#it's been weeks and I still cannot stop thinking about this part

[beardedjoel]

💗🎉💗CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!💗🎉💗

I’m so happy for you! I found you through Closer, and I couldn’t be happier about it. You’re an amazing writer and such a lovely person!

I’m wondering… what about one of these?🌹the prompt number 1. I love your writing and I cannot stop myself from asking. Perhaps with Joel, or Frankie, or Pero…I’m not picky, I’ll be happy with whatever the inspiration leads you.

Alsooooo… Is it too much if I add a little bit of 💌? I’m curious about your writing process. How do you do it? Is it linear, or do you jump around, and later “paste it”?

wym, you're so sweet and i love sharing this space with you my friend 😘 thank you for sending in this prompt and allowing me to do something special with it. thanks for your patience as i have been painstakingly slow with making my way through this backlog of requests! i'll answer your thoughtful writing question at the very bottom of the post after the one shot, if that's alright!

axel and ember — joel x f!reader

request: "overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! i decided to use this one for something very personal to me. as someone who has dealt with vaginismus, this was challenging to write the last few days but it felt like the right direction for me to go in with this prompt. in no way does this describe the experience every person with vaginismus has (nor 100% true to mine), and it is a lot of hard work to help your body and mind learn to work with the sexual obstacles that come with it. i simplified things for the purpose of this story but still found it really gratifying to write so much from personal experience and feelings that i have dealt with. i highly encourage anyone who has not heard of vaginismus to do a little research as it's something that many, many women deal with in silence or is ignored as much of women's sexual health is. happy reading 💓

wc: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has vaginismus, unprotected piv

“Maybe… maybe it just doesn’t fit.”

You’d said the words, exasperated after trying for the third time that week.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darlin’,” Joel teases the words playfully, his hair hanging down into his face as he holds himself perched above you. His smile brusquely fades when he sees that you’re genuinely upset. Some days, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, you’d been able to shrug off the frustration. Today, however, you felt frayed and emotional, pissed off that your body couldn’t just behave like a normal body should. It’s infuriating, living in a body that won’t cooperate with your mind, seeing others do with ease what you never could. What you could only have as a fantasy. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He leans down, kissing you softly before moving from where he’d been stationed on top of you to lay at your side.

Another dream of finally having sex with your boyfriend tonight slipped away in an instant. 

“What if I try the dilators again?” you ask desperately, meeting Joel’s gaze. His warm eyes look back at yours with empathy, and he shrugs.

“If y’want. But maybe you should jus’ rest. We already had our fun, yeah?”

He’d gotten you off, you’d gotten him off. Fingers and tongues and mouths, which admittedly were great, but you craved to know what more of him felt like, more than just the one, sometimes two fingers you could handle without soon wincing in discomfort.

You wanted him inside of you, wanted your bodies joined in the way that you were so cruelly being denied by the universe.

“N-no, you’re right. It was fun.” You flash him a somewhat forced smile, grateful for his patience and love when he wraps his arms around you. Joel had been such a constant with you, so wonderful, and that only made it hurt more that you couldn’t give him this. He’d never pressured you, never made you feel at fault these last five months you’d been dating. In some ways, it had brought you closer, not being able to rush into sex, but it didn’t mean that he’d stick around forever if it meant he couldn’t get the one thing you know men always want.

“We’re gonna get it one of these days,” he reassures you, stroking your hair. “You’re workin’ hard at your sessions and here at home. Don’t tell you enough that I think it’s great, seein’ you tryin’ all of that. But don’t do it for me, okay? Do it ‘cause it’s what you want.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. You were of course doing all of this work for yourself, so that you could freely enjoy something that should come so naturally to your body. Yet you knew that deep down the pressure was mounting, wanting to give Joel the sexual satisfaction you assumed he craved, something that your hands and mouth couldn’t give him. It was putting up a block between you and your sexuality, making each interaction that much more strained and distressing. You’re surprised Joel caught on to all of that when you’d been trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“I - I know,” you concede with a sigh. “I’m afraid sometimes. That I’ll never be enough without this piece of me.”

Joel’s deep set brow furrows further, looking hurt - for you or for himself, you can’t quite tell. His lips set into a firm line before they part, readying to speak. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing the way that y’are. I want that for us, ‘course I do. But I’d rather jus’ have you, whatever, however you are.”

“You would?” you ask sentimentally, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You laugh slightly, wiping under your eyes, knowing your question is ridiculous but still needing that extra validation that he’s sure. That he’s okay continuing to try this with you, even if it never results in anything. 

“Yes, silly. Why do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

“‘Cause I find us all the good TV shows to watch?”

He laughs, his burly chest shaking with it. “Quit bein’ a pest, I’m tryin’ to be serious with you,” he quips back, trying and failing to hold back his chuckle.

“I know. I know what you’re saying, Joel. I -“ You swallow, your face falling, pulled back into the seriousness of the moment. “I appreciate you. So, so much.” You reach and wrap your arms tightly around him. You relish in the feeling of being close to him, your naked bodies melding together, the heater-like quality of Joel always comforting to you. 

“You’re all the good in this relationship, baby.”

“Who’s being a pest now?” You flick his chest, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter again, giddy at the late hour and the tax of this evening leaving you emotionally spent.

The voice deep inside your mind taunts you as you slowly listen to Joel falling asleep next to you, his breath falling to a rhythmic pattern interlaced with tiny, endearing snores. You hold back tears that come in the dark, feeling so small and alone in this moment, knowing that despite his reassurances, he could never truly understand how this feels for you.

The next few weeks go by with much of the same - you’re busy with life, work, friends, and going to your physical therapy sessions. It was awkward at first all those months ago, laying there bare underneath the sheet while a woman practically had half her hand inside of you, but you got used to it, even started to look forward to hearing about her life and her kids. 

You and Joel try a few more times to no avail, your body once seeming to have a breakthrough before promptly making you inhale sharply in pain, shaking your head dejectedly. 

You try to let it go, let all of it go. Learn that life doesn’t surround this, it simply can’t if you don’t want this pressure, this hole in your heart that you think you need to fill, to eat you alive. This cannot mean that you’re broken, that nobody could want to be with someone born with their factory settings just a little bit off. 

You see it on Joel’s face and in his demeanor, proudly taking note of the change within you. You start to pounce on him every chance you get, fueled by trying to feed this new, insatiable mental freedom you’ve allowed yourself. If you couldn’t have the sex you were dreaming of just yet, you figured that in the meantime you may as well make the sex you are having something new to dream about.

Joel, as predicted, is highly receptive to your new outlook, hands and lips all over you more often than not the second you step through his door to spend the night with him. You find yourself laughing with him when you’re being intimate instead of focusing on that pit in your stomach that worries if this time could finally be the time. You’ve done away with taking it far too seriously to even enjoy when your gracious boyfriend is buried between your legs like it’s his favorite thing. Now, you can appreciate all of it for what it is - a way to connect with Joel, to share something special and fun and sexy together.

You lie in bed with Joel this evening, cackling as you two take turns narrating excerpts from a friend’s most recent read in the romance department that she’d lent you. For inspiration, she’d teased, saying it might help your mind and body become more open to connecting with one another on the topic of sex. You’d taken it with a grain of salt but now it was the evening's top entertainment. You had to admit that she had a point - it did feel nice to read about characters that were so sexually open that anything seemed possible for them.

“The people in these books are unreal,” you manage to get out through your laughter, wiping the stream of tears that coats your cheeks. Joel wipes at the corners of his own eyes, still chuckling.

“Wouldn’t mind givin’ some of these a try one of these days, bet you’d be sexy flipped upside down or whatever the hell they were doin’,” Joel says, propped up on his elbow, his handsome eyes smoldering in your direction. The implication that many of the acts the fictional couple are doing involves things that your body hasn’t been cooperating enough to even go near makes you stiffen for a moment. Maybe a month ago, the comment would have wrecked you, sent you spiraling or feeling self conscious about this perceived insufficiency of yours, but now you let it slide right off your back.

You scrunch your nose at him, letting it fall into a sly smile as he flicks his eyes over you in appreciation. “Shush,” you tease. “We need to find out what happens next to… whatever their names are.” This had all been in good fun, and their names seemed secondary to the juicy details of their sex lives. 

“Axel and Ember.” Joel cuts in, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You deadpan. “Right… Someone has been paying attention.”

“Go on, then…” Joel insists with sass, his hand motioning expectantly to the open book in your lap. You smirk before focusing on the page and continuing where you left off. You two read until both of your eyelids get heavy, the words muttered slower and slower, your bodies buzzing hotly with arousal from the content yet far too tired to do anything to make a move on the other person. 

“Tomorrow,” Joel utters in your ear just as you’re moving into that cozy, floaty, drifting sensation before it all goes black. “Tomorrow I’m gonna Axel your ass into oblivion.”

You’re awoken by a kiss, feather light upon your lips. Your lids flutter open to see Joel, his scruffy beard and unbearably cute bed head up close and personal with you. It’s barely light out, the room bathed in the pale blue glow that comes right before dawn. Your skimpy camisole strap has slid off your shoulder, the entire thing askew and leaving one of your tits bared to him. Joel’s eyes seem to be glued there before flicking back and forth between your now perky nipple and your face. His lips close around it, gently sucking, and you writhe, your body turning towards his.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters against your hot skin, breath ghosting over your sensitive nipple. You shudder, your skin prickling with anticipation, the space between your thighs desperately empty. Going to bed so unsatisfied seemed to have done a number on the both of you as you’re now acutely aware Joel pressing up against you, his cock already hard and leaking.

“Joel…” you whine, hips bucking towards him.

He dives in, his lips devouring yours, shifting his body to straddle yours, grasping the sides of your face in his hands. His tongue laps into your mouth and you arch your back into the way his hips start to grind into yours, burning desire low in your belly. You’re already so damn wet from his teasing, more than you’ve ever been, built up longing spilling over from last night.

“I… want to try right now,” you finally manage to gasp out as his lips separate from yours for a brief second. He pauses, looking down at you, his heavy lidded eyes sincere as they dance over your features.

“You sure? It’s okay if we jus’ -”

“No. I’m sure,” you tell him. “I feel so good. I want to feel good with you.” Your fingers dig into his bare back, urging him on.

He only nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He places gentler kisses on your lips before moving to your neck, then down your body until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. Tugging those down along with your panties, he moves with certainty and care, adoring your soft skin in every place along the way. 

He touches a gentle finger to your slit, so sensitive and swollen now, and you suck in a breath.

“Holy shit. God damn, baby,” he muses with awe, fire burning in his dark eyes.

You chuckle shakily, feeling your cheeks flush as you avert your eyes shyly. “I - I know. I need you.”

“Can practically feel her puslin’,” he growls, licking his lips, desire clouding his mind.

Your cheeks only grow hotter at his dirty words, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Taking a page from Axel’s book, I see,” you tease him breathily.

“Nah. This is all Joel Miller, baby,” he replies just as he uses his whole hand to cup your slick cunt, the both of you groaning quietly. Joel starts to shimmy his briefs down, leaving him completely stripped underneath the covers with you. You wait for him to climb back on top of you, carefully removing your top and taking you in.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and you wrap your legs around his waist, a silent signal that you’re ready. Joel reaches between your bodies, bringing his cock to your cunt, lazily moving it through the folds until he’s coated in your arousal, each stroke making your hips buck, your need climbing to an unbearable level.

“Please…” you whine, feeling the emptiness inside of you, craving that full sensation you’ve been romanticizing time and time again in your mind.

“I got you, baby. No matter what. I’m right here, ‘kay?” You feel him line himself up, trying to manage your expectations as you nod for him, swallowing down your nerves. Even if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll be okay, you’ll be oka -

The tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, and you gasp, eyes going wide. You both pause, staring at each other in an optimistic, full silence, breathing heavily.

You nod again, mouth agape. “More…” you whisper softly, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

Joel smiles, pressing his hips into you the tiniest bit more. He still slides in with ease, the smallest pinch subsiding when he takes a beat, then pushes a little more, repeating the process a few times. You feel the stretch, the slight burn as your body adjusts, your mind racing at the miracle that’s occurring, barely even able to register it right now.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, starting to shake. Joel leans down to kiss you, a comforting move, but it only pushes his cock in another bit, making you gasp softly at the fullness.

To your shock, when he pulls back the sensation begins to near something pleasurable. “Sorry,” he quickly spits out, his concerned stare meeting yours.

“No. It’s good. A-again. Do that again.” You start to smile in earnest, a toothy grin that you can’t help but feel spread across your face. 

“What… this?” he asks coyly, more overt with the thrust inwards as he pulls his lips into yours. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and kissing the sensitive skin there. “You’re so wet, so fuckin’ tight, baby. You feel incredible.”

You shudder underneath him, moaning softly as his words travel right to your core, burning with a new kind of eagerness you’ve never felt before. “You feel so good,” you echo back to him as you pant.

Joel starts to move, testing the waters with slow, steady movements. You keep breathing, terrified that any minute the ball will drop or this will have been a dream or some cruel trick your body is playing on you. But the sporadic bursts of discomfort subside with each new roll of Joel’s hips, blooming into something pleasurable and sweet, pulling up from deep inside of you.

Emotion bubbles to the surface before you can even tame it, your eyes brimming with tears when Joel bottoms out inside of you, pulling back and pushing in to the hilt again. It feels good, amazing even, to be so full of him, to celebrate this victory, even if only for today.

“Shit. Sweetheart, you’re okay, right? Are you hurting?” Joel freezes when he sees your watery eyes, every muscle coiled stiffly, his face screwed up in fear.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to sob, but Joel’s faithful, genuine concern puts you over the edge. Tears spill, rolling down your cheeks in profound little streaks, every bit of your frustration and pain and anger from the last half of a year pouring out into this beautiful display of pure joy.

“I swear, I’m happy, I’m happy,” you cry out, immediately cradled in Joel’s arms.

“Good,” Joel breathes out in relief. “You’re happy, I’m the happiest fuckin’ guy in the world.”

His words make the tears flow faster, but you start to laugh amidst it all. “Stop making me cry harder!” you chastise him, hugging him tightly around the neck. 

“Joel…” you say after a long, tender embrace, the two of you soaking it in. His cock still throbs inside of you, reminding you of the pleasure you’d started to chase moments ago, lost to the emotion of the moment.

“Hm?” he asks, pulling his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your to look at you.

“Please fuck me now.”

He grins, the movement lighting up his entire face with a lusty glow before he eagerly crashes his lips with yours again. When you see his eyes again, you swear they’re a shade darker, his cheeks tinged with the color of desire. Low and gravelly, he finally speaks. 

“Grab your god damned vibrator, sweetheart.”

to answer your 💌 my writing process is a little all over the place! i used to write mostly linearly, that was what worked for me and i kind of thought of everything in order. but lately i have been doing a bit more doc hopping when i get stuck. maybe writing a later scene that i have ideas for and feel like it's more fleshed out or going back and polishing older paragraphs and such. i definitely am not a big outliner and plotter, which i'd like to get better about! but mostly everything just lives in my head and gets blobbed onto the doc once i have time to write it, which sometimes leaves things forgotten hehe

(divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

[edenesth]

Arrows and Affection

Pairing: warrior!Yeosang x fem!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Admiral Kang never misses his mark—until today. No matter how many times he draws his bow, the bullseye remains untouched. The wind hasn't changed, nor has his skill faltered. The only difference? The presence of a certain someone who has somehow turned his unwavering focus into a battlefield of its own.

Genre: fluff, comedy

A/N: Y'all when I saw these damn pics Yeo posted, I knew I'd have to write something. Then I heard Fallin' by Bang Yedam and couldn't stop thinking about this scenario.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

I still cannot believe this man is real.

The thought echoed in your mind as you struggled to tear your gaze away from him. With effortless precision, Kang Yeosang drew his bow, his stance steady, his movements practised to perfection. Years of training had made archery second nature to him—so much so that watching him was almost hypnotic. He wasn't just any warrior; he was the Admiral Kang, the youngest and most revered commander in Joseon, a man whose victories in battle had cemented his place in history. And yet, despite his fearsome reputation, you still found it surreal that you could stand this close to him.

"Wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here right now!"

The urgent whisper jolted you from your thoughts. A senior maid stared at you in horror, eyes wide as she took in your pitiful attempt to hide behind a paper door—one that did little to conceal your presence. You flashed her a sheepish grin and waved the washcloth in your hand. "Relax, I'm just cleaning. No one pays attention to a maid doing her job."

She sighed, exasperated. "That may be, but the admiral specifically requested complete silence during his training. We cannot risk disturbing him."

You huffed. "Well, then that doesn't make him a very good archer, does it? If he's truly the best, he should be able to shoot well anywhere. The battlefield isn't exactly a peaceful place, now is it?"

Her face paled at your audacity, and she frantically motioned for you to lower your voice. Then, as if realising she wouldn't win this argument, she reached for your washcloth. "Please, just this once, listen to me. Besides, you know very well you're not—"

Before she could finish, you pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "I've been good all week, haven't I? I did everything you asked—no complaints. Just let me stay here for a bit and enjoy the view, yeah? You can have my meal again tonight," you added with a wink.

She shook her head, already resigned to her fate, too tired to argue or remind you that everything you had done over the past week was merely your duty. "Fine. But promise me you won't distract the admiral, and make sure you return to your quarters before—"

"I will, I will," you interrupted, beaming. "And I promise, you won't get in trouble because of me!"

You clapped soundlessly in victory as she handed your washcloth back, shaking her head in disbelief before walking away. But not before shooting you one last pleading look, silently begging you not to cause any more trouble. You only grinned in response, sticking your tongue out playfully and waving goodbye before returning to your so-called task—wiping down an already spotless door. A door that, conveniently, gave you the perfect view of the admiral, deep in focus as he trained.

A small sigh of awe slipped past your lips, your earlier mischievous grin softening into a dreamy smile as you watched him. He checked his bow with practised ease before getting into position once more, gripping it firmly. You bit your lip, anticipation bubbling inside you—this was your favourite part. He raised his bow, holding an arrow in place, lifting it just high enough to aim. Then, with calculated precision, he closed one eye to focus on his target.

Damn.

This pose—this was the one that always left you weak in the knees. Just when you thought he couldn't possibly be any more attractive, he went ahead and proved you wrong. Every. Single. Time.

Despite his fearsome reputation on the battlefield, Admiral Kang was, at heart, a little... adorable. When he wasn't fighting wars, he always seemed lost in his own world, absentmindedly staring at whoever was speaking to him with that cute, dazed expression. He was a unique character, to say the least. And maybe that was why you loved seeing this side of him even more—the version of him that was serious, focused, and completely in his element.

It was just so freaking hot.

Until it… wasn't.

Your futile wiping came to an abrupt halt as you furrowed your brows, watching the unfamiliar scene unfold before you. For the first time in all the years you had known him, he let out a sharp curse, frustration flickering across his usually composed face. He reached for another arrow, aiming with a little more force than necessary. Your gaze darted to the target board—only to realise that he had missed the bullseye.

Your mouth fell open. He missed?

A tiny gasp escaped you because, quite frankly, that was unheard of. Admiral Kang never missed—not once since he had built his legendary reputation. It was practically the first rule of the universe: the sun rises, the rivers flow, and Kang Yeosang hits his mark every single time. Yet here he was, missing the target like some rookie foot soldier.

You bit your lip, suddenly concerned. Was he okay? Maybe today just wasn't his day. Maybe that's why he had insisted on training alone.

And then—thunk! Another miss.

Your concern quickly morphed into something else entirely as you took in the sight of him, all tense muscles and narrowed eyes, jaw clenched in frustration. Oh. Oh no. Why was this... hot?

You didn't think you'd ever witness the day Kang Yeosang would be this visibly mad—not at you, not at anyone, but at himself. And somehow, instead of feeling purely sympathetic, your brain short-circuited with an entirely inappropriate thought: angry Admiral Kang was stupidly attractive.

His brows knitted together as he grabbed yet another arrow, muttering a string of curses under his breath, his voice lower and rougher than usual. It was such a stark contrast from his usual soft, slightly dazed self that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh, this is dangerous.

You had to press a knuckle to your mouth to stifle the delighted squeal threatening to escape. Because good god, if this man got any hotter, you might just pass out right then and there.

"Goddamnit," Yeosang cursed under his breath, his eyebrow twitching as his fourth shot missed its mark.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to quell the frustration bubbling inside him. He couldn't believe he was letting this affect him. He wasn't a fool. He was the youngest admiral in Joseon, after all—he had noticed your presence the second you stepped foot inside.

But he hadn't said anything.

At first, he assumed it was just some clueless new maid who had wandered in, unaware of the rules. He was ready to ignore it altogether. But then—he heard your voice. His sharp hearing picked up on your hushed negotiation with a senior maid, who was desperately trying to shoo you away. His pulse quickened.

It was you.

And like a complete idiot, instead of brushing it off, he found himself wanting to impress you. That's where he had gone wrong. His focus had wavered, and now, for the first time in his career, his shots were landing anywhere but the bullseye.

Who knew a single woman could have such an effect on him?

Annoyed—mostly at himself but also at you for making him embarrass himself like this—he finally cleared his throat, loud enough for you to hear.

"Just how long do you plan on hiding there?" he called out, finally turning toward your direction.

He had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing at your absolutely pathetic attempt at concealment. Pressed flat against the paper door like it would somehow make you invisible, your familiar silhouette was outlined perfectly against the thin material—especially with the sunlight streaming in from behind.

He sighed, setting down his bow and taking a step closer. "I knew you were there the moment you walked in. Show yourself."

Crap. Crap. Crap.

You thought you had been sneaky, but apparently not. If he had known you were here all along, that meant trouble—because you were supposed to be elsewhere. And, worse, he knew that because you weren't just any ordinary maid.

Your only hope now? Act like one.

With your head lowered, you stepped forward hesitantly, bowing respectfully. "A-apologies, my lord. I was only here to clean. I know you asked to be left alone today, and I shouldn't have lingered," you murmured, voice small. "I'll leave at once."

You turned on your heel, ready to flee, but his voice stopped you cold.

"Hold on a second."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Oh, no. You had promised the senior maid you wouldn't cause trouble, and now you were on the verge of dragging her into this mess.

"If you knew I asked for privacy," he mused, his voice deep and steady, "why did you come here in the first place?"

You gulped, fingers tightening around the washcloth in your hands. This was not how today was supposed to go. You had planned to admire him for a while, soak in the view, and then sneak back to your actual post. Not get caught red-handed.

"Answer me," he pressed.

Your breath hitched. His voice was much closer this time.

Too close.

"I-I was wrong, my lord," you stammered.

He sighed. "That's not what I want to hear. Because of you, I lost my focus. Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth."

Slowly, you turned—only to find him standing right behind you. There was no escaping now. No more excuses. It was time to own up to your mistake.

"I… I just—" you blurted before throwing your hands up in defeat. "I missed you, okay?! I wanted to see your stupid face before going back to my boring duties. Is that a crime?"

Silence.

Then, Yeosang smiled. "See? Now, was that so difficult?" he teased, leaning down slightly to meet your pouting face.

"You knew it was me all along?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He nodded.

"How?"

He smirked, fingers tilting your chin up until your eyes met his. "How could I not? You're far too beautiful to be just a maid, my lady."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you huffed, swatting his hand away. "Ugh, I really thought I had you fooled."

His grin widened. "So, does this mean you finally admit you missed me? What happened to 'I don't want to see your dumb face again'?"

Your jaw dropped. "You did not just bring that up."

"Oh, but I did." He leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. "Verbatim."

Scoffing in disbelief, you pushed at his chest—though, of course, he barely budged. "You're impossible."

Turning away with a dramatic hmph, you muttered, "Go ahead, tell your mother I sneaked out. I'll take whatever punishment she has for me, as usual. Not like you'd ever stand up for me in front of her."

Before you could take another step away from him, Yeosang moved swiftly, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His voice was softer now, warm against your ear.

"I'm sorry, my love." His embrace tightened slightly. "You know how she is when it comes to the duties of a daughter-in-law. I wish I could do something, but as the admiral's wife, you have to set an example for the people. I know those lessons bore you to death, but she's only here for the Lunar New Year. Just hang in there for a little longer, yeah?"

You sighed, finally allowing yourself to melt into his warm embrace—the very one you had gone without for nearly a week.

You had been giving him the silent treatment ever since he failed to defend you when his mother insisted you attend etiquette lessons for the entirety of the Lunar New Year. You had protested, of course—this was supposed to be the one time of the year when your husband was free from his duties, a rare chance for the two of you to be together. But instead, she had taken that precious time away, forcing you into lessons you had little patience for.

Deep down, you understood her reasoning, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. You had been looking forward to this time for weeks, only to have it stolen from you. And so, out of pure stubbornness, you had refused to attend the lessons diligently. Your frustration had driven you to banish Yeosang from your shared quarters in the heat of the moment—a decision you regretted almost immediately. Sleeping in an empty bed had been unbearable, but your pride had been too strong to call him back from the guest chambers.

So, today, desperate for an escape from yet another dreary lesson, you had feigned illness and slipped away. If your mother-in-law discovered your empty room, there would be consequences—not just for you, but for the poor maid who had dared to help you.

The admiral sighed against your hair, his arms tightening around you as if afraid you'd slip away again. Then, with gentle insistence, he turned you in his embrace, his warm hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed over your skin, wiping away the traces of your lingering pout.

"You're so stubborn," he murmured, his tone laced with fondness. "But I suppose that's part of why I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat. His gaze, steady and filled with an emotion so tender it made your breath hitch, held yours captive.

"I missed you too, you know," he admitted at last, exhaling as if finally releasing a weight from his chest. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to sleep without you? To wake up every morning and not see your annoying little grin first thing?" His lips quirked up slightly, but there was sincerity in his words.

You blinked up at your husband, guilt slowly creeping in.

"I know I should've defended you more," he continued, his voice softer now. "But it's not that simple, my love. I already defied my mother once when I chose you—when I turned my back on the noblewoman she wanted for me. I chose you because you are everything I ever wanted. You're bright, bubbly, and full of life. You make even the dullest moments feel exciting. And though she may not understand it now… you are the best decision I have ever made."

Your breath caught in your throat.

He let out a quiet sigh, his thumbs still tracing circles against your skin. "I just… I only want the two most important women in my life to get along. That's all I've ever wanted. I know it's not easy for you, and I know she can be difficult, but if you could just try… even a little, it would make things easier. For both of us."

Your chest tightened. You had been so caught up in your own frustration that you hadn't once stopped to consider how hard this must have been for him too. Balancing the expectations of a mother he respected and the love of his life—how exhausting that must have been.

Your gaze softened, and you lifted your hands to rest over his. "I… I didn't think about it that way," you admitted, cheeks warming. "I was so focused on my own feelings that I didn't realise how hard this must be for you too."

He said nothing, only watching you with patient eyes as you let the realisation settle.

You sighed, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I promise… I'll try to be better from now on."

At that, his entire face brightened, relief flooding his features as he pulled you in closer. "Really?"

You gave a small nod, lips curving into a sheepish smile. "Really." Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, "I promise I won't be sneaking off to give you surprise visits like I did today again, Admiral Kang."

His jaw dropped slightly, and you could practically see the flicker of realisation in his expression. You had him. As disciplined and upright as he usually was, even he couldn't deny that your little intrusion today had made things far more exciting. Damn the impropriety of it all—he loved you for that.

"Oh, you little minx," he muttered, shaking his head in faux exasperation before a smirk tugged at his lips. A breathless chuckle escaped him as he dipped down, capturing your lips in a soft yet lingering kiss. His warmth seeped into you, his touch grounding you in the moment. He kissed you as if he had been waiting for this forever, as if every second apart had been an eternity.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin utterly boyish. "Does this mean I can move back into our quarters now?"

You huffed, pretending to think it over, watching as he waited—far too eagerly—for your answer. His hands remained on your waist, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your sides, as if afraid you might slip away again.

Finally, you sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only because I missed you too."

His laughter rang through the air, light and full of joy, before he swooped in to kiss you again, sealing your truce with all the love he had to give.

When he pulled away, neither of you moved for a moment, eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against yours again. He simply breathed—cherishing the warmth of your presence after a week apart.

He knew you had been upset, not just about the lessons but because he hadn't sided with you when you protested. But what could he have done? He was caught between the two most important women in his life—his mother, the woman who raised him, and you, the woman he vowed to cherish. It was never a choice he wanted to make, so he had remained neutral, though it had pained him to see the disappointment in your eyes.

Still, that was why he had spoken to his mother later, asking her to go easier on you. You might not have noticed, but she had—she never truly reprimanded you for your inconsistent attendance, and Yeosang had never made a fuss when you kicked him out of your shared quarters, knowing you needed space. No matter how much it killed him to be away from you, he respected your emotions.

But now, feeling the way you held onto him just as tightly as he held onto you, he was glad. Glad that you were willing to meet him in the middle. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so much.

He could still remember the look of surprise on his mother's face when he had, for the first time, broken out of his usual quiet and composed demeanour—other than the time he had first brought you home, announcing with unwavering conviction that you were the love of his life and the only woman he would marry.

It had shocked her then. And it had shocked her again when he spoke up for you, telling her how much you meant to him and how he wished for the woman who raised him to care for his wife the same way she had always cared for him.

And surprisingly, she had understood.

Truthfully, his mother had never truly been against you. At first, she had been wary—sceptical of how well a woman as lively and outspoken as you would fit into their composed and traditional household. But over time, she began to understand why her son had chosen you.

You were bright—perhaps a little too much at times—but she had come to admire your honesty. She never had to worry about a two-faced daughter-in-law who smiled sweetly in front of her but harboured resentment behind her back. You were genuine—straightforward with your emotions, never afraid to show your displeasure or your affection. And above all, the love you and Yeosang shared was undeniable. At the end of the day, that was what mattered to her most. That her son was happy.

And as the admiral held you now, he knew that happiness was right here, in his arms.

"So, tell me," Yeosang murmured, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes, the ones he adored so much. "How exactly did you manage to slip out of your lesson today?"

You bit your lip, knowing there was no use lying when he was already staring at you so intently. With a sheepish grin, you admitted, "I told her it's that time of the month and that the pain was too unbearable to continue."

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to squish your cheeks. "And yet here you are, sneaking around in a maid's uniform just to watch your incredibly handsome husband practice. You must've been desperate for me, hm?"

You scoffed, prying his hands off your face only to squish his cheeks in return. "That's right, admiral. I came all this way just to see you fail miserably at hitting a bullseye over and over again. All because your wife was watching."

His jaw dropped in exaggerated offence as he gasped. "You wound me, my love," he declared dramatically before bending down to retrieve his bow. Then, with a smirk, he held it out to you. "If you're so clever, Lady Kang, why don't you show me how it's done?"

"Gladly," you shot back, grabbing the bow with confidence—only for your bravado to falter the moment you realised just how heavy it was. Your arms wobbled slightly under the unexpected weight, but you cleared your throat, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Your husband noticed. Of course, he did. But to his credit, he bit back his laughter, unwilling to embarrass you further. Instead, he simply watched, eyes gleaming with fondness. If only you knew how much his heart swelled with pride and affection at this moment—seeing you attempt something he had always wanted to teach you. He had dreamed of this for so long, hoping to pass on at least the basics of archery, if only as a means of self-defence. But the opportunity had never come—until now.

Clumsily, you reached for an arrow, fumbling slightly as you held it up. He softened, stepping behind you in an instant. His arms slid around you, one hand lifting the bow's weight with ease, the other steadying your trembling grip as he helped you pull the arrow back.

You glanced up at him, feeling the warmth of his breath near your ear, the solid comfort of his presence surrounding you completely. You had never felt safer. It was moments like these that reminded you just how much pride you had in being his wife. That even after everything, you still found it hard to believe that this man—this strong, kind, and loving man—was truly yours.

"Now focus and aim," he murmured. "We'll release when you're ready."

Nodding, you focused on the target, narrowing your eyes as you slowly closed one to improve your precision. You adjusted the bow slightly, remembering one of the things he had always told you—aim a little higher than your target, especially at longer distances, because gravity will always pull the arrow down.

"Ready," you whispered.

And then, together, you released. The arrow soared through the air, cutting cleanly through the space between you and the target. And for the first time that day, an arrow struck the bullseye.

We did it!

You blinked in disbelief, your eyes locked on the arrow firmly lodged in the bullseye. Slowly, you turned to your husband, who stood beside you, mouth slightly agape.

"Did you see that?" you gasped, your excitement bubbling over.

Yeosang let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "I must be dreaming. My wife, an archery prodigy?"

Grinning, you nudged him playfully. "Maybe I should take your place as admiral instead."

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Stealing my title already? You truly are ruthless, my love."

Before you could react, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms with ease, making you yelp in surprise. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeosang! Put me down!" you giggled, squirming in his grasp.

"No can do," he hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You impressed me today, so you deserve a reward. And since you did lie your way out of lessons just to see me…" He trailed off, a mischievous and suggestive glint in his eyes.

Your brows furrowed in suspicion. "Yeo, what are you planning—"

Before you could finish, he started making his way toward the exit. But just as he reached the doorway, he stopped abruptly. Because standing right there, about to step in, was his mother.

You gasped, tightening your hold around your husband's neck as he froze in place. "M-Mother…" he stammered.

Old Madame Kang's gaze flickered over the scene before her—her daughter-in-law, who had earlier complained of agonising menstrual pain, now dressed in a maid's uniform, being cradled in her son's arms. She blinked. You swore you saw her eye twitch.

"I-I can explain," you started, and Yeosang quickly set you down, clearing his throat and smoothing down your ruffled hair and hanbok as if that would somehow make things better.

His mother levelled you both with a withering stare. "Please do."

You gulped, exchanging a nervous glance with him, both of you shrinking under her sharp gaze like children caught red-handed.

"She just missed me, Mother," Yeosang admitted, gripping your hand firmly. "She didn't know how else to say it, so she… snuck out to see me."

A beat of silence passed.

Then, to your utter shock, the elderly woman rolled her eyes. "Is that it?" she huffed, exasperated.

You both blinked. That was… oddly forgiving?

She crossed her arms. "You couldn't have just told me? Why go through the trouble of sneaking out and dressing like a maid just to see your own husband?" Her expression softened, though her tone remained firm. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I brought you herbs, only to find your quarters empty. I came here to inform my son that you'd vanished, and instead, I find the two of you making fools of yourselves…"

Your eyes darted to Yeosang, who looked just as stunned as you felt. Was this really happening?

"…I swear, you two are impossible," she muttered, shaking her head. Then, as if realising just how ridiculous the situation had become, she pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing what you swore was a reluctant smile. "So, I take it there was never a real period?" she asked, arching a brow.

You swallowed, nodding slowly, unsure where this was going.

She observed you both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shake of her head, she finally spoke. "I'll forgive you on one condition." You perked up, hopeful—until she continued, "Give me grandchildren soon."

Your husband choked on air. You stiffened, eyes widening in sheer horror as heat flooded your face.

Meanwhile, your mother-in-law remained entirely unbothered, watching your reactions with the calm of someone who had just commented on the weather. "Well, now that I know you're perfectly healthy, I'll be on my way. See you at your next lesson."

And with that, she turned and strode off, leaving you both rooted in place, still processing the absolute chaos she had just unleashed.

The moment she disappeared down the corridor, you exhaled a breath you hadn't even realised you were holding.

Yeosang cleared his throat, glancing at you with a look that was equal parts mischievous and smug. With exaggerated flair, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a playful kiss to your knuckles.

"Well, you heard her loud and clear, my love," he murmured, his voice rich with amusement. "Shall we begin fulfilling our noble duty right away?"

Your eyes widened in mortification. "Kang Yeosang!" you hissed, smacking his arm harder as your face burned. "She can still hear us!"

And sure enough, a quiet chuckle echoed from down the hall.

Your husband only laughed, unfazed, before intertwining his fingers with yours and gently tugging you forward. "It's fine, my love," he teased. "She understands."

Hand in hand, the two of you strolled back to your chambers, his warmth a steady comfort beside you. His lighthearted humming filled the air, and when he stole a fond glance at you, a smile tugged at his lips.

The admiral had never imagined he could feel anything but frustration over a missed shot—but as he reflected on everything that had unfolded, he realised that if losing his aim led to moments like these, perhaps a little imperfection wasn't so bad after all.

No bc I just love how I started this with a vision and somewhere along the way, I didn't know how to end it so I just kinda winged it lmaooo hope this was decent HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[themostlesbianever]

College AU Sevika x reader chapter 5

A/n: I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING YALL WAIT FOR SO LONG I LOVE YALL FOR WAITING SO PATIENTLY AND FOR ALL THE LOVE IVE RECEIVED SO FAR.

This chapter feels a bit shit to me because i had to force myself to write most of this because i wasnt motivated at all, i hope you still like it and i hope publishing a chapter will make me more motivated to write.

more parts

(proofread but there will still be mistakes)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The band was split into little groups scattered throughout the room, chatting and getting their instruments ready for rehearsal. The sound of chatter bounces off the walls, immediately stopping once the door opens. You look over at the door and see that the band professor has just entered the room. 

“Okayyyyy” the man calls out. “Let's take our seats so we can begin, please,” he says. There's a small shuffle as everyone takes their seats. You fist bump Ekko and go to take your seat. You had already put the music up on your stand and gotten your trumpet ready before heading over to Ekko to chat. Your trumpet case is neatly tucked underneath your chair, the instrument itself laying on top of said chair. You pick it up and sit down, bringing your attention back to your professor.

“Before we begin I have a few announcements,” he begins. “There is a formal performance next week that we have been invited to, there will be a few other bands there too. We still have to hear from the organisers about when we have to be up on stage, but I will update you as soon as I know. As this is a formal event, all of you will have to be in suits. If you do not have one you can rent one from the school.” He continues. 

“You can invite family members or loved ones to come watch, you are however limited to 3 guests per person. If you cannot make it you will have to let me know either now or in the next 2 to 3 days.” He ends his speech with a quick nod to the students before moving on to the rehearsal.

You’re packing your trumpet away after the rehearsal when Ekko comes up to you, tapping your shoulder with one of his drum sticks. “I already have a suit,” he says. “Of course you have a suit” you roll your eyes at him, “I do not have one, guess that means i’ll have to rent one.” You sigh. “So who are you inviting to this thing?” He asks, you open your mouth to answer him but he cuts you off. “Wait no let me guess, your mum and grandma”

“Well obviously,” you close the lid of your trumpet case and snap the latches shut. “I was actually also thinking of inviting Sevika” you admit. Ekko looks at you with a bit of a surprised look on his face, “I didn’t know you two were that close” he says. “Well yeah, I guess we have gotten a lot closer, she’s also shown interest in my trumpet and the music I make so I thought she might like it.” You shrug.

“Are you inviting Powder?” You ask him, he nods at you. “Yeah, if she can make it.” You start making your way out of the room with the rest of the group but are stopped when the teacher calls out: “Again, this is a formal event so please make sure you have a suit.”

One of the saxophone players puts their hand up, and the teacher points to them. “Do the guests have to come in suits too?” They ask. “They do not have to come in suits, however, they will have to dress appropriately for a formal event. If they do have a suit, they are encouraged to wear it” The saxophonist simply nods. “Any more questions?” The teacher asks, but the room stays silent. “All right then, have a good day people.”

Ekko walks you to your dorm, fist bumping you when you get to the door before walking off to his own room. You knock. Two firm taps with your knuckles, then tapping the door three times with your nails. The two of you had ‘invented’ that specific knocking pattern to alert the other that you were coming in, and that it was you and not some random person. 

You stick your key into the lock and twist it, unlocking the door. You push it open and step inside the room. You walk over to your closet and put your trumpet case in it, groaning when you put it down. Then you hear Sevika get up. “Hello to you too” she says, fake annoyance in her voice. “You act like that case is a million pounds dude”

“Because it is a million pounds, trumpets are heavy, also, you try holding one up for over an hour and then carrying it back a million miles to your dorm room.” You roll your eyes. “You really are the queen of exaggeration huh” she says before placing her hand on your shoulder and basically shoving you aside. You shoot her a confused look but then she reaches out for the case and you understand what she's doing. 

She grabs the handle and lifts it up, lifting her eyebrows at you as if to say ‘you think this is heavy?’ She then puts it down and switches her grip, grabbing it so that the palm of her hand is facing the ceiling instead of the floor, curling her fingers around the handle. Then she bends her elbow, keeping her arm close to her body and lifting the case up as if it was a dumbbell. 

You can't help but focus on how the muscles in her arm flex every time she lifts the case up, which she does multiple times before finally setting it down and telling you you’re ‘super dramatic’. “Yeah yeah Sev, we get it, your muscles are massive.” You shove her playfully. She rolls the sleeve of her shirt up and puts her arm, that is bent at the elbow, up. Flexing her muscles, and hitting a few extra poses before you both burst out in laughter. 

“Hey Sev?” You start. She looks at you and lifts an eyebrow. “I have this formal band thing coming up, would you like to come and see me play?” you ask nervously. You don't really know why you are nervous, as you had told Ekko earlier today, Sevika has shown interest in your trumpet and has told you multiple times how impressive it is that you can read music and then play it. 

“Obviously I want to come” she replies, as if you’ve just asked her if the sky is blue. “I have to wear a suit” you announce, you’re gonna have to find some time to go and fit some suits to rent one. “Do I have to wear a suit?” she asks.

“Well, you don’t have to, but if you have one you’re encouraged to wear it, because it's a fancy event” you explain to her, she nods at you. Then she walks over to her closet and pulls out a flat bag with a zipper in the front. “Oh my god, how do you have a suit? You know what, I’m not even that surprised to be honest” you tell her. She just laughs and unzips the bag, revealing a simple yet beautiful black suit. 

____________________________________________

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[lunacias]

She's feeling a swell of an emotion at confessing all of this. She works to get it under control. /// Although he can't understand her, HAYWARD, too, is choking up a little at the sound of PAIGE's voice.

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[steviescrystals]

ignore this post i’m just whining again

[suguae]

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: smut build up, porn with a plot, making out, cursing, frat party, art being stupid, happy ending dw, two parts because I cannot condense my writing for the life of me

word count: 4.0k

masterlist

“Swimmers…”

You curled your fingers around the rough end of the diving board, unconsciously holding your breath as you readied for the starting noise. The pool glinted below you, reflecting light from the glaring sun above that sparkled like the blue glitter polish on your toenails. But you ignored it, blocking out anything that wasn’t the signal as you lowered your neck.

“Take your marks…”

There it was. You tensed as the official hovered her finger over the mic button. She was about to send you off and there could be no hesitation once she did. Any second now.

“GO!”

You were already under as the crowd started cheering. Two laps,100 meters, that’s all that it took and you had already conquered a quarter of the length by the time you came up for your breakout strokes. You cut through the smooth pool surface leaving white water waves in your wake. You tried not to let your gaze stray anywhere away from the tiled black line at the bottom of the pool as you felt the competition slipping behind you.

As the wall comes into view at the other end of the 50 meter pool, you take your first breath of the race and pause your strokes for only a second to perform a nearly perfect flip turn. You only have one more length back before it’s over and you can claim the medal that is rightfully yours as you come up from your last breakout. Arms pulling and legs kicking almost frantically, you’re almost there, so close you can sense the touch pad waiting for you at the end. You zoom past the flags and…

“I can’t believe I lost by less than two tenths of a second!” you groan, taking a swig from the Heineken one of your teammates had handed you when you arrived earlier. More than 12 hours had passed since your race and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about your unexpected loss. It had plagued you still as you had made your way to the party a random fraternity had thrown, though your team considered it a celebration after the Stanford swim team took home another champion title. It was small in comparison to the larger meets you had won in the past, but it was a reason to stay out past the curfew your coach imposed on you. And any reason to stay out was good enough for you.

“You’re not actually upset about that, are you?” Chloe asked, one of your teammates who competed in the endurance free events. While you would consider yourself close to nearly every girl who swam with you, Chloe was more of an instant best friend.

You shake your head as she sips on her own beer. Unlike you, she had opted for a brand with a higher alcohol percentage as she was unafraid of hangover ridicule that inevitably awaited her at your next morning practice.

“Of course not. You know me, winning is only a plus. I just can’t believe I got so close to the record!”

It was true. You didn’t so much mind losing the first place prize to the opposing team in such an insignificant meet. What really had you grinding your teeth was the fact that you had only been a half of a second away from the official Stanford record. You weren’t sure where you lost that time in your race, whether it was one of your two breaths or if you needed to dive further out, but you were set on remedying every part of your race until the problem was solved. Your next meet was only a week away and unlike this one, it would be a much bigger deal.

“You got that girl,” Chloe assured you, patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. “Half a second ain’t nothing for you.”

“I hope so. I’m not missing any more practices until I get it.”

Your conversation was disrupted as the room suddenly erupted in cheers, people gathering around the entrance as newcomers entered. You turned your head towards the noise, searching for whoever could elicit such a response.

You caught sight of him right away, a man you had never seen before though immediately prayed you’d never lose sight of. He was tall, his head covered in light blonde curls that were well trimmed to not hang over his hooded eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but there was more to him than looks. There had to be. Anybody had to be more than attractive to get applause in a place like Stanford, especially within the frat parties.

“Who is that?” you nudged Chloe in his direction. She was normally more up to date than you on the campus celebrities as she didn’t get swallowed up by her swimming commitments as often as you. Chloe nearly choked on her drink as she saw him, turning back to you with a befuddled expression.

“You don’t know Art Donaldson? He’s like the most promising tennis student to ever play here.”

You furrowed a brow, staring at Chloe as if she had said something incredibly stupid.

“Do I look like I watch fucking tennis?” you gestures to your hoodie that clearly bore the words ‘Stanford Swimming and Diving’.

“Let me put it this way,” Chloe started, unoffended as always. “He’s already won the Junior US Open in the doubles category. He got second in the singles and at the rate he almost qualified for the real thing.”

“What’s stopping him?” You asked, looking back in the direction of the man who had now settled on the dance floor with a drink. You sensed a catch in Chloe’s explanation.

“That.”

Chloe pointed to the only television in the house that was conveniently showing a rerun of one of the man’s, Art’s, matches which from the date you could tell happened the same time as your meet. He was amazing, more skilled than any of the few players you had ever watched before, but even you, someone who knew nothing about tennis, could tell that he was playing like something was holding him back. Every ball out of his reach skirted to the fence behind him until he eventually lost. You couldn’t understand how a Junior US Open champion could miss shots that were arguably hard, but reasonable for a professional. There had to be more to it than what lay on the surface and as a swimmer you couldn’t stop the urge to dive in deeper.

“Oh no,” Chloe smirked. She knew you too well to miss when you were after something you wanted. And you weren’t sure by which mystical force you were being pulled, but you started to gravitate away from her. “You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna do a walk around.” you promised, standing from your couch seat beside her, though you were both certain she wouldn’t see you again until practice the next day.

“Good luck.”

You were careful not to approach him directly, instead jumping into a conversation with a couple of your teammates who happened to be chatting in his vicinity. After several minutes of receiving congratulations for your attempt at the record, the group surrounding Art had finally dispersed leaving him alone with his drink on the floor. Lucky for you, by the time he was without a crowd to bypass, your group had moved on to much more nonsensical topics. It was then, by chance or fate as you believed, that he just so happened to bump into you, forcing your drink out of your hand and his attention onto you.

The glass of your Heiniken sank to the group, shattering into a million dazzling pieces of green glass, but you were able to block it out with the focus of a swimmer as you felt his stare on you.

Through the flashing lights you were able to make out the shape of his face better, mapping out sharp jawlines and chiseled cheekbones. You decided then you preferred this Art, the one who smiled at you anxiously over his moving body on the tennis channel and by the slight intrigue on his face, you could tell he felt similarly.

“I’m so sorry,” he professed, looking down at the mess of glass behind you before his blue eyes again met yours “You okay?” He had to shout over the loud music, guilt evidently rushing through him as if he had shoved you to the ground rather than accidentally causing you to drop your nearly empty bottle.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Art, right?”

Art nodded, leaning in closer to you so that he could hear you over the blaring club music.

“Do I know you?” he asked, in awe that you knew his name as if it wasn’t being broadcasted all over the Stanford sport program.

“Not yet,” you laughed, pointing to the screen where you had just seen him, watching as a wave of embarrassment washed over him as they replayed the portion of the match where he lost it all, unbeknownst to you. “I was watching your game. You’re really good.”

“You play?”

“Not tennis.” you gestured to the logo on your hoodie, hoping the disco lighting wasn’t enough to distort the clear waves of the swimming logo. 

“Oh wow,” he marveled. “I didn’t even know we had a swim team.”

“What can I say? My sport’s not quite as popular as yours.” you shrugged, shooting him a smile.

“We’ve really gotta get you another drink.” Art pointed out as he took a swig of his own beer.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just have to take care of this first.”

You turned around to the glass mess that waited for you only to find that your teammates had already handled it in the time you had spent getting introduced to Art, leaving the two of you plenty of time to get acquainted, mess free. You caught sight of them across the room sitting next to Chloe, smirking at you as you looked their way. You rolled your eyes at the sight.

Art had his arm offered out to you when you turned back to him, a guarantee that the two of you wouldn’t get separated on the floor as you headed into the kitchen. It’s there that the seconds fade into elongated hours as you get to know more about each other. You told Art all about your life on the team and why swimming was your calling out of all sports while he spilled to you every tennis affiliated memory from his childhood where you learned he attended a special boarding school for the sport. You made note of his humility as he never once mentioned his success on the Junior US Open and the high level he can play.

You finish the soda Art had gotten for you as the music in the main room increases in volume, forcing you to crane your neck in order to talk in his ear, leaning in so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s not much taller than you, but it’s enough to make a difference.

“I can’t hear anything with this music,” you admitted, speaking at a timbre that’s loud enough to be audible to Art without bursting his eardrums. “Do you wanna move somewhere else?”

You knew Art was joining you when he looked at you with consideration. But it was impossible for you to know exactly what he was thinking, staying ignorant to the fact that he supposed after losing his match and an evening with Tashi due to another scheduled Patrick reappearance, what did he have left to lose? He wouldn’t normally do this, but you look like the perfect contender for a brand new game.

“Let’s go upstairs.” he nodded towards the stairs to your left, accepting your invitation. “It won’t be as loud up there.”

And so you both made your way up the frat house staircase, passing by closed door after closed door until you finally found a vacant bedroom. While you don’t know who lives there, it was tidy enough for you to neglect caring as you followed Art inside and shut the door behind you. 

“I don't think I ever caught your name, by the way.” Art stated as he took a seat on the bed in the center of the room, leaving a space for you beside him..

“Oh, I didn’t say.” you chuckled in realization as you sat beside him, your name falling from your lips as you met the lumpy mattress.

“And this is your reward party?” he wondered, a thought you can’t help smiling at as you shake your head.

“Definitely not,” you took another swig from your bottle. “I don’t think there’s any real reason behind this besides to fuel college memories. If anything, they’d be celebrating you. You’re like famous right?”

Art’s gaze moves to the shag carpet below as he shakes his head of blonde curls, disappointment shrouding his face.

“Not quite,” he disagreed, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I don’t know if you saw the whole thing, but my match today wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

“Why not?”

“Because I lost.”

He stated it like it was obvious which only confuses you as a swimmer. All the work and dedication he must put into his sport all to think there was no yield. You couldn’t imagine basing your pride off of winning and winning alone when there were so many other components to competing.

“So?”

He’s startled by your nonchalance towards losing, something so foreign to him it isn’t even a refreshing take.

“So?” he repeated. “So I failed today. I let my team down. I let Tashi down.”

Tashi. You’ve definitely heard that name before. Though you don’t know much about the inner workers of tennis, everyone and their mother in the state of California knows who Tashi Duncan is. She’s the most famous person on campus, in and out of the tennis world. You didn’t know her personally, only ever seeing her when walking between classes. You also knew she had a boyfriend who didn’t attend Stanford from seeing them eating together. There had always been something off about her and now, with Art beside you in full self-deprecation mode, you figured you were about to find out exactly what it was.

“Is that who you were looking at?” you asked, piecing together that she must’ve been in attendance at his match. He immediately tensed at the mention, surprised you caught the simple detail. “I saw during your match. You looked like you were distracted.”

“It wasn’t just her,” he shook his head. “One of my oldest friends just flew for the weekend. He was there with her.” he paused. “They both saw me fail.”

“I’m sure they were both proud of you.” you assured, but Art was quick to set you straight as his friends didn’t operate the same way yours did.

“No, you don’t get it. I’m nothing if I don’t win.”

“Well it’s okay, you can just try again next time.”

“It doesn’t work like that. That’s not what tennis is about.”

You sensed a planted ideology in his evaluation, causing you to probe further.

“Really? So tennis isn’t just hitting balls with rackets over and over?”

“It’s more than that,” he informed you, taking no offense from your lack of knowledge. “It’s a relationship. It’s about the fight between two people. The back and forth until someone comes out on top. And even then the winning, it’s not nearly as important as the match. I didn’t just lose today, I let the crowd down. And my opponent won without the intensity of a good match. All because of me.”

You quieted as he explained, placing a careful hand on his shoulder as he finished. You felt for him, absorbing his sorrows like a therapeutic sponge, but it didn’t take a tennis expert to understand that bullshit behind his dogma. It sounded more like a manipulation technique than anything, all stemming from the same source.

“Did Tashi tell you that?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if your statement was any more outrageous than the lies he had been fed.

“It’s the truth.” he answered.

You weren’t sure how to get across to him, if it was even possible to crash through the wall of his beliefs in the first place, but you knew you had to try. It wasn’t right for him to harbor such disappointment over a match that did nothing to disprove his skill at his sport.

“Okay,” your voice softened as you thought of a way to challenge his theories. “Let’s change the subject. How about I tell you how swimming works?”

“Isn’t it more of the same?” he sighed, still overcomplicating his loss.

“Actually it’s very different.” you corrected.

“What do you mean?” Art asked, looking at you with the utmost intrigue.

“What if I told you that even the losers in swimming end up winning?”

Incredulous of the possibility, Art waited for further explanation.

“See like tennis, we have the players and of course only one person in each race can come out on top, but it’s not about beating the other players. Once you’re out there, it’s just you and the water. That’s the only relationship. It doesn’t matter where anyone else is, beside you, behind you, that’s not what’s not important. All that matters is how well you swim and if you lost a few seconds on the time board. Everything else is lost to the waves. And if your time is the fastest well, that’s just one big fucking bonus.”

Art sat with your words, unable to reply as he processes the possibility of winning as a loser. It’s almost too hard to imagine. You leaned closer to him, breath catching as his eyes moved down to your lips and one of his hands gently gripped your thigh.

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded, your faces so close now that your nose nudged his own.

“I didn’t win today either,” you whisper to him. “But my team screamed when I touched that wall. And do you know why?”

He waited for you to explain, eyes fluttering close for only a second as you laid a palm on his shirt, feeling the hard muscle that lay beneath. Your hands trailed to his sleeves, settling his bare skin a blaze as you take in his equally sturdy biceps.

“I almost beat a school record today. First time in 30 years if I had done it.”

“There’s no records like that in tennis.” he countered, but there was uncertainty in his tone. As if he was waiting for you to further back this new perspective. As if he was really starting to believe it.

“Then maybe you should take a page out of my book. Leave tennis in the past for now and focus on what’s here, in the present…” your lips brush over his before you mutter, “... focus on me.”

You're not entirely sure who initiated it, but before either of you could get out another word, his lips were on yours. You dove head first into the kiss, his lips melting against yours as you swipe your tongue out to catch the lingering taste of cheap beer at the edge of his parted mouth. It’s all so soft, like two cracked dolls who want nothing more than to break for the other until the intensity reaches its peak and you could feel microscopic beads of sweat forming at your brow.

Art pulled you in closer, gentle hands moving to your waist as the faint vocals of California Gurls played distantly in the background. His fingers curled into your sides, worming their way under the hem of your hoodie as they gave way to underlying desire, sparking every inch of your skin that they came into contact with.

You sighed as his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Pausing the kiss, he tipped his head back to jerk ever so lightly on your lip before allowing it to snap back into place and at once you crashed back into mouth, kissing him with a fervor you don’t remember ever feeling this intensely. Every movement, every change in the pace all worsened the heat igniting within you.

You tugged on the blonde roots of his curls that rest closest to his neck and soon enough you felt Art’s needy fingers claw at the waist back of your black athletic shorts. Though you're in desperate need of relief from the growing pool of desire at your core, you knew it was time to pull back. Art didn’t let you go so easy, his lips chasing after yours once you’ve broken the kiss, but it’s no use. You knew you couldn’t do this, at least not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Art whispered against your lips, automatically assuming that it was his own fault rather than an independent decision of your own. It was certainly too intimate for a man you’d only just met, but you have to cup his cheek to keep from breaking as his own hands part from your skin.

You told him some form of the truth, that you didn’t think the timing was right. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you were dying to sneak another taste of his lips in and give him everything he’s ever wanted right there and then. But you couldn’t. Not when you know that it’s just another match. A distraction from Tashi. Especially not when you know that it didn’t have to be.

“We can’t do this here.”

Art face fell at your words, but he’s never been one to give up so easily.

“Then let’s go back to my place.” he offered, hoping it was just the atmosphere of the party that alarmed you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave.

“No, not tonight.” you frowned apologetically. “Not while you’re playing tennis.”

He stared at you in utter confusion as you stood up from your place beside him, dusting off your clothes as if you hadn’t been enjoying him all along. He didn’t understand the reasons behind your sudden switch, but he’s willing to risk it all in the heat of the moment.

“You want me to quit.” he suggested as if it’s a solution both of you are comfortable with. You turned back to him disturbed, shaking your head wildly at the proposal.

“Of course not, Art, you know that’s not what I mean,” you began, gathering an explanation that you hope will convey your reasons without making him feel like a complete piece of shit. “I don’t know what Tashi told you, but to me it sounds like she expects a winner. She’s programmed you into believing the player doesn’t matter without a title.”

You stepped an inch in his direction, close enough that you can see even the smallest details of his face, but not enough for him to touch you again.

“…but she’s forgetting that without the player, winner or loser, there is no title. Without a foundation, there is no relationship between you and the other player. And nobody can succeed if they’re scared of failure.” you explained further. You knew your words resonated with Art as his gaze turned to the stained carpet of the bedroom, but he had to pass the ball back.

“Well, you said it yourself, you don’t know Tashi.” he fired back, and you knew it’s only the tennis talking.

“You know I’m right.”

Art was silent, only proving your point. You knew you had to leave, but you had to promise him a second meeting, for him and for yourself. You wouldn’t be blocked from a happy ending by wrong timing.

“Come to my meet next weekend,” you invited him. “It’s the biggest one of the year. You should see how other sports operate.”

“I can’t see you before then?”

You almost smiled at the confirmation that his frustration wasn’t directed towards you.

“I have practice,” you shrugged. “- and so do you. You can see me again at my meet and in the meantime, just think about what I said. And know that you’re more than a loser, Art.”

You left without another word, shutting the door while silently cursing yourself for not taking the opportunity while you had it. It was very possible that you would never see the tennis star again, that every spark you felt with him in your first hour of knowing him was entirely one sided. You prayed it wasn’t true, that he had shown some feelings in return, but only time would tell. In exactly one week, you would be certain.

part two out now!!!

[dear-aubade]

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

[defmaybe]

Mistake

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

15.4k words

Some discussions of suicide

A/N: A few things before going in:

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

It's also unfinished in parts.

Still, I do genuinely hope that you enjoy this!

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

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

—

Prologue

—

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

One: About You

–

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

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

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

I never know what to think about

–

I like you

What

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

(Seen)

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

I’m sorry

Regret in her words bled through the pixels. 

But I just see you as a friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

She wants you to live on your life, separately

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

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

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

Why

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

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

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

I won’t

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

Think about it

Like all those years

What have you done to her

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

You had problems.

It’ll all be okay

Someday

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

–

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

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

hey

need some advice rn

uh huh

there’s this guy

send me his pic

alright wait a sec

[photo]

my god

what

okay yeah I know why he’s a big deal

fuck auto caps on I again

fuck

just turn it off in the settings lol

thanks

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

[Replied to: thanks] no prob

so

how is it with him

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

Two: Now That We Don’t Talk

–

You grew your hair long, you got new icons

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

–

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

Should I check my block-list?

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hour and a half.” She murmured.

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

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

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

“Thanks, Minji.”

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if you predicted your future.

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

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

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

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

Minji smiled. “Sure.”

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll block you, that’s what I’d do”

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

“See ya.”

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

–

Three: Feels Like

–

Met you at the right time

This is what it feels like

–

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

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

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

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

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

Until-

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

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

Her right hand was in her blazer pocket.

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

“What’s with that face?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t.”

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

“Never have the courage to do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh—" 

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

“Let’s go then”

Joy gleamed her face, “Great, follow me”

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

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

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

–

Four: Cutie

–

Woke up in your orbit

Now where do I start?

–

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

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

A little shocked, “Hey”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The wagyu just melted in my mouth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[More dialogue]

–

“How far is your stop?”

“Four stations.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“U—Us?” You stutter out, mind flayed.

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

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

–

Five: Party Police

–

You don’t have to leave

You can just stay here with me

Forget all the party police

We can find comfort in debauchery

= = =

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Of course, babe”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until–

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

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

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

”Damn, babe, you’ve come prepared.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you’d do it slower”

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

“The nipple sucking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The five minutes she gave earlier might come into use.

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haewon can only whimper in response. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep your pace; don’t go faster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite your lip in another rise of your arousal.

–

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

“I kept the promise.” She says.

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

Haewon’s glance follows yours to your erection.

“Another round, babe?”

–

Six: Just Another Girl

–

Now why can’t I sleep at night?

And why don’t the moon look right?

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

“And then I met you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

Epilogue: Keeping Tabs

–

I wish I never met you.

You are the worst thing that I’m still

Keeping tabs on for some stupid reason.

–

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

“Yeah–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

“God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you.”

And it flows through you–

“Him? Not really.”

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

–all the words you’ve said–

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

–all the words she has said–

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

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

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

–all the dreams drawn together–

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

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

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

“This place is filled with rich people.”

–all the struggles vented–

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

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

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

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

–all the love proclaimed–

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

“I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have done that, too.”

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

–and the ending.

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

Are you sure to delete 525 photos permanently?

This action cannot be undone.

Delete Permanently

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

—

“That was her, right?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“It ends well, right?”

“I suppose so.”

—

I need to get over you.

—

[snzunii]

( read part one here )

it wasn't unusual for your friends that you and satoru don't get along that well. it’s obvious, you make snarky comments about his triumph of the week every now and then but it was unusual for them when satoru wasn't bragging about some girl anymore.

and you weren't even making side comments about how he doesn't have any new “girl” for the week now. at first, it was suguru who noticed it. 

but then come shoko, then of course, utahime. how can they not notice when your petty bickering is part of the group gatherings? how can they not notice when you weren't rolling your eyes anymore everytime that satoru’s opening his mouth?

“what the hell is wrong with the two of you? did you fight?” it was suguru who broke the ice.

can you blame them? they can't take this weird shit that’s happening, whatever it is. 

“huh?” you looked up from your phone, “fight? who?”

“don't play dumb.” shoko says, “you and satoru. did you two fight?”

huh, fight. more like, did you two have sex a week ago and it has been awkward ever since? yeah, more like that. you glance at satoru and he looks at you knowingly, just waiting for whatever you're going to say.

you chuckled awkwardly, “we didn't. i just don't like talking to him, you know.”

and before they could probe even further, you stood up. “i’m heading to the store, do you guys want anything?”

they just raised their brows at you and when they all looked at satoru, he just shrugged his shoulders. 

“nothing? okay.” 

“i’m coming with you.”

and that made them more confused because why the hell would satoru go with you, just the two of you, alone? but they just shrugged it off, and you two walked out of suguru’s condo unit. 

you don't even know why he would go with you. it’s true that you haven't talked since, but you figure that there’s nothing to talk about because it’s never going to happen again. it’s just a one time thing.

“huh.” you heard him say. you stopped walking and glanced back at him.

“what?”

“you don't like talking to me, but you just like sticking your tongue down my throat?”

you cannot believe this. 

you wanna smack that grin right off his face.

“you’re so fucking annoying!” you marched towards the elevator as fast as you could but somehow he just caught up on you.

“hey. i’m sorry, okay. i’ll stop.” he said and reached for your arm, “YN.”

“what? what the fuck do you want?”

“i just want to talk.” you scoff, the elevator opens and you walk in. “can we please just talk?”

“then talk.” you crossed your arm, still avoiding his gaze. you don't know what you're feeling and you don't know how to react, maybe that’s why you’re acting out right now.

it wasn't supposed to be this way, you were supposed to be just friends.

he was supposed to be just your friend who annoys you every now and then with his antics. “how can we talk if you’re not looking at me?”

“just talk—”

he pressed the emergency stop button and now, great, you’re stuck with him. “what’d you do that for?”

“i just want to make sure you’re okay with what happened. and i’m sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable in any way—”

“stop.” you looked at him, “i’m okay. and i think we both wanted that to happen, you don't need to say sorry. i just want to go back to the way it was, okay? it’s not going to happen again, so…”

“okay.” he simply answered, he pressed the button again and just backed up. the silence envelopes the two of you as you wait for the elevator to reach the ground floor. 

you sighed a relief when you heard the ding! but before it opens, satoru says something before walking past you.

“except, i don't want things to go back the way it was.”

now, why the hell would he say that?

( read part three here )

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 3

Author’s Note: I made up a lot of sicknesses/random things that have never been mentioned throughout the actual ACOTAR series! The breaks in text are going back and forth between the two rooms.

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 3 Summary: Clara has been found out, but what has she done to you?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." Clara said softly, a small confused smile on her lips.

"When I asked you to help her, you said "I didn't do this one." What does that mean." Nesta snarled at the young healer.

Mor seemed deep in thought, Azriel and Cassian were equally confused, and Nesta seemed ready to pounce.

"Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing her say that." Mor spoke up.

"You better tell us what's up right now." Cassian growled.

At this point, Clara's smile faultered. She looked around for a way out but noticed the four of them had her surrounded and they wouldn't stop until they knew the truth. She may be evil but she wasn't dumb.

"It wasn't even that bad." The healer confessed.

"What have you done?" Azriel questioned, his voice deadly calm.

------

Madja had seen cases like yours before but never this bad. The cut on your back had traces of venom in it. A rare venom that used the victim's power against them.

She needed to extract every last ounce of it that was in your system but it was trickier than it sounded. If she took too much too fast, it could essentially tear your powers from your very being which would kill you.

"I need you to enter her mind. Once you are in, I will start to remove the poison from her system, you just need to let me know if her mind starts fading." Madja explained to Rhys.

"Are you sure this will work?" Rhys asked.

"Of course I am, boy. Now do as I say." She said quickly.

Rhys tried to enter your mind but all he could see was blinding light. There was no where for him to enter, it was almost as if the light was burning him. He pulled away, never feeling anything like it before.

"I can't get in, her light, it burns me." He explained to the healer.

"Listen to me. It might burn a bit but you will be fine. On the other hand, if we don't fix her right now her light will continue to burn brighter until it has consumed her. Perhaps we could get the shadowsinger in here to help." Madja told Rhys, hoping Azriel's shadows could help.

Rhys immediately spoke to Az through his mind and he appeared within seconds.

"What can I help with?" He rushed out his question.

"I cannot enter her mind, it is too bright, painfully so. Could you somehow use your shadows to help me get through?" Rhys explained the situation.

"I can try." Az responded.

------

Cassian looked towards where Azriel just stood, knowing he went to help you.

"I have no clue what's wrong with Y/N, honest. I swear I didn't think it would go this far." Clara pleaded with the group.

"You better start explaining before I unleash Nesta upon you." Cassian threatened.

Nesta had been eerily still, like a predator hunting her prey. Clara was visibly scared. Her hands were shaking, terrified of what Nesta would do to her.

"Ok listen. I've had a huge crush on Azriel for years now, so when I saw you guys needed another healer I took that as my opportunity." The "healer" explained.

"We've only known you for 2 weeks, how could you have a crush on him for years?" Mor asked.

"Everyone knows Azriel, the mighty shadowsinger, the feared spymaster of the Night Court. Well...when I met him all he wanted to talk about was Y/N. About how much I'd love her personality, how she's so great," Clara went on, "so I was a little jealous of her."

By this point, Mor was dissappointed she didn't believe you. She assumed you were exhausted from your mission and the guilt she felt was awful.

"When she showed up to my shop I got angry that she was back so soon. Rhys wanted me to do a check up on her and all I saw was a tiny cut on her back so I thought she'd be fine and I just wanted her to leave." She continued to explain.

Nesta was fuming by this point. Not only because of what she did to her friend but also because she didn't see through Clara sooner.

"Wait wait wait, all this is happening to Y/N because you're jealous of her? What kind of vile creature are you?" Cassian seathed.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen-" She began to plead when Azriel appeared in the room again.

------

Rhys re-entered your mind, this time with Azriel's shadows being a protective barrier around him. It was way easier this time but he wasn't sure how long Az could hold it.

"Alright, start." Rhys told Madja.

The healer began her work. Unweaving the venom from your powers, from your soul. She was about halfway through when Rhys called out.

"STOP! I can feel her fading!" Rhys was panting, he was exerting all his energy.

Madja pulled out, confusion taking over.

"This doesn't make sense. It's as if another energy is pulling her powers. Like an untouched ball of energy using up the rest of her." She explained.

"What do we do?" Azriel questioned.

"It needs another energy form to pull from..." She started.

"My shadows." He whispered.

Before anyone could stop him he sent them out to you and that little ball inside of you immediately began to absorb them. He screamed out in pain and Rhys and Madja quickly began to work.

It took only a few moments more for Madja to finish yet it felt like an eternity for the two males. It had been way easier now that Az was distracting whatever it was inside of you. The venom was successfully extracted and the room was eerily quiet. Rhys and Az both fell back, feeling drained from using their powers in such a way.

"Why isn't she waking up?" The shadowsinger whispered, making his way toward you.

"It must have to do with whatever is deep inside her. I need to do a full body work up on her to see what is going on." She spoke and started right away.

Az felt a tear slide down his cheek and quickly brushed it away. The High Lord stayed back to give you space to be checked out but he felt the same as the male next to him, worried and hopeless.

It felt like an eternity when Madja spoke up again.

"There is a substance inside her nose. Almost like a powder but I haven't seen it before. I'll have to take it back with me to break the molecules down. I'm afraid Y/N will have to stay in this state for now." She told the two males.

Azriel's head shot toward Madja at her words.

"Wait, did you say a powder was in her nose?" He muttered.

She just nodded her head in response, holding up the sample she collected. Your words from earlier popped into his head.

"Y/N told me 'she blew some powder in my face which caused everything'." Azriel stated coldly and winnowed away.

------

The shadowsinger appeared in front of Clara, his shadows surrounding her and pinning her against the wall. She shrieked in either pain or fear but he didn't care. You were in danger and he would stop at nothing to help you.

"What did you blow in Y/N's face?" He demanded.

"What?!" She feigned innocence.

Azriel held up the vial of powder close to her face. His shadows squeezed tighter around her frame.

"It's nothing serious," She weezed out, "It's a mix of vamire, spitfire aconite, and root of igranium. All it's supposed to do is heighten the pain/sickness they already have. I had an antidote that I gave her. It's in my bag."

Mor quickly grabbed the bag from the female, searching for both the powder and the antidote. She handed them both to Az.

"And why would you posion her just to give her an antidote?" Cass asked.

"I wanted to impress Azriel." She whimpered looking down.

"What's in the antidote?" Az shouted at her making her flinch.

"A..Adlirin and G..G..Green Gilliflower." She sputtered in terror.

The shadows left along with their master and she fell to the floor.

------

"Both of these are in her system," Az spoke holding the vials, "Vamire, Spitfire Aconite, Root of Igranium, Aldirin, and Green Gilliflower."

Madja's eyes grew wide and a bad feeling shot through both Az and Rhys at her reaction.

"This isn't good." She said, looking over your unconscious form.

Taglist

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@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 8 ] || [ Chapter 10 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i think Ghost always steals Soap's hygiene products bc he cannot be arsed to buy some for himself.

Chapter 9: Drinks?

The moment the helo touched down, the soldiers descended, each of them parting ways as they went about their regular business, returning their gear to the armory, debriefing, showering, eating…

Almost a whole hour after their arrival, Simon threw himself down onto his bed, his skin dewy from the shower, his hair combed to the front and dripping over his face.

He popped open the top drawer of his nightstand and fished out his phone and charger. He set the charger up and turned on the phone as it charged up.

Simon didn’t often use his iPhone. Sometimes he forgot he even had it. The only times he did was to check Soap’s and Gaz’s insta/snap stories (because he liked being up to date on what they were doing) and when they were all on leave and had parted ways, so he could check the groupchat. 

Once the phone turned on, he immediately beelined for Tinder and opened the app. The app lagged a bit at first but, open loading up, he saw it.

99+ likes, 99+ messages.

The big majority of them were girls, too young for him, thirsting for him, even with his face being hidden. He always knew he could attract people, so it didn’t exactly surprise him.

Rolling his eyes, he flicked his finger over the screen until he found your chat and clicked on it.

Simon: I’m back and in one piece. Simon: I think you need to wish me luck more often.

He didn’t expect you to answer him immediately, even if it was only 6 P.M. on a Tuesday and you’d likely be at home and free, considering the job you listed on your profile.

However, the Read notification popped up under his text almost immediately and your dm came right after without the app even announcing you were typing.

you: omg i was literally JUST checking to see if you had said anything you: welcome back!

The text made a smirk take over his scarred lips before he bit the bottom one and typed out a reply.

Simon: Have you been waiting to hear from me for 3 weeks? you: noooo Simon: That’s frankly adorable. Simon: Didn’t think I’d have gotten in your head that strongly. you: oh piss off simon. you: ur not that great. Simon: You’re still texting me. you: sooo???? Simon: So, I can’t be that terrible. Simon: Got your attention, didn’t I? you: oh piss off you: ur so cocky and for what Simon: Not cocky. Just sure of myself. you: no Simon. No? you: no 😤 Simon: Okay then. Simon: Suddenly not sure of myself because you deemed it so. Simon: I’m very insecure now. Simon: Is that better? you: stop being such a bloody smartass 🙄🙄🙄 Simon: You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Simon: I can’t take this. Simon: Going to go hug my pillow and cry some more. you: oh no you: i’m making the giant cry? 😱 Simon: Is that a dig at my height? you: YES Simon: My God, I’m going to cry even more. Simon: I’m being bullied. you: good!!! 😤 Simon: I’m making you pay for my therapy. you: pay for it yourself!!!! 🙄 Simon: How about I pay for dinner for the two of us one of these days instead?

You didn’t answer immediately after that. You always did that whenever he flirted with you and spoke about taking you out.

Simon had a shit-eating grin on his face, imagining that you were all annoyed at him behind the screen. He was right in guessing you were shy about going out, he assumed.

you: no. you: but you can buy me a drink tonight.

His jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised just a bit.

Simon: It’s a Tuesday night, are you sure? Simon: You know going out for drinks on a Tuesday is usually a sign of alcoholism? you: ur backing out now? you: wheres all that bravado of yours? Simon: Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not backing out, I’m asking if you’re sure. you: if i wasnt i wouldnt have invited you. Simon: Fair enough. Simon: Where? you: the same pub i met up with john at maybe? Simon: Rog. Simon: 30 minutes. you: i need longer to get ready. Simon: That’s fine. I’ll still be there in 30. you: are you going to be wearing the mask? Simon: 🤷‍♂️ you: SIMON you: YOU CAN’T BE PULLING OUT THE EMOJIS LIKE THIS you: YOU STARTLE ME EVERY TIME. Simon: Good. Simon: See you soon.

Setting the phone down on the mattress, Simon got up from bed and took off his towel, tossing it over the back of his desk chair before opening the top drawer of his tall dresser, grabbing a pair of black boxer briefs and putting them on.

Then, he rummaged through the other drawers looking for his one ‘going out shirt’™️ (which was actually a black long-sleeve compression shirt) which he put on along with a pair of dark jeans. It was a simple outfit. 

Then he slipped on some black boots. He threw on a leather jacket over that and tucked a black neck gaiter into the neckline of the t-shirt, hiking it up to cover his mouth and nose.

Barely a minute later, he was making his way into Soap’s room and across the small space that separated him from the bathroom. 

“Going somewhere, L.T.?” Soap probed from his spot at his desk, eyebrows raised and his eyes locked on the older man’s with intrigue. He rarely saw Ghost in civvies and even more rarely did he see him without a hoodie.

Unlike Ghost, Soap had made his officer’s quarters into his own living space, having brought in a gaming computer and chair, a small beanbag, and had plenty of knick-knacks around.

“Going out.” Ghost said simply as he grabbed Soap’s hair gel and squirted a glob of it into his hand before lathering them and using them to run through his blond locks which were exposed without the hoodie or signature balaclava.

“Out? On a date?” Soap asked Ghost as he quickly jogged up to the bathroom door, watching as Ghost fiddled with his hair.

“No. Just drinks.” Ghost replied as he tugged a bit as his hair to make it stand up straight. 

“Is this someone you found on Tinder…?” Soap probed as he leaned his shoulder on the bathroom door, a boyish grin on his lips.

Ghost looked over at Soap out of the corner of his eye as he finished fiddling with his hair and rinsed his hands under ice cold water in the sink.

Soap took Ghost’s silence as an affirmative response. “Pro’lly a shag too, hm?” He joked, earning him another glance out of the corner of his eye. “Bloody hell, L.T. tell me all about it later, yea?” He laughed.

“Fuck no.” Ghost added as he grabbed one of Soap’s cologne bottles and raised it up for a sniff before scowling at the scent and setting it down again.

“Aw, c’mon L.T.!” He pleaded. 

“Get your own date, MacTavish.” Then, he just made his way right out the door, forcing Soap to move out of the way, looking a bit like a wounded puppy. 

“I’m not getting anything interesting on there!” Soap lamented with a sigh.

“No? Well, I’m sorry for you, then, Johnny.” Ghost quipped as he opened the door again and stepped out into the hall, leaving Soap behind.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur

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[dearharriet]

okay hello hi me again with a james potter request if u feel like it 🦌🦌 how about a drabble about reader calling james a pet name for the first time like baby or honey or something and he just melts on the spot and gives her the biggest lovesick puppy eyes ever and then begs her to always call him that and refuses to answer to james because ‘that’s baby to u!!!!!’ Or something<333 love u hope you’re well

ty for the request! <3 (wc: 495) fem!r

“It says we could use banana as a substitute for egg, did you know?”

You shuffle to James’ side as he pauses in the baking aisle, craning your neck to see his phone over the bulky shoulder blocking it.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, “I’ve seen that.”

James turns his wrinkled nose your way, a wink of amusement in his eyes.

“That cannot be good.”

Scanning the row of mixes beside the cart, you palm his side, his shirt soft and thin under your fingers.

“No, it’s kind of alright, actually.”

You blink back up at him, smiling, even when his big eyes bug even further under his glasses.

“You’ve tried it?”

Laughing, you encourage the cart forward again, and James with it.

“Can you see what we need next, please?” You croon. James’ eyes soften, and he looks back to the recipe page as he walks.

“Er, do we have baking powder?”

“Yes.”

He scrolls an inch further.

“Lemons?”

“I was thinking we’d just use that lemon juice in the fridge,” you say, shrugging.

“What?” James stops walking. “Baby, no.”

He steers the cart around, making a break for the produce section. “We are making these cupcakes right, my darling. I need all the best ingredients.”

You just laugh and trail after him. “It really won’t make a difference…”

As you catch up to him, James is hoisting a full netted pouch of lemons out of its sales basket.

“Jamie, we only need one,” you say, a bemused smile pulling at your lips. He looks to you, still holding the lemons up like a fresh catch.

“That’s quitter’s talk. We just need to make more cupcakes, s’all.”

He drops them in the cart, and then creeps toward you.

“Whatever you say, baby,” you tease.

James freezes before he can reach you. A slippery grin parts his lips, creasing around his eyes.

“What’d you call me?”

Flipping back through your words, you realize what you’ve said too late. In your mind, James and baby have been synonymous for a good few weeks now, you’ve just been trying to play it cool, and for good reason.

James will never let this go.

“I—” You huff, relenting. “Baby.”

In a split second James is around you, lemons forgotten in exchange for a snug embrace that warms your cheeks.

“James, we’re in public.”

“Who?” He asks, a grin pressed against your temple, and a strong hand between your shoulder blades.

Cushioning your chin on his chest, you look up at him. James has bigger heart eyes now than he did on your first date, which is saying a lot.

You know the two of you look painfully smitten, and that any passersby might be bothered by the PDA, but it’s hard to stifle your affection for James.

“Can you call me that more often?” He asks gently, so lovelorn that it nips your heart a little. “I really liked it.”

And how can you say no to that?

+

thank u for reading! xx

masterlist

[rillian4e]

{Missing you}

ft& Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Scaramouche

a/n: been so looong since my last post, I'm overwhelmed with exams and having to study😭🫠 trying to become more active as best as I can, so here's a little scenarios of various genshin men missing you and your body.

summary: your lover has been awfully busy these past weeks and you as well which resulted in you two rarely seeing the other, much less spending time with one another. it's late and your boyfriend finds himself desperate for you but you aren't there to help him.

sw: nsfw, fem!reader, afab, jerking off, humping for alhaitham, needy men, a little bit of size kink for wrio's part, slight pet names, lowercase writing etc.

neuvillette who finds himself buried in paperwork in his office inside the palais mermonia but he still cannot get his mind off you, how he wished he had you here with him, cockwarming him on his lap while he worked—simply imagining it makes his pants feel tight, he misses having your warm folds around his shaft, the way you'd always let out the prettiest sounds when he even slightly touched you or raised his hips... he doesn't even realize that he has long forgotten his work, his hand around his cock, spreading the pre over his length as he gave a few pumps making him groan. "hnngh...so hard and you're not here to help me, I am acting in such a vulgar way, it's embarrassing yet...yet I can't get you out of my mind..." he mumbled to himself, fantasizing that it was your lips wrapped around him, sucking him in while playing with his balls while he only fucked himself deeper in your throat, when he came, he opened his eyes to see his hand coated with his cum, "...ah, what a mess, if only you were here to clean it up." finally returning to his senses after he relieved himself, he heard a knock on the door, "monsiuer neuvillette, is everything alright?" he was caught off guard by the question of the melusine behind the door, quickly he composed himself, hoping no one would come in and see him in such an embarrassing situation. "yes, of course. there is nothing to worry about, everything is alright." now he knew he needed to take a break and have you on his lap for real, not just fantasizing about it.

—★°•☆

being the duke meant wriothesley had a lot of responsibilities and he always fulfilled them accordingly but sometimes he was tired of it, spending so many nights here without seeing his pretty angel was unbearable. he missed having you in his arms, your small body pressed against his much bigger one—not to mention having you bent over his desk while he fucked you from behind, squeezing your tits while he rubbed tight circles on your swollen clit. the way you'd always tremble and cry tears of pleasure at him being so big and mean...archons, his cock is already rock hard at the thought of having your little pussy around his length. he is quick to free his cock from his pants, teasing the slit and stroking himself as he imagined everything he'd to you when he and you finally met again. "f-fuck...gonna breed you s' much when i see you...fuck you till you can't think about anything except this dick." he growled as he looked down at his erection, letting out a groan as he reached his climax.

—☆°○★

the ever so stoic and composed alhaitham never thought he'd feel this way, he wasn't the type to be affected by such things yet he couldn't seem to stop finding himself drift his thoughts onto you, he's preoccupied with a big project and the akademiya has only gotten more hectic, so his work hours have increased which is why you two didn't have any time together. when he came home, he felt exhausted but he was so sexually pent up and his cock was already dripping pre-cum. he tried ignoring it but couldn't, so he caved in—calculative as usual, alhaitham knew you had left a pair of panties at his place, it was bad habit of yours to leave your belongings at his house, he'd surely scold you before but now he was glad that you were so careless. sitting himself down he wrapped your panties around his cock, thinking of you and getting off on your smell. the panties did little to soothe his ache for your warm cunt but he'd have to do with what he had. "miss you...miss you so much...wish it was your pussy instead of your panties," he let out little pants alongside groans, his breathing heavy and warm as he came on your underwear.

—★•°☆

who would have thought that the former sixth of the fatui harbingers, the ever so arrogant and prideful, scaramouche, would have such vulgar lewd and dirty fantasies of you, his lover while you're away in another nation. he certainly would never tell you how badly he wants you when you're away, he thinks it's humiliating but doesn't care when he knows you probably feel the same way, when you get back, he will make up for having you not be there for him to fuck and ravage as his possession. his cock hardens at the thought of having you submit to him, cry and lay there helpless as you take what he gives you. even as he pumped his hard erection, his focus went over to you—how would you react if you were here? would you get aroused to see him jerking off so shamelessly? "s-shit...shit, close," he let out a needy whine as his cum spurted out, scaramouche felt better but it wasn't nowhere near as enough, "haa...if only you were here, my pretty and obedient slut..." he sighed as he closed his eyes, thinking of you and when you will be back, hopefully soon because he cannot handle not having you there to relieve his needs.