lingers, dense and a little too loud.

you're the one to break it, typical you, peeling the weight away with a crooked smile, “i’m still not down for period sex” you tease. he forces himself to laugh, trying to push away the tension that lingered in the air.

“fair enough,” mark says, standing slowly, “you should rest anyway and maybe lay off the tobey slander,” he says.

you laugh softly, leaning your head against the couch cushions as you watch him move around your apartment like he belongs here, “i’m right about him.”

he chuckles, grabbing his phone and keys, “text me if you need anything, seriously. even if it’s just to complain about life,” he says warmly, a small smile visible on his features.

“thanks for tonight, mark,” you say as you get up, stretching your limbs and walking him to your door.

he pauses in the doorway, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods, “of course, that’s what friends do.”

and then he leans in again, placing a soft kiss on your temple. his voice is quieter this time, almost tender, “goodnight, kitten.”

you freeze, just for a second, but your response comes automatically, “goodnight, mark”

and with that, he’s gone, the door closing with a soft click. you’re left in the quiet and for the first time in a long time, your apartment doesn’t feel quite so lonely. and still, despite the warmth lingering on your lips, despite the comfort of knowing someone cares, there it is, crawling up your spine and tightening in your chest — fear.

⟢

the walk back to the dream house was quiet. mark’s hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his arms but the cool night air doesn’t do much to ease the heat still lingering in his chest. the night loops in his head like an endless record.

the kiss. he’s never been kissed like that. like it was more than two lips touching, chasing the lust.

that kiss was cautious. it had weight. like it had been carved out of something deeper, something neither of you knew how to name. he was sure of it. it’s the way you looked at him, like you completely trusted him, even for just a second. and maybe it didn’t last. maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and bury it under sarcasm and boundaries. but that look…that look is stuck under his skin now.

he exhales slowly, staring down at the sidewalk. his footsteps echoing in the quiet — you were vulnerable tonight. he knows that. he could feel it in the way you curled in on yourself when the cramps got bad, the cracks between your jokes, that look in your eyes when you talked about your ex. mark noticed it all. that’s the problem. because he doesn’t know what the kiss meant or if it even meant anything at all. maybe it was just comfort. a soft, fleeting thing you reached for in the moment. maybe you’ll wake up and decide it wasn’t real. if that’s the case, he’ll happily play along, laugh it off, bury it.

but his chest still feels tight. he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you said love was a fantasy. and you still kissed him that way. like he mattered. like he was more than just your friend, more than just a body in your bed.

his mind is all over the place. thoughts going back and forth. he swallows hard, jaw tightening. all this thinking wasn’t supposed to happen. you were never supposed to mean anything. for god’s sake, he was the one who said that you couldn’t fall in love with him with. he meant it, too. back then, it felt like the safest thing to say. a wall, not just for you but for him, too.

he doesn’t do love. he’s always been good at lines. at keeping things in neat boxes. clean. uncomplicated. no drama. bodies, not hearts. moments with no meaning, only pleasure. he knows how to care just enough to make it feel good and not enough for it to matter. he’s practiced, efficient, detached.

but something about tonight is cracking through that. and he’s not sure he’s ready to face it.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 14. monday.

when mark entered your apartment, he hadn’t known what to expect. he’d spent the entire weekend mentally pacing, replaying friday night over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every breath between you. and then he’d forced himself to stop. to push any thoughts of you away, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

but still, when you opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest like it hadn’t gotten the memo.

then you smiled, that same guarded expression, the one that never quite reached your eyes. you looked the same you had last week, composed, cool and out of his reach. he knew right then, that he was right. that moment was fleeting and completely over. erased.

“hey, earth to mark lee, you there?,” you wave your hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daydream.

“yeah, sorry, what was the question?,” he asked, blinking.

“dang dude, you weren’t lying when you said sex helps you focus,” you tease him. today was another no sex session, seeing as you were still on your period.

he chuckles, letting out a groan and burying his face in your pillows, “i can’t belive god gave you periods, this has been the longest week of my life.”

you sat cross-legged on your bed, mark sprawled out beside you, “i told you i can always give you a blowjob.”

his nose scrunches up, peeking at you from the pillow, “no. not after your last blowjob session.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you feigned innocence.

“kitten,” he deadpanned, lifting his head to glare at you, “you edged me so hard, i cried.”

“and?” you grinned, shameless, “didn’t it make the orgasm like 10x better?”

“at what cost, though?,” he asked dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, “i saw my soul leave my body.”

you laughed, reaching over to poke his side, “but you survived.”

“barely,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, sitting up, facing you now, “you really enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”

“only when you make it so easy,” you said sweetly, “besides, you didn’t complain that much.”

mark let out a long exaggerated sigh, head tilted towards you, “you’re lucky i like you.”

it slipped out carelessly. there was a beat of silence. the two of you holding your breaths at the words he uttered out.

for a second, neither of you moved. mark cursed himself internally. really? now? after a weekend of telling himself it meant nothing…he says that? out of all the things he could’ve said? he really needed to get better at thinking things out before saying them.

the memory of friday night replays in your mind. the slow kiss, the quiet way you looked at each other, the parts of yourself you weren’t supposed to show. you didn’t know why you let it happen but you did. what you do know is that you crossed a line and you had to make things clear.

you shifted slightly, voice coming out softer than before, “listen, mark…about friday night,” you bring up and you feel him freeze slightly.

“i really am grateful for the snacks and having a friend there but…,” you hesitated, searching for the right words, “i was all up in my period feelings and did some stuff i usually wouldn’t...”

you glanced at him, “if that makes sense?”

“no, i get it,” he said quickly, too quickly. “don’t worry i didn’t read too much into it,” he lies.

“cool,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile, “so…we’ll just forget about it?”

he ignores the way you can’t say the word kiss. he ignores the way he can’t bring himself to say that word either. both of you dancing around the “stuff” that happened.

he looked at you for a beat, then cracked a grin, “forget about what?”

you chuckle, shoving his shoulder and reaching out for your notes, resuming the session like nothing happened. like your heart hadn’t skipped a beat. like his hadn’t just cracked a little more under the pressure of pretending.

before the silence could settle over you, you change the topic, “you know, you kinda remind me of peter parker.”

mark raises an eyebrow, amused, “oh yeah? how?”

you lean back, teasing, “you’re always acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders but somehow manage to crack a joke when it counts.”

this surprises him a little bit. he hadn’t realized how much you could actually see through him during these past tutoring sessions. how close you’d been paying attention. he doesn’t dwell on it, afraid of what other feelings it may unlock.

“i didn’t know i was that dramatic,” he finally says, playing it off with a small laugh.

“you’re not,” you say, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, “but you carry more than you let on.”

mark looks away, lips pressing into a faint line. he wants to keep the mood light, to make another dumb spiderman joke but your words hit a little too close. and that unsettles him more than he cares to admit. he clears his throat, “well, does that make you mj or gwen?,” he flirts.

you smirk, “neither. i'm your guy in the chair.”

mark laughs, eyes crinkling, “you mean like ned?”

“exactly. reliable. sarcastic. smarter than you and absolutely not dying in anyone’s tragic love arc.”

“bold of you to assume,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. you grin back, flipping a page in your notebook. you go back to explaining the notes in front of you and he listens, nodding at the right times.

on the surface, everything settles back into easy rhythm — banter and bullet points. but under all the teasing and laughter, one thing stayed unspoken. neither of you had really forgotten. not even a little.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 16. wednesday.

to say mark was excited was a complete understatement. clearing things up with you absolutely helped, he wasn’t left wondering the maybe’s. he blamed the momentary feeling on that night and it was done. explained. buried deep in a box somewhere.

today was all about his reward and he was absolutely ecstatic. he’d been counting down to this ever since your little basketball game ended in his favor. he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as the proposition was brought up. this was his moment – his perfect payback for that blowjob that ended in tears and torment.

so when you asked him what he wanted and he replied with, “i want to cut tutoring short today and have my way with you,” you had no other option but to oblige.

which is how you ended up here now, seated between his legs, thighs parted, panties long gone. your slick glistened in the warm light of your bedroom, a blindfold wrapped securely around your head – completely open, completely at his mercy. the cloth stays firm over your eyes, heightening every sense. you feel everything. his breath on your shoulder, the heat of his thighs beneath yours, the stillness between touches. you sat there, waiting…then you felt it.

something cool and slender lightly tracing along the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, legs twitching at the unexpected contact, “what is that?”

mark hums thoughtfully, as if considering the question, “just something i found lying around.”

it moves again, gliding upward, skimming where you needed him most. he circles the object around your clit without pressure, ghosting enough to make you clench. you shift your hips, trying to chase the feeling, but he’s already pulling it away.

“mark,” you grit out, jaw tightening.

“shh,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear, “let me enjoy my reward.” you swallow hard, heat pooling in your stomach. you were sure this torture was going to last forever and you knew he was doing this on purpose. teasing you to the edge, just like you did to him.

the thing, whatever it is, drags lightly over your folds now, collecting wetness as it goes, “so fucking wet and i haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers beside you, making goosebumps rise throughout your neck. you’re about to snap a snarky remark when his fingers suddenly replace the object, two of them sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness, pressing just enough to build pressure but not nearly enough to satisfy.

“fuck,” you gasp, fingers clutching his thigh as your hips jerked. he lets you have his digits, inserting two of his fingers and curling them just where you need him the most but before you can even enjoy it, he pulls back.

you whine as he withdraws, leaving you empty and throbbing, “we’re just starting, kitten,” you hear the smirk in his voice and it’s absolutely annoying — to be vulnerable this way and have no control.

mark brings the mystery object back, the cool tip sliding up your folds again, this time more deliberately. you squirm, desperate for friction. the blindfold has turned your entire body into a nerve – every inch sensitive, every second unbearable. then you feel his hands again, large and warm, settling on your thigh, the other slipping into your shirt and gliding up your torso, fingers leaving a blaze of fire until he reaches your breast.

you inhale sharply when his fingertips ghost over one nipple, already peaked and begging for attention, “you’re always so sensitive here,” his voice cuts through the silence, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier. his thumb brushes over the bud, a whine slipping from your lips. he has you memorized by now. the little ticks that turn you on. which was a lot for mark, considering most of his past sexual partners had only been for one night.

something brushes over your nipple – cool, round, smooth. you’re not sure if its the same object and it’s driving you insane, “what the hell is that?,” you ask, your voice breathless. mark doesn’t answer this time, just littering kisses along your neck, letting the object speak for him. it circles your nipple slowly, deliberately, then he flicks it lightly, sharp enough to make you gasp and arch forward, your head resting against that space between his neck. his free arm comes up to your waist, keeping you locked against him.

“you’re not allowed to squirm yet,” he murmurs near your ear, voice thick with satisfaction. he switched to your other breast, teasing it with that same cold precision. the contrast between your flushed skin and the chill of the object is enough to make your toes curl. you needed more.

you writhe, frustrated, “mark, please,” you beg for something…anything.

“shhh kitten,” he soothes, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “be patient.”

his mouth returned to your neck, warm and wet, while the mystery object rolled lazily across your breast. your aching cunt left throbbing and dripping. you feel the hard press of his cock through his sweats and still he makes no move to satisfy either of you. he trails lower, teeth grazing your shoulder and just when you think the cold object might return to your nipple, it doesn’t.

instead, his fingers return, sliding down your slick folds. two strokes. three. then gone again.

“mark,” you gasp, body twitching under the restraint of his arm. you can’t think of any other word but his name — so caught up in the thrill of it all.

“you keep saying my name like i’m gonna feel bad,” he says with a chuckle, “i’m just repaying you.” then he brings the cold object down again, dragging it teasingly along your inner thigh before brushing it just over your clit, making you shudder in his hold, as he smirks behind you.

“kitten, you wanna know what i’ve been using?,” he whispers, smug and quiet. you nod quickly, barely able to breathe. he brought it up in front of your face, knowing full well you couldn’t see it and said, clearly amused, “your pen.”

you groan, “there’s no way it feels that good,” you managed to say. he just laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face, “the power of a blindfold,” he whispers. you barely had time to process his words before he was shifting behind you, leaving you sitting on your bed alone. a mixture of confusion, excitement and slight fear at the thought of what he has planned.

mark makes his way around, standing at the foot of your bed as he watches, loving the way you had no idea what’s coming to you. his hand makes contact with your shoulder, making you jump slightly as he pushes you down to your sheets, your back making contact with your soft pillows. you sucked in a shaky breath, wonder traveling throughout your body. then he hovers over you, kissing the hollow of your throat as he carefully pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere, exposing your tits to the cool air. he lets his tongue graze, tracing a path down the center of your chest until his lips find your nipple again. you gasped as his mouth closed around it, sucking, warm and wet. the suction paired with the flick of his tongue in a rhythm that made your spine arch.

“fucking perfect,” he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing before he soothed the sting with another kiss. his hand moved to the other breast, thumb circling lazily around the peak, squeezing just enough to make your hips buck.

but he didnt move lower, “you like being edged, don’t you?,” he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.

you whimpered, nodding, desperate, frustrated.

“use your words, kitten,” mark demands.

“yes,” you gasped, “please, mark, just–,” your plea broke off into a cry when his mouth trailed lower, down your stomach, leaving goosebumps behind. he stopped just above your mound, breathing you in like you were the only thing in the world.

“you smell like heaven,” he praises. then his hands gripped your thighs, firm and possessive, pulling you open further – his mouth on you in a second, hot, wet and needy. his tongue dragged through your folds slowly, deliberately. one long, teasing lick. then another, circling your clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned, loud and desperate, your hand flying to his hair instinctively. he groaned at the contact, encouraged. finally, he gave your clit the attention it had been begging for, flicking, sucking, licking until your thighs were trembling.

and just when your stomach starts to clench — he pulls back.

“no–,” you gasped, “don’t stop, please—”

but he had already moved his mouth, licking the inside of your thigh, soothing and tortuous all at once.

“not yet,” he said, voice dark and patient, “you don’t get to come until i say so.”

you could cry from how badly you needed him. he was relentless, bending your body to his rhythm, his pace. his tongue returned, more insistent now, fingers slipping inside you this time, curling just right and every time that heat started to spiral, his mouth would pull away, his rhythm would slow and the wave would slip just out of reach.

it was torture – delicious, devastasting torture.

your breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. the blindfold making it worse. every sound, every touch, every breath he took, every swipe of his tongue felt magnified. and mark was loving every second of it. the way he had all control under his fingertips.

“you keep sucking in my fingers,” he murmured, voice thick with arousal. “you wanna cum that badly, kitten?”

you nod furiously, broken whimpers slipping past your lips, your pride long gone. then you felt it again. that same, cool rounded object from earlier. your pen.

he dragged the tip of it along your folds, now slick and pulsing from his touch, watching the way your legs twitched with each pass, “bet you’ll never look at this thing the same again,” he whispered near your hip. the pen collects your dripping arousal, “such a mess,” he breathes out, tongue surprisingly latching onto your folds again, sucking your juices. you whimpered as he slides a finger inside you again, slower, deeper, making you feel every second of it.

“you feel how close you are?,” he asked, voice gravelly, dangerous. you nodded frantically, choking on a breath only for him to pull back again.

“mark, please, i’m sorry,” you cry out desperately. wanting so bad to finally be relieved. the edging was too much. your clit was throbbing so painfully and you needed him so badly. he leaves you untouched for a second too long, watching you squirm for him.

then with absolutely no warning, mark slaps his hard cock against your cunt, making you moan out in pleasure. he slides his member up and down your wet folds, teasing your entrance and for a moment you don’t even care that he’s not wearing a condom. his skin felt so fucking good againts yours. you just wanted him inside you. you felt the tip of him nudge against you again. but he didn’t push in. he just stayed there, teasing.

you whined, toes curling into the sheets, body arching up, “please….”

he chuckled, low, quiet, “i love hearing you beg,” he said, his tip brushing over your clit, solid and hot against your slick, “makes it real tempting to give in.”

“i could take you right now, kitten,” he whispered, voice wrecked with restraint, “you’d be so good for me, so ready,” he hums against your skin.

you gasped, barely holding onto your sanity, practically sobbing, “please do it, mark, please i need you,” you were soaked, throbbing, voice breaking with utter desperation — that was all he needed to hear. mark wraps his member and not even a second later he finally thrusts into you, sliding into your hole with ease. your body was so prepared for him, walls completely squeezing around his cock so perfectly, so warm.

he yanks off the blindfold from your face and for a moment the room spins with light and clarity until his brown eyes come into view. your tear-filled eyes meet his and the heat in his steals your breath. he was breathing just as hard as you are. just as worked up. he brings your legs up to your shoulders, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, holding on to him like he was your lifeline. he was in so deeply, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. you were trembling, panting hard, jaw clenching as you fought to keep your eyes open. mark hovered above you, his thrusts unrelenting, his own breath ragged, the heat between you unbearable. you moaned his name like it was the only word you’ve ever learned, your voice dissolving into desperate, broken sounds.

“i’m gonna—mark, i’m gonna…,” your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into his skin.

“—go on kitten,” he growled in your ear, voice thick with hunger, “cum for me.”

that was it. the pleasure tore through you like a wave, your whole body arching as your orgasm finally hit you. hard. jaw going slack, vision blurring, eyes rolling back as you practically saw stars. the way your pussy pulsed around him sent mark over the edge, “fuck kitten, such a good girl,” he managed to say in between breaths, before he was groaning in your neck, spilling into the condom. his movements slowed as he rode it out, then he collapsed gently on top of you, both of you shaking, skin slick and flushed.

you stay there for a moment or two, trying to even your ragged breathing. then…laughter bubbled from your lips. light, uncontrollable, like something cracked open inside you and it sounds like music to his ears.

“what?” his head lifted slightly, brows drawn, cock still inside you.

you giggled again, still catching your breath, “h-holy shit, mark” you gasped, eyes glassy with aftershocks, “i don’t think i’ve ever came that hard before.”

he gave you that crooked, self-satisfied boyish smirk and you almost regret complimenting him. then slowly, he pulled out of you, making your body ache with the sudden absence.

carefully, he brushed the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you okay though? i wasn’t too much?”

your heart tripped in your chest. you hated that it did.

you nodded, keeping it casual, ignoring the way his concern made something twist painfully inside you, “yeah. i’m good.”

he nods, settling beside you as you laid there, still catching your breath, your limbs buzzing, body sore in a satisfying way. mark hadn’t moved much either, his arm casually draped over your thigh, chest rising and falling steadily with you. neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t awkward. it was warm. settled. easy in a way it probably shouldn’t have been. it was too dangerous. you needed to break it.

“i’m hungry,” you said, voice still scratchy.

mark glanced over at you, a brow raised, “i just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime and the first thing on your mind is food?”

you gave him a lazy grin, “we burned a lot of calories from that, we deserve carbs”

he didn’t comment on your use of we. or the way that there was a we now makes his heart skip a beat. but the fact that he liked the sound of a we was far worse. that box he buried somewhere deep inside, suddenly popping up.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, forcing out another laugh.

you reached for your phone on the nightstand, “pizza okay with you?,” and he realizes you’re inviting him to stay. you’re not kicking him out like you usually do after a session.

he pushes it a bit further, wanting to see how far this invitation goes “as long as i get to pick the movie this time.”

you narrowed your eyes at him like he’d stepped on thin ice and he’s afraid he pushed it a little too far, misread the moment, until you say, “and what movie are you picking?”

a smile curved his lips as he grabbed his shirt and sweats off the ground, putting it on, “spiderman. obviously,” he says, already making his way to your living room couch.

you blinked at him then grabbed the first clothes within reach, your shorts from the far corner and his hoodie slung over your desk chair, “which one?,” you called through your room, putting the clothes on.

“there’s only one right answer!”

“andrew’s?,” you teased, walking out of your bedroom. he froze for a second. you, in his hoodie, smiling like that. that same smile from freshman year. his brain short-circuited. you were making this whole forgetting thing really hard.

“hope you don’t mind,” you said with a small laugh, “i have no idea where you threw my shirt,” you chuckle.

“that’s fine,” he replied, maybe a little too fast, “and no not andrew’s”

you snorted, “fine, i’ll order pepperoni and you can fangirl over your web-slinging childhood hero,” you smirk, calling papa john’s.

mark grinned as he turned on the t.v. and started searching for the movie, “hey, that’s spiderman, protector of new york, thank you very much.”

you settled beside him a few minutes later, pizza box on the coffee table, movie playing, quiet jokes exchanged through bites of crust and cheese. somewhere between tobey maguire’s awkward charm and halfway through the pizza box, the space between you disappeared. this time, there was no gap. no careful leaning away. your thighs brushed his and neither of you moved. neither of you said anything. but maybe, just maybe, you both felt it — that same quiet something that had been growing since that friday night. still unspoken. still unnamed.

and mark realizes that he could get used to this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 18. friday.

the door barely clicked shut before mark had his hands on you – rough, needy, all control. he didn’t waste a second. not a single hello, not a single warning. his mouth crashed into yours, all hunger and heat, urgent and commanding, steering you straight to the bedroom with the kind of focus only frustration could fuel.

“m-mark, what’s wrong?,” you managed to ask, concern laced in your voice.

“need you. now,” he growled, voice low, flat with no room for playfulness. you didn’t even make it to the bed. he spun you, yanked your shorts down, shoved you onto your desk chair. one hand ripping open a condom, the other dragging your panties aside and in one swift motion, he was inside you.

you gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping your desk table, not at all prepared for him. there was no easing in, no pause. just raw, relentless need. and he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. he had too much to burn off. he thrusted in and out of your hole with a desperate rhythm that had you gasping his name between moans. the sound of skin slapping echoing through your bedroom walls.

“fuuuck, kitten, just what i needed,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding on for life. you were sure his fingerprints would mark your skin. he pulls you back onto him with every snap of his hips, like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.

“mark, fuck,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. but he didn’t slow down. he was absolutely locked in, chest heaving, only focused on reaching that high.

“everything’s fucked,” he muttered between gritted teeth, slamming into you hard, “i just needed this…needed you.”

you felt him twitch inside you, pace stuttering for half a second, just enough to send that familiar heat spiraling through your core. the roughness, the force, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered – it pushed you straight to the edge. your body tensed, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you. you clenched incredibly tight around him and that’s all it took.

“shit, i’m cumming,” he groaned, choking on the sound as he slammed in one last time, hips jerking, fingers still digging into your flesh like he’d break without the contact.

for a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of your breathing – heavy, wrecked, uneven. he stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against your back, arms still wrapped around your waist like letting go would make the world crash in again. his breath fanned hot across your skin, heavy and uneven but slowly starting to settle.

you blinked through the haze, heart still racing, legs barely steady beneath you. you turned your head slightly, voice hoarse but gentle, “mark, what was that?”

he didn’t answer at first. just exhaled, slow and ragged. then he pulled out with care, discarding the used condom and pulling his sweatpants back up. his hands steady you as he gently placed your panties back in place. he turned you to face him, guiding you to sit, and then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips – soft, slow and achingly tender. the complete opposite of everything that had come before.

“are you okay?,” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his face, searching for the answers in his eyes. he allowed himself to lean into your touch. almost like he needed it to breathe, eyes fluttering close for a second.

“jeno got in a fight,” he sighs heavily, voice low, almost defeated.

he sank into his knees in front of you, resting his head in your lap. without thinking, your fingers immediately thread through his hair like they belonged there, like this was normal. his arms wrapped around your waist with quiet desperation, “it got recorded, reached the dean in seconds and i had to go clean it up, make sure we don’t get shut down,” he says tiredly.

you just listen to him, letting him unravel.

“and finals are on monday, i think i’m ready…we’ve been studying really well, my quizzes went okay but it’s also my last chance…if i don’t pass these classes, i'm off the basketball team.”

his arms tightened around your waist like he was bracing himself.

“it’s just been…a lot, everyone thinks i’ve got it all together. they don’t even know i’ve managed to screw it all up…i’m failing my classes, the team…everyone,” his voice broke on the last word, barely more than a whisper.

his eyes shut again, like he couldn’t bear to have anyone see him like this — mark, who was everyone’s favorite. mark, who always made confidence look effortless. mark, who everyone admired, who never looked tired. mark, who was here, on your bedroom floor, falling apart.

and you realized now just how much he’d been carrying and how alone he must have felt doing it. he was a mirror of your own reflection. so you ask him the one question you wished people asked you.

“do you want to talk about it?,” you whispered, thumb softly brushing along his cheek.

his jaw tensed beneath your touch and you thought he might pull away. shove the vulnerability back down and wrap himself in that playful charm he wore so easily when you were sitting across from him at study session or tangled up in the sheets. but instead, his shoulders slumped. he starts, voice low and rough, “i thought i could fix it, just grind harder, push through like i’ve always been able to…but things just kept stacking up. practices, papers and now this thing with the fraternity.”

you’d seen the cracks, of course. you weren’t oblivious. him being late, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders stay tense no matter how relaxed he tried to seem. but he always played it off and you never pushed.

“i couldn’t tell anyone,” he continued, softer now, “i’m the leader, the co-captain…i'm supposed to know what to do. everyone leans on me, if i fall apart what happens to the rest of them?.” he lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“and i couldn’t tell you. you’re already helping me so much with tutoring and the sex and i didn’t want to drag you into my shit. especially since…this thing between is isnt supposed to include this, right?”

you didn’t respond right away because he was right — there were walls between you that needed to stay up. this was supposed to be easy. you were supposed to be each other’s safe option. the ones who didn't come with emotional trauma. the ones who wouldn’t ask for more. the ones who never pried, just notes, flashcards and casual sex without the weight of feelings or expectations.

“we’re still friends mark,” you said gently, “and friends don't let you go through the hard stuff alone.”

your voice was soft, but steady. you offered a small, honest smile and he finally looks up, meeting your eyes, letting himself be seen. he didn’t say anything after that, just looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

you didn’t break the gaze, didn’t try to fill the silence. you just stayed there, fingers still gently curling in his hair. letting him be here. letting him breathe. and he did – his head rested in your lap, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist like he didn’t quite know how to let go. didn’t want to let go. you could feel the weight of him, every little thing he’s been holding in, slowly settling.

no one rushed to define what this moment meant. no one tried to make a joke to cut the lingering tension — it was just quiet. stretching between you full of things unsaid. of a certain kind of understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. and for now, this was enough.

just two people, sitting in their own wreckage, breathing together, pretending they weren’t crossing a line.

eventually, you felt the need to offer him something more than quiet comfort. something normal. something safe.

“what do you say, we skip tutoring session for the day and watch spiderman 2, i can order chinese this time?,” you say, finally breaking the quiet.

his eyes flicked up to yours. there was a pause, like the suggestion took a second to land. then slowly, the tension in his face bagan to ease, a smile tugging on his lips, “and what about finals week?”

“mark you know it, you’ve gotten every single question right our last two sessions,” you reassure him, “there’s not a single doubt in my mind you’re going to pass,” you smirked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

that pulled a real breath of relief from him, a soft laugh, muffled against your lap, “we’re watching tobey’s spiderman 2, right?”

for the rest of the night, there was no tutoring, no expectations, no pressure. just honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spider-man swinging through new york city and two people, curled up on the couch, who weren’t quite sure what they were but certain that this comfort, this closeness, was something they wanted.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 20. sunday.

mark: dude

mark: [1 image]

mark: saw this and thought of you

kitten: ???

kitten: mark. that’s just a cat.

mark: she has your eyes!!

kitten: bro 😭😭

kitten: she looks like she’s ready to attack u

mark: exactly

mark: just like you! 😼

kitten: seek help

kitten: and good luck on your finals markkk

kitten: you're gonna kill it

mark: what’s my reward if i pass? 🫣

kitten: freedom from me 🙂‍↕️

kitten: sex with anyone you want! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

kitten: any day you want!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark stared at your texts, thumbs hovering over the screen, his grin being wiped off — it was exactly the kind of thing you’d say. playful, detached, safe. like he hasn’t seen the most vulnerable parts of you. like you haven’t seen the worst parts of him.

his stomach churns in a funny way. it didn’t hit him until now that passing his classes also meant your tutoring sessions were over. no more flashcards, no more learning each other’s bodies, no more movie nights and greasy take out foods. no more you.

he set his phone down beside him, letting his head fall back against the pillow. suddenly, the finish line didn’t feel like a victory lap. it felt like a goodbye. and sure, you would still be around, he would still see you in passing, on campus, in random parties – you would still be his friend.

the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want this to end just because the excuse to stay had run out. he wanted to be on your couch, watching spiderman. you still had six of them to go. he wanted the greasy takeout, the shared silence, the casual way your leg would brush against his like it didn’t mean everything.

he wanted to keep learning you. your favorite color, your favorite songs, your favorite everything until there was nothing left to learn. and even then, when all the learning is done, he just wanted to be there.

he wanted to be allowed to stay. to be able to wrap his arms around you and not wonder if he’s crossing a line. to show up with all your favorite snacks, and this time he knows what they are. to kiss you and not feel that sick, sinking guilt in his stomach when it meant more to him than it ever should have.

he started typing: what if i don’t want freedom from you?

he stared at it for a second. then deleted it.

typed again: sooo i still get to bother you after finals, right?

he deleted that one too.

mark: haha, nice 👍

he sighed, tossing his phone face-down onto the bed like that would somehow quiet the tightness in his chest.

your phone buzzed again. his response felt off or maybe it was just all in your head. you shook the thoughts away and turned back to your laptop, reviewing for your own classes.

you weren’t going there. you couldn't.

you refuse to be too much again. too needy.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 21. monday.

when mark stepped out of his last class of the day, he found you immediately, leaning against the wall, a drink in your hand, smiling at him.

before he could even think about it, his feet were already moving, carrying him, each step closing in towards you as he pulled you into a hug. his face nestles in the crook of your neck, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips. he just wanted to stay here for a while. wrapped in the calm only you seemed to bring.

you froze, just for a moment. the hug catches you off guard. you’ve never been this touchy in public. you could feel the eyes on you, see a few raised brows in your peripheral vision. still, after a beat or two, you gave in, arms looping around his waist, one hand still gripping the cup of milk tea you got for him.

“it wasn’t that bad, was it?,” you murmured near his ear. he chuckles against your neck, the breath of air tickling before leaning back just enough to look at you, his hands still lingering on your hips like he’d forgotten to let go.

“i’m pretty sure i aced it,” he said, all confidence and charm.

you raise a brow, “so why did you just hug me like the world was ending?”

his smirk flickered, replaced by something quieter, heavier “you said once i passed, this would be over.”

he tried to keep it light, but the words tasted bitter, “figured, i should take what i can while i still can.”

you push away the feeling rising in your throat, glancing down at the drink in your hand, shoving the emotion aside “here, i got this for you, a mini reward.”

he takes it with a soft laugh, fingers brushing against yours, just a moment too long. his eyes stayed on you as he took a sip and something about the way he looks at you makes your chest twist — it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not in daylight. not out here, in the open, where it could be mistaken for something real.

“people are staring at us,” you murmured, gaze dropping.

he doesn’t even glance around them, “let them.”

you tried to deflect, lips tugging into a smirk “what? and ruin your chances with all your girls?”

but he didn’t laugh. he didn’t play along. didn’t take the out this time.

“maybe i only want one girl.”

the breath caught in your throat. your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, eyes searching, desperate to find some hint of irony, some trace of a grin. anything that would let you write it off.

“hmm,” you force out a chuckle, thin and cracked, “you? mr. i don’t go exclusive,” you teased, your voice barely holding steady.

he smiled, but he didn’t deny it. that was when the panic set in.

“i have to go, i still have a class to get to,” and before he could respond, you were already walking away. you didn’t look back. you couldnt.

mark stayed where he was for a while, just watching your figure get smaller and smaller, drink in his hand, feeling the warmth of your body still clinging to his skin. people moved around him in chatter, footsteps on concrete, but it all blurred.

he meant it — he didn’t just let those words slip for no reason. he’d thought about it all night, maybe longer, and when the words came out, they didn’t surprise him. and it didn’t surprise him either how quiet you went, how fast you looked away, how quickly you pivoted back to safe ground, barely entertaining the thought.

you were the girl who didn’t believe in love. he knew that. and you could continue pretending that this was nothing. you could continue to shove it down with a joke, whatever you needed to do to keep him at arm’s length.

but he was done playing along. he wasn’t going to pretend anymore.

he wanted you to have all his mondays, wednesdays and fridays. even the tuesdays and thursdays. and every last goddamn saturdays and sundays. if you’d let him.

⟢

mark’s words echoes in your ears, clear and sharp and impossible to shake as you lay in your bed, wide awake.

you replay the moment in your head, over and over. the way he held you like you were something to hold onto. the way his fingers didn’t let go right away.

the way your heart betrayed you.

you hated how easy it would be to believe him. to want more. to hope. again.

but love had already burned you. already ruined you. it hollowed you out, left you scattered in pieces you barely recognized. you gave and gave until there was nothing left to give and even then, you still tried to be enough. you made yourself smaller, more manageable, easier to love. and you hated it. hated who you became when love took over – clingy, dependent, pathetic, insecure.

the kind of person who lost herself in someone else’s orbit and called it devotion. the kind of person who mistook being needed for being desired. the kind of person who became the version they needed until the real you felt like a distant memory.

it took everything to rebuild yourself from the wreckage love left behind. you had to learn how to be alone again. how to stop apologizing for needing anything at all. you had to teach yourself to exist without someone else’s hands holding you together.

you swore to yourself you’d never be that girl again.

but here you are, heart stuttering at a single sentence from a boy who was never supposed to matter this much. all your careful walls cracking, your breath catching, body already leaning toward him like muscle memory.

and even after all the warning signs going off in your head, every scar whispering don’t, you can’t help but want him.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 23. wednesday.

there was a knock on your door. you didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who it was.

you consider not opening it. pretend you weren’t home. an internal conflict going on between your mind and your heart. one half of you aching for him, the other half gripping onto the remaining boundary you had left.

you sigh, dragging your feet across the door, fingers hesitating on the knob.

“kitten, i know you’re there, the light is on,” mark’s voice announces through the other door. the nickname didn’t feel harmless anymore. it felt like a hand reaching through a door you were trying desperately to seal shut. a reminder of the closeness you’d let happen. the thing you swore wouldn’t need again.

“i brought food,” he added, tone lighter this time. like this could be another normal night of movies and food and silence where feelings should go.

you hated how much you wanted it. hated how you unlocked the door and pulled it open, meeting the brown warm eyes that was so dangerous. he was in one of his hoodies that always looked too comfortable, takeout in his arms with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. or maybe you didn’t want to.

“i thought we could watch spider-man 3, it’s the last tobey one,” he said, raising the food like it was some sort of offering.

you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in and he walked in like he always did. like he belonged here, in your space. he removed his shoes, placed everything on the coffee table, sat on his side of the couch like everything was normal. like nothing happened. like those words didn’t leave his mouth and had you stuck on him ever since. like he hadn’t said something too big for this setup you had.

and you let him. you followed the script too. you dimmed the lights, grabbed the blanket from the side of the couch and pulled it over both of your legs, hit play on the movie.

for a while, neither of you said a word. until the movie reached a lull and you realized not a single joke has been said between you. you sneak a look at him only to find he was already looking at you.

“why are you looking at me like that?,” you whisper into the night air.

“like what?,” he deflected, smile barely there.

you raise a brow, giving him a pointed look, but your heart is already thudding, “like that,” you murmur.

mark’s smile fades into something quieter. something real. his eyes didn’t leave yours, “maybe i’m just trying to memorize you,” he said softly, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for days. it was quiet and honest. and it wrecked you.

your chest tightened. heat crept up your neck, blooming beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the good kind. it was panic, nostalgia, longing, everything you’d spent years trying to outrun. you blinked fast, trying to swallow the ache, the confusion, the hope. you couldn’t hold his gaze.

then his hand moved, gentle, almost afraid, thumb brushing over your thigh, “does this really have to end after finals?,” he asked. his voice wasn’t playful. there was something almost broken in it. something that wanted more.

you look down at his hand. it’s warm. steady.

you forced your voice into something light, something distant, “what do you mean mark?,” you play dumb, “you can still come over, we can still hang out and watch movies.”

“you know that’s not what i mean, y/n,” his voice cut clean through you. he looked at you like you held the whole world and you hated it. because you’ve seen that look in someone else’s eyes before and you remember how that story ended.

“i want you.” he said. he’s always been upfront, the kind of guy who goes for exactly what he wants. honest. no confusion. he wasn’t going to stop that just because what he wanted now was a little different than usual.

“—not just the movie nights. i want to be able to kiss you without wondering if i’m crossing the line. i want to hold your hand. i don’t want to have to leave.”

you could hear it in his voice, that he meant every word. that he was laying himself bare. your lungs were full of things you’ve never said. fears you never voiced.

“do you want me because you want me,” you whispered, “or because you need me?”

the room went still. mark blinked, caught off guard. his face twisted in confusion. he didn’t understand the question. “what’s the difference?”

you nodded once, slowly, even though he didn’t get it. especially because he didn’t get it. that was all the confirmation you needed. the quiet confirmation of every fear you've been carrying. your thoughts spiraled, fast and breathless – he saw you as the person who kept him from falling apart, not the person who could be loved on her own terms. you didn’t want to be a need. you wanted to be a choice. wanted to be loved for your fire, your flaws, your silence, your mess. all of it.

you pulled the blanket off, stood up, walked toward the kitchen under the disguise of grabbing water but you really just needed the distance, needed to breathe.

behind you, mark didn’t move. the space where you’d just been now empty and echoing. the movie played on, some forgotten scene washing the walls in flickering color, fading into the background. all he could hear was the question that you’d asked. the silence that followed after he said the wrong thing. the way you walked away like you were holding yourself together with a string.

he stood slowly, following you into the kitchen, footsteps soft like he was afraid he’d scare you off if he made too much noise. you were standing there, back to him.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, careful.

when you didn’t respond, he continued, “i don’t need you like a fix,” he stepped closer, gently, slowly. and then, he lets his confessions stumble into the night air. all of the words he’d been dying to tell you.

“i want you like—,” his voice broke slightly, “like i want to wake up with you next to me, i want to know your favorite things, i want your sarcasm, your bad jokes, i want to be the one you call when your day’s gone to shit or when someone tells you a funny story and you just have to share it with someone, i want all the parts you hide. that’s what i meant.”

he was so close now. you closed your eyes and it terrifies you how much you wanted that too.

“i’ve been through this before, mark,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i gave someone everything and he only loved me because he needed me, because it was easy at first. not the real me. not the mess. not the scared, guarded, overthinking, too-much me.”

mark stepped closer until there was barely space between you.

“y/n, i’m not him,” he says, voice full of conviction, “let me prove it. if it takes time, i’ll wait. if you need space, i’ll give it. but please stop acting like none of this is real, stop acting like this was all just tutoring and sex. don’t shut me out because someone else couldn’t handle you. because i can. i want to.”

you stared at the floor. every wall you’d built over the years was trembling in your chest, all of them threatening to collapse and you were desperately trying to keep them together. he was saying everything you’d ever needed someone to say. yet you can’t find it in yourself to believe him.

your fear was louder than your hope.

“i need space,” you breathed. it was all you could manage. your voice almost gave out on the last word.

mark stilled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then he stepped back. just once. and said, gently, “okay.”

he didn’t try to kiss you or hold you or close the space between you with anything physical. and that, more than anything, told you this wasn’t about need.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 25. friday.

the knock came again. you hadn’t expected it, your heart climbing straight into your throat.

you hadn’t spoken since that night. you told him you needed space and to his credit, he gave it. though as soon as he left you wanted him back. you couldn’t even understand your own emotions anymore.

he didn’t call. didn't text and even though it’s only been two days — the silence had been deafening.

your hand hovered near the doorknob again, just like it had before. like you were caught in a loop.

“y/n?,” his voice was softer this time. not playful, not teasing, just quiet and raw, “i…i got my results.”

you closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and the way he was able to shut down all the other voices in your head.

“i haven’t checked it yet,” he added after a beat, “i didn’t want to do it alone.”

something in you cracked and you opened the door. mark stood there, phone in hand, eyes tired and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept well in days. he didn’t step in this time. he just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. you didn’t say anything. just stepped aside, letting him in. he walked in slowly, like he was afraid he might wake something fragile in the room. you followed him to the couch, sat next to him, close enough to touch but not touching.

he sat with his phone in his palm, screen still black, staring at it.

“just open it,” you said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

he turned to you, eyes searching, “i can’t do it,” he says, handing you the phone “you open it for me.”

you grab it from him, clicking the school’s app and reloading the screen, waiting for the results. the second felt too long, mark’s legs anxiously bouncing, you looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read and his throat catches.

then in one second, your grin grew wider, “you passed!,” you cheered, laughter bubbling from your lips. he hasn’t realized how much he missed that sound until now. the past few days have definitely been an emotional turmoil.

mark blinked, “i..i did?,”

you nodded, laughing again, eyes shining, “you did, mark! look,” you say, shoving the phone in his face.

for a beat, he just stared at you, like he didn’t quite believe it. then it all hit him at once, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally exhaled. relief, pride, disbelief all crashing into his chest in one wave.

and before he could stop himself he pulled you into his lap in a mini victory, both of you laughing, excited, happy. his arms wrapped around you tight, burying his face into your shoulder like this was the only place he ever wanted to be. you hug him just as tight, now straddling him, arms curled around him as you both bask in his victory, your laughter’s harmonizing in the air.

after a few seconds, your body relaxed into his and for the first time in days, it felt easy again, natural. like muscle memory. like this was where you both belonged.

“i knew you could do it,” you murmured near his ear, voice soft. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still holding onto your side like didn’t want to let go yet.

and maybe it was the adrenaline in your system. maybe it was the look on his face. or maybe it was the way his hands lingered on your waist. but you didn’t think.

you leaned in and kissed him.

it was gentle, like asking a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. he kissed you back with no hesitation, no second guessing. just the feeling of your lips in his, warm and certain.

mark’s hand cup your jaw like you were something breakable and important all at once. there was a slight tremble in his touch, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close. terrified that one wrong move would send you running.

the kiss wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t rushed. it was everything that hadn’t been said, missing each other in a way neither of you had admitted.

your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady. your body swayed forward without permission, knowing what it wanted before your mind could catch up. his forehead dropped to yours and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“i missed you,” you whispered, voice shaking. his eyes fluttered shut at the words, something raw flickering across his features. he kissed you again, slow and intentional. like he needed you to feel every unsaid thing he did not know how to say.

the kiss deepened, soft lips parting, breath mingling. his hand moved down, tracing your spine as he pulled you closer and every inch of your body hummed with anticipation. you tugged on his black shirt, tugging it over his head. you helped each other undress with quiet urgency, fingertips brushing skin, lips reconnecting in between.

mark grabs your thighs, gently lifting you up and turning you over to lay you down on the couch. he hovered over you, eyes dragging slowly down the length of your body, memorizing every line, every curve.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your forehead.

your throat tightened.

he trailed kisses over your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder, your breasts. every kiss feeling like a promise. his hands were everywhere, trailing over your waist, the dip of your hip, down your thigh, slow and warm and reverent. he took his time. worshipped every inch like he didn't want to miss a second of this.

he knew exactly where to touch you. knew the spots that ignited that fire in your stomach. he pushes your panties to the side and when his mouth finally found the place between your legs, you gasped, back arching. he groaned at the sound, at the taste of you, gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him. he watched your every reaction, paid attention to all of your sinful moans like it was his favorite song. his tongue moved, licking and circling and sucking until you were gasping his name, eyes fluttering shut, legs shaking around his shoulders.

your fingers laced through his, grabbing onto him like he was the last thing keeping you there. and when you came, it hit hard, head thrown back, toes curling. he stayed right there, drawing it out, licking through every wave. he kissed his way back up your body, slow and open mouthed until you pulled him back to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mark,” you whispered, breathless, “bedroom.”

you didn’t have to say it again. mark grabbed your thighs, picking you up with ease, his bare chest warm against yours, legs wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding in rhythm with your own as he carried you to your bedroom. the air between you is charged and fragile in a way it had never been before. as soon as your back hit the mattress, you pulled him down to meet you. lips meeting again. but it wasn’t like the other times. there was no reckless rush, no frantic need. this kiss was deeper. slower. like he wanted to taste every part of you that had been out of reach until now.

his weight settled over you, grounding, familiar but all too different. he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the last time. touching you like he was memorizing you all over again, not your body, he already knew that – but you.

the way you sighed when his fingers brushed over your hips. the way your breath hitched when his lips settled over that sensitive spot below your ear. the way your hands roamed over his back, curling at the base of his spine like you didn’t know how to keep him close enough.

then suddenly, he stopped. bracing himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours, “wait,” he murmured, breathing hard, like it physically hurt to not be touching you.

you blinked, disoriented by the sudden break in heat as he curses under his breath, “i-i didn’t bring a condom…i didn’t expect to–,”

“i-i should have some,” you turned quickly, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand only to find your box of condoms empty.

you looked at him. he looked at you. a beat of silence passing in between you.

his hand found yours, warm brown eyes boring into yours, “we don’t have to.”

“do you want me?,” your voice cracked a little and that’s when you realized your throat was tight, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“of course i do, kitten,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, “but i want you, not just this.”

“i want you, too,” you whisper like you were sharing a secret. his breath hitched. whole body stilling. you saw the moment he gave in, the exact second his restraint cracked.

“i-i’ll pull out,” he mumbled, still trying to be careful.

“i’m on the pill mark,” you said softly, “you can stay inside.” something in him faltered, his breath hitched, eyes darkening. he kissed you again, slower than before, more tentative, like he needed to make sure you meant it.

he lines himself up against your core, giving you one last look for confirmation and when you nod, granting him permission, he finally gave in to what you both wanted. he slid into you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling. you felt the tremble in his arms, the shudder that worked through him as he sank fully into you – making you feel full, whole, complete.

you both stilled, letting the moment settle.

you’d done this before. countless times. fast, rough, unspoken. but it had never felt like this. this felt like new territory. this felt like falling.

this wasn’t about sex. this was about every word you’d left unsaid.

your hands roamed up his back, fingernails grazing over the muscles there and his body responded to every touch, arching into you slightly. you could feel every vein on his cock, every twitch, every pulse. he moved slowly, deeper than he had before, watching your face for every flicker of reaction.

mark’s hand came up to brush the hair from your cheek, as he littered kisses from your cheekbones, along your jaw, every inch of skin he could find, “i was made for you” he whispered.

your chest ached, eyes burned. you didn’t know what to do with those words so instead you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. desperate to shut him up. to shut yourself up. to make the ache go away. every movement was slow, sensual, too vulnerable. every inch of your skin between you whispering i missed you, don’t leave again, please feel what i’m feeling.

his hand laced with yours, fingers locking tight, fitting together like two connecting pieces of a puzzle. it was all too much. the way he stayed close, nose brushing your cheek. the way he murmured your name under his breath like it was the only word he knew.

you whispered his name when that coil in your stomach started to tighten, the pressure ready to be released, tension curling through your body. he kissed your temple, your cheekbone, your mouth, over and over again as you came undone beneath him. your legs trembled, breath hitched, back arching as he talked you through it, murmuring praises in your ear.

he followed soon after, body shuddering against yours as he gave in, marking your walls, a grunt of your name spilling from his lips. and even then, he didn’t let go of your hand. he stayed inside you long after, face buried in the curve of your neck, body heavy over yours in the best way. neither of you said anything, just basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

you’ve never felt fuller. the feeling of skin on skin. of a truth too big to name yet.

and when he pulled out, you felt the loss of him like a jolt. your body throbbed, empty and aching. he reached for the tissues on your bedside table, gently wiping away the mess you two made.

you swallowed hard, “mark-”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and open and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. he was just as scared as you. scared that you would push him away again, “please,” he begs, “don’t make me leave.”

“i don’t know how to do this,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how to accept this.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word. that one word lingering in both of your tongues.

mark’s face softened, something inside him cracking at your words. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, “we can figure it out,” he says, “but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight…for tonight let's just…stay here.”

your eyes stung. he wasn’t asking for promises. he wasn’t demanding answers. he was just asking you not to run. not yet. you nodded and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. neither of you said anything after that. he shifted beside you, pulling you into his arms, your body curling naturally into the space against his chest. one of his hands wrapped around your back, the other held your hand like he was scared you would just disappear.

you laid there, wrapped in him, your heart a mess of silence and scars. listening to the beat of his heart. trying to believe this could be real.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered into his skin.

“you already do,” he murmured, raw and honest, brushing his lips to your hair.

“i’m sorry.”

“there’s nothing to be sorry for, kitten. i’d rather be hurt with you than feel nothing without you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. your eyes fluttered closed at that, too tired to hold everything in your chest. too afraid of what would happen when morning came. but for right now, in this moment, you let yourself stay.

and somewhere between his breathing and the ache in your chest, you fell asleep in his arms, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heartbreak and that word you both can’t say.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 26. saturday.

mark woke up to the soft morning light filtering in through your bedroom window, stretching across the sheets like a quiet whisper. the space beside him cold. his hand reached out before his eyes even opened, instinctively searching for you, but the space was empty, only leaving behind the shape of your figure.

his brows furrowed as he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his chest. the room felt too still. like the warmth had left with you. he got up, heart tightening as his bare feet hits the floor, pulling on his sweats as he stepped into your living room — empty.

no note. no text. no sound of the shower. just silence. the kind of silence that presses on your ribs and makes everything feel heavier than it should.

mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. this wasn’t new – this disappearing act of yours, distant and cold. but it hurt more today. especially after last night. after they way you kissed him like you meant it. the way you held him like you wanted him. the way you made love to him like you loved him.

he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. the victory of passing his finals felt like a faded memory now. and maybe you were just getting breakfast? maybe you were getting coffee? maybe you went out for a quick walk? but deep down, he knew better.

because when someone leaves without saying goodbye, it’s never just about getting coffee – it’s about fear. about retreat. about trying to stuff last night back into that box. a box where it doesn’t fit anymore.

he didn’t know what would happen next but he made you a promise and he’s determined to keep it. even if you never let him this close again. even if this was the last night he’d get to love you the way he wanted to. but he wouldn’t push. he wouldn’t beg. he wouldn’t ask you to feel more than you were ready to. he knew your walls were built from heartbreak and survival and he would never try to tear them down.

but he’ll show up — quietly, steadily, solid where you expected everyone to vanish. he wouldn’t ask for anything in return. not your love, not your certainty, not even your presence. just the chance to exist nearby. just the permission to care.

you didn’t have to earn his love by loving him back.

and if someday you turned around and realized you didn’t want to be alone anymore. he’d be here, welcoming you with open arms.

⟢

you hadn’t meant to leave like that. not really.

you told yourself it was just a short walk. just some air. just to clear your head before the morning got too loud and the reality of your actions settled in too deep.

your lips still felt the ghost of his. your skin still hummed with the way he touched you like he knew you — not just the version you showed him on movie nights and tutoring sessions, but the messy, terrified, too much version you’d spent years trying to hide. he kissed you like he wasn’t afraid of her. and that pushed you further down your fears.

you didn’t know if you were allowed to believe in it. so you left. not to hurt him. never too hurt him. but to protect yourself. protect him from you. to build the distance before you both could fall all the way in.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when you told him he passed — a mixture of excitement and bittersweet emotion clearly on display. the way he hugged you like you were home. and then, god, you kissed him. and for the first time in forever, kissing someone didn’t feel like an escape. you swallowed hard. you were so afraid of these emotions. of needing him.

you went back home when the sun was down, mark nowhere to be seen, except for a note left on your coffee table, written in mark’s handwriting:

“call me if you need me.”

just simple words that made your chest ache.

if. not when.

he wasn’t expecting you to need him. wasn’t asking you to lose yourself again, to shrink, to bleed out the softest parts of you just to keep him. he wasn’t trying to save you or fix you or unravel you for the sake of making you his.

he left you a choice, control fully in your hands. a door, cracked open.

if you need me.

not a condition. not a plea. just kindness wrapped in restraint. not loud or overwhelming. not all-consuming. just patient. just quiet. just there.

ᓚᘏᗢ one week later. may 3. saturday.

you never contacted him. you didn’t know how to face him.

some days, you’d go home to take-out waiting for you by the door, still warm, like he’d just left. there were messages left in your phone. messages that you read over and over again, finger hovering above the keyboard. a reminder that mark was still there. that he still cares.

you just didn’t know what to do with that.

“c’mon y/n, come to the party at the wayv frat tonight,” your best friend, yeri, says through the phone, her voice bright and pleading.

“yeri, i don’t really feel like partying,” you sigh, voice low and dull.

“y/n, you can’t push us away too, we’re your friends,” she says more firmly now.

you told her all about it a couple nights ago, over the fried chicken mark left at your doorstep, the soju in your fridge and a loose tongue that couldn’t keep your pain in any longer.

you spilled everything. what happened with mark, how it started, how it ended and yeri almost killed you with your own pillow. you can still hear her voice now, going through every stage of disbelief like it was a full-blown performance.

she went from, “are you kidding me?! mark lee?!,”followed by a dramatic gasp and a mischievous smirk, “was he good?? was he big?,” then came the pause, wide eyes, jaw dropping surprise “he said he only wanted one girl!!?? THE mark lee?? wanting one girl???,” and then her voice cracked, eyes misting as she whispered, “he wanted to know your favorite things?!?!” like it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.

and then she strangled you with your own pillow when you got to the end of the story.

she was very much #teammark at the moment.

she was tired of your self sabotaging, your walls, your stubbornness — the way you rejected affection like it was poison. the way you flinched from being needed. from being loved. she understood it came from a place in your past. she never dismissed that pain. but she firmly reminded you that you can’t let your past haunt you forever. that the echoes of what hurt you, the ghosts that whisper you’re unlovable or unsafe, should not define the life you’re living now. she gave you an entire pep talk talking about how you can’t keep holding someone with one hand while the other is clinging to everything that once went wrong. and maybe the love in front of you isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and complicated and terrifying but it’s here and it’s real and it could be everything only if you let it.

“look,” yeri cuts through your train of thought,, “mina, doyeon, and ningning will be there too, okay, “you’re the only one that's going to be missing.”

you hesitate.

“he probably won’t even be there,” she adds quickly, “the dream frat most likely has their own party going on tonight.”

you don’t believe her. especially since you knew the dream frat was still under observance from that fight jeno threw.

“i don’t know…,” you say.

“c’mon,” she says, softer this time, “it’s the end of finals, we deserve to let loose and have fun,” she tries, one more time.

you exhale slowly, already halfway convinced.

“...fine.” you mutter, earning a bubbly scream from the other side.

⟢

the music is loud the moment you step through the door, laughter spilling down the hallways, the scent of cheap beer and fruity vape lingering in the air. you’re already regretting the black dress hugging your body, the heels, and the fact that you let yeri talk you into this.

“shots first!,” she yells over the music, dragging you toward the room. you spot familiar faces, mina waving from across the room, doyeon chatting up a pretty girl, ningning locked in an intense game of beer pong with a guy in sunglasses — it’s all the usual chaos. familiar. almost comforting.

you let the noise wash over you, grateful for the distraction until yeri stiffens beside you. you know before you even turn. he’s here — mark lee, leaning casually against the wall across the room, red cup in hand. he’s mid-conversation with a boy you knew, xiaojun – music major, member of the wayv fraternity, also a guy you tutored.

he was laughing, looking relaxed until he saw you.

and everything stops.

almost like you were the only two in the room.

his smile falters. eyes lock with yours. like he didn’t expect you to be here. doesn’t know what to do now that you’re both standing in the same room again.

you forget how to breathe for a second.

“y/n…,” yeri starts, but you shake your head, breaking away from his gaze.

“i’m fine.” you’re not.

but that’s what you tell her, forcing a smile, “let’s get those shots,” you manage to say as you and yeri slip into the kitchen. looking for something to drink. preferably something strong.

⟢

he hadn’t planned on staying long. he hasn’t really been in the mood for parties this whole week. it was too loud, too crowded, too many people and none of them were you.

but chenle, haechan and jisung kept dragging him out night after night, insisting he just needed to “get back out there.”

it hasn’t worked — he wasn’t interested in anyone else, no matter how pretty his friends say they were. all he could think about was you.

he sees you in the spiderman figurines he had in his room. he sees you in the half-eaten pizza box that the boys had ordered, where he could practically hear your laugh. he sees you in his notes. in every damn song that plays. in the stray cat that kept curling up on their lawn. the basketball court. the library. every corner he found himself in is a memory of you.

and sex has been different since that night. not after what you’d shared. not after what it felt like to be wanted like that, to want like that. he didn’t even know if he could go back to casual anymore, especially after feeling intimacy that intense.

so yeah, the plan was simple, he was gonna show up for a bit, make his rounds, say hi to his friends then dip. lock himself up in his room. back to waiting for your call.

he didn’t expect to see you but there you were, walking through the crowd.

and he wished he looked a little better. put a little more effort into his outfit. but truth to be told, he didn't think he had anyone to impress. his light stubble has grown in. he was only in a plain white shirt and black jeans. he didn't even bother styling his hair.

one second, he’s laughing at something xiaojun said, the next the breath gets knocked out of him — you walked in like you didn’t want to be there but still looking so effortlessly beautiful. the walls you’ve been hiding behind standing tall all around you.

every instinct tells him to go to you but his feet stay planted, the grip on his cup tightening.

“dude,” xiaojun says, mid-sentence, eyebrows raising, “are you even listening to me?”

mark doesn’t answer, he watches your eyes sweep the room and then land on him.

everything else disappears.

he doesn’t even hear the music anymore. the crowd becomes nothing more than a blur of faceless shapes, none of them worth noticing.

you still have that look in your eyes. that haunted, guarded look he’s seen too many times. the one that says i want to let you in, but i can’t afford to be hurt again.

you break the contact first, of course you do. he can’t help but continue to stare.

“okay,” xiaojun says suddenly, setting down his drink. “that’s it. i’m introducing you.”

mark’s head snaps toward him, “wait, what?”

“don’t know what happened to you, man but you’ve clearly lost your game,” his friend shrugs, already grabbing mark by the sleeve, “i got this. stop being a pussy, i’ll be your wingman.”

mark resists, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, planting his feet, “no…xiaojun, wait, you don’t understand–”

“she’s super chill,” xiaojun interrupts confidently, “smart as hell, kind of terrifying at first glance but definitely nice. i got you, don’t worry.”

“xiaojun…seriously–” mark hisses, digging his heels in, heart pounding in panic now, “we already…we know each other.”

but xiaojun didn’t hear him. too excited. too focused at playing matchmaker and hauling him toward the kitchen. “you can thank me later,” he grins, “just let me cook.”

mark’s stomach sinks. his hands are clammy. he’s seconds away from bolting. and then you turn around, cup in hand, mid-sip, just as xiaojun barrels into the kitchen with mark reluctantly in tow.

“y/n!,” xiaojun calls cheerfully. mark looks like he’s been dragged into hell itself, his eyes sending you an apology and you can’t help the way your brows lift.

“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, choking on your drink and mark has to physically stop himself from reaching out to check if you are okay. you curse the fact that you let yeri leave you alone just a few seconds ago.

xiaojun beams, “i want you to meet my friend! this is mark. mark this is y/n..she used to tutor me back in the day. super scary, very smart,” you can’t help but raise a brow at his description, “anyway, you two should totally talk,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

mark gives you a look like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. his voice comes out tight, strained, like it hurts to speak, “hey.”

you glance at mark. he glances at you. and somehow, without saying anything, you both decide to play along.

“nice to meet you,” you say coolly, extending a hand like you haven’t seen every inch of him in moments you’re trying very hard to forget.

mark straightens up, his face schooled into a neutral smile. he takes your hand and his touch lingers just a little too long, bringing up feelings you tried so hard to push away, “same here.”

xiaojun beams, totally buying it, “see? told you i got you,” he whispers, making you quip a brow.

mark doesn’t look away from you, “so…you used to tutor xiaojun?”

you nod, keeping your expression composed, “yeah, freshman year. he was failing basic algebra.”

xiaojun gasps in mock offence, “i had a C-”

“which is failing,” you shoot back without missing a beat.

mark chuckles under his breath, eyes crinkling, “sounds like you were a tough tutor.”

“that depends on who i’m tutoring,” you say, like you didn’t spend the past month tutoring him.

xiaojun claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself, “this is going great. i’m so good at at this. i should charge people.”

“oh yeah,” mark says, playing along, nodding solemnly. “you should definitely monetize your matchmaking business.”

“maybe i will!,” xiaojun grins, painstakingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thickening between you two, “anyway, i’m gonna go and leave you two alone. you guys get to know each other. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!,” he winks and disappears back into the party.

and just like that, the mask drops. the space between you crackling.

mark raises an eyebrow, “nice to meet you, huh?”

you shrug, “you started it.”

he smirks faintly, “you didn’t have to shake my hand like we were at a networking event.”

“well, you didn’t have to look so charmed by it,” you shoot back and for a second it all feels too normal. just two friends caught in their playful banter.

⟢

ᓚᘏᗢ now.

“it’s good to see you,” he says, a little quieter now, smirk fading just slightly. you falter at that but instead of running, instead of deflecting, you hold his gaze.

“so,” you say, attempting a half-smile, “do you come here often, mark?”

he chuckles but the sound fades quickly. the amusement doesn’t last in his eyes. you were doing it again. masking your feelings behind a joke. trying to find an out. trying to stall the inevitable — and he stopped playing this game a long time ago. has stopped holding back.

“you didn’t call.”

your smile drops, “mark–,”

“that night,” he cuts in softly, but there’s something raw under his voice now, “i woke up and you were gone.”

the kitchen feels smaller. the party noise beyond the door fades to a muffled hum.

“i didn’t know what to say,” you murmur, voice almost lost under the thump of bass in the other room.

“you didn’t have to say anything,” he says, “i just wanted you to stay.”

you look away but mark steps forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.

“i kept checking my phone,” he goes on, “every morning when i wake up, every night before i go to bed. i watched you read my messages and i thought maybe you just needed time.”

“—i waited,” he continues, voice shaking now, “i left food by your door, i didn’t even care if you didn’t text back, i just wanted you to know i’m still here.”

you press your lips together, holding everything in.

“i didn’t want that night to end,” he goes on, quieter now, “and maybe i was stupid for thinking you felt the same way but–”

he breathes in, eyes locking onto yours. you try to tell him to stop but your voice betrays you. and mark could no longer hold back the words he’s been wanting to say.

“i fell in love with you.”

your heart stutters. that one phrase making you want to run.

“and i’m still in love with you,” he finishes, like a final breath. like he’s cutting himself open and bleeding honesty, the words slamming into your chest.

“we only had two rules, mark,” you managed to whisper, voice quiet and broken.

mark takes a shaky step closer, heart in his throat, “tell me you don’t feel it then,” he said quietly. his voice wasn’t angry, just tired, broken, desperate.

“look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me…that you don’t feel anything when i look at you like this and i’ll stop. i’ll leave you alone.”

you freeze. you didn’t answer right away. because you did feel it — you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the way the world always seemed to go a little quieter when he was around. you feel it in the ache that never went away after that night. you feel it in the way he says your name like it’s something holy. but that truth was too dangerous. too real.

so you hardened your voice, you shove it so far down you almost believe the lie yourself.

“i don’t feel it.”

you looked him dead in the eye, even though it nearly broke you. mark’s face falls but you don’t stop there. you lift your chin, meeting his gaze and finally twisting the knife in both of you.

“i don’t love you.”

his face didn’t crumble. didn’t twist in pain. he just stilled – silent, hollow stillness. the words knocking the breath from his lungs in one brutal blow. his eyes search your face like he’s trying to find a hole in your armor – something to tell him you don’t mean it.

you walked away, leaving him in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd before he can see the way your hand trembles. before he can see the way your heart is breaking too. every step away from him felt heavier than the last. your throat felt like it was strangling your heartbeat. every breath scraped your ribs like regret trying to crawl out of your chest.

you told yourself not to look back. not to care. this is for the better. he deserves someone better. someone who knew what they wanted. someone who can give him the love he has to give without flinching.

you did the right thing. for the both of you.

you ignore your friend’s calls. focused only on trying to get as far away from this place as possible. and yet, as you passed through the living room, something ridiculous stopped you cold — someone was messing with a money gun. dozens of dollar bills floating all around you, spinning through the air like confetti in slow motion. you scoffed before you could stop yourself, bitter and breathless at the irony.

you pushed forward anyway, trying to control your tears, making your way through the bodies and out into the front lawn. you manage to make it a couple feet away.

but then…fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your wrist, turning you towards his tear-filled eyes as he caught up to you, breathless.

“what are you so afraid of?” mark asked, eyes wide, wild with a mixture of hope and desperation.

“what is it that terrifies you so much you’d rather lie to my face than admit what we have?”

his words cracked something open inside you. that was it. the last of your resolve breaking apart. your defenses collapsed.

“you, mark!,” your voice broke, full of too many emotions you could no longer control, “i’m afraid of you!”

he blinked, startled. you didn’t let the silence catch up.

“i’m afraid of what you make me feel,” you said, voice unraveling.

“i’m afraid because i’m in love with you too. and i don’t want to be!”

the tears came fast and hot but you no longer cared about the strong front you’ve been trying to keep up.

“—because the last time i fell in love, it destroyed me. i gave everything to someone who promised they’d stay and they left. and i had to build myself back up from nothing and i swore i’d never let myself feel like that again.”

mark took a slow step closer. like he was approaching something sacred.

“i don’t want to become her again,” you choked out, “the girl who wakes up wondering if today is the day everything falls apart. the one who clings too tightly. the one who ruins everything because she wants too much.”

“you’re not her anymore,” he said softly, like he was holding your heart in his hands., “you’re stronger now. you know who you are. and if things fall apart,” his voice cracked, his own tears falling, “i’ll still be there, i’m not going to leave you.”

you shook your head, tears falling freely, “you don't know that! what if i mess it up? what if i’m too much?”

“then i’ll stay anyway,” he said, voice trembling with conviction, “i’ll stay and remind you every single time that you're not too much. that you’re worth loving.”

you looked up at him, ready to break again but his words make you freeze, “and i’m scared too.”

mark swallowed hard.

“i’ve never been in love before,” he said. “not like this. not even close and i don’t know what i’m doing. i’m scared i’ll say the wrong thing. that i’ll mess this up. that i’ll love you too much or not enough or in the wrong way”

he let out a shaky breath, gaze locked on yours.

“but i’m willing to learn. i'm willing to fall. because i'm scared of losing you the most and i’d rather be scared with you than go my whole life without you in it…without trying.”

his eyes bored into yours, wide and unguarded, filled with that same fear you’d been carrying. you realized then that you weren't so different. just two souls wanting to love and be loved, both terrified of what it might cost.

and if he was brave enough to jump, you weren’t going to let him fall alone — with that, the last wall inside you crumbled and you reached for him.

mark pulls you into his arms like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. there, under the stars and distant music, you clung to him, allowing yourself to want him. your chest heaved against his, tears soaking into his t-shirt. and still, he held you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “i’m just…i’m so scared.”

“i know,” he murmured back, “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he rocked you gently like your pain had a rhythm only he understood. he didn’t know what else to do but hold you.

eventually your tears slowed. your breathing evened out. your fingers loosened from their desperate grip. you stayed in his arms a moment longer, heart pressed into his chest. committing it to memory like it was a song you never wanted to forget.

then you pull back, just enough to look up at him. your lashes were damp, eyes still glassy, “i meant it,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i love you.”

his eyes searched yours, not for doubt, but for the truth. and when he found it, unguarded, soft, scared, real, his hold on your waist tightens just a tiny bit like he couldn’t believe this was real and not something he’d dreamed up in all the nights he spent missing you.

mark leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you don’t. his lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, then deeper, steadier, like exhaling after holding his breath for years. you kissed him back like it was the only thing you knew how to do — your heart had spent so long trying to run away from this very feeling and now it was collapsing into it with both arms wide open.

no more running. just you and him and the promise of something real. not something that had an expiration date marked by final exams and end of sessions.

he smiled against your lips. you pulled away, the smallest, tearful laugh catching in your throat.

“so…what do we do now?,” you asked, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, though your voice was still soft. still fragile from everything it had admitted. and your eyes only had room for his reflection.

mark raised a hand, thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek, “well,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “i would love to take you out on a date.”

and this time, when you smiled…it felt like the beginning.

ᓚᘏᗢ the next day.

mark knocks at your door at exactly 6:00P.M. a little more dressed up than usual, his face freshly shaved, hair styled perfectly, a bouquet of white roses behind his back.

you open the door and his breath catches. the red dress you're wearing stops just above your knees, hugging your curves in all the right places. its bold and subtle all at once, elegant neckline, bare shoulders.

you see the shift in his expression instantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.

“kitten,” he breathes out, recovering just enough to let a smirk tug on his lips “are you trying to cancel our date?”

your brows furrow in amusement, “what?”

he lets out a soft laugh, eyes still tracing the length of you. “how do you expect me to not want to have my hands all over you until this is off?” he says, a hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently against him, already losing his inner battle.

a playful smirk appears on your lips, “hey, buy a girl dinner first,” you say, pressing your palm to his chest to push him back, just a little.

he chuckles, deep and warm, eyes twinkling as he finally brings the bouquet around “for you, kitten.”

you take the flowers with a soft, surprised smile “these are beautiful mark, thank you,” you say quietly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, just a quick one, before slipping back into your apartment. he stays at the door, watching as you make yourself into the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. you rummage through your drawers for the vase you rarely use, dusting it off before filling it with water. carefully, you begin arranging the flowers on your coffee table. mark steps inside, closing the door behind him. his arms wrapping around your waist in a back hug.

“you ready?,” he murmurs, a kiss brushing the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

“mhm,” you smile, reaching down to pat his hand before lacing your fingers with his. his grip is warm, sure. he leads you to the door, locking it behind you as you both step out of your apartment.

“this is kinda weird,” he chuckles as you walk towards his car.

“what? holding my hand,” you say, about to pull your hand away only for his grip to tighten.

“i didn’t say it was bad,” he says quickly, pulling you closer, “i’ve just never held hands with my girlfriend before.”

you chuckle, some things never change.

“oh, i didn’t know i was your girlfriend now?,” you smirk, teasing, a brow raising.

his smile instantly drops, “please say sike,” he mutters, suddenly serious. you burst into laughter and the tension in his shoulder melts. he watches you in awe, like your laugh could break every bone in his body and he’d still ask to hear it again. a smile taking over his features.

“sike,” you say sweetly just as he pokes your side, making you jump. he opens the passenger door for you with a smug look and you slide inside, cheeks warm, heart racing.

mark planned the most romantic, classic first date imaginable. like something ripped right out of a movie montage. candlelight dinner, soft jazz humming in the background and a corner table in a quiet, upscale restaurant where the lighting was dim and golden, casting everything in a dreamy glow. the flicker of the candle between you danced in his eyes, making him look warmer, softer than usual. the low murmur of other diners fading into the background. he pulled out your chair for you like a real gentleman. you ordered your food, sat across from each other, feet brushing beneath the table, half accidental, half deliberated. it was playful and sweet. he smiled every time it happened like he was trying to make you blush without saying a word. and it worked — you couldn’t remember the last time a date felt this intentional, this thoughtfully put together. like someone had wanted to impress you.

“wow, you really did your research, huh?,” you tease him, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk tugging at your lips.

“only the best for my girl,” he winks. you rolled your eyes at the line but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.

the food arrived and for a while you just existed in the moment. complimenting the dishes, laughing about how his plate looked fancier but yours tasted better. he slid a perfectly sliced piece of steak onto your plate without you asking and you absentmindedly twirled a forkful of pasta and held it out to him like it was second nature. like it was something you’ve been doing for years.

then halfway through the meal, mark leans in a little. his elbow resting on the table, chin in hand like he couldn’t help but watch you.

“i don’t know enough about you,” he says suddenly.

you looked up, caught mid-chew and more caught off-guard, “you’ve literally seen me naked, i think you’re doing fine.”

mark laughed — that warm, boyish sound that always cracked you open a little more than you liked to admit. he leaned back slightly, shaking his head, “yeah but i mean know you. like the little things. the stuff people forget to ask but matters more than they think.”

you blinked, slowly setting your fork down, “ok…what do you want to know?”

he lights up like a kid on christmas day, “what’s your favorite color?”

“really, mark?” you laughed, because of all the things he could’ve asked, it was a question as simple as that.

“hey! it’s important especially since i want to buy you gifts,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of his (your) pasta.

you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway “okay. pink.”

mark blinked, surprised. he never would’ve guessed. “pink?”

“mhm,” you said, spearing a bite of the salad in between you, “not like neon pink though but soft pink.”

“didn’t see that coming,” he said grinning. “but it kinda fits…you act all tough but you’re secretly a softie.”

you narrowed your eyes, “careful.”

“just saying,” he chuckled, reaching for his drink.

“alright,” you said, pointing your fork at him, “your turn, favorite color?”

“blue.”

you tilted your head, chewing thoughtfully, a playful grin on your face, “blue because it’s the color of the sky?”

he grinned, “that was the reason…at first,” he said, voice softening, “then you walked up to me, wearing a soft blue sundress during freshman year and the reason changed.”

your fork froze halfway to your mouth. for a second, the air felt heavier, quieter, like the words had rearranged the molecules around you. your eyes widen a little, lips parting as your expression falters between surprise and amusement.

“you remembered what i was wearing?,” you ask in pure disbelief.

“how could i forget?,” he shrugs like he didn’t just confess something that would stay with you for the rest of your life.

“wait…are you saying you’ve had a crush on me since freshman year?,” you asked, your tone teasing.

mark rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, “i may have had a tiny crush on you back then,” he admits. the smile on your face growing with every second.

the rest of your evening unfolded like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. full of quiet laughter, sharing of favorites and the reason behind them. every answer was like turning a page, revealing another layer neither of you had taken time to read before. between conversation, his hand would find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there. he’d brush your knuckles with his thumb, every movement gentle, deliberate. and every now and then, he’d lean over and kiss you. soft, unhurried kisses that made your skin hum and your stomach flip.

by the time you slid back into his car, the air between you was warm and charged, not with tension but with something more open, more vulnerable. he let you have the aux, learning your favorite songs on the ride back. both of you singing along, sometimes out of tune, sometimes laughing too hard. his hand was in yours the whole drive home. you kissed at stop lights. playful pecks that turned into lingering moments. the city moved around you, but you both felt disconnected. stuck in your own world with a population of two.

when he finally pulled up to your place, you were still laughing about something stupid he’d said. and then it got quiet. the kind of the quiet that meant something more. mark walked you to your door, hand still wrapped around yours like he couldn’t let go.

“tonight was really fun,” you said softly , your arm looped around his neck, fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair.

“yeah?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, lingering there for a beat, “would you say i’m you know…boyfriend material?,” he teased, smirking against your skin.

you huffed a laugh, playfully nudging him with your shoulder, “that was so bad.”

he tilts his head to look at your properly, the mischief fading into something gentler, more sincere, “i had the best time.”

you met his gaze, leaning up to kiss him – slow and sweet. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat before you pulled back, breathless but smiling.

“goodnight, mark,” you whispered, not quite ready for the night to end.

“goodnight kitten,” he said just as softly.

you slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. but your skin still buzzed with his touch, lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss. you leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart racing as the entire night replays in your mind.

outside, mark stares at your door, already missing your presence. he started to bring his fist up for a knock, but then the door opened. again.

he blinked, startled.

you were standing there, eyes already locked on his. you didn’t say a word. neither did he.

because in the next second, he crossed the threshold and kissed you – hard, fast and real. all the restraint of the evening gave way to need. he kicked the door shut behind him, hand blindly finding the lock as his other arm wound around your waist.

you make the familiar steps to your bedroom, lips never leaving his, a quiet gasp escaping you when he lifted you slightly, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed.

and when you made love, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was slow, tender. his hands memorized you all over again. his lips marked every inch of your skin. you whispered his name like it meant something new now. he held you like he never wanted to stop.

the morning came and you were still there, wrapped tightly around his arms. body molded perfectly against his like you were always meant to fit there. fingers interlaced like your hands had made a silent promise sometime in the night to never part. mark could see the pink and purple marks blooming where his lips and hands had wandered. he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest — you looked peaceful, like all the weight you usually carried had melted away in the dark, if only for a little while. and in that quiet moment, with the world still hushed around you, he knows that it’s all worth it.

and if he had to do it all over again – the mistakes, the heartache, the waiting. he would. every single time, without hesitation, if it always leads him back to this. back to you. the only thing he’s ever been sure of.

ᓚᘏᗢ

loving mark made you realize that love didn’t have to be a fantasy. it wasn’t all sunshines and rainbows and happily ever afters. but it also wasn’t terrible, screaming at each other at 3am, being left behind on the kitchen floor, crying your eyes out.

it didn’t happen overnight either. there was still fear lingering in the back of your head. but this time you don’t let it take control. this time you don’t let it overpower.

because love with mark is staying, even when you were scared. especially when you were scared. it was comfort and safety. the kind that wrapped around your heart and told you it was okay to let your guard down. it was peace. the kind that didn’t demand you to be anything other than what you were. it was someone showing up at your apartment with your favorite snacks, settling in beside you on the couch while a romcom played and cramps left you curled under a blanket. no pressure to talk. just presence. it’s laughing at terrible jokes until your stomach hurt. arguing about which spiderman was the best. agreeing to disagree, even if you were clearly right. it was fighting over which greasy takeout to get and pretending to be annoyed when he ordered your favorite anyway. it was celebrating the happy moments, the sad moments and everything in between. it’s sticking around when things got hard. still choosing each other when the weight of the world made everything feel heavy. it was learning each other and unlearning old patterns. being patient. building something new, one honest conversation at a time. it was asking, “do you want advice or do you just want me to listen?” it was hearing the answer and respecting it.

it wasn’t about fixing each other or needing someone to fill a space inside you. it was about wanting to be there. it was about choosing to stay again and again and again.

𓏲 the end.

-

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

bonus: mark x kitten coded -> video one, video two, video three

-

an: and 3/7 is done! i hit the 1000 text block limit thing on here and it was awful. it’s not my fault they’re both yappers and i write way too much when mark is involved! i hope i was still able to convey the tension and longing in those long ass paragraphs >.< …. anyways, this was supposed to end the moment she walked away but i couldn’t do it! i had to give mark a happy ending, he deserves it!. kitten was so hard to write like why am i writing a character with past trauma and real, raw, emotions that are hitting too close to home… this is supposed to be a fun, silly rom-com. but i hope you liked her! i hope you liked them. thank you for reading! <3

VOTE HERE FOR THE NEXT STORY

likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦ﾟ♡︎

love tags : @bluedbliss @yesohhsehun @tynlvr @sunghoonsgfreal @2sungie @euphormiia @ptv-hades @imnotrosiee @remgeolli

[cheftsunoda]

conflict of interest

smau

charles leclerc x lawyer!reader x alexandra saint mleux

in which charles needs a lawyer and everyone on the grid recommends you…the one who reads NDAs like novels, redlines million-dollar contracts with a Montblanc pen, and somehow still finds time to go viral on tik tok for roasting poorly written sponsorship deals. he thinks it’ll be quick—one meeting, a signature, maybe a stern look over a brand clause or two. then you show up in monaco in heels and a tailored suit, quoting the FIA regulations better than his race engineer and making alex laugh harder than he’s seen in months. his Instagram explore page becomes full of edits of you. add in alex, who takes one look at you and says, “she is dangerous.” but won’t stop inviting you to brunch. suddenly, the paddock’s favorite couple has a third problem. or maybe… a third solution.

fc : bella hadid and various pinterest girlies

little draft for you all as I am working on finishing heal your heart rn — enjoy mamas

⚠️not proofread⚠️

—

charles_leclerc

liked by uhavebeenserved, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 & 859,265 others.

charles_leclerc : proud, proud, proud 🤍 @/lec

scuderiaferrari: 🍦💛

liked by author

alexandrasaintmleux : so proud of you, mon ange!

liked by author

usernameee : need to try asap

uhavebeenserved : congratulations charles! can’t wait to try! 💛

liked by author & alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : would not have been possible without you! have some on the way to you right now 😉

liked by uhavebeenserved

username0 : who is she??

username20 : big time lawyer in monaco— half the grid has worked with her. she is also on tik tok and makes fun legal content!

arthur_leclerc : im out already

charles_leclerc : literally how— you got like 5 yesterday!

charles_leclerc : fatty

arthur_leclerc : stop arthur slander @/uhavebeenserved HELP

liked by uhavebeenserved

uhavebeenserved : all im hearing is good press for @/lec…if arthur likes it that much its clearly fabulous…and i would be nice to ppl who r giving me free press charles

liked by arthur_leclerc & charles_leclerc

—

uhavebeenserved

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, lando & 1,855,467 others.

uhavebeenserved : i don’t only serve subpoenas but i also serve cunt

alexandrasaintmleux : belle fille 😻

liked by author

uhavebeenserved : ur the most beautiful alexxx

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

username1 : yn would you help me sue my ex for traumatizing me?

uhavebeenserved : absolutely I’ll do it for free

username4 : sjsjsjs I can’t with her

username5 : yn!! any advice on surviving law school?

uhavebeenserved : no distractions, study your ass off and knee any misogynistic men in the nuts :)

username5 : will do mamas. i promise to make you proud

liked by author

username00 : the amount of pure cunt and beauty you exert should be illegal

lando : how does one exactly serve cunt?

liked by author

uhavebeenserved : it is a way of life lando. you will learn eventually little one.

yourbff : god im obsessed with you

liked by author

scuderiaferrari: Nice car😉

liked by author

uhavebeenserved: pretty, ain’t she?

kikagomes : we miss you in the paddock pls come back soon

liked by author

maxverstappen1 : agreed

liked by author

carlossainz55 : need legal advice on if I can sue for emotional distress

uhavebeenserved: is this about f**rari? bc we may have a case carlos

carlossainz55 : 🤐 (yes)

liked by author

redbullracing: we will happily host you, yn!

mercedesamgf1 : pick us!!

mclaren : you’d look great in papaya!

scuderiaferrari: i think we are the obvious choice

uhavebeenserved: omg yes fight over me

username15 : why is half the grid in her comments?

username00 : she is pretty close to most of them as she has represented them before

—

vogue

liked by alexandrasaintmleux & 243,643 others.

vogue : What’s in Her Bag: Court Edition. Monaco based lawyer, YN LN, breaks down her everyday courtroom essentials—from highlighters to Hermès.

username00 : her casual paddock pass in her bag is killing me

username15 : she really said I don’t need this during court but I never empty my bag ever

username10 : multi purpose queen

username7 : so we’re all seeing the paddock pass and Alexandra’s sunglasses right?? ok just checking

username8 : how do you know they r hers?

username20 : Sunglasses last seen on Alexandra in a Milan street style reel 3 weeks ago. Do with that what you will.

username8 : damn ok detective

username20 : plus if you actually watch the video…she literally said “oh these belong to alex, i need to get them back to her.’

username17 : alexandra already likeddddd

username18 : the back of her paddock pass literally says “guest of charles leclerc” hmmm

username0 : they are friends don’t make it what it’s not

username22 : you guys are literally all focused on the wrong things—THERE WAS A PIECE OF PAPER THAT SAID ‘GOOD LUCK MON CHÈRI -C’

username15 : do you know how many men in this world have c names?

username22 : pls stop killing my joy

—

alexandrasaintmleux posted to her story!

seen by charles_leclerc, uhavebeenserved, arthur_leclerc & 232,545 others.

charles_leclerc : wish I could’ve been with my favorite ladies😞

alexandrasaintmleux : we will see you tomorrow pretty boy

uhavebeenserved : best day ever with you pretty angel

alexandrasaintmleux : u r making me blushhh

arthur_leclerc : where was my invite

alexandrasaintmleux: lost in the mail maybe

—

uhavebeenserved added two posts to her story!

{caption 1 : guess where I am???} {caption 2 : @/scuderiaferrari made me do hot laps with @/charles_leclerc…still feel ill}

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, lando, charles_leclerc & 3,375,266 others.

lando : still mad you let charles take you but not me

uhavebeenserved : I value my life

charles_leclerc : hope I didn’t make that pretty head spin too much

uhavebeenserved: ur good I think I still have all my wits about me

uhavebeenserved: I was too busy staring at you to get dizzy

charles_leclerc : your beauty was definitely distracting me- if we would’ve wrecked I’d have to sue you for being too stunning

—

hot laps!

YN slides into the passenger seat, sunglasses on and helmet over her head, calm as ever. Charles is already grinning behind the wheel.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Well I suppose with how much they pay you that you are somewhat decent and won’t kill us.” YN said dryly, tugging on her seatbelt.

Charles lets out a low laugh and turns on the ignition. The car comes alive.

“What was your first impression of me?” Charles asked as he took off down the track without warning.

“Fast. But not in the way you think.” YN said as she gripped the door handle, trying to steady herself.

“That sounds like you’re insulting me.” Charles said with a chuckle.

“You talked way too much in our first meeting. Absolutely rambling.” YN said with a small smile.

“And now?”

“Now you know when to shut up so that sounds like progress to me.”

He raises an eyebrow, cornering harder than necessary.

“If you weren’t a driver, what would you be?” YN asks, setting the cards in her lap.

“I’m not sure but I think I have some legal issues so I’d still need you.” He said with a smirk.

YN chuckled lowly. “Sounds like job security for me.”

“Or a very expensive habit.” Charles stated smoothly.

“Biggest red flag in a person?” Charles asked.

“People who treat rules as suggestions.” YN murmured.

“Uh-oh.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s your red flag?” Charles asked with a cheeky smile.

“I argue for a living and I always win.” YN said.

“Good thing I like a challenge.” Charles glances at her grinning.

“You know you didn’t have to say yes to this.” Charles said as the car started to slow down.

“I didn’t.” I said.

“So why did you?” Charles asked.

“Because I don’t mind the speed when I know who is driving. I already said no to Lando.” YN said causing another laugh from Charles.

“I’ll take that as consent to ask you out to dinner.” He said as he reaches over to help YN unbuckle herself.

“Only if you read the fine print, Leclerc.” She said with a smirk and stepped out of the car.

Towards the end of the video there was a cute clip of Charles helping YN take off her helmet and him smoothing down her hair.

—

alexandrasaintmleux reposted scuderiaferrari’s video with the caption : “only watching for yn, she is funny as hell”

—

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story!

{caption 1 : she is always working} {caption 2 : managed to convince y/n to come to brunch with me}

seen by charles_leclerc, uhavebeenserved, scuderiaferrari & 347,246 others.

charles_leclerc : she was literally already up working when I left this morning

alexandrasaintmleux: i know!! i told her she was insane.

charles_leclerc : do not let her pay for herself, use my card.

alexandrasaintmleux: already on it:)

uhavebeenserved : always a lovely day spent with you, mon ange

alexandrasaintmleux: i love youuuuu

—

twitter!

F1gossipgirls: does anyone else think it’s odd that alexandra reposted the hot laps video that YN and Charles were so clearly flirting in and the proceeds to hang out with her all day??

view comments

usernameee : ARE WE FRIENDS? ARE WE FLIRTING? ARE WE THROUPLING?

username5 : alexandra watching her boyfriend flirt with the lawyer then taking the lawyer out for drinks??? no notes. this is cinema.

username7 : guys maybe they are just all friends and alex doesn’t get jealous or doesn’t care

username17 : i could not be friends with someone who is openly flirting with my man like that

username00 : if this turns into a “two girlfriends and a driver” scenario I SWEAR I will never recover

username14 : charles rn trying to understand if he’s being soft-launched into a love triangle or quietly removed from it.

username0 : so is this a friendship? a situationship? a legal partnership with romantic benefits? we need answers.

—

uhavebeenserved added two posts to her story!

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, lando & 2,164,175 others.

lando : still can’t believe you’ll go out with Charles and not me

uhavebeenserved : charles is rather charming and also has a hot girlfriend he is willing to share…what do you have Norris?

lando : i have oscar

uhavebeenserved : as adorable as you both are…no🤗

alexandrasaintmleux: omg I miss you both smmmm

uhavebeenserved : come home rn pretty we miss you too (very very much)

charles_leclerc : best night with you mon amor

uhavebeenserved : love you cha

—

f1gossipgirls

2,364,145 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Charles Leclerc was spotted out in Monaco with Lawyer YN LN — sources say the two had a dinner together and then left in the same car. YN LN was seen leaving his house the next morning and taking his car for a spin. Charles’ long term girlfriend and friend of LN’s, Alexandra, has been in Mexico with her family.

—

username5 : typical charles but I feel horrible for Alex esp after she clearly trusted yn

usernameee : OH WE’RE NOT EVEN PRETENDING ANYMORE.

username17 : me refreshing alexandra’s story every 30 seconds like she’s the press secretary

username20 : and y’all were clowning when she had alex’s sunglasses and a paddock pass in her court bag… WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?

alexandrasaintmleux : cute dress yn !!

liked by author and uhavebeenserved

uhavebeenserved : thanks love! stole it from your closet 🤐

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

username14 : okay what the fuck

username22 : I’ve never been more confused in my life

username15 : is this petty or sarcasm or what

—

uhavebeenserved

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 & 4,375,279 others.

uhavebeenserved : yall really know how to fuck up a soft launch but anyways alex and charles r the love(s) of my life and that is all goodbye🥰💕♥️❤️🥰😍

—

alexandrasaintmleux: i love you so so so so much beautiful,, so happy to be able to show you off now;)

liked by author

username00 : imagine dating your client AND your client’s girlfriend. that’s not a conflict of interest, that’s a power move.

oscarpiastri : so do i have another mom now?

liked by author

uhavebeenserved : yes

oscarpiastri : free legal representation?

uhavebeenserved : yes

lando : WHY DOES HE GET IT BUT NOT ME

uhavebeenserved : oscar stays rather quiet…I don’t see him becoming too much of an issue…unlike you

liked by maxverstappen1 and oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc : my girls ❤️ love you both so much

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and author

danielricciardo : ive been nosey and read a lot of fanfiction in my day but this beats them all

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

lilymhe : love love love

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

carlossainz55 : oh thank god I couldn’t be quiet much longer

liked by author and charles_leclerc

uhavebeenserved : we know

carlossainz55 : sorry for wanting to defend you and Charles from the internet MY BAD FOR BEING A GOOD FRIEND

liked by author and charles_leclerc

yourbff : cuties

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

—

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, uhavebeenserved, arthur_leclerc & 1,358,268.

charles_leclerc : my legal counsel has approved of a hard launch;)

love you both forever and always — the girls ive always dreamed of 🤍

—

username00 : i’m shaking. shaking. SHAKING. he posted this like it’s normal

alexandrasaintmleux : so blessed to have found both of my soulmates — my whole heart

liked by author and uhavebeenserved

uhavebeenserved : my favorite people on the planet,, you both are so incredibly special to me — love you my babies

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

username15 : what if Charles was cheating and this is the cover up

uhavebeenserved : oh yes when I make love to both of them it is def a cover up

liked by author and alexandrasaintmleux

scuderiaferrari: for being a lawyer, you are not very pr friendly

liked by uhavebeenserved

alexandrasaintmleux: it’s part of her charm

liked by author and uhavebeenserved

arthur_leclerc : bro I just woke up

arthur_leclerc : and I see you hard launching with my lawyer

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux and uhavebeenserved

charles_leclerc : she is my lawyer too

uhavebeenserved: i will still be ur lawyer arthur and ill even give you a family discount

arthur_leclerc : oh slay love u for that

pierregasly : triple date soon?

liked by author, uhavebeenserved and alexandrasaintmleux

—

🌸💐🌺🌻🌼

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | March 31st-May 15th 2025 (PART ONE)

Hey guys.... long time no see ... 🙈

I've been really busy both at work and in my personal life, and I couldn't find the time to sit down and make the weekly recaps. (Part of that was planning a trip I am CURRENTLY on, making the most of this train ride to try and finish this goddamn post I started a week ago). As a result I have a month month and a half worth of fics to catch up on! Because of that, I'm gonna try and make the summaries shorter and the formatting easier because I have a lot of fics to go through! Also, I'm going to make one taglist for all the authors recced instead of tagging one by one for each fic!

Also, I am sorry to all the writers writing canon fics after 8x16, I just really haven't been in the mood to read about MCD. :/ Edit: godfuckingdamnit tumblr can't handle that many links but that just means I can yeet at least part of this rec into the void for now!!!!

@buckleyflower @exhuastedpigeon @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @shitouttabuck @useramor @evcndiaz @gigi-gigi @inell @cal-daisies-and-briars @songbvrd @challaudaku @pairofraggedclaws @tizniz @devirnis @facewithoutheart @greenbergsays @facewithoutheart @xylodemon @oh-stars @markofalover @spaceprincessem @coldbam @fruitsdontknow @chronicowboy

Complete

Boyfriend on standby by buckleydefender (Post-S8E7: Hotshots, Getting Together | 7K | G): Eddie realizes he’s gay, begs Buck to stop baking and gets a birthday cake and a boyfriend in one night

my place, my peace by buckleydefender (Eddie back from Texas, Getting Together | 8K | G): what happens when Buck becomes TikTok famous, people assume that Eddie is dead, then that they are married and eventually help them get together

🔥 maybe this time, I'll be yours, you'll be mine by Elgney (Canon Divergent, S2 | 22K | G): It's the 63rd Annual Los Angeles Fire Muster & Firefighter’s Family Day, and inter-station relations are about to get real friendly between stations 6 and 118.

can′t leave me alone by 42hrb (S8, Eddie back from Texas, PWP | 3K | E): “There wasn’t a line at the DMV, it was a miracle. I —” The words die on Eddie’s lips as he takes in the scene in front of him, his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, a flush spreads over his cheeks. Buck must look a fucking sight and he knows it, his face hot with a mix of shame and arousal. He can’t look at Eddie, not when he’s still got a fucking dildo buried in his ass. Not when his cock is fucking leaking against his stomach. Not when looking at Eddie might be what sends him tipping over the edge, so Buck carefully looks at the wall behind him instead. “Y-you’re not supposed to be home yet."

ride it, my pony by weewooforever (Post-S8E6: Confessions, PWP | 4K | E): Eddie shifts again, lifting one leg over Buck’s lap so that he’s straddling him. And then Eddie starts to move and Buck’s brain completely short-circuits. Eddie’s hips roll forward deliberately, like he’s just letting himself follow the beat of the music. Then he rocks back again, and Buck feels the shift through every part of him. That’s when it finally hits him. This is happening. Eddie Diaz is giving him a lap dance.

to bake an orange creamsicle cake by agilerose (S8, Getting together | 3K | G): Buck and Eddie make a grocery store run to get ingredients for a cake, but instead of reading the grocery list, Eddie finds a note in Buck's phone all about him.

i looked at your face & i knew that i’d found it by fleetinghearts (Eddie back from Texas, Getting Together | 3K | G): or, it might be just slightly obvious that buck really, really likes to talk about eddie

🔥 if i have your heart forever by ipretendtobesane (Eddie back from Texas, Getting Together | 9K | M): The day Eddie returns to Los Angeles for good and the day he realizes he’s in love with Evan Buckley happen to be the same twenty-four hours, which makes sense, really, if you think about it. He was coming home. To Los Angeles, to the 118. To Buck.

Overflow Protocol by lethargicWaste (PWP | 10K | E): Or; Eddie finds out Buck has hyperspermia and is totally normal and sane about it.

in golden wednesdays (i see ocean blue eyes) by bibuckdiaz (Canon Divergent, Veterinarian Eddie | 12K | T): Veterinarian Eddie Diaz meets a man who turns his life upside down with his smile, his heart, and his adorable Golden Retriever puppy.

a fever you can't sweat out by evcndiaz (PWP | 5K | E): eddie chuckles at the sight of him, the sound of it so low and dark and cocky that buck swears to god he almost comes right then and there. “you’re a greedy little bitch, aren’t you?” buck moans.

SOS by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 1K | T): Eddie: SOS Buck: ??? Eddie: How do you know if someone wants to kiss you Or, Eddie phones a friend. That friend just so happens to be the guy awkwardly avoiding eye contact with him on the couch.

no angels could beckon me back. by dylaesthetics (PWP, Nightclub | 3K | E): OR Buck wants to party with Eddie and ends up partying…Well, erm, hard.

Devour Me, My Love by giselleslash (Love Confessions | 3K | T): When Buck holds onto Eddie it quiets the noise and brings him back to himself. Eddie doesn’t want to need him, but he can’t stop. (basically Eddie being a freak about Buck. and then Buck being a freak right back.)

Thrill Me Like You Do by Inell (Getting Together | 2K | T): An unexpected kiss over breakfast dishes leads to Buck asking Eddie out for their first date.

Earth is a very small dot by paleredheadinascifi (Blind Date, Getting Together | 3K | T): Or, Buck goes on a blind date. Impossibly, so does Eddie.

🔥 your face has faded but lingers on by Daisies_and_Briars (Angel!Buck, Canon Divergent | 16K | M): After a minor injury, Eddie learns that for years Buck - who was lost in an accident years before - is his guardian angel. Now able to see and interact with Buck, the two develop an unusual and deep bond. One Eddie doesn't want to let go of.

Iridescence by songbvrd (Mermaid!Buck | 18K | E): When Buck's parents try to exchange him for Daniel's health, they're hit with unforeseen circumstances. 5 times Eddie tries to get Buck to open up and tell him the truth, and the one time Buck actually does.

five times buck and eddie talk about having kids (and one time they actually do it) by challaudaku (Established Buddie | 4K | T): It’s not the first time people assumed Christopher was Buck and Eddie’s son, and he is, really, but Buck’s still aware that he came into their lives, that he wasn’t always a part of it, however long ago that felt like. This isn’t going to be the last time someone assumes that, either, but every time sends a rush through Buck’s body, it makes him feel giddy. Having a kid. With Eddie.

made your mark on me by challaudaku (Post-Getting Together | 1K | T): “Was it too much?” he asks. “Too fast?” Eddie’s breaths are shaky and shallow, and then he gasps out, “Is that what it’s supposed to feel like?” - buck, and eddie, and deserving happiness

sweetness follows by pairofraggedclaws (Outsider POV, Getting Together | 4K | T): Buck and Eddie figure it out, through the eyes of Chimney, Hen, and Bobby.

gel jail by shortndiaz (S8, Getting Together | 2K |M): Buck hates Eddie’s hair gel. He sentences it to a life sentence in gel jail.

a spreading heat by Tizniz (Werewolf Eddie | 1K| M): But not today. Today, it’s like he’s unable to ignore the carnal want he has for Buck. And it’s a problem. OR: Eddie is starting his rut and has absolutely no idea.

morning, noon and nightfall by devirnis (New Years Eve, Proposal | <1K | G): It’s been a chaotic day, but the best kind of chaos. Many hands coming together to help decorate, prepare the food, set up games for the kids — as well as discreetly squirrelling away additional decorations and a themed cake that has nothing to do with New Year’s Eve. Buck loves it, loves hosting a big party for his family in their new house, but he also feels like he hasn’t had a chance to talk to his boyfriend all day. Fiancé in — he subtly checks his watch — less than an hour. Probably. Hopefully.

we are human after all by facewithoutheart (Eddie in Texas | 3K | T): With Eddie in El Paso and Buck resting from a minor injury, Buck buys one of those robot cameras for watching pets so he and Eddie can hang out all day.

stress relief by greenbergsays (Post-Shooting, PWP | 5K | E): Set in the aftermath of the sniper shooting. Eddie is feeling frustrated and Buck offers a helping hand. (With added feelings!)

tell me what you need by weewooforever (PWP | 6K | E): It was supposed to be a one-time thing. He’d asked Buck for sex that day because he was desperate and looking for something to relax him. He thought it would burn off the need, get it out of his system. But it hasn’t. Not even fucking close. (Part 2 of wants and needs)

I told my friends you were the one by Elgney (Chris POV, Reddit | 2K | G): r/relationships ConfusedKid • 1 yr. ago : Hi. I’ve never posted here before but my friends can’t help me so maybe you guys can. I (12M) have kind of been going crazy trying to figure out what is going on with my dad (31M) and his best friend, B (31M). (Part 2 of make way for Buckling)

Water Lovers by xylodemon (S8, Getting Together | 10K | E): (Or: Five Times They Shared a Shower at the Station and One Time They Shared One at Home)

🔥 playing favorites by 42hrb (Pepa POV, Canon | 10K | T): Vignettes of Pepa and her favorite nephew throughout the years.

Pauses, then says, "You're my best friend." by this_is_moony_lovegood (Eddie Back from Texas, Getting Together | 7K | T): When Buck walks in on Chris kissing his best friend, Aiden, Buck and Chris settle in for an overdue conversation about love, family, and being brave.

shoulda been me by Tizniz (S8, Eddie Coming Out, Getting Together | 7K | G): Eddie goes on a date, realizes some things, and Buck handles it in a perfectly normal and rational way.

If you Give a Buck a Baby by scarmaddiewrites (Canon, Multiple POV | 7K | T): If Evan Buckley came with an instruction manual, the number one rule printed in bold, underlined, and possibly laminated, would be: If Evan is sad, give him a child.

vuelve a mi by markofalover (S8E17: Don't Drink The Water, Pepa&Eddie, Getting Together | 2K | T): “All these years, I tried to,” she says, pausing to inhale. “Set you up, and I didn’t know. That your heart already belonged to someone.”

sick of the chase but hungry for blood by spaceprincessem (S8E17: Don't Drink The Water | 1K | M): or buck and eddie kiss during the kitchen scene

easy by coldbam (S8E17 Coda, Getting Together | 1,7K | M): "Buck, are you single?" Eddie snorts, leaning back in his chair. "Pepa, don't start." She swats him lightly on the shoulder. "Oh, Eddie, hush. I'm just curious," she says, a picture of innocence before she turns back to Buck with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"

featherlight by coldbam (Canon Divergent, Eddie in Texas | 7K | G): Eddie snaps the picture, and sends it to Buck without thought. New neighbour stopped by to welcome me Eddie had been drinking his coffee, sitting outside on his back porch, trying not to get overwhelmed at all the shit he still had to do at his new place. The bird, a sweet little thing with a yellow face, was a nice distraction, flitting around, probably looking for food through the overgrown garden. It doesn’t take more than three minutes before his phone buzzes with Buck’s response. think thats a verdin!!! so cool!!

I Don’t See Your Mistakes by fruitsdoesnotknow (Eddie Back From Texas, Roommates, Getting Together | 7K | T): They're asked a simple question. "When did you fall in love with your partner?" This is how they respond.

seeing him in a new light by Tizniz (Eddie Back from Texas, Getting Together | 1K | G): The big question Eddie has is: has Buck always been this big?

bet the house (watch it fall) by withmeornotatall (S8E17 Spec | 1K | G): (OR: eddie goes back to confession)

Earth is a very small dot by paleredheadinascifi (First Date | 3K | T): Or, Buck goes on a blind date. Impossibly, so does Eddie.

WIP

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 11/? | 21K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 26/28 | 139K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 18/19 | 189K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Shake the Disease by Daisies_and_Briars (Post-S8E15 Sick Day, Canon Divergent | 2/9 | 10K | M): Six months after a lab explosion which left Buck the only surviving active member of the 118, Buck begins to experience strange symptoms that lead him and Athena, both trapped in their grief, into the depths of a conspiracy that might be more fact than fiction.

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 17/? | 72K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time?

Podfic

[Podfic] I'll Eat You Instead of Chocolate (You're Sweeter Anyhow) by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Werewolf Buck, BDSM | 2.5-3h | E): When the 118 is called to deal with a "dog" that ended up in someone's house, Buck sustains a bite. It's fine, in fact it healed really quickly, and he doesn't see a need to make any fuss. The fact that he's craving raw meat, wants to be taken on a walk, and has a crazy strong sense of smell now are completely unrelated. Definitely. For sure.

[dontpulloutman]

singer!yn x lewis pullman headcanons

an accompaniment to favorite muse !

like two cosmic entities, you two have been circling each other for years before you properly meet.

gaining fame and your celebrity status before the age of 18 doesn’t change the fact that you are a fangirl at heart. suddenly being invited to afterparties and high-profile events, you took the time to socialize, mingle, and meet the people who you only saw on your screen.

in one of those post-award show parties, you meet eden brolin. you’re both talking about music, how you’re at the height of yours, and how she and her band are in hibernation, when she gestures for someone to join you.

sporting a shy smile, lewis makes his way over to you. your eyes are stuck on his smile, ears tingling with his laughter when eden makes a witty remark you didn’t catch. you’re enchanted, captivated.

this is only the beginning.

songwriting has always been your strongest suit. as you always said, without it, you wouldn’t have it all. for almost a year, your relationship with harry has been on a steady decline. songwriting is how you’ve learned to cope with and understand it.

lewis was the one who helped you heal through it.

back and forth from new york to rhode island; los angeles and oddly enough, a home studio at lew’s montana ranch, your album was crafted. in this, you poured out your feelings and thoughts regarding your relationship with harry.

(if, in a few years, fans realize your entire album photoshoot took place in lewis’s montana ranch, what harm would it do? you can’t blame eagle eyed fans from connecting his recent 2024-2025 interview backgrounds to your album photobook)

after such a publicized relationship, you knew you had to take some time for yourself. never mind the fact that the internet always had something new to say about your breakup, how you’ve basically gone non-existent while harry has been spotted walking around with a new girl every other month.

in those months of hiding, you find your friendship with lewis developing into something more.

knowing looks, longing stares, and the feel of a warm hand against the small of your back. everywhere you went; out with friends, intimate gatherings with industry peers - he became your immediate and automatic plus one. it’s understandable; he’s your best friend.

one night, while sequestered in your new york apartment, deep into your second glass of wine, your eyes meet lew’s from across the sofa. there’s soft jazz playing from the record player, and you can’t stop your eyes from tracing the stubble he’s growing. you want to feel it against your fingertips.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you have a secret you need to tell.”

you bend down, putting your wineglass on the carpeted floor. slowly, eyes never leaving his, you get on your hands and knees, and crawl across the sofa to where he’s seated. back against the corner of the L-shape couch, his hands immediately move to your hips.

“Do I?” there’s a shit-eating grin on your face

you’re not sure who leaned in first, the world is totally blocked out. nothing to feel, nothing to think, nothing to see, except the press of his lips, earthquakes in your core, and fireworks behind your eyes.

like they say, the rest is history.

your relationship settles like puzzle pieces that have always been meant to be. “It makes total sense,” is the general consensus you hear from friends. even lew’s parents have mentioned how they’ve been expecting it.

2018

lewis joins the ensemble cast for Bad Times at the El Royale; it’s been two years since things ended with harry, and 4 months since this new, beautiful, yet still fragile relationship with lew started. you celebrate his new role by cooking dinner together, and watching your favorite films on the couch.

you also begin to write and produce songs for other artists

2022

top gun: maverick and press play.

at this point, you haven’t released any of your own songs. sure, your fans know that you’re making music, and you’ve joined in on a few collaborations with other artists, but people have been dying to hear from you.

it’s not something you’re worrying over. supporting lewis’s career, simply being there when Big Heart Manners and Crab Park were made and recorded; it’s easy to fall into domestic bliss with the love of your life

2023

and still, he never stops encouraging you to release your own songs again. with festering and long-awaited inspiration, you start to work on muses & anecdotes. a 13-part love letter dedicated to the man you know you couldn’t live without.

2024

after an accidental post on instagram, you both decided it was time to let the world know. releasing muses & anecdotes, and the accompanying “hard launch” posted on instagram, you felt a newfound freedom. almost like the weight of the past few years have been lifted, a declaration of starting anew. the whole world learning of your love with lewis was like a new page being turned.

your story has barely begun.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Sleep, Love. Disney’s Not Going Anywhere

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Warnings: None, just sweet fluff and cozy cuddles

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy! Felt like Simon needed a bit of chaos.

Summary: You’re hours away from a dream trip to Disney World, but your excitement won’t let you sleep. Simon helps calm you down in the sweetest way.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The bedroom was quiet—except for you.

Outside the windows, the streetlights cast a soft amber glow across the curtains, the city asleep under a blanket of midnight calm. Inside, though, the air was alive with anticipation.

The bed creaked gently beneath your restless movements as you flopped onto your back for what felt like the fiftieth time. Simon’s old shirt—worn thin with age and smelling faintly of laundry detergent and his cologne—was bunched around your thighs, tangled in the sheets. You pushed the blankets off, then pulled them back up again. Hot. Cold. Hot again.

Your eyes flicked to the glowing red digits on the alarm clock: 1:39 a.m.

You groaned.

This was ridiculous.

You had been looking forward to this trip for months. And now that it was finally here—just a day and a half away—your brain had decided it was the perfect time to turn into a firework factory. You couldn’t stop picturing it all: the rides, the characters, the castle, the photos, Simon trying to pretend he wasn’t having a good time.

Another flip onto your stomach. You let out a quiet huff.

Behind you, there was a low grunt. Then the familiar shift of weight, the bed dipping.

Simon.

“Love?” His voice was gravelly, still heavy with sleep, barely more than a murmur in the dark. “You alright?”

You froze for a beat, feeling a twinge of guilt. “…Sorry. Did I wake you?”

He made a sleepy noise in his throat and rolled over to face you, his arm reaching out, warm fingers brushing over your back. “Hard not to notice when you’re tossin’ like you’re doin’ laps.”

You turned onto your side to look at him, barely able to make out his face in the dim light. His hair was tousled, some of it falling across his forehead, and the lines softened from the way sleep always quieted his features. Even with the shadows cloaking him, he looked… safe. Familiar. Yours.

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered.

Simon’s thumb traced a lazy arc along your hipbone. “No kidding.”

“I’m just… I’m excited.”

He hummed. “For what?”

You blinked. “…Are you serious?”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, low and dry. “Yes, love. Remind me what’s got you bouncing like a bloody rubber ball at 2 in the morning.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “Disney, Simon. We’re going to Disney World in like—thirty-six hours!”

“Uh-huh.” He dragged you closer, tucking you against him. “And if you don’t get some sleep, you’re going to pass out before we even get to the queue for Space Mountain.”

You sighed, letting yourself sink into his embrace. He was warm. Solid. He smelled like home—faint hints of soap, skin, and the detergent you always bought even though he insisted it didn’t matter.

“I just… I keep thinking about everything. I’ve got our matching shirts packed. I made our reservation for the castle breakfast. I printed the itinerary and laminated it—”

“You laminated it?”

“Yes! I didn’t want it to get crumpled. And—”

Simon groaned, long and exaggerated. “You’re adorable. And completely mental.”

You poked his chest. “Don’t pretend you’re not excited.”

He didn’t answer right away, just pressed a kiss to your forehead and let out a breath that could’ve been a chuckle.

“‘Course I am. But I need you to sleep, so I’m not carrying your unconscious body through Magic Kingdom like a corpse in mouse ears.”

You snorted, burying your face into his chest. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

“Bloody dramatic.”

There was a beat of silence, then his hand started moving again—broad palm gliding up and down your spine in slow, soothing strokes.

“Want me to help you relax?” he asked softly, voice just a notch above a whisper.

You nodded into his shirt.

He shifted onto his back, guiding you to rest half on top of him, your cheek pressed over his heartbeat. His other hand came up, fingertips drawing faint, rhythmic circles into your arm.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Close your eyes. Picture it.”

You did.

“The sun’s just coming up over the park. It’s quiet, barely anyone there. We’ve got coffee—mine’s black, yours is whatever ridiculous sugar monstrosity you like.”

“Rude.”

“True,” he said with a smirk you could hear. “You’ve got your mouse ears on. I’ve got… what is it, a Goofy hat?”

“The long one, with the ears.”

“Of course. You look like a kid in a candy shop. You’re dragging me toward the rides. I’m pretending to be miserable.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Mm.” He kissed your temple. “Maybe. Then we meet your alien friend. What’s his name again?”

“Stitch, Simon. He’s not just an alien, he’s an experiment gone rogue with a heart of gold.”

Simon snorted. “Right. Him. You take a photo with him. I look grumpy. You look like it’s the best day of your life.”

You smiled, eyes still closed, your breathing finally starting to even out.

“You buy too many souvenirs,” he continued, “and I pretend to be annoyed, but I still carry the bags. You lean on me during the fireworks, and I forget I ever hated places with crowds.”

Your body relaxed against him fully now, limbs heavy and warm, mind slowing from its jittery rhythm.

“I love you, Simon,” you mumbled, half-asleep.

His hand stilled just for a moment, before resuming its gentle path.

“I know,” he whispered, voice thick with fondness. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The clock ticked quietly in the corner.

Outside, the city slept on.

Inside, Simon held you close—your restless excitement tucked beneath his calm like a secret you shared between heartbeats—and finally, finally, you drifted off to sleep.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[blissfulflw]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑇𝑜 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠

Pairing- Uchinaga Aeri (Giselle) x fem reader

Genre- Angst, (some fluff)

Word count- 4137

A/N: This fic is based off the song ‘Back to Friends’ by sombr

“We’re back to being friends but it’s never just that”

The lights in the practice room buzzed overhead, fluorescent and far too bright for how dim everything felt inside you.

Aeri sat across from you, laughing—too loudly, too easily—at something Ningning said. Her voice, warm and familiar, laced with that same lilt that used to curl around your name in the dark. Now it wrapped around everyone but you.

You laughed, too. Because that’s what friends do.

It had been three months since the night she ended it. Not with anger, not even with tears. Just quiet, tired resignation.

“I can’t keep doing this… not when it could ruin everything.”

Everything. Her career. Her image. SM’s precious doll couldn’t be tangled up in something so messy. So real.

So you let her go.

Well—no.

She walked away.

You just stood there and didn’t chase her.

Now, things were “normal.” Which meant you were back in the same room, the same group chat, the same proximity where nothing ever felt the same.

She glanced at you then—only for a second. Long enough for your eyes to meet.

Long enough for your chest to tighten.

Long enough to remember.

But she looked away first.

And that’s when you knew: she remembered too.

She just chose not to say anything.

Like always.

The ride home was quiet.

You sat by the window of the company van, earbuds in but no music playing. Just static silence and the occasional murmur of the others behind you. Aeri was a few seats back, talking softly to Karina, her voice muffled but unmistakable.

She used to sit beside you.

Your shoulder used to be her pillow on the way back from late-night rehearsals. You’d tilt your head, just enough to feel the weight of her hair against your cheek, and she’d mumble about how sore her legs were, how she hated SM’s mirrors because they made her look tired.

“You never look tired to me,” you told her once, eyes closed, fingers brushing hers beneath the shared blanket.

She had smiled—sleepy, soft, and so in love.

“That’s because you’re looking at me like that.”

You blink, the memory washing over you with a sting that feels almost physical.

When the van stops outside the dorms, you’re the first one out. The air is cold and damp, Seoul’s late spring drizzle soaking into your hoodie as you wait by the door for the others.

Aeri steps down last.

You hear her behind you, her footsteps slowing when she sees you standing alone. For a moment, the only sound is rain. You think maybe she’ll say something. That she’ll break character—just for a second—and let you see her.

But instead, she walks past you.

You catch the faintest whisper of her perfume—vanilla, musk, and something uniquely her—and the way her hand tenses by her side like she wants to reach for yours. Like she almost does.

Almost.

You don’t turn around.

You just whisper to yourself,

“You used to hold my hand like you meant it.”

_____

That night, sleep doesn’t come.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling of your shared dorm room, listening to the hum of the air conditioning and the distant rustle of someone getting water in the kitchen.

It’s probably her.

You hate that you know her habits that well. That your body still reacts to the sound of her steps, to the rhythm of her breath in the silence. Like it remembers what your mind keeps trying to forget.

Eventually, the ache becomes too much.

You swing your legs out of bed and pad barefoot into the kitchen, hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

She’s there, of course—leaning against the counter, sipping water like this is normal. Like the air between you isn’t heavy with everything you’ve both left unsaid.

Aeri turns, startled. Her eyes widen, then soften.

“Hey,” she says quietly, like it’s the first word of a song you used to know by heart.

You swallow. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She nods. “Me neither.”

You both stand there, the space between you only a few feet but it might as well be a canyon. Her fingers tighten around the glass.

You open your mouth—then close it. And she sees it. Of course she does.

Her voice breaks the silence. “Do you hate me?”

The question slams into your chest.

You stare at her, startled. “What?”

Aeri doesn’t look at you. Her eyes are fixed on the floor. “I mean… I would. If I were you.”

You take a breath, shaky and sharp. “I don’t hate you, Aeri.”

She finally looks up. And there it is—everything she’s been holding back. Regret. Fear. Love. God, it’s still there.

“I didn’t want to let go,” she whispers. “But I was scared. Of what people would say. Of losing everything I worked for.”

You laugh—dry and bitter. “So you let go of me instead.”

She flinches.

You step closer, just enough for her to feel your warmth. Not touching—never touching.

“I would’ve waited for you,” you say, voice low. “I still am, if I’m honest. But I can’t keep doing this if you’re going to pretend it never mattered.”

Her eyes shine, and you see the crack forming in her armor.

“I never stopped loving you,” she says, almost like it hurts to say it.

You smile, but there’s no joy in it. “Funny. You’re really good at acting like you did.”

Silence settles again. Thick. Heavy.

She opens her mouth—maybe to apologize, maybe to beg—but you shake your head gently.

“Goodnight, Aeri.”

And you walk away, not because you want to. But because you have to.

She doesn’t follow.

You turn your back to her. It should be final. It should feel like closure.

But then her voice cuts through the quiet—cracked, raw, the way you’ve only ever heard when she’s breaking.

“How can we go back to being friends,” she whispers, “when we just shared a bed?”

You freeze.

“How can you look at me and pretend that I’m someone you never met?”

Each word lands like a blow. You can feel the memories rising, thick and unwelcome—her hand curled around yours under the sheets, the way she said your name like it was a secret, like it meant something sacred. The warmth of her skin. The way she kissed you slow, like time didn’t matter.

She shared everything with you.

And then she walked away.

You turn around, and she’s crying now—silent tears slipping down her cheeks, but she’s still trying to stay strong. Still trying to act like the truth doesn’t ruin everything.

“You think I haven’t asked myself that every single day?” you say, voice trembling. “You think I don’t lie in bed and replay every second we had, wondering how the hell you can pretend it didn’t happen?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

Because it did happen. And no amount of pretending can erase it.

You take a slow, shuddering breath. “You made me feel like I was something worth breaking rules for. And then you decided I wasn’t.”

Her knees buckle a little, like your words hit her physically. But she doesn’t stop you when you step back.

“I can’t keep being your almost, Aeri.”

Her lips part. Maybe she’s going to say your name. Maybe she’s going to say stay.

But she doesn’t.

And that silence?

That’s the loudest answer you’ve ever heard.

_____

You don’t see her the next day.

Not really.

She’s there, of course—at rehearsals, at meetings, beside you during makeup. But there’s a new kind of silence now. One that wraps around you both like barbed wire. Every glance you catch feels like a wound reopening. Every touch not given, another wall built higher.

You wonder if she’s avoiding you.

Or if she just doesn’t know how to be near you now that the truth’s cracked the surface.

You try to focus on the choreography, on the beat of the music, the count in your head. But your mind keeps flicking back to the kitchen. Her voice. The look in her eyes when she asked:

“How can we go back to being friends when we just shared a bed?”

You remember the night she meant.

It had been a week before she ended things.

You both knew it was coming—the tension from the company, the fear in her eyes every time your fingers brushed in public. But that night… you let yourselves forget.

You let yourselves be soft.

Her arms around you. Her lips against your throat. Her voice breaking as she said, “Stay, please—just for tonight.”

And you did.

You stayed.

Now, every moment since feels like a betrayal of that night.

Later, in the dorm hallway, you hear her behind you again. The silence that always comes before her voice. But this time, you don’t walk away.

“Aeri,” you say quietly.

She stops mid-step. You don’t turn, but you feel her gaze burning into the back of your neck.

“I meant what I said,” you continue, fingers curling at your sides. “I can’t keep living in the ghost of what we were.”

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, broken.

“Then why do you keep haunting me?” you ask. “Why do you keep looking at me like I’m still yours, if you don’t want to be mine?”

The silence stretches long. Too long.

Then—

“I do want to be yours,” she says. “I never stopped.”

You close your eyes.

“Then why didn’t you choose me?”

Another pause. Then, even quieter:

“Because I didn’t think I was allowed.”

The honesty in her voice makes something inside you collapse.

You finally turn around. She looks like she hasn’t slept. Like maybe she’s been asking herself the same questions every night that you have.

You could run to her now.

You could forgive her.

But something holds you back—because loving her has always meant losing parts of yourself, and you don’t know if you can afford to keep bleeding for someone who won’t fight.

So you say nothing.

And she doesn’t push.

You both just stand there—bathed in hallway light, drowning in everything unsaid.

The hallway feels too bright. Too sterile. The kind of place where nothing raw is supposed to happen.

But you’ve reached your limit.

You look at her—really look. Her arms folded across her chest like she’s holding herself together. Her eyes rimmed red, mouth parted like she wants to explain, to beg, but she’s too scared to say the wrong thing again.

So you speak for her.

Quietly. Bitterly.

“How can we go back to being friends…”

Her head jerks slightly—recognition in her expression. You’re repeating her own words. But you’re not done.

“When we just shared a bed?”

You take a step forward. She doesn’t move.

“When you kissed me like I was the only thing in the world that felt real. When you cried into my chest and told me you were scared, and I said I didn’t care—I just wanted you?”

Your voice is cracking, but you keep going.

“How can you look at me and pretend that I’m someone you never met?”

She flinches.

Tears rise in your throat before they fall.

“How could you do that to me, Aeri? If you actually loved me?”

That’s the moment her walls finally collapse.

She takes a step toward you—just one, hands trembling, eyes wide with grief. “I didn’t know how to choose you without losing everything else.”

“And I was what, collateral damage?”

“No!” Her voice sharpens with panic. “You were everything. That’s what made it so hard.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough?”

It slips out before you can catch it, the truth naked and trembling between you both.

She doesn’t answer. Her face crumples.

You step back. The tears are falling freely now—hot, bitter, unforgiving.

“You broke my heart and then asked me to be your friend,” you whisper. “Like that would be easier. Like I’d forget everything you gave me just because you’re too scared to keep it.”

���I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she chokes out. “I swear to God, I never wanted to—”

“But you did.”

Silence. A final blow.

And this time, when you turn away, she doesn’t stop you.

She just stands there, tears streaking her cheeks, hands limp at her sides, watching the one thing she said she loved walk away—again.

Except this time, it might really be the last.

_____

It’s a few days later when it happens.

You’re backstage at a music show, sitting stiffly in the corner of your group’s dressing room. Earbuds in, head down, pretending to scroll through messages you haven’t answered. You’ve kept to yourself since that night. Let the silence stretch. Let her live in the space she created.

You didn’t expect her to fight for you.

But part of you had hoped.

You glance up when you hear her laugh—bright, that specific octave you used to think she saved only for you. Aeri’s standing a few feet away, near the hallway connecting to the other dressing rooms.

She’s with another idol—someone from a popular boy group. Someone tall and golden and easy.

They’re standing too close.

Her arm brushes his.

He says something that makes her laugh, and she tilts her head just the way she used to when you whispered something against her ear. Playful. Intimate.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it’s probably fan service. Just another planned interaction. SM is good at orchestrating chemistry where there is none. You know that.

But she looks too comfortable.

And he’s looking at her the way you used to.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until Karina nudges your shoulder.

“You okay?”

You force a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But your throat is tight. Your eyes are burning. And it feels like something’s clawing its way up from inside your chest—raw and sharp and loud.

Because maybe it is just for show.

Or maybe it’s not.

Either way, she’s still smiling for someone else.

And all you can think is:

How could you hold me like I was the only thing that mattered, and then laugh like that with someone new?

The jealousy isn’t even the worst part.

It’s the betrayal. The quiet ache of knowing she still hasn’t come to you—not to explain, not to fight, not to say she regrets letting you walk away.

She just moved on.

Or maybe she’s pretending again. The way she pretended not to love you. The way she pretended you could be “just friends.”

You turn your head and blink away the tears before anyone sees.

But inside, it feels like someone’s driving a blade straight through you—slow, deliberate.

And the worst part?

You still love her.

Even as she’s breaking you.

You don’t talk to her that day.

You don’t even look at her.

But she notices.

You can feel it in the tension of her body when you pass in the hallway. In the way her laughter falters when she realizes you’re in earshot. In the silence that follows her when she walks into the dressing room and sees you curled up in the farthest corner, earbuds in but no music playing.

She doesn’t approach.

She just watches.

And for once, you let her.

Let her see what she’s done—what you’ve become in the aftermath of her choices.

_____

It’s late that night when you finally break.

You’re alone in the bathroom, the fan humming above you and your hands gripping the sink so tightly your knuckles ache. You stare at your own reflection, and you don’t even recognize the girl looking back.

Tired. Dull. Hollow.

This isn’t who you were when she loved you.

This is who she left behind.

You whisper it at first, just to yourself.

“I hate you.”

Your voice cracks.

“I hate that you let me go. I hate that you kissed me like you meant it and then left. I hate that I still check every room just to see if you’re in it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. The tears come too fast, hot and familiar.

“I hate that you looked at him like that.”

Your voice breaks entirely.

“I hate that it still feels like you’re mine.”

You slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the cold tile floor, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself because there’s no one left to do it for you.

Because she’s not here.

Because maybe she never really was.

The next morning, she tries.

Not with words—Aeri has never been good with those, not when it matters—but she lingers beside you in the kitchen, opening the fridge even though she doesn’t need anything. She brushes past your shoulder when you’re tying your shoes. She laughs a little too loud when you’re nearby, like she’s trying to recapture something lost.

And you snap.

You stand up. Loudly. And when she looks at you, startled, you finally say it:

“You don’t get to smile at me like that anymore.”

The room goes silent.

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“You don’t get to act like we’re okay. Like this is okay.” Your voice is shaking, but the anger steadies it. “You let me fall apart while you kept performing like nothing happened. Like we didn’t happen.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No. Stop.” You step forward, and her back hits the counter. “You don’t get to mean anything anymore. Because you watched me drown, Aeri. And you chose not to jump in.”

She looks like she’s about to cry.

Good.

Because for once, she should.

She’s still on the floor, her head buried in her arms, her sobs quieter now. A dull hiccup here, a shaking breath there.

You should walk away. You want to walk away.

But you don’t.

Because no matter how badly she hurt you, no matter how sharp the words she left behind, she’s still Aeri.

And you still love her.

You crouch down beside her slowly. “Come on,” you murmur, gently brushing hair from her face. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

She blinks up at you, eyes red and glassy. “Why are you still so kind to me?” she slurs, voice thick with guilt. “Why do you still… care?”

You avoid the question. “Let’s just get you into bed, okay?”

You help her up, and her body folds into yours like second nature. Like muscle memory. Her arms come around your waist clumsily, and she leans her head against your shoulder.

And then—barely audible, breath warm against your neck—she says it:

“Baby…”

Your whole body goes still.

She used to call you that only in the quiet. In the spaces between kisses. In the breathless seconds after laughter and before sleep. It was yours.

And hearing it now—drunk, broken, fragile—it shatters something in you.

You swallow hard. “Don’t call me that.”

But she doesn’t hear you. Or maybe she doesn’t care.

“I miss you,” she murmurs. “I miss you so bad, baby. Please don’t hate me…”

You guide her to her bed gently, ignoring the way your hands tremble as you pull the blanket over her. She clings to your wrist like a child.

“Stay?” she whispers.

You pause. You should say no. You should.

But she looks so small like this. So not the composed idol the world knows. Just Aeri—messy and drunk and terrified of being alone.

So you sit beside her, careful not to slip under the covers, careful not to give her the wrong idea.

She turns her head toward you. Her voice is quieter now. “I loved you first, you know.”

You close your eyes. “Then you should’ve fought for me.”

A long silence.

And then: “I still want to.”

You don’t answer.

Because wanting and doing are two very different things.

You sit there until her breathing evens out, until her fingers go slack on your wrist. Until the weight of everything you’ve been holding in settles like ash over your chest.

You brush a tear from her cheek before you even realize your hand’s moved.

And then, quietly—like a prayer—you whisper:

“I still love you too.”

But she’s asleep.

She won’t hear it.

Maybe that’s for the best.

_____

The room is quiet, sun bleeding through the curtains in soft gold. You’re still sitting in the chair beside her bed, arms crossed, head tipped back against the wall. You hadn’t meant to stay the whole night—but your legs felt too heavy to move, and maybe a part of you needed one last night close to her. Just to remember.

Aeri stirs.

You glance over as she groans quietly, hand pressed to her forehead, already wincing at the hangover. Her eyes flutter open, and the moment she sees you—really sees you—everything on her face shifts.

Regret. Confusion. Then shame.

She sits up slowly. “You stayed…”

You nod once. “You were a mess.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, then rubs her face. “I remember… some of it.”

“I figured.”

Her hands tremble slightly in her lap. “Did I say anything… awful?”

You look at her for a long moment, and when you speak, your voice is soft. “You called me baby.”

She freezes.

“And you told me you loved me.”

Silence stretches thin between you.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, voice hoarse. “That wasn’t fair.”

“No,” you agree quietly. “It wasn’t.”

Aeri looks at you like she’s searching for something—maybe a crack in your armor, maybe a reason to hope. “But I meant it. Even drunk. Especially drunk.”

You nod again, slowly. “I know.”

She opens her mouth to speak again, but you hold up a hand. Gentle. Final.

“You can’t keep doing this, Aeri. You can’t keep breaking me open every time you feel broken.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she says, desperate now. “I want to fix it. I want—”

“You already lost me,” you say, and it’s the first time you let the words come out. Really come out.

Her face crumples.

You inhale slowly, steadying yourself. “I’ll always love you. But I can’t keep waiting for the version of you who’s brave enough to love me back.”

She nods, tears falling freely now.

You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. It’s not a promise. It’s a goodbye.

“Take care of yourself,” you whisper.

And then you stand.

You walk out the door with your heart in pieces—but your head held high.

Because sometimes love isn’t about holding on.

Sometimes it’s about knowing when to finally let go.

_____

Alternate ending:

You wake before she does.

Your neck aches from where you’d slumped against the edge of her bed, but you don’t move right away. Instead, you just sit there, watching her sleep.

She’s curled toward you, face soft in the morning light, tear tracks still faint on her cheeks. Her hand rests near yours—not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth.

You should leave.

You meant to leave.

But something about last night still lingers. Not just the apology. Not just the pain. Something deeper.

When she finally stirs, her eyes flutter open—and panic sets in almost immediately.

“I—” Her voice is rough. “I didn’t mean to show up like that. I was just—God, I’m so sorry.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment.

Then: “Do you remember what you said?”

She hesitates. Nods. “Some of it.”

You meet her gaze. “Do you mean it?”

She sits up straighter. Her fingers tremble as she reaches for yours but doesn’t quite take them. “I do. I meant all of it. I just… didn’t know how to say it sober.”

You watch her carefully. She looks raw. No defenses. No mask.

“I let fear control me,” she whispers. “I thought loving you meant losing everything else. But it didn’t. It just meant being brave. And I wasn’t. Until now.”

You swallow hard. Your heart’s thudding in your chest, loud and hopeful. But cautious.

“What do you want, Aeri?” you ask softly. “Really.”

She takes your hand in both of hers now—firm, sure. “You. Only you. And not just in secret. Not for a night. For real.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever—you believe her.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you slide your hand into hers and pull her gently forward until her forehead rests against yours.

“Then be brave,” you whisper. “Because I’m not doing this halfway again.”

She nods, eyes wet, smile trembling.

“I’ll fight for us,” she says. “Every day. If you let me.”

You press your lips to hers—soft, careful, but real. And when she kisses you back, it feels like coming home.

_____

The both of you step offstage after a joint performance. She’s sweaty and beaming, breathless from the adrenaline. You start to turn away—to keep it professional—but her fingers brush yours, and then she quietly, quickly laces them together.

A small gesture.

But this time?

She doesn’t let go.

And you don’t have to hide the smile that rises to your lips.

Because finally—she chose you.

And this time, she’s not afraid.

[markkiatocafe]

hi idk if you’re taking requests but could i get she fell first but he fell harder type of ordeal with haechan? reader really likes him & doesn’t mind showing it, but haechan brushes her off, she finally takes a hint, but he actually liked it, he was just flustered but now that she’s stopped he’s realized he’s in deep with her and doesn’t want her to stop??

intro : dreamscape

𖠚 warnings: they’re baking cookies, haechan calls reader “pretty,” multiple times, other than that quite fluffy i think!!!!

𖠚 synop: haechan doesn’t realize his feelings for you until you do something about it. you don’t intend to make him want you, but, hey, you’re not complaining.

𖠚 pairing: fem!reader x downbad!haechan

𖠚 w.c: 725

𖠚 a/n: hiii anon!!!! i am taking requests ><!!! i hope you like this :33 i love this trope (plus any cheesy trope in general tbh) sm….. this was also sm fun to write, so i hope it’s as fun to read!!!!

you’ve been friends with haechan since highschool. although, only a few months ago did you start to realize that you honestly have some pretty deep feelings for him.

you were never one to really hide your feelings, you made jokes and sarcastic remarks about how you felt towards haechan multiple times before, but usually he just brushed it off or made a flirty but clearly friend-zoning joke back. you had even flat out told him you liked him one time, and he just replied back, “who wouldn’t like someone like me?” so, you felt he established your place pretty clearly.

until recently.

recently, haechan had started to be more… clingy. it was in small ways, asking you to come over more often, letting his hand brush against yours if you both reached for something, pulling away at the last millisecond, and he even started making teasing remarks towards you. so, today you decided to confront him.

not really confront him, he wasn’t a criminal or something, but you were curious where all this clingy nature came from so suddenly. today you were going over to his house, to make cookies and watch a movie, so it was all laid out for you, anyways.

you were currently working on the cookies together, music playing from haechan’s speaker in the background, a demo he had been working on. he was giving you the, “premium best friend preview privileges,” as he called it. you were busy cutting up the dough with the metal cookie-cutters you brought, which were in the shapes of leaves.

“here, let me do it,” haechan suddenly spoke up after fiddling with his phone to play the right song and connect to the bluetooth speaker. he walked over to you, gently moving you out of the way and taking the cookie-cutter from your hand. “don’t want you to get a cut on those pretty hands, do we?” he said, his voice having that signature flirty tone, although, it was too real. too genuine to just be a joke this time, the same way it had been sounding way too much recently.

“why have you been acting like that so much lately?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously, crossing your arms across your chest.

he tilted his head at you a little bit, still cutting the cookies, a tiny smirk playing on his lips as he shrugged. “what do you mean, pretty?” he replied, feigning innocence.

you put out your hands, holding them out just like how you held his heart so tightly without either of you even realizing it. “that!!!” you pointed a finger at him. “that tone!!!”

he shrugged, letting out a soft laugh. “i don’t know what you mean, i’m just being me.”

you rolled your eyes, huffing. “you do know what i mean, because you’re smiling. you do that when you lie,” you retorted.

he couldn’t help but feel a little, tiny bit of warmth in his chest that you even noticed that. he brushed that to the side for now, though. “i can’t be affectionate to my best friend?” he asked, drawing out the words at the end. as flirty as he was, he was so stubborn to admit it when actual feelings were behind the flirty comments and nicknames.

“you know that’s not what i mean.” you replied, your voice a little more serious now, “your voice has this, like… underlying tone. like i’m the most special thing in the world.” you said, as your voice got more serious, it also got quieter. it didn’t dawn on you how it would be a little odd to talk about this so directly. implying that someone has feelings for you is… nerve wracking, especially when there’s a huge chance they could just brush it off as nothing. “knock it off.” you added at the end, your voice back to a relatively normal volume, trying to add that lightheartedness back to the conversation at hand.

haechan let out a soft sigh. the sad thing was, he couldn’t say you were wrong. he placed down the cookie cutter, opening the oven and placing them in. “maybe you are the most special thing in the world,” he said, his voice quiet, thoughtful in it’s own way as he turned the dials on the stove to turn it on. “at least, in my world.”

[bloomseishiro]

LOCKED OFF — NAGI SEISHIRO

౨ৎ — after returning from blue lock earlier than expected, nagi feels emotions of anger and despair for one of the first times in his life. thankfully, he at least has you to lean on.  

nagi seishiro x reader. fluff, established relationship, not spoiler free!!, nagi is taller than reader, just a small comfort drabble

a/n. has this been done already ?? probably HAHA but we all need more comfort after ch302 AND no more episode nagi?!?!!! ;-; hugs all around

You would think that reuniting with your boyfriend after months of being apart would be a joyous occasion, but for both you and Nagi, it was anything but. 

On the screen, you cheered him on in the U-20 match, going so far as to make t-shirts that said, “Nice to meet you Japan” on the front and distributing them to your classmates in school after the Blue Lock Eleven won. 

During Nagi’s downtime, he would use his phone to play his gacha games and watch videos, but also check in on you, giving small updates about his day and asking about yours. Even through the phone, you could see how much more invested he became playing soccer. Though he wouldn’t admit it at the time, you thought Nagi was enjoying himself there with Reo and his new friends. And that made you happy. 

But now, when he was here in front of you, the rush of happiness you felt at finally being about to hug him and hold him again was crushed the moment a few stray tears trickled down his face. 

“Sei,” you murmur softly, surprised as he buries his head into his hands and grits his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Nagi shakes his head in defeat and you reach out slowly, gently stroking his hair in a continuous motion. There are no words you can say to help him feel better, but you hope that showing Nagi you’re there for him helps ease his frustration, if only a little. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” he sighs after more tears stream down his face. “Cleaning up will be a pain.”

You chuckle lightly, amused that is his most pressing concern at the moment. Wiping a droplet from his cheekbone, you say, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you clean up. So cry as much as you need, okay?”

He nods, shooting you a thankful look amidst his feelings of sadness. The glassiness in his eyes makes your breath hitch— He looks like a puppy that had just been kicked. You want to wrap him up in your arms and promise him everything will be okay, that he will return to Blue Lock like he wishes, but you know better than to cheer someone up through baseless words. 

You love being Nagi’s partner, but you recognize he has a lot of growing up to do. All you can do is be patient and support him through the process. 

“I want to say I quit soccer,” he says quietly, after moments of silence pass between the two of you. “I was to give it up forever and forget about it. But…I can’t.”

Taking his hand, you interlace your fingers between his and nod encouragingly. “You had fun playing soccer over there. With Reo. With Isagi. Do you enjoy playing it on your own?”

Nagi shrugs, face rubbed red but the wetness in his eyes finally showed signs of stopping. “I don’t know yet. I think so. But right now I just want to make it back to them.”

You smile sadly as he plops his head onto your shoulder. “I believe in you. That Wild Card person was able to make it back, right?”

“Kunigami,” confirms Nagi. “Yes. But I don’t think I want to make it back like that.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as you push, “You don’t?”

“No.” He straightens, no longer leaning his head on you, but making sure your hands are still interlocked. “I don’t know how yet. Is that ridiculous?”

“Of course not, Sei!” you say indignantly. “You’ll figure out a way! We can figure out a way.”

Nagi’s gaze locks onto yours. His eyes are tired and weary, but it was better than how lifeless and void of emotion they looked when you first saw him back home. Now, with you by his side, there is the hint of hope in his eyes. 

“Choki can help, too,” you chime in, giving him a small side hug. “Both of us missed you while you were gone.”

He envelopes your body into a fuller embrace, his large frame engulfing yours as he just stood there and took in your presence. “I missed you, too. Thanks for cheering me on. I’m sorry I let you and Choki down.”

“Sei!” you scold, looking up at him with a fiery glint in your eye. “You did not let anyone down. You are talented and amazing and, one day, you are going to kick Ego’s ass and make him eat dirt for all he said to you!”

Nagi lets out a noise of surprise, a grateful expression on his face. “You sound so sure of that.”

“I am,” you say confidently. “Because Japan hasn’t finished getting to know Nagi Seishiro just yet.” 

[emeraldsturns]

the good stuff

kenny chesney

↺ |◁ II ▷|

your tears are already etched into chris’s mind.

it had happened, your first big fight.

chris was driving around, no destination in mind, just needed to clear his head and give you some space.

in the distance, he saw the neon lights, at the corner of the downtown square. it felt right.

he parked, took a deep breath, brushed himself off and pushed open the heavy, glass door.

the bar was empty, no one but the old bar keep, half asleep, propped on his elbows.

“hey bud, what can i get ya?”

“the good stuff, please.”

“well, unfortunately, you can’t find that here.”

chris looked into the old man’s already misty eyes, clearly confused.

he didn’t reach for whiskey. he didn’t pop open a beer. he didn’t pour a tequila shot.

the bar keep sighed.

“the good stuff, that’s the first long kiss that you share on your second date. your mama’s worried, staring at the clock, because you got home a little too late. s’when you drop that engagement ring in your spaghetti ‘cause you can’t stop shakin’.”

chris just meet his gaze as he continues.

“it’s eat’n her burnt supper that entire first year of marriage, but you ask for seconds to keep her from gettin’ upset. man, that’s the good stuff.”

“i guess i’ve never thought about it that way.”

“no one does, until that’s all they have left.”

the man grabs a carton of milk from the little cooler, poured himself a tall glass.

chris flashed his pretty white grin, “i’ll have a glass of that, too.”

they sat and exchanged stories as hours passed, like they’d known each other forever.

there was a old black and white framed photo hanging above the liquor shelves. a beautiful woman.

he must’ve felt chris looking, because then he said, “that’s my bonnie. my wife. i spent 5 years in these liquor bottles when cancer took her from me. i keep it up there to remind me to stay sober for her. i’ve been sober 3 years now. and you know, one thing that’s stronger than the whiskey…”

he looked off, eyes glazing over again, “was seeing her finally holding our baby girl after 9 long months of waitin’. think’n about how much she adored her pearl necklace that i gave her on our youngest son’s wedding day. it’s finally gettin’ that t-shirt that you wait lifetimes for, the one that says “i’m a grandpa”.

it’s bein’ there when her time came to an end. hold’n her hand when the Lord called her home.”

chris unlocked the front door, walking into the smell of your favorite candle, lavender and vanilla.

you shuffled up to him, donning one of his hoodies that fell to your thighs. you immediately flung your arms around his neck, tears already falling.

“i’m sorry.”

“so am i.”

he looked into your eyes, he could see the love you had for him. he drank it up.

“i love you.”

“i love you the most.”

“that’s the good stuff,” he thought to himself.

lmk what you think. 🤍

🏷️: @sturnsblogs @seaouidbabyx

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[cbeargyu]

heh... boypussy!beomgyu

don't hide from me

summary: after two months of dating beomgyu, you always felt there was something delicate and elusive about him—his frame too petite, his skin too soft, his reactions too sensitive. tonight, you finally learn his secret...

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, soft dom!reader, emotional intensity, boypussy beomgyu, heavy kink content, comfort smut.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only), boypussy, rubbing (clit-to-clit), fingering, scissoring, pussy worship, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, crying from pleasure, intense eye contact, spit, cum play, body worship, messy/wet sex, slight degradation mixed with praise, aftercare, emotional vulnerability, mentions of shame, comfort and acceptance, couch sex, dominant reader, riding, possessive language, filthy dirty talk, soft angst and heavy tenderness, detailed anatomical descriptions (afab).

wc: 3k

notes: hi anon! i really hope you enjoy this fic 🩷 i poured a lot of love and care into it🫶🏻it's actually my first time writing something with this kind of theme, so i hope it hits just right hehe~ honestly, i love sub!beomgyu’s dynamic sooo much lmao and i couldn’t resist putting him in this kind of situation... buajajaja >:)

your fingers are soaked with him.

his thighs are trembling, pressed tightly against yours as you rock your hips in a slow, grinding rhythm, dragging your folds against the slick heat of his pussy, rubbing, scissoring, letting your clits kiss and catch with every needy rut of your body. he moans into your mouth, soft and high-pitched, his voice cracking every time you press harder, every time your wetness mixes messily with his. it’s raw, slippery, hot as hell. you can’t stop panting against his lips, can’t stop gripping his hips and pulling him closer like you want to drown in the feel of him.

you didn’t think this would be the night.

his hands claw weakly at your back, nails barely scratching, too overwhelmed to hold you properly. you’re on your couch, his legs wide around you, back half-slumped against the cushions as you fuck him slow, deep, precise. the angle lets you rub perfectly against his clit and you can feel every twitch, every quiver of pleasure that shakes through him when your body slides just right.

"fuck, gyu," you whisper, lips brushing his flushed cheek, your voice heavy, hungry. "you’re so wet—so fucking wet for me."

he whines, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tilts back, throat exposed, glistening with sweat. “i–i c-can’t,” he stutters, breath catching on a sob. “you’re making me—fuck—”

you don’t let him finish.

your hand trails down between your bodies, fingers quick to find his dripping slit. you rub tight circles around his clit with two fingers while your hips keep grinding into him, wet against wet, your bodies slipping and sliding in a mess of slick and sweat and heat. his pussy clenches with every touch, every kiss of pressure, and when you press two fingers in—slow and gentle—his body jerks.

"so tight," you breathe, watching his face twist in pleasure. "you feel so good around my fingers, baby."

his legs shake harder, his voice cracking as he tries to hold in his cries. “n-no, wait—i’m—i’m gonna—”

and then he does.

his pussy flutters around your fingers, then clamps down, hard. his whole body arches and he lets out the most desperate moan, his voice breaking into a sob as he squirts all over your hand, soaking your fingers, your thighs, the cushion under him. it’s messy, intense, overwhelming—and so fucking beautiful.

you keep going, gentle now, fingers moving slowly inside him, helping him ride it out, your lips kissing his jaw, whispering praise into his skin as he trembles beneath you.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

you’d only been dating for two months—two months of slow kisses, awkward touches, the kind of nervousness that came with something new and precious. but there was always something different about beomgyu. the way he moved, the softness of his skin, the way his hips fit perfectly under your hands. he was delicate, lean, almost too pretty to be real. you never questioned it, but something in the back of your mind always told you he wasn’t like other boys.

tonight, when you’d pushed him onto your bed and slipped your hand between his legs, you’d felt it. not the hard bulge you were expecting—but warmth. softness. wetness.

he’d panicked, tried to hide himself, eyes wide and tearful, babbling apologies and shame like he thought you’d leave. he looked so small, curled up, trying to cover himself with trembling hands. but all you could think was how badly you wanted to taste him.

you’d never imagined this. never even considered it. but now that you’d seen him, felt him—this soft, sweet boy with the pussy of your dreams—you knew you couldn’t stop.

not now. not ever.

you pull your fingers out slowly, lifting your hand to your mouth, sucking his taste from your fingers while you watch his dazed eyes follow every move. he’s panting, chest heaving, his pussy still twitching, swollen and messy between his thighs.

“you’re perfect,” you murmur, kissing his cheek. “you don’t ever have to hide from me, okay?”

he nods weakly, and when you lower your head between his legs to eat him out, his shaky moan tells you everything you need to hear.

you don’t rush.

you kiss your way down his trembling body, mouthing at the soft skin of his stomach, the sharp dip of his waist, the faint trail of sweat that glistens under the dim lights of your apartment. his hands are in your hair before you even reach his thighs, fingers curling, tugging weakly like he can’t decide if he wants to pull you closer or stop you from seeing him like this again.

but it’s too late for modesty now.

his pussy’s still twitching from the last orgasm, slick and swollen and so fucking beautiful that your mouth waters at the sight. he’s laid out open for you, legs spread, his inner thighs glistening with wetness and the faintest tremor running through him every time you so much as breathe against him.

“look at you,” you whisper, hot breath brushing his folds. “so messy already, baby. can’t believe you were hiding this from me.”

he whimpers, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling in quick little pants. “i was scared…”

you kiss the inside of his thigh, slow and soft.

“don’t be,” you murmur. “you’re the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen.”

and then you bury your mouth in him.

the first lick makes him sob, hands flying to cover his face as your tongue parts his folds, tasting the mess he made, lapping it up like you’ve been starving for it. he’s salty-sweet, warm and wet and addicting. you groan into his cunt, dragging your tongue from his leaking hole to his clit, sucking it gently, then flicking it with the flat of your tongue just to feel the way he jolts under you.

“f-fuck, it’s—too much,” he cries out, thighs closing around your head, but you’re already grabbing his hips, holding him down, not letting him run. he’s shaking so hard now, tiny hiccuped gasps leaving his lips with every movement of your tongue.

you tease your way back down, slipping your tongue into him, fucking him slowly with it as your nose brushes his clit, letting him feel everything all at once.

his legs start to shake again.

“you’re gonna cum again, huh?” you murmur, pulling back just long enough to kiss his puffy lips before diving back in. “give it to me, baby. wanna taste you.”

you bring your fingers back, two sliding in without resistance now, and when they curl inside him and your tongue finds his clit again, he screams.

it’s a full-body collapse.

his back arches clean off the couch, his pussy clenching tight around your fingers, fluttering wildly as he squirts again, harder this time, soaking your face, your chin, your tongue. it’s all over your mouth and you moan into it, drinking it down, not stopping even as he cries out your name in a broken, ragged voice that sounds like he’s falling apart just for you.

his body doesn’t stop shaking.

you lick him clean slowly, gently, kissing his inner thighs as his legs twitch, brushing your lips over his overstimulated clit until he begs you to stop, voice hoarse and tear-streaked.

you pull back, face soaked, heart thudding in your chest.

he looks ruined. spread open, pretty pink pussy glistening, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy and wet. his whole body is flushed and trembling, hands curled into weak fists on the cushions, and he’s looking at you like he doesn’t understand what just happened—but that he wants more.

you crawl back up over him, licking his taste off your lips, and kiss him softly.

he moans into your mouth, shy but hungry, arms wrapping around your shoulders like he never wants to let go.

you don’t move right away.

your body is draped over his, lips ghosting along the curve of his jaw as he tries to come back to himself, chest still heaving like he just ran a marathon. you can feel his heart racing against yours, his pussy twitching beneath you, the slick warmth of him pressed between your thighs like a secret you never knew you needed to have.

he’s quiet now. not trembling the way he was before, but soft, pliant, his hands curled around your arms like he needs you close just to remember where he is.

“still with me?” you whisper, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

he nods, slow, dazed.

you press a gentle kiss to his temple. “i want more,” you admit, your voice low, almost reverent. “i don’t wanna stop touching you. i can’t.”

his breath hitches. “but… i already—”

“i know,” you murmur, sliding your hand down his side, cupping his waist, loving the way he arches instinctively into your palm. “but i can feel how wet you still are. your pussy’s still pulsing, baby. you need more, don’t you?”

he doesn’t say anything. but his hips move.

barely—a twitch, a shy roll upward, grinding the swollen mess of his cunt against your thigh.

you smile.

“that’s what i thought.”

you shift, settling between his legs again, and this time, you take your time. your fingers trail down slowly, tracing the slick folds, watching the way his lips part, eyes fluttering closed when you tease his clit with the lightest brush of your thumb. his whole body jerks, breath catching in his throat.

“you’re so sensitive,” you coo, dipping one finger into his soaked heat. “but still so hungry.”

he whimpers, legs spreading wider for you without even realizing, like his body is begging for more even if his mouth is too shy to say it.

so you give it to him.

two fingers, slow and deep, curling up into the softest part of him, feeling the way his walls squeeze around you like they never want to let go. he’s tight, warm, absolutely soaked—your palm slippery from how much he’s already given you. and still, he clenches down with every movement, his back arching when you press in deeper, hitting that spot inside him that makes him gasp like he’s drowning.

you keep your thumb on his clit, rubbing in lazy circles, not too hard—but enough to keep him teetering, right there on the edge.

“that’s it,” you whisper. “you’re doing so good for me, baby. taking it so well.”

his hips start to roll against your hand, chasing the friction, little moans slipping from his lips without shame now. he’s lost in it—completely, entirely yours.

and then you feel it.

that sharp little flutter in his pussy, the way his clit starts to throb under your thumb, his whole body tensing all at once like he’s holding something in that’s about to break free.

“let go,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his trembling thigh. “let me see you again. i wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

his cry is louder this time.

his pussy spasms around your fingers, his whole body convulsing as he squirts again, wetter than before, his arousal soaking your palm, dripping down his thighs, pooling onto the cushion beneath him. he’s crying now—not from pain, but from how intense it is, how full, how much. it’s overwhelming and beautiful and you can’t stop watching him fall apart.

you keep your fingers inside him, gentle, grounding, helping him through it, whispering sweet filth into his skin.

“so good, gyu. so fucking pretty when you cum. you were made for this, weren’t you? made for me.”

when his body finally goes still, you pull your hand away and lick him off your fingers again, slow and filthy, watching the way his eyes follow your mouth like he’s hypnotized. you lean over him, brushing his damp hair back, kissing his forehead, then his cheek, then finally his lips.

he kisses you back like he’s never been kissed before.

and you kiss him.

slow and deep, tasting the aftershocks still clinging to his breath, feeling the way his fingers twitch against your bare back as he melts into you again. his lips part for you like instinct, like need, like he’s forgotten how to breathe unless it’s through your mouth.

you shift in his lap, one knee on either side of his hips, and the sound he makes when he feels your cunt rub down against his is fucking filthy. it’s wet, so wet—his pussy still gushing from the last orgasm, yours slick with heat and aching, throbbing with how bad you need to feel him again.

your clits brush, and his back arches.

“nghh—f-fuck, wait—” his voice is cracked, high-pitched, trembling with too much sensation—but you can tell he doesn’t want to stop. his hands are clutching at your thighs, your waist, anything he can hold as you rock your hips slowly, sliding your folds against his in a perfect, wet grind that makes both of you moan into each other’s mouths.

“look at us,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his, your lips brushing as you speak. “so wet, so messy... you feel that, gyu?”

you shift again, angling your hips until your pussies are flush—wet lips parting, sliding together in a rhythm that makes your stomach tighten. and when your clits line up, and you press down hard—it’s over for him.

he throws his head back, eyes wide and glassy, mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“fuckfuckfuck—!” his whole body trembles beneath you as you start to grind down in earnest, slow and deep, dragging your cunt against his with steady pressure. the mess between your bodies grows louder, wetter, filthier with every pass of your slicks—your clits swollen and raw, folds soaked, juices mixing until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

he’s babbling now, incoherent, pleading.

“please—i can’t—feels s-so good, too good—!”

you reach down, take his wrists, and pin them above his head as you lean in closer, grinding even harder, deeper, the friction like molten heat between you. your tits brush his chest, your nose nudging against his, and you keep your eyes locked on his face, drinking in every reaction, every tremble, every cry.

“yes, you can,” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. “you can take it, baby. you were made for this.”

and it’s true—he was made for this. for the way your cunt presses into his, for the obscene wet sounds of your bodies sliding together, for the flush spreading down his chest and the tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.

you start rocking faster.

your hips rolling in tight, messy circles, the pressure building so fast it makes your legs shake. beomgyu is clenching his fists, tears running down his cheeks, completely overwhelmed and wide open beneath you—and you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, forehead to his, lips trembling. “fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum just like this. right on your pussy.”

he chokes on a sob. “me too—i-i’m gonna—fuck, i’m cumming—!”

and then it happens.

his pussy spasms under you, and yours goes tight right after—clit throbbing, body locking up as the orgasm hits you both like a wave. you grind through it, crying out into each other’s mouths, the slick mess between you growing hotter, wetter, until you’re both shaking, panting, completely wrecked and still pressed together, cunt to cunt, heartbeat to heartbeat.

you collapse over him, bodies fused, sweat and slick and tears between you, and for a long moment, neither of you move.

you just feel—the twitch of his pussy, the aftershocks in your thighs, the way your hearts beat in sync.

and then you kiss him again.

slow. sweet. like worship.

you hold him like that for a while.

his body curled into yours on the couch, still bare, still warm, still soft and wet where your thighs press together. you cradle his head against your chest, fingers tracing idle lines along his spine, and he doesn’t speak. he just breathes, slow and steady, like being in your arms is the only thing keeping him whole.

and maybe it is.

because something did shift tonight.

you didn’t expect this. didn’t expect beomgyu’s secret, didn’t expect your reaction to it. you should’ve been shocked, maybe confused. but all you felt—when you saw the truth, when he tried to hide himself in shame, when you reached between his legs and felt the heat and slickness and softness of him—was this sharp, aching hunger. this pull that made your whole body go tight with want.

and now that you’ve had it, now that you’ve tasted him, felt him, seen the way his body breaks for you—there’s no going back.

you don’t just want beomgyu.

you crave him.

you tilt his chin up gently, looking into his eyes. they’re puffy, red from tears and pleasure, but there’s something raw in them too. something scared.

“hey,” you say softly. “you okay?”

he nods, silent, but his lip trembles a little.

“talk to me.”

his voice is barely there. “i didn’t know if you’d want me after… after you saw.”

you swallow hard, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“baby,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted you more.”

and it’s true.

his voice is a whisper. “i thought you’d freak out.”

you tilt your head, stroking his cheek. “why?”

he shrugs, looking away. “girls don’t usually want someone like me. they get weird. they get mean.”

you stare at him. at the softness of his lashes, the pink flush still on his cheeks, the way his lips tremble when he’s scared but trying not to be.

“they’re fucking idiots,” you say quietly.

he looks back at you, eyes wide.

“you’re the hottest, sweetest thing i’ve ever touched,” you continue, voice shaking just a little. “and you trusted me. that means more than anything.”

he blinks. his eyes fill again.

“you don’t think it’s weird?”

you lean in, kiss him like a promise.

“i think it’s fucking perfect.”

his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you down until your face is against his neck, and you feel his breath catch again, little hitching sobs that aren’t sad this time.

you hold him tighter.

because tonight, in your apartment, on your couch, with the boy who has the softest pussy you’ve ever touched, you’ve discovered something you didn’t know you needed.

[wannabanauthor]

I have the meanest but cathartic fix it fanfic idea for BuckTommy, and it’d be an actual slow burn:

A year has gone by after Bobby’s death, and Buck has not reached out to Tommy in all that time.

Then one night after a bad shift, Buck orders pickup from Micelli’s.

When he gets there and pays for his food, Tommy and another guy arrive and have a reservation. Buck’s at a separate counter, so Tommy doesn’t notice until Buck walks past him.

Buck sees Tommy holding the guy’s hand, and it viscerally hurts.

Tommy recognizes him and smiles, “Hey, Buck! How have you been?”

Buck is not prepared for how much that hurts. “I’m fine, you?”

“Oh, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Aaron. Hey, Aaron, this is Buck, my ex and fellow firefighter.”

Aaron glances at Tommy with a knowing look as they practically have a telepathic conversation in front of him.

“Oh, this is the guy,” Aaron says and tries to hide his chuckle.

Buck instantly doesn’t like him.

Tommy laughs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah., but we’re cool now.”

Buck wants to point out that they haven’t even spoken to each other in over a year, but that would make him look worse since he hadn’t reached out in so long even though the ball was in his court.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Eight months,” Aaron says with a cheerful tone. He barely takes his eyes off Tommy, and the look on his face is filled with fondness.

The host grabs some menus and motions to Tommy and Aaron. “Right this way.”

Tommy lazily waves at Buck and turns his attention back to his boyfriend. “See you, Buck” he says as they walk away.

Buck’s heart shatters into a million pieces, and by the time he gets home, he’s a crying mess.

He has no appetite and is tempted to dump the food into the trash, but that’d be a waste of money.

He lives alone. He and Eddie aren’t on good terms, and he had moved out when Eddie moved back to LA.

It’s a small lonely apartment, just a placeholder until he finds the strength and willpower to find a better place.

He watches a show on his phone while he eats dinner alone. He can’t stop thinking about Tommy and his new boyfriend.

“Not new,” his inner voice says.

Buck can’t even call his best friend to vent about it.

Buck thought he had been doing the right thing in taking time to heal and better himself before reaching out to Tommy again, only to find out that Tommy moved on with someone else.

This time, he has nobody to blame but himself. But that didn’t stop him from cyber stalking them.

Tommy is pretty private on social media, and Buck isn’t his friend on any apps, so he only sees the occasional public post, and Tommy’s profile picture of him kissing Aaron.

Buck’s stomach churns. “That should have been me.”

Maddie is way kinder to him than he is to himself when he calls her to vent about it.

She gives him hope that things will work out eventually, but he has a hard time believing it will.

To be continued…

Author’s Note: Muahahaha, how am I going to fix it without making Tommy cheat? Easy. Exes to acquaintances to friends to lovers, eventually. Buck has a lot of shit to fix and figure out, and most important of all, he needs to actually contribute more to the relationship than just good dick. And Tommy goes through his own issues.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Starting at the End Ch. 2

Summary: Lily Crawford has been receiving disturbing letters from a worrisome fan. On the advice of an acquaintance she goes to Winchester Private Security and seeks out Dean Winchester to keep her safe. Will this troubled ex-marine be able to save her, and can she save him too?

Series Warnings: Angst. Smut. Fluff. (as usual, of course!) Discussion of war, loss, trauma, PTSD, grief. Stalking. Obsession.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Talk of stalking.

Pairing: Dean x ofc (Lily Crawford)

Word Count: 2,137

A/N: This is my Dean "Bodyguard" AU. (Technically he calls himself Private Security and not a Bodyguard, but 🤷‍♀️) I've never written a bodyguard AU before, so I hope you all enjoy this one. It's been a while since I've written an ofc, so I hope you like Lily. I'm enjoying writing her. I know OC's aren't the fandoms favourite, but I really felt like I needed Lily to be Lily in this one. Hope you give it a chance anyway. ❤️

In this chapter a painting is discussed in detail, I thought it might help you to see it, so you can find it here.

POSTING EVERY FRIDAY! ❤️

Series Master List || Dean Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

They arrived at Lily's house almost an hour later because traffic was so terrible leaving the city. Dean had followed behind her in his big, old, classic car. It was sleek and black and pretty. It also dwarfed her little Chevy hatchback as he pulled into her driveway behind her. 

When she got out, she looked back to see Dean slam the heavy door with a creak. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, his head seemed to be on a swivel, scanning up and down her street and then over her front yard. 

“Come on in.” She said, waving him forward and up onto her porch. But he still wasn't looking at her. His eyes seemed to be focused on every inch of the space around them. 

“See anything suspicious yet?” Lily asked, feeling a bit silly for bringing him here. The neighborhood was so peaceful and idyllic - it suddenly felt ridiculous to be worried about some weirdo fan, as little kids rode by on their bicycles and dogs barked happily.

He shook his head, and she moved forward to unlock her door. But Dean touched her arm to stop her. He pushed past her and examined her lock. 

“Allow me.” He said quietly and then pulled a small leather pouch out of an inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out two metal instruments and poked them into her lock. 

After an alarmingly short period of time, he got both the handle and deadbolt unlocked, and pushed the door open easily. 

Lily felt a little sick to her stomach. Dean squeezed her upper arm. “Don't worry. We'll get you new locks that make that impossible.”

He preceded her into her house and she suddenly remembered the load of dishes that sat in her sink and the fact that she hadn't dusted or swept in about a month. The dust bunnies lived a good and happy life in the corners of her rooms and under her couch.

But Dean didn't seem to notice the dishes or the bunnies, instead he just slowly wandered from room to room while she trailed after him, feeling more ridiculous with every silent minute that went by.

Back in her living room, he approached the windows and fidgeted with the locks, frowning and shaking his head. She assumed that wasn't good. He confirmed her suspicions when he turned to face her. 

“We'll get you new window locks as well.”

Lily felt her stomach plummet again as Dean pointed out yet another way she’d been fooled into thinking she was safe in her home, so her voice was a little sharp when she spoke.

“Why bother with locks for the windows at all? I mean, can’t he just smash them in?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but they’ll be connected to your alarm system, so that if they are broken, the alarm company will be alerted immediately and a call goes out to 911 automatically.”

“My alarm system definitely doesn’t do that.”

Dean smiled. “Your new one will.”

Lily sighed. “Goodbye savings, I guess.”

Dean walked back into her bedroom which was right off the living room; he’d gone in briefly, but this time he took his time, scanning everything closely. Finally he came to stand at the end of her bed, pointing up at the painting that hung above the head of it. It was of a woman’s face, but her face was constructed from dozens of round spheres.

“Is this the painting he mentioned?”

Lily nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did he say about it?”

Lily took a deep breath, her stomach knotting with the same fear she’d felt when she read the words the first time. “He said that the painting was proof that we were perfect for each other because Salvador Dali was his favorite artist too.”

Dean looked down at her. “Is Salvador Dali your favorite artist?”

Lily shrugged. “Not necessarily. I like some of his stuff, but I usually prefer realism over surrealism.”

Dean looked back up at the painting. “So why do you have this painting in such a prominent and personal place? What’s it called?”

“Galatea of the Spheres. It’s a painting of Dali’s wife, apparently. But, I don’t know, I just…liked it.” Lily said with another shrug.

Dean shook his head. “Come on, that’s not an answer. What do you like about it?”

Lily sighed into her explanation. “I don’t know, I just feel like…she’s…I think she’s sad, and the sadness drew me in.”

Dean hummed. “Hmm…what makes you think she’s sad? She kind of looks like she’s sleeping.”

Lily shook her head. “No, she’s coming apart, she’s…it’s like she’s being pulled apart. She’s too many things, and she can’t hold herself together.”

Lily felt her cheeks get pink. “Or, I don’t know that’s my layman's interpretation anyway.”

Dean just nodded and then walked over to her bedroom window, scanning the outside, before he quickly strode past her. 

“Be right back. Stay here.”

She heard him leave through the front door, but he was quickly back inside again, coming back into her room nodding as though he’d proven something. “He hasn’t been in your house, and he isn’t someone you know. I mean, he isn’t an ex, or an old acquaintance or anything like that.”

Lily was slightly baffled. “How do you know that?”

Dean pointed to her window. “I stood outside at the right vantage point, and I could see into your bedroom very easily. That’s how he knew about the painting. And I think, if he’d been inside, you’d be missing something; he would have taken a souvenir. And you didn’t say anything was missing.”

Lily shook her head. “No, nothing’s missing.” She whispered. She felt ill at the idea of him coming into her home and taking something personal as a keepsake, but she also felt stupid for thinking he’d been inside already. She’d let her imagination run away with itself.

Dean continued his explanation. “And if he knew you like he claims to, he’d probably know that Dali isn’t your favorite artist, and he’d likely know how personally connected you feel to this painting. If he knew about that he definitely would have used it to get closer to you, to try and forge a bond.”

“I don’t know about ‘personally connected’ to the painting.” Lily argued, slightly self-conscious now. “I just like it.”

Dean grunted non-commitally. “Either way, he’d know more personal information than that.”

Lily scrubbed her hand over her eyes. “So, I was panicking for nothing. The cops were right; he’s just some weird fan.”

Dean shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. Lily, this guy stood outside your window and stared into it, meaning he was probably close by, within binocular range, at least. Just because he hasn’t worked up the courage to come inside yet, doesn’t mean he won’t try. Everything about this guy says this is gonna escalate. Don’t doubt your instincts. They might save your life.”

Lily shivered at the idea of being spied on through her window. She walked over and pulled down the blind, shutting out the slowly setting, late summer sun. She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. 

“Okay, what’s the next step?”

Dean’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Shopping.”

***

“So, everything is set up.” Dean said, nodding towards her new alarm system that he’d installed in record time. In fact, he’d done everything with so little effort she was amazed. He knew exactly what kind of alarm and locks to get and he’d installed them all in a matter of hours. 

It was almost nine o’clock before they got back with all her new security gear, and she’d told him he could just come back the next day to install everything, but he’d refused. She was very grateful for that since she knew she wouldn’t have been able to sleep otherwise.

Now, it was nearly midnight and Dean was just finishing up a tutorial for her new alarm system which was connected to both her windows and doors. 

“All you have to do is enter your password and everything will be armed. Remember to make it something that can’t be connected to you, like your birthday, and it shouldn’t be the same as any of your other passwords. It should be a series of eight, completely random numbers and letters. And you should change it every month or so.”

Lily nodded, reaching for the pad to enter something and Dean turned away so he couldn’t see it. She found the gesture surprisingly sweet. He really wanted her to feel safe, and she did. She’d been nervous and scared for weeks, but in half a day this man she barely knew had swooped in and made her feel safer than she had in a long time. 

It was pretty extraordinary, really. 

She clicked the last button for her password and the system beeped happily. She reached out to touch Dean’s forearm to let him know she was finished and to thank him. He’d long ago ditched his suit jacket, and rolled up his sleeves while he worked, so her fingertips brushed against his warm skin and his muscles tensed slightly as he turned back to face her.

She knew she was blushing slightly and felt like she did that quite often with this man. She smiled a little awkwardly as she dropped her hand back to her side. 

“Thank you so much for everything. I really appreciate it all.”

Dean nodded and rolled down his sleeves as he crossed the room to pick up his suit jacket off her couch. 

“No problem.” He said, shrugging back into his jacket and covering his shoulder holster again; he’d never taken off the gun. 

He pulled his shirt sleeves into place under the jacket and smiled at Lily as he returned to her side. “Promise that you’ll reach out when you hear from him again.”

Lily closed her eyes for a moment. “Can you say, ‘if I hear from him again’? Just for me?”

Dean sighed and nodded indulgently. “Sure. If you hear from him again, call me.”

He reached around her to open the door and he was suddenly close enough that she could feel his warmth and smell the spicy scent of his cologne, or maybe that was just him.

Either way, it made her momentarily woozy and she had to close her eyes again for a moment. She clumsily moved out of the way of the door as it opened and Dean reached out to steady her a little.

“You good?” He asked, concern showing in his mossy green eyes. 

Lily blushed even more and shook her head. “Yeah, I think I’m just overtired.”

Dean nodded and pointed to the alarm. “Make sure you set that as soon as I’m gone, and then you can finally let yourself get a good night’s sleep.”

Lily nodded back. “Yes, of course. Thanks again.”

Dean pulled back from her and stuck out his hand. “Best of luck, Lieutenant Crosby, and I truly hope I don’t hear from you again.”

Lily chuckled softly and shook his hand, trying not to fixate on the way his hand engulfed hers or the way the rough calluses on his palm rubbed against her skin.

“I hope not too.”

Dean walked out the door and started down her porch steps before she called him back. “Wait, Dean!”

He turned back to her and she laughed. “What do I owe you?”

He shrugged. “I know where you live. I’ll send you a bill.”

***

He felt his blood boil as he watched the man walk out of her house and slide behind the wheel of his classic Impala. Who the fuck was this guy? What the fuck was he doing in her house so late?

He hadn’t been able to get away from work until just now, so he was late to her place, later than usual, anyway. He got there just in time to see them talking and laughing on her porch. She was laughing, anyway. What was he saying that was so fucking funny? They were too far away for him to hear their words, but his binoculars allowed him to see how she smiled at him and laughed at his bullshit jokes. It made him want to scream. 

She was taunting him with this man, testing him, he just knew it. He didn’t like the way she toyed with him. When they were finally together, he’d put a stop to that, immediately. 

She won’t dare taunt me then. He thought furiously. We’ll see who’s in charge then, once I’ve finally forced her to acknowledge our love. 

Then he’d make sure she never left him again.

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

@aylacavebear @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @livya99 @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[merrybloomwrites]

When The Wolves Come Out (Chapter 7)

Story Summary: When Y/N gets hired to play drums for One Direction, the last thing she expects is to find herself as part of their pack. Especially since it seems that they don’t want her there. Only time will tell if they’ll accept her, or if the omega will have to deal with rejection from the others.

Chapter Summary: Things are changing between Y/N and the boys, and while these are positive changes, it does leave her with some new things to consider.

Previous Chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six

Word Count: 2K

Tags/CW: omega verse, omega reader, alpha Harry, alpha Zayn, alpha Louis, beta Niall, beta Liam, poly, scenting, morning wood briefly mentioned

AN: Had 0 clue where this was going when I started but it turned out being a fave chapter!

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Harry and Zayn stay with you for the night. You can tell the others don’t want to go, but they also don’t want to crowd and overwhelm you. As pack alpha, Louis struggles the most to leave you so soon after a drop. He can’t go until he’s thoroughly scented you.

You’re not complaining though, as you’re already starting to love being surrounded by their personal scents.

You settle in the middle of the bed, Harry on one side and Zayn on the other. They stay close but don’t crowd you, and you quickly fall into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months.

Waking up, there’s a new smell, somewhat familiar, but just a bit deeper, fuller. Spicier. That’s when you notice the new feeling as well. Something hard and warm up against your leg. Before you can even piece together what is happening, your body reacts, releasing a small amount of slick into your panties.

Now you’re fully awake, and realize the scent is Harry’s arousal, and his hard length is what you feel on your leg. You expect to be scared, or grossed out by this. But instead, you find yourself flattered, and frankly, a little turned on.

Suddenly you have another realization. One you can’t begin to think about while still in this bed. Carefully you manage to wiggle out without waking the others and head to the bathroom. A hot shower is a better location for figuring out your thoughts.

Once the water is running you think about what’s happened in the last 24 hours. Finally, the boys have come to their senses and saw how they’d been treating you. And they want you to be part of their pack.

But what does that really mean?

Will you all be romantically involved? Will you have a sexual relationship with all of them? You know that the five of them have a psychical relationship. You’ve walked in on them more than once. Are you going to be included in that? And do you even want it?

It’s pretty easy to answer that last one. Yes. Yes, you would want that. You’ve done your best not to think of them in that way, but since you just woke up to Harry’s dick up against your leg, you let yourself go there for a minute.

You think back to the intimate moments you witnessed, and while you’d only ever caught a glimpse before they stopped, or before you had quickly turned to leave, you have to admit that those scenes were pretty hot. And if given the opportunity, you’re pretty sure you would say yes.

But not yet. Not until they’ve proven themselves more. And truthfully, you’re not ready to go there. Not with them, not with anyone. Someday though? Yes, someday in the future, you definitely want to be intimate with them.

Feeling yourself flush at the thought, you shake your head and turn the water to cool for the final moments of your shower. The last thing you need is to get worked up and start getting slick. Instead you turn your mind to other things, like tonight’s show, and you get ready for the day.

Once you’re dressed you head back to the bedroom and see that the other two are still sleeping. You shake your head and laugh at how late they can sleep in (little do you know they’re tired from staying up late watching you and making sure you were okay).

The heavy scent from earlier is gone, and when Harry rolls over a moment later you know the morning wood is as well. Thank god. You really weren’t ready for that awkward encounter this early in the day.

Just as you’re wondering if it’d be weird to leave them in your room while you get breakfast, Harry stretches and sits up.

“Mornin’” he says, his voice even deeper than usual.

“Good morning,” you reply. “Sleep okay?”

“I slept fabulously,” he replies with a bright smile.

The conversation seems to wake Zayn, and he too stretches. Though his expression remains grumpy as always. He sits there broodingly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. But then he sees you and you watch as his surly expression fades, replaced by a smile. You can’t help but to smile back.

“What time’s it?” Harry asks.

“Almost 10:30,” you answer.

“Guess we missed hotel breakfast,” Zayn comments.

“I’ll see if the others have eaten. Maybe we can all grab brunch together,” Harry says.

“Make sure you don’t call it brunch, you know Tommo rejects that as a meal,” Zayn quips.

“Oh, good catch,” Harry replies.

He types, and a moment later his phone dings and Harry states, “They’re in. Said to meet at Louis’ room in half an hour.”

“Guess we should go get ready,” Zayn says. “We’ll see you soon,” he adds as they head back to their own rooms to freshen up.

You have thirty minutes to fill, and while you could spend the time lost in your thoughts again now that you’re alone, you decide to clean up your space instead. Sure you’ll be back here tonight, but you have an early flight so you decide to be responsible now.

This keeps you busy, and keeps you from spiraling into the what ifs that keep trying to pop into your brain. You finish setting out your pajamas for later right at 11 and so you grab your things and walk down to Louis’ room. Before you can even knock the door opens, and he greets you with a smile.

Moments later the hallway is filled with the six of you and you head to the elevator where Paul from security is waiting to accompany you all. Apparently there’s a small diner down the street that not many people know about, hopefully ensuring that you have some privacy.

The six of you slide into a circular booth, and you find yourself sandwiched between Louis and Liam. The waitress is quick to take your orders and the boys start to banter while you wait.

It settles down for a minute and Louis shifts, indicating that he has something he wants to say. You all turn to him so he begins, “I was thinking a lot last night. And I had an idea. We don’t have to do this, but I was just thinking. We have next week off in California. And I know that I would love to get to know you better,” he says now looking at you. “Maybe we could all take you on a date? I know I would like too, and I’m sure some of the others would as well.”

“Oh I would love the opportunity to treat you,” Harry says.

“Me too,” Liam chimes in.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Zayn adds.

“I’d like an opportunity to spend time with you as well,” Niall states.

You feel a little nervous with all eyes on you, but this seems like a good way to see if the boys really mean what they said. That they actually want to fix your relationship with them. So you reply, “I would love to go out with each of you.”

“Great!” Louis exclaims. “We don’t have to decide the schedule now, but is there anything you’d want to do or see on these dates?”

“Surprise me,” you say. Do the work, is what you think. This is their time to prove themselves to you, and you’re curious what they’ll each choose.

“And maybe if all goes well, all six of us can spend the day together Saturday?” Harry asks, his voice hopeful.

You look at him for a moment and realize that Harry, more than anyone, wants this to work out. You’re not sure why, but he has a certain eagerness about him. It draws you to him, and your omega wants to reach out to him. You don’t know what that’s all about, and you’ll be looking for an opportunity to learn the reason.

“Sounds like a plan,” you reply.

Just then the food arrives and you hungrily dig in. By the time the meal is over you all have to make your way back to the venue for sound check. You walk in with them, all smiling and laughing.

When you enter the hallway, most of the backing band is already there. Their eyes turn to you, and you can tell they’ve noticed the difference in how you’re acting. This is another thing you hadn’t thought of yesterday while talking with the boys. That people will be aware of the relationship, lots of people, all over the world. They’ll have thoughts, and opinions, and not all will be positive.

Sensing your anxiety, Harry reaches out and gives your hand one quick squeeze, just enough to let you know he feels you, and is there for you. It’s enough to keep you moving and not let the stares of the others get to you.

Luckily the afternoon moves quickly, and no one has a chance to ask you about what’s going on. You don’t mind them knowing, but you really don’t know yourself.

The show that night is one of the best yet. The energy is fantastic, and you’re feeling on a high. It helps, of course, that the boys keep turning to give you little looks, sending smiles your way whenever you do a particularly impressive run.

In the post-show chaos you end up separated from them, traveling back to the hotel with a couple crew members. You find yourself disappointed that they’re not around, and that surprises you. Up until now, you’d expected to be away from them. But just one night you with some of the pack by your side has you wanting it again.

You don’t see anyone when you get to the hotel, so you prepare yourself for a night alone. But then there’s a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole you see Liam and Niall standing there.

“Hey, what’s up?” You say after opening the door.

“We were wondering if you wanted to do a beta omega sleepover?” Niall asks.

“I’d love that,” you answer enthusiastically, more than happy to have company for the night.

Louis peeks his head out to ask what’s going on and Liam answers, “We’re going to stay with Y/N tonight. If that’s alright?”

“Of course. But you should pack your bags and bring them with you. We have to be in the cars at 6:30 to go to the airport,” Louis says.

“Then I guess we’ll be back in a little while,” Niall states.

You use the few minutes they’re gone to take a quick shower. By the time they knock you feel fresh and clean. The three of you sit on top of the covers and Niall says, “I brought food!” So for the next half hour you all have a post concert snack.

It isn’t until your eyelids start to droop that Liam says, “We should be getting to sleep. Early morning tomorrow.”

Each of you brush your teeth and then you’re once again sliding into bed with a pack member on either side. It’s so comforting, and you can’t believe you had to go without this for so long.

It's in everyone’s blood to desire companionship, and lone wolves are rare. So having to be a lone wolf for months was affecting you more than you even knew.

You’re looking forward to the upcoming week. The dates you go on with each of the boys will determine whether or not you joining the pack will work. While you’re happy to give them all a chance, you’ll still be holding them to pretty high standards.

As you fall asleep between the betas, you hope all the boys will measure up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: When I wrote that the boys needed to pick the ideas for their individual dates, I forgot that I would have to actually think of the ideas. Guess I have some brainstorming to do

[5oclocksomwhere]

White Lines and Red Flags

The bass thudded through the floor of the Figure Eight mansion, where sweat-slick bodies moved under flickering lights and half-finished drinks littered the counters. Rafe Cameron leaned against the marble island, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd. The coke buzz ran hot through his bloodstream, sharpening his edges, making everything feel too loud, too slow, except for her.

Avery Bennett. Kook royalty, untouchable, the kind of girl who turned heads just by existing. Rafe’s eyes never left her. Not really. Even when he was laughing with Topper or zoning out to the music, he tracked her like a predator. She was champagne and fire—always dancing, always just out of reach.

They’d been circling each other for months. Parties, late-night drives, a few kisses that left his head spinning harder than the coke ever could. But Avery? She didn’t do labels. She said things like “We’re just having fun, right?” with a tilt of her head that made him want to ruin her whole idea of fun.

Tonight, she wore his hoodie, oversized on her tan, bare legs. That should’ve been enough to keep other guys away.

But it wasn’t.

Some touron rogue—flat-brimmed hat, cheap cologne, no sense of territory—had the nerve to touch her lower back when he leaned in to talk. She laughed. Laughed.

Rafe felt his jaw lock, knuckles white around his glass. The cocaine made it worse—amped him up, made his chest tight with static and rage. Topper said something beside him, but it was white noise now.

“Who the f**k is that?” Rafe’s voice was low, lethal.

“Relax, bro. Probably just some guy.”

Wrong answer.

Rafe stormed across the room, parting the crowd like a wave. People moved out of his way—not because of who he was, but how he looked. Unhinged. Possessive. Dangerous.

He grabbed the rogue by the collar mid-sentence. “Touch her again, and I’ll break your f**king hand.”

Avery’s smile vanished. “Rafe, stop!”

“No,” he snapped, eyes locked on the guy’s. “This piece of sh*t think he can just walk up to my girl?”

“Rafe, I’m not your—”

“Don’t.” His voice cracked, breath ragged. “Don’t say it.”

Silence fell around them like ash. The rogue backed off, muttering something about not wanting trouble. Rafe barely heard it. His focus was only on Avery.

She stared at him, heart thudding. He was beautiful like this—terrifying and alive. Blue eyes blown wide, hair a mess, that Cameron chaos bleeding from every pore.

“Why’d you do that?” she whispered when they were alone on the balcony, the door clicking shut behind them.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, pacing. “Because I can’t f**king stand it. Watching guys think they can have you. Watching you act like you’re not mine.”

“I never said I was—”

“But you are, Ave.” He turned to her, voice raw. “I’ve been yours since the second you looked at me like I wasn’t just some messed-up rich kid. And you’ve been mine, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

She looked away. “You’re high.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, stepping closer. “But that doesn’t make it untrue.”

He cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “You want me. You’ve always wanted me.”

She should’ve walked away. Should’ve told him to get clean, to get a grip. But instead, she kissed him like she was drowning.

And Rafe? He held her like she was the only thing keeping him from going under.

[misssassylover]

꧁𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐰?꧂

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: After months of distance, you and Matt reunite for a bittersweet day filled with tension and unresolved love. As you drive home, the question still hangs between you. Where do we go now?

24th Street

Where you held me, grabbed my arm

What a mental fire alarm

'Cause a lot of that felt wrong

Like I miss you

But when I kissed you back, I lied

You don't know how hard I tried

Had to fake the longest time

It starts on 24th Street.

You shouldn’t have come. That’s what your gut tells you as your boots scuff against the cracked sidewalk, city sounds muffled by the weight in your chest. But the text had been simple.

“Meet me where we used to get bagels?”

And your feet had moved before your mind caught up.

Matt’s already there, leaning against the brick wall like time never passed. Hands buried in his hoodie pocket, head tilted down like he’s fighting something he won’t say out loud. You stop a few feet away. Close enough to feel him but too far to fall again.

He looks up. You see it in his eyes. The mix of nostalgia and something darker. His hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around your arm just above your wrist. It’s gentle, but your muscles tense anyway.

“You remember this place?” he asks, voice quieter than it used to be.

You nod, eyes not meeting his. “Yeah.”

The air feels tight. When he leans in, your lips meet his for a split second. A second too long. And you hate yourself because it feels like a lie, like you’re watching someone else’s mouth respond. You used to mean it. Every kiss, but this one tastes like memory, like ash.

You pull back. He doesn’t chase. Good. Because if he did, you might’ve broken all over again.

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

You both walk in silence. No bagels this time. Just the stretch of sidewalk and a question hanging between you like smoke.

Where do we go now?

You almost ask him if he still calls his mom every Thursday, if he still sleeps with his socks on when he’s upset. But that would feel like pretending nothing broke.

Matt kicks at a pebble. “Do you ever think about us?”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t, but because when you do, it’s always during the quiet parts of the night when your chest tightens and your hand reaches for a phone you don’t have the courage to use.

The silence makes it worse. The weight of “what now?” is heavier than the past. You catch his reflection in a store window. He looks older, tired. So do you.

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

It loops in your mind like a broken chorus. Neither of you has the melody anymore.

You look hopeful

Like we're supposed to work somehow

Can't you tell our light burned out?

Got a lot to cry about

There's nothin' left here

All our best years are behind

What a brutal way to die

But you choose it every time

Matt’s house is still filled with sunlight at five in the afternoon. You sit at opposite ends of the couch, like strangers stuck in a waiting room.

He watches you like he’s looking for something. Like he expects a version of you he used to know to show up at any moment. You can’t give him that.

“You look at me like we’re still… salvageable,” you whisper.

Matt’s brows knit together. “Aren’t we?”

Your laugh is dry. “We had a spark. We also had shouting matches at 2 a.m., doors slammed, nights apart when we were supposed to be together.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

You stare at the old photos still framed on the shelf. One of you in matching hoodies, blurry and warm. Another on the beach, eyes shut, sunburned, smiling. Your throat tightens.

“I cried more with you than I ever did alone,” you say.

“I know,” he replies. “But I also made you laugh more than anyone else.”

“That’s the part that hurts.”

Matt looks down. His hands curl into fists on his lap. “I chose us every time, Y/N.”

“And every time, it ended the same.”

We could meet down the line

After all of the time

And give an actual try

I can't promise you'll like it

I know I changed overnight

So I can't blame you for fightin'

And I'd be losin' my mind

If you lived in your writin'

You sip the cold tea he offered when you walked in. It’s bitter, but you drink it anyway.

“I used to think a lot about you,” he admits. “Still do.”

Your heart skips.

“I know.” You look out the window, watching a couple argue across the street. “You thought about me like I was some savior.”

“You were,” he says quickly.

You shake your head. “You fell in love with an idea.”

He doesn’t argue. He just breathes slowly, like he’s trying not to cry.

“Maybe in a few years,” you say, “we could try again. If we’ve grown. If it doesn’t hurt to see each other anymore.”

He nods. “And maybe I won’t have you in my thoughts all the time”

You smile. Not the kind that fixes anything. Just the kind that knows it’s too late to undo what’s already done.

“I changed,” you say.

“I know,” he answers. “So did I.”

And for a moment, it feels like you’re talking to someone new. Not the boy who loved too loudly and your not the girl who ran. Just two people trying to make sense of the after.

'Cause now I'm half of myself here without you

You're the best in my life and I lost you

And we had no control when it fell through

It was one-sided, hate how I hurt you

If I could, I'd have changed every feelin'

Reservations were up to the ceilin'

Guess the space was the thing that I needed

But I miss you

Matt offers to drive you home, and you walk together to his car.

The sun is lower now, painting the sidewalks in orange and gold. Your shoulder brushes his and neither of you move away.

“I didn’t know how to need you without depending on you,” Matt says.

You nod. “And I didn’t know how to stay when I felt unseen.”

There’s a pause.

“I miss you,” he adds, like a confession.

Your breath catches. “I miss you too.”

Matt stops walking. You turn to face him. There’s something honest in his expression. No walls, no defenses.

“If we could go back,” he begins, “I’d choose you differently. Softer. Smarter.”

You smile, eyes wet. “If we could go back, I’d let you love me. Fully. Not just the parts I liked.”

And for a second, just one, it feels like maybe the pain was worth the knowing.

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

You both sit in his car. The same car that used to hold late-night laughter and fast-food wrappers, now too quiet. The engine hums, but neither of you speaks.

Matt’s fingers rest on the steering wheel like always, except he hasn’t turned out of the parking lot yet.

“You want music?” he asks.

You shake your head. The silence feels truer.

The drive starts slow. City lights blur past, familiar roads stretching into something that feels like an ending and a beginning all at once. He doesn’t ask for directions. He still remembers how to get to your house without GPS.

Your hands are in your lap, fingers twisted together. You feel his glance every so often, but he never says what’s sitting on the tip of his tongue.

He pulls up outside your house, the porch light casting soft shadows across the dashboard. You both stay there for a moment, suspended in the in-between.

“I used to love dropping you off,” Matt says, voice low. “Not because it meant goodbye, but because you’d always turn back at the door and smile like you wanted one more minute.”

You don’t say anything. You just look at him. Eyes tired, but soft. Present.

“I still want one more minute,” he admits.

Your throat tightens. “So do I.”

But you reach for the door anyway. Hand on the handle, not moving.

“Matt?”

He turns toward you, like he’s bracing.

You don’t kiss him. You just rest your forehead against his for a breath or two, eyes closed, fingers barely brushing his jaw.

“Maybe someday,” you whisper.

He nods, and the smallest exhale escapes his lips. Like he knows better than to make promises now.

You step out. The car stays parked as you walk up the front steps. This time, you don’t turn around at the door.

But he’s still watching when you go inside.

And in that pause between leaving and letting go, the question lingers again, softer now, like a thread between two hearts still figuring it out.

Where do we go now?

You don’t know.

But maybe, not yet, isn’t the same as never.

[hwangjoanna]

'Red Light, Green Light.'

SKZ Squid Game AU

Hyunjin X Reader

Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers

Dom/Hyunjin, Sub/Reader

Possessive & jealous Hyunjin

Hyunjin, Seungmin & Minho are all mean (sorry)

Felix and Jisung Besties (Soft boys)

Warnings - MDNI 18+ Swearing, threatening behaviour, nightmares, violence, weapons including guns, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, gaslighting, mentions of debt, non consensual sex, smut, use of pet name - babe, dom/wooyoung x sub/reader, degradation, use of the word whore/slut/fuck toy/cock sleeve, elements of bondage.

A/N - Thanks to everyone who got involved in the poll I uploaded a few days ago! It was great to see what you guys are thinking 🫶🏻 please heed the warnings on this one, it’s a heavy chapter!

Word Count - 7,510

Chapter 9 - Here.

Chapter 10

Y/N POV

Your favourite anime played on the TV for the hundredth time as you sat on your plush velvet sofa, the sun casting shadows from the billowing curtains, a gift from your mother when you moved in a few years ago. A shame she wasn’t here still, she and your father had died in a plane crash on the way to another one of their countless ‘business trips’ that you were never told details about.

Today was your first anniversary with Wooyoung; he’d been out working all day, but you didn’t mind. He wanted to “pay his way” as he lived with you free of charge. He’d moved in with you after four months of being together. It felt too soon, but you allowed it anyway, knowing he struggled financially. You had more than enough to support the two of you, your families wealth passed to you after their deaths, the inheritance was a good amount to live freely without the need for a job. You had one anyway at the local bar, just part-time, good for socialising with no need for career progression. It was perfect, your best friend Hyeji owned the place, so having her as your boss was great.

Wooyoung had started working longer hours, but you admired him for it. The front door to your apartment opened, and he walked in a huge smile on his face with a playful glint in his eye.

“Hey Babe,” he called as he walked over to the kitchen counter, putting his bag on the side and hanging up his leather jacket on a nearby hook.

“You’re home early,” you replied with a chuckle. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I wanted to see my girl, it’s our anniversary after all,” he said as he came over to you. He sat down and leaned in, and you kissed. It was always sweet with him.

“Is it?” You asked feigning confusion. Then you winked at him and pecked the corner of his mouth as he scoffed a laugh.

“Let’s go out, grab some dinner,” he said. He started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and then he whispered. “And when we get back, I want you for dessert,” he smirked, and you giggled.

His smile faltered for a moment, “Urm, I’m not sure what I can afford though,” he started, but you stopped him from continuing. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll get it.” You said, still smiling at him.

He looked down at your intertwined hands, he ran his thumb over your palm. “Are you sure? I’m sorry, it’s our anniversary and I can’t even treat you to anything.” His voice was slightly broken.

You reached up and held his cheek, “Being with you is enough for me, you’re my treat.” You spoke just above a whisper. His eyes met yours, his gaze soft. “What did I do to deserve you?” He kissed you again, this time deeper. Your tongues meeting as he moaned into your mouth.

After a while, you both came up for air and started laughing. “Come on babe.” He took your hand and began walking you both to the bedroom. “Let’s get ready for our date.” He said, with a huge grin.

You both took your time kissing in between getting dressed before you started complaining that he kept ruining your lipstick. You felt so good when you were with him. You had no idea that after that night, things would start to change between the two of you.

You both decided on your favourite lobster and steak place on the other side of Seoul. The lighting is romantic and low, the chairs are comfortable and modern. The food was impeccable. The beginning of the dinner started like it always did, with endless flirting and teasing across the table.

“So, how’s the new job going? Are you enjoying it?” You asked as you took another bite of wagyu steak, the salty meat melting in your mouth. You hummed in delight, and he smiled at you. “Yeah, it’s okay, it’s easy mostly.” He trailed off looking anywhere but at you. “I actually wanted to tell you something.” He met your gaze for a moment but his eyes seemed distant.

You put down your chopsticks and held your palm out, open on the table. You wanted to be there for him and encourage him to open up to you, as he seemed hesitant. He put his hand in yours with a sigh and continued. “Work is going to get a lot busier, now I’m getting offered more hours. I also…” he paused and took his hand away.

“You can tell me,” you said, though your brow was furrowed, the worry you felt written all over your face. “I might be going away, just now and then. For work.” He said it ominously.

“Well, that’s okay,” you replied, you didn’t wanna ask too much and get his back up. “You know I’ll still be here for you, I’m proud of you and how hard you’re working.” With that, his face changed from a smirk for a split second to his usual sweet smile.

The rest of the dinner, he was on and off his phone, but you didn’t question it. You didn’t want to burden him with your worries about his job suddenly becoming more demanding.

You finished your meals and you paid as always. The two of you hand in hand as you went back to the apartment.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

When you walked through the door, Wooyoung was on you in a second. He pinned you against the cold wall, his body pressed against yours.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night in that little skirt, babe.” He whispered against your cheek before his mouth was on yours in a kiss so desperate and needy it made your knees weak. His tongue stroking yours, wet and hot. You hummed as he brought his hand to your breasts, his thumbs pinching your nipples through your thin blouse.

“Come here, you.” He said as he picked you up, your arms flung around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist. He held your ass in his palms, squeezing the flesh as he walked you both to the bedroom, kissing your neck on route.

He laid you down and pushed your skirt up, biting and nipping at your inner thighs. “Fuck, Woo.” You said breathlessly. He kissed the marks he left on your skin before he pulled away and looked up at you. His eyes turned dark, a smirk forming on his perfect face.

“Babe.” He started, his tone coaxing. “I may have gotten you- well, us a gift.” He said, his pupils blown out wide as he spoke.

“You didn’t have to, what is it?” You asked excitedly. You assumed it would be something like lingerie from your favourite store.

He rose from the bed and got a black box from the cupboard, bringing it back over, biting his bottom lip as he sat back down and placed it in front of you. “Open it.” He said plainly.

You smiled wide and pulled the red ribbon away before taking off the lid. Your eyes wide in shock.

The box had a silk blindfold, red ropes and vibrator inside.

“Wow,” you dry swallowed.

“I love you, Y/n, and I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while, and I thought with tonight being our special night-“ he paused, his features pulled into a grimace as he began to worry about your reaction. “Babe?” He said when you didn’t reply, still staring at the contents like it was going to bite.

“You hate it, don’t you?” He went to take the box, “It’s okay, we don’t-“ you interrupted, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards you. You had always wanted to try it too, but before you had been scared to give over control to someone else. Your whole life had been controlled by your parents, and you didn’t know whether you’d ever trust someone enough but Wooyoung had always been so sweet that in the moment, you felt comfortable enough to allow it.

“I want to.” You whispered against his lips, and he smiled and started kissing you again. “If you’re sure?” He asked again.

You nodded, “Yes, I’m sure.” You started stripping off your clothes, keeping your eyes locked on his the whole time. He stared at you in awe, his tongue darted over his lips, wetting them before he started to take off his own clothes.

He approaches you with a wicked smile, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. He has the soft red ropes in his hands, and he begins to tie you to the bedframe, his touch gentle yet firm.

You feel a thrill of excitement and nervousness as he secures your wrists, leaving you vulnerable and at his mercy.

"Comfy, babe?" he asks, his voice a low rumble as he steps back to admire his work. You nod, your breath already coming in short gasps. He smirks and reaches into the box again, pulling out a sleek vibrator. "Today I want you to see everything I do to you,” he put the box on the bedside table with the blindfold still inside. “Let's see how many times I can make you beg before you get what you really want." He turns the vibrator on, the low buzz filling the room as he teases it along your inner thigh, inching closer to your clit but never quite touching where you need it most. You arch your back, trying to press against it, but he pulls it away, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs, his free hand trailing up your stomach, squeezing your breast, and pinching your nipple. You gasp, and he leans down, capturing it in a fierce suck. "You're mine tonight, babe. Every fucking inch of you." He said in a smooth voice. His tongue lapped at it a few times before biting the other nipple. You yelp, and he chuckles. “Green for okay, yellow for slowdown and red for stop.” He said, your expression already glazed over with need as you nodded. “Words, babe.” He said sternly. “Yes, I understand.” With that, he laughed again. “Good girl, colour?” He replied.

“Green, so fucking green.” You smiled.

He pulls away and moves the vibrator to your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you cry out. You feel the knot in your stomach building already, “ahh, fuck!” You moan.

“You don’t fucking come until I say, got it?” He growls. But your climax continues to build, your pussy clenching as your clit pulsates against the vibrator. He denies you your orgasm at the last second, pulling it away and leaving you panting and desperate. "Please, Wooyoung," you beg, your voice hoarse with need.

"Please, what, babe?" he taunts, his eyes dark with lust. "You want to come? You want my cock? You want to be a good little slut for me?"

You nod, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. He smirks and leans down, his breath hot on your ear. "Then beg for it, babe. Beg for my cock."

He continues to tease you, bringing you to the edge of orgasm only to deny you time and time again. You're a mess of sweat and need, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your release. He praises you between calling you a slut, telling you how well you're taking his teasing, how beautiful you look tied up and desperate for him.

"Such a good little fuck toy, aren't you?" he growls, his voice unhinged with lust. "My perfect little babe, all tied up and ready for me to use."

He finally, mercifully, presses the vibrator against your clit and holds it there. “Come, come for me, babe,” he commands, and your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing as you cry out his name. He watches you, his eyes wild and possessive, as you ride out your release.

But he's not done with you yet. He tosses the vibrator aside and climbs onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kisses you deeply. You can feel his hard length pressing against you, his precome coating your core, and you wrap your legs around him, urging him on.

"Fuck me, Wooyoung," you whisper, your voice raw and hoarse. "Please, I need you inside me."

He groans and positions himself at your entrance, pushing in slowly, inch by inch, until he's fully sheathed inside you. He starts to move, his hips snapping against yours as he takes you with a wild abandon. You meet his thrusts, your body arching to take him deeper.

"You feel so fucking good, babe," he grunts, his voice strained with effort. "So tight and wet for me. My perfect little slut."

He reaches between you and rubs your clit, his fingers rough and demanding. You come again, your body clamping down on his cock as you scream his name. He groans and thrusts a few more times before stilling, his own release ripping through him.

He collapses on top of you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You lie there, your body sated and boneless, as he unties your wrists and ankles, rubbing the circulation back into your limbs.

"Fuck, babe," he murmurs, his voice soft and content. "That was... fuck."

You smile, your body aching in the best way possible. You know you'll feel him tomorrow, know you'll be reminded of every dirty word, every demanding touch.

But this night was only the beginning, and Wooyoung had just found his way in, his way to control you. And now, he was going to take his opportunity and run with it.

Over time, the relationship between you had deteriorated. Wooyoung would leave at weird hours of the night and come back smelling like alcohol. At first, you didn’t question it; you knew he was working hard, and you wanted to support him.

You would check your bank statements, he’d been using your card frequently in different parts of the city and across Korea, where he’d been on his business trips. Again, you didn’t bring it up, you had given him permission to use it whenever he wanted to previously, wanting him to feel independent enough to do what he wanted.

But the amounts were getting higher and higher, in the thousands, and you felt the need to confront him on it. So one night, when he got home at 1 am, this time not drunk, you thought it would be your chance.

“Woo?” You called out to him as he got into bed with you. He cuddled up to you and pecked you on the cheek. “Yes, babe?” He replied in a sleepy tone.

“What are you using my card for? You know I don’t mind, but the amounts that have been spent on them are crazy.” You replied softly.

He tutted, “Look, babe, I don’t ask what you spend your money on.” You turned to him then, lying on your side.

“But Woo, it’s… my money you’re spending.” Your voice came out weakly, and like a shark smelling blood in the water, he took his chance to control you again.

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the mattress. You could feel the anger radiating off him, but also the undeniable heat of his desire. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip firm and unyielding.

"This is what you get for questioning me," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a harsh, punishing kiss. You could taste his anger, feel it in the way he dominated your mouth, his tongue invading and conquering.

He pulled back, his breath ragged. "I don’t wanna hear a peep from that pretty little mouth," he warned, his hand moving to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you swallow hard, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

He positioned himself at your entrance, and with one swift, brutal thrust, he pushed himself fully inside you. You cried out, the sudden intrusion burning and uncomfortable. "Wooyoung, yellow," you gasped, using your safe word, asking him to slow down, to give your body time to adjust.

But he was beyond listening, beyond caring. He held his palm over your mouth, his fingers digging into your cheek as he began to move, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal, punishing rhythm. "Shut up, you ungrateful bitch," he muttered, his voice a harsh tone. "You wanted to question me? This is what happens."

He leaned down, his teeth finding your nipple through your thin sleep shirt, biting down until you whimpered. He released your mouth from his grasp, only to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Eyes on me," he commanded. "I want to see those pretty eyes while I fuck you like the disobedient little slut you are."

Your body began to respond despite the lack of preparation, despite the slight pain. You could feel the familiar heat building in your core, your traitorous body betraying you as it always did with him.

Wooyoung felt it too, a smug smile playing on his lips. "That's it," he panted, his voice hoarse with effort. "Come for me. Beg for it."

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he slowed, his hips stilling. "No, whores don’t get to come," he said, his voice a cruel mockery. "You’ll take what I give you, be a good cocksleeve for me."

He began to move again, his pace slow and torturous, denying you the release your body craved. You whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet his, trying to force the pace, trying to make him give you what you needed.

He tsked, a sound of disapproval. "Greedy little thing, aren’t you?" He sped up, his body slamming into yours, his breath coming in harsh pants. He held your hips down, "Fine, take it. Take my cock. Take my come."

With a final, brutal thrust, he came, his body shuddering above yours, his release triggering your own despite his earlier denial. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you, your vision going white.

He rolled off you, his chest heaving with exertion, a sheen of sweat covering his body. He turned to you, his eyes softening slightly, a contrast to the harsh words he spoke. "I love you, but don’t question me again," he said, his voice a soft caress. "Next time, it won’t be so pleasant."

With that, he rolled over, his back to you, and went to sleep, leaving you awake and processing the intense encounter, your body still throbbing with the aftermath of his punishment.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

That night was one of the last times you heard the words “I love you” come out of Wooyoung’s mouth, you were no longer babe, it was y/n and sometimes just plain ‘you’.

Your relationship didn’t feel like anything but two people sharing a house, only you were pretty much the only one there and the only one paying for anything, the only physical contact would be sex, and even then you wouldn’t be cuddled and loved like you were in the first year of your relationship, you were just used or what he considered “punished” for arguing with him. The sex had almost become sadistic.

You would try to distract yourself with work, seeing your best friend Hyeji or going to parties and getting drunk just to forget everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. You still loved him underneath it all, you fell in love with the Wooyoung you met, the fun, chatty and kind guy who had made you feel comforted after your parents' death.

But as time went on, he’d practically become a stranger. Like a ghost, like ships passing in the night.

You started to suffer from nightmares like when you were a child. Your anxiety was back tenfold, and Wooyoung didn’t seem to care when you explained how you felt. He’d shrug it off and tell you to take sleeping pills, or he’d be too drunk to answer and just hummed as you spoke.

One evening, you decided to see your friend Hyeji about what was going on, you headed to the bar and met her outside her apartment door. She opened it with a huge grin on her face, but then she saw you were crying.

“Babygirl, what’s happened?” she stepped aside. “Come in,” she took off your coat and brought you to her living room, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you both in a blanket.

“It’s Woo,” you said, wiping your tears away. “I should have known y/n, he’s not come into the bar to pick you up in weeks, and you’ve been so distant.” She replied. “I didn’t wanna say anything, but I was worried.”

“He’s just…” You continued to sob. She grabbed a tissue and handed it to you. You paused gathering your thoughts. You felt too embarrassed to bring up the money situation, so you kept that part to yourself.

“He’s been working a lot, he’s always tired or drunk when he gets home, and he doesn’t kiss me anymore. He just fucks me and then leaves me alone. No aftercare, no sweet words like he used to.” Hyeji’s face was pulled into a frown as you spoke, she nodded but stay silent letting you get it out.

“He just doesn’t feel like my boyfriend anymore, he’s not the same guy I met two years ago,” you said before blowing your nose in the tissue.

“That doesn’t sound like him,” she said, confused. “Is it maybe that work is getting to him? He’s just taking his frustration out on you, I’m not condoning it! But there could be a simple explanation.” Hyeji said, she was always the kind of girl who saw the good in everyone. Much to her detriment sometimes. You realised there and then she’d be there for you but she wouldn’t have the answers you needed, especially since you withheld some information.

“You wanna stay here tonight?” she asked. You nodded, “I’ll just text him to let him know.” You didn’t owe him that at all, but you also didn’t want to do exactly what he was doing, which was not contacting when he was out till the early hours.

“Okay let me get you some pyjamas,” she said softly with a small smile. She headed to her bedroom as you sent Wooyoung the text.

Not a minute later, he replied, much to your surprise.

[Wooyoung:]

Not tonight, I want you home when I get back later.

Hyeji came back with fluffy, cute nightwear in her hands but you were just staring at your phone, shaking.

“You okay?” She asked tentatively, placing the clothes on the arm chair, “what did he say?” She looked over your shoulder, reading the text and turned to you. “It’s up to you, hun, you could stay here, but maybe you could talk to him? Tell him how you’ve been feeling?” She spoke, gently rubbing her palm over your back.

You finally looked up at her, forcing a smile, “You’re right, I should try and see what’s going on with him.” You willed yourself to sound fine but your heart was racing, your lungs felt devoid of oxygen.

“You got this girl, I’m here for you whenever you need me okay.” She said, pecking your forehead.

You left her place feeling cold and lost, you knew she was there to support you, but you felt alone in your feelings, like know one would understand you. All of your friends loved Wooyoung, most of them complaining that they were jealous their own boyfriends weren’t as sweet as him.

Oh, how wrong they were now, as you got on the subway you sat in the carriage trying to think back to where you may have gone wrong. Did you do something to make him feel this way? Did he still love you like he did before? You had no idea, but you would have to confront him tonight.

You noticed the train had come to a stop at the station closer to home. When you stepped off, a man in a black hoodie knocked into you, his long dark hair and hood covering most of his face, the only thing you noticed was his nose piercing and plump lips. He mumbled an apology and walked down the train. You shook it off and headed home, not thinking on it anymore as your nerves set in, the anxiety you felt about talking to Wooyoung stayed in your stomach as you walked through the door.

But he wasn’t there, you stripped off and got into bed, not bothering to put on your sleep wear, it was hot and you had no energy to do so, you lay awake till 2 am, the anxiety eating away at you. You checked your phone, no texts or calls from Wooyoung.

Finally, through exhaustion, you fell asleep.

The train moves slowly, only darkness can be seen outside the windows.

You’re standing upright but you sway with the movements of the train like it owns your body.

The man in a dark hoodie stands across from you and steps forward his velvet mouth against your ear, “he’s coming.” He whispers like a secret.

You feel the bed dip under the weight of another body. Wooyoung must be home, but you can barely open your eyes from how tired you feel. He shifts, and his body presses against you. The heat from him burned against your cold skin.

You could smell the alcohol on him. The putrid stench you had almost started to become accustomed to. He slid his hands over you, grabbing, messy, with no rhyme or reason just pure drunk lust. Your tears sting your eyes.

“Please stop.” The words died in your mouth. Choking on your own breath. His hand reaches over your face. Palm pressed against your lips. You couldn’t breathe, your lungs were pure fire.

“Just take it, babe”, he whispered.

Babe, he hadn’t called you that in a long time.

Desperately trying to regain your connection with him you spread your legs, though you were still crying, and his hand was still over your mouth in a possessive grip. The other holding your thighs open.

He pushes his length inside you and starts fucking you with no thought for you or your pleasure. This is all for him, to take from you again, like he had so many times before, your body, your love, your money.

That’s all you were to him, just a thing he could drain till it ran dry. You knew it in your heart there and then. His glassy eyes, boring into yours. Gone. He wasn’t yours anymore, but you were still his.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

Your shift at the bar felt like it had gone on for eternity, and your legs ached as much as your heart did. Ever since that night, you hadn’t seen or heard from Wooyoung again, you assumed he had been staying with a friend or was on another work trip.

So when you arrived back at your apartment, you put your jacket on the hook absentmindedly, but as you turned your eyes wide and your jaw hanging in shock.

Most of your belongings and some smaller bits of furniture had gone; you ran to your bedroom, your heart beating in a panic.

Your bed was still there, made as it was when you left it, you opened your closet and found that all your designer clothes and jewellery were gone, along with all of Wooyoung’s belongings.

You began to sob, your body shaking with anger, you felt so betrayed.

You grabbed your mobile and called him.

“This number is not recognised.”

The asshole had blocked you, you texted him but it just bounced back.

You sat on the sofa and curled into a ball and just cried, it could have been hours or mere minutes. Time felt like it stopped.

Once you had cried all you could you started ringing your group of friends, all of them informing you that they hadn’t seen or spoken to him.

You felt completely overwhelmed by his absence. You searched high and low for any signs of where he could be, but he hadn’t even left a note.

Your phone started ringing and you answered urgently.

“Hello?” You said. You were preying it was Wooyoung.

“Hello, is this Miss Y/L/N?” The ominous male voice rang through.

“Yes,” you said, doubt swimming through your mind.

“You’re behind on your loan payments, I am calling as I final reminder before we send the bailiffs” The words shocked you so much that your body jumped.

You tried to remember when you had ever taken out a loan, you had never needed to, then it hit you. Wooyoung, had he set one up in your name?

“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice called out.

“Yes- sorry, I, uh-“ you stuttered. “I haven’t taken out a loan, can you tell me the amount and when it was set up, please?”

“Certainly, Miss, the account was set up a year and a half ago.” Your heart sank, that long, and you hadn’t even realised. “The remaining amount is 289,538,340.” You could throw up right now but you swallow it down. Trying to breathe normally.

“-and uh, when did I last make a payment?” You asked, breathlessly.

“Three months ago, Miss.” he stated.

You could speak, you couldn’t believe it, the betrayal was just getting worse. You hung up without saying goodbye and logged into your banking app immediately.

It had been nearly fully drained, a huge amount taken a week before he left. Maybe enough to get you through another few months, but that was all. You kicked yourself for not noticing sooner. He had taken out the money and not even walked out the door yet, like he knew you trusted him, so you wouldn’t look. Curse your stupid, loving and trusting past self.

You felt angry at yourself that you would allow a man to have a hold over you like that, to fully trust someone with all your being, only to be gaslighted the whole time.

You screamed.

You had no idea what else to do.

Then, as if your mind was making you move without thought, you looked at the emergency contact Wooyoung gave you for a friend of his. He said to never call the number unless it was necessary, but right now it felt pretty fucking necessary.

A landline number for Seoul, he must have lived close, as the area code was similar to yours.

You dialled the number and let it ring, The phone rang out three times before a smooth male voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is San there?” You asked, no idea who you were speaking to.

“Urm, hang on a sec.” The voice said.

You heard muffled male voices through the phone, but you couldn’t make out the conversation.

“He’s busy right now. Can I take a message?” The man said, but he sounded annoyed.

“Uh, who am I speaking to?” You felt weird giving information to some random guy, the situation was too personal to share.

His voice came across more aggressively, “I’m his roommate, who am I speaking to?”

Your breath hitched but before you could speak, you heard a rattling on the other line. Then another male voice, unfortunately not Wooyoung’s, not from what you could hear, maybe San?

The voice was muffled, but this time you could hear the conversation: “I told you to hang up!” The voice, angry, shouting.

Then you heard another ruffled noise before the other male started breathing down the phone, “Don’t fucking call this number again,” you could tell he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Beep.

The phone went dead.

As if your situation couldn’t get worse, it did. You suddenly heard a loud thumping at your door.

Your body started to tremble, you stood locked in place, your legs unable to make your way to the door.

“JUNG, YOU LITTLE CUNT! OPEN THE DOOR!” A man screamed as he continued to bang on the door.

The door shook violently, the sound echoed through the apartment.

You started to move backwards towards your bedroom before you called out. “He’s not here,” then the banging stopped, only for a moment. You could hear your heart beating under your shirt, you breathing shallow and loud.

Bang.

Bang.

It sounded like someone was kicking the door down, you ran to your bedroom and hid under the bed like a fucking child, god you felt so pathetic in the moment but what else could you do? Jump from the window? Your apartment was on the eighth floor, there was no way you’d land unscathed.

Then another loud noise, the door broke open.

You began to sob you could hear at least two sets of footsteps making their way through the apartment before the door to the bedroom slowly creaked open, as if taunting you.

You put your hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your cries. You closed your eyes willing them mentally to leave.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed your ankle and dragged you from under the bed. You screamed and kicked but a man slapped you across the face and held you down on your knees his hand fisting your hair.

“Ooo, she’s a feisty one.” He said to the other man. He was a lot taller and muscular.

You cried, “please, Wooyoung’s not here.”

“Fuck, he sure picked a pretty little bird.” He sneered, pulling your hair to make you meet his gaze. He stunk of old cigarettes. His smile was revolting.

Your tears ran down your face, and his smile grew to a maniacal grin.

He grabbed your jaw his fingers digging into your cheeks. “Where is he?” He sounded out every syllable through his yellow teeth.

“I don’t know, please, I don’t know.” You begged.

The men both chuckled at each other, before looking back at you.

Slap.

The sting on your face was burning, and you tried to breathe properly but it felt too difficult.

Then he kicked you in the stomach, and you fell to the floor. You screamed and sobbed. “Please I honestly don’t know, he left me!” You shouted.

The man hummed and grabbed you by the throat. “Surely he wouldn’t leave such a pretty little thing all by herself.” He snarled.

You just cried, his face was level with yours, his rancid breath against your cheeks.

The other man’s phone started ringing and he picked it up immediately, “Yes boss?” He said, with a pause. “Right away, sir,” and he hung up.

He turned to the man whose grip was still firmly on your neck, “come on, we’ve got another job.” He stated.

The latter tutted, “saved by the bell, little bird,” he sang. He made you feel sick, his eyes looking over your form like you were a piece of meat. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you very soon.” He paused and licked his lips. “Then I can get my fill of that pretty cunt between your legs,” he laughed.

You couldn’t say anything, you didn’t want to anger him more. He pushed you to the floor and loomed over you. “Tell that little cunt Jung that we’re looking for him, and if he doesn’t miraculously come back...” He paused speaking as he walked to the bedroom door, then he turned slowly back to you with a smirk. “Well it won’t look too good for you little bird.”

He and the other man left cackling amongst themselves as they left, slamming your front door closed.

The next day, you head to the bank to make a payment towards Wooyoung’s loan he had taken out under your name.

You clutch the envelope of cash tightly in your hand as you weave through the busy streets. The city hums around you, indifferent to the weight on your shoulders. Every step toward the bank feels heavier, as if the burden of your ex-boyfriend’s debt is physically weighing you down. You know it’s not your responsibility, but losing your apartment would be devastating.

You get on the train, sitting down at the front. Your mind full of fear and confusion.

Why did Wooyoung do this? Why did he treat you like this? Was he ever who you perceived him to be?

The memory of the man hitting you last night clouds your mind for a moment and you almost miss your stop.

The dim fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you step off the train, the stale air of the station washing over you. The envelope of cash in your bag feels like a lead weight. You’re focused on reaching the bank, but as you head toward the exit, a man in a suit steps into your path.

“Excuse me,” he says with a charming but unsettling smile. “Would you like to play a quick game? You can win some money, right here, right now.”

You hesitate, glancing around. “I… I don’t have time for games. I have somewhere to be.”

“It won’t take long,” he insists, pulling out two coloured envelopes. “If you win, I’ll give you cash. If I win, well, let’s just say it’s a harmless little consequence.”

You feel the pressure mounting. This could be a way to lighten your load, but the man’s intense gaze makes you uneasy. Still, the thought of extra cash is tempting. “Alright,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “How do we play?”

“It’s simple,” he explains, placing one of the envelopes on the ground. “You try to flip it over by hitting it with yours. If you succeed, you win. If you fail, I get to… well, slap you.”

You hesitate, but only for a moment as you’ve been through a lot worse the past few months, you could handle another hit.

He hands you an envelope. You take a deep breath, crouch down, and whack your envelope against his. It doesn’t flip. He grins, and before you can react, you feel a sharp slap on your cheek.

“Fuck!” you gasp, stepping back.

“Want to try again?” he asks, holding out a small wad of cash. The sting on your cheek reminds you of the risk, but the sight of money makes you continue. You need it now Wooyoung took almost everything you owned.

After a few rounds, your cheek is sore, and your heart races, but you finally manage to flip the envelope. The man chuckles and hands you the cash. “Congratulations. You have potential. If you want to earn more, there’s a bigger game I can introduce you to.”

You stand there, rubbing your cheek, the cash in your hand feeling both like a victory and a warning. This encounter is just the beginning, a doorway to something far more dangerous than you could ever imagine.

But you don’t know it yet, he hands you a crisp business card, and you turn it over in your hand, inspecting it. The only thing on there is a phone number and the other side three shapes- a square, a circle and a triangle.

You nod at the man and leave without another word. You add the cash that you just won to the envelope and continue your path to the bank.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

That night, you had called Hyeji and told her everything, and she offered for you to stay with her while you figured everything out. You accepted, you had no one else to support you, Wooyoung had kept you in a little bubble where you had shut yourself off from your friends. Hyeji was your lifeline.

You started working more shifts as well, trying to get money together to afford to live and pay off the debt Wooyoung had left you.

After two days of living there, you were closing the bar alone, Hyeji’s night off and your other colleagues had headed out, saying they all needed to finish early. It was a regular weekday, so you felt it was fine. Around half past midnight, the door to the bar flew open and the men from the other night strolled in like they owned the place, you froze and the man with the yellow teeth pulled out his gun and cocked it.

“We meet again, little bird.” The nickname made you grimace. He stepped up to the bar, “Don’t move, unless you want me to redecorate the walls red.”

You trembled under his gaze. “I’ll take a whisky,” he said plainly and laid the gun on the bar out of your reach.

You stared at the two of them for a moment before you turned to serve him the whisky, the glass cold against your red hot fingers, your blood pumping at a hundred miles an hour.

You laid the glass in front of him and he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him over the bar, the wood digging into your stomach. You yelped, and he chuckled.

“Any new ideas on where that little boyfriend of yours went? Hmm?” He whispered menacingly, his lips grazing your ear making you feel sick.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, I don’t know, he left me, I told you,” you sobbed.

“See, the thing is, little bird,” he paused to take a drink, you could tell he was enjoying tormenting you. “I think you’re lying to me, I think you know exactly where that little cunt is.” He twisted your wrist and pulled you towards him again, you cried out. Your body hung over the bar limply, the pain from your wrist bending at a weird angle consuming you.

“I-I promise I’m not lying!” You said, your voice broken, tears running down your cheeks.

“Hold her still.” He said sternly to his built and tall colleague. He started to walk around the bar whilst his partner held down your arms.

You started screaming, “No! Please, please, I’m not lying please.” You squirmed in his grasp, but it was futile. He was too strong. The man with the yellow teeth came up behind you and pulled up your skirt, your underwear on full display to him.

“Fuck, such a pretty little thing aren’t you.” He said as he ran his hands over your ass.

You trembled in fear, praying he wouldn’t do what you thought he was going to. You continued trying to pull away, crying and screaming.

The man holding you down picked up the gun and held it to your temple. “Shut the fuck up! You little bitch!” He said. The gun biting into your skin as you whimpered, trying not to make a noise.

The man behind you pushed his clothed cock against you, bucking his hips.

“I’ve been thinking about this little pussy since we met little bird.” He said, he disgusted you. You could hear the smile in his words.

Suddenly you felt a vibration against your ass. Making you panic but you realised it was his phone as he pulled it out the answer it.

“I’m busy at the moment, what the fuck do you want?” He said to the person on the other end of the line.

A pause.

“You fucking what? Where?” He shouted. “That little rat should know exactly where Jung is, we’ll be there in five.”

He hung up the phone and smacked your ass hard, “FUCK!” He screamed, causing you to flinch, closing your eyes tightly from fear.

“People just keep interrupting us little bird.” He pulled you by the hair causing you to be face to face with his putrid breath. “You go back to that apartment of yours and stay there,” he said through gritted yellow teeth. “AM I FUCKING CLEAR?” He screamed in your face, his cigarette and alcoholic spit landing on your cheeks.

“Yes,” you sobbed uncontrollably.

He dropped you to the floor like a dead weight and the two men walked out without a glance back.

You got up on shaky legs and pulled your skirt down, then you ran to the toilet and threw up. The fear of being sexually violated runs under your skin, in your stomach and up your throat as you continue to vomit.

After you got it all out, you went to the sink and washed your face and mouth out with some water to get the smell of him off your face and the puke taste out of your mouth.

You focused on your breath and then you remembered.

The card, the invitation for more cash.

You ran to your bag and took the card out, the card-stock heavy in your fingers as you dialled the listed number into your phone.

It rang once.

“Hello.” A robotic voice answered. Then you replied simply.

“I want in, I want to play.”

Chapter 11 - Coming soon!

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