#like. hey. hey there (taps mic) i this thing on

[coldbycrossfade]

i have something to say,

[hy4c1nthh]

hey. h.hey. what’s the hs keiji incident. hey.

well would YOU like to know...

okay I'll tell you

When keiji still lived in Otaru, life was pretty good. He had a wonderful girlfriend, he was happy with his self-expression, and well. yeah!! During this time, he joined a band. Some 2nd and 3rd years were putting up flyers for recruiting new members and keiji thought "why not give it a chance!". so he did!! and in the end, they chose him.

For lead singer.

Keiji is a pretty good singer, with a special knack for heavy rock songs. It was a rock band, so it fit perfectly. Their previous singer had graduated so they wanted someone new and fresh. Keiji was so surprised and so happy and he loved rehearsals and yeah they were a bit rough but god..he loved that enviroment. He loved feeling exhausted after practice he loved the feeling of pouring his heart and soul into a growl or scream he just loved it all.

Near spring/summer time, it was their first performance. Just around this time, Keiji's mom broke the news that they'll be moving to the shibuya region over the summer. This. this was a blow to him. But he couldn't think about that right now. Because that night was his performance and he couldn't let his emotions get to him. He wanted to hide away in his room but he couldn't. So he held through. Himeko came to the show, right in front of the stage at the venue.

It was time for them to go on. Keiji felt. off. But he still went on, holding the mic and grinning. The drums started to tap off, the guitars started to play, it was keiji's time to come in and-

-no sound came out.

He froze. He was frozen on stage. His hands were shaking. He could feel the stares of everyone at the venue, everyone behind him on stage, the voice of the lead guitarist chiding him. He panicked.

What an awful way to find out you have stage fright.

He never thought he would, he had always sung on stage as a kid, he was fine during rehearsal and hell, even during the audition! But with the weight of had been told to him earlier that day, and the sheer amount of eyes piercing into his body.

He ran off stage.

Himeko immediately ran after him, but not as quick as the other band mates.

The lead guitarist got hold of him first, grabbing him by the shirt and pushing him against the wall.

"Godamnit Keiji- what the fuck was that?!"

"I-I dont..know..urgh- let go of me asshole.."

"Jeez kid, and did you think before auditioning that you might be scared of preforming? or did you just waltz yourself up here to screw thing u-"

"Just shut the fuck up, okay?! I didn't fucking know that would happen, just let me go and leave me the hell alone"

"Don't you talk to me like that, Takatsuki. This'll only hurt you more than it hurts us. We can always just kick ya out and get someone new...but you'll always go on knowing you can't even preform right! You'll go on knowing you just screwed up THE BIGGEST SHOW WEVE HAD IN YEARS!"

"...f...fine. Kick me out, probably woulda left on my own anyways.."

He let keiji fall to the ground, before he got back up, narrowing his eyes at the rest of the band and running off. That's when himeko caught up to him.

"Kei- Keiji! There you are..I was so wor-"

"Leave me alone, Himeko."

"Keiji, honey...I'm not leaving you right now. Tell me what happened..it's okay..no one's upset at yo-"

"nono everyone is upset at me, okay? Fuuuucckkk..how pathetic am i?! haahaa..how did I screw up that bad?! You know it, it's true..don't lie to me."

"I would never, so stop yelling and jus-"

"I'm leaving..I. ughh...I'm moving away. I'll be gone by the mid of summer."

"...a...ah... when did you find ou-"

"this morning."

"...hm."

"...do you think...we can last long distance..?"

"...I...I don't know Keiji."

"...yeah. Yeah I uh.."

"..Keiji..?"

"...I think...it's better t..hm..I think.."

"..just say it, kei."

"...it's better to end it softly now..than messily later..isn't it.."

"..I said I wouldn't lie to you.."

"..alright..ehh..ehe...what a night..amiright..?"

"keiji..you dont have to-"

"I should..g..go home now. Ill...I'll see you, Himeko..."

"..ke-"

"..love you.."

"..I love you too."

Himeko and Keiji mutually decided to break things off- to avoid conflict in the future. They stayed close- more platonic partners if anything..but it was still weird. Keiji finished school, avoiding as many people as he could, shutting himself in his room every Sunday and skipping school at least once ot twice every week or two. or three.

Eventually he moved away, said goodbye to his friends...and of course Himeko.

He started off in his 2nd year of hs at kamikou...and immediately started a new life. He wanted to be someone else..so he did. He kept his old personality and habits but..no one here knew him! It was refreshing..but stressful of course.

One day he sees a boy practicing guitar alone after school...the rest is history :3

[ikrasia]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ AKRASIA ㅤ (n.) – lack of self-control

There's a wickedness that's in my blood: the precognition of what a terrible mess I'll become. To my dismay, I found that a tired tongue won't resonate beyond the heresy that I impose . . . Deliverance lies in the absence of my mind.

PRIVATE YINGXING / BLADE OF HONKAI: STAR RAIL. —— written by cecil

[drgnflyteabox]

a little continuation of this. john price x cashier fem!reader. verbal abuse, anxiety, yelling, hurt/comfort, price comes to your retail rescue<3<3 1.4k words

The only good part of a 5am wakeup is watching the sunrise slowly climb the sky.

There’s a quiet sort of tiredness that lets you appreciate it more — and though the lot associates have made a joke about the morning crew and their sunrise photos, there’s an element of truth there that’s both funny and a little beautiful.

It’s a drag to wait outside the doors for a manager to open them, trying not to make eye contact with the early-bird oldies and the impatient contractors who think they should just be allowed in before everyone else based on the amount of money they spend.

When the doors open and the 6am hardware warriors stroll in, ready and chipper, you’re half asleep leaning against your counter.

Another good thing about the early shift is the lack of uptight managers. None of them want to wake up before ten, so you’re safe to lean and lounge while waiting for customers.

A call comes through your earpiece after a few customers, nearing the cusp of 8am.

”Hey, we’ve got the guy coming your way,” your head cash – Lisa – says, voice crackling in the mic. The guy is a rude jerkoff, some contractor who thinks abusing staff is the way to get good service and better prices.

What’s worse is that your managers allow it. In fact, you get warnings like this all the time. The guy is here, the guy has a big order, make sure to cash him out fast or he’ll start shouting. Be pleasant. Smile.

The guy is walking down the store lumber aisle with a pinched expression on his face and two other employees dragging his stacked carts behind him.

You try to ignore his caustic vibes, thinking instead of the pink, purplish sunrise you’d seen earlier. Clouds like magic, cotton candy, floating above you 

You ignore the incessant tapping of his feet, the annoyed groan he makes when you lift a package of insulation up and find flat saw blades.

Sure, you can’t accuse him of stealing. But you can make a cheery, passive aggressive comment–

“Oops, I guess you forgot these!” you chirp, scanning them a little slower than necessary. It’s not mature, but it does make you feel a little better. Nice try, bozo.

Playing the idiot cashier helps with these types. Why are you mad, sir? I’m just a cashier? And though you could answer more questions than you do, you don’t. Playing the ditz makes life easy.

Lisa’s definitely judged you for it, but hey. She’s not stuck at the register like you are.

Sometimes, it works. You get a scowl, but they’ll go quiet. Sometimes.

Today, it backfires.

“Excuse me?” 

Oh here we go, you think. It’s way too early for this.

“What was that, sir?” you play dumb, voice squeaking.

“Are you accusing me of stealing?” his volume raises. You see redness crawling up his neck. Fuck.

“No, no, I only meant–” you try to backtrack. Fuck, fuck. This is the result of your hubris. Your reasoning flies out through the massive lumber area doors as his rage climbs.

“No? No? Because I think you just accused me of stealing. Do you understand how much I spend here, you moron?”

“I do, I didn’t mean to imply–”

“Get me a fucking manager, now,” he snaps. God, you have no clue if he acts like this to get his way, to get discounts, or if he’s really this angry half the time he comes in.

Regardless, the effect is real. You’ve never been good with anger, and you’re shaking a little as you press the call button on your pager.

“C-Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?” you broadcast to the store.

All you can think of is looking away from his angry gaze while you wait. Oh, a bubble bath – you have an aloe and green tea bubble bath packet at home waiting for you.

Hot water. Bubble bath. Manager to fix this mess. Maybe a hot chocolate after work?

A couple minutes pass. Longest minutes of your life.

No answer. The guy taps his foot, sighing loudly, angrily. You try again.

“Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?”

Oh fuck, is that someone else in line? You turn away bodily, speaking again into your mic. Trying to look like you’re doing something about the wait.

Another couple minutes. Despair washes over you like a cold blanket of snow.

“Need a manager at lumber cash,” you try.

Typical, really. Lisa is likely on break, and you have no idea who’s managing the store at the moment.

You imagine it’s likely Cody, who’s good with contractors like this because he's personable but he’s also lazy it almost cancels out. Also, he takes a smoke break every 5 minutes.

And never takes his pager.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” you hear behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, turning. “My manager is busy at the moment but–”

“Busy?” his voice is like a gunshot in the airy space, an absurd volume for the time.

“Yes–”

“Do you know–”

A third voice cuts in.

“Think you better learn a little patience, mate,” British?

Oh, shit. It’s that guy from before. He’s got one hip a little cocked, a frown on his face like he’s smelled something bad. His boonie hat is titled down, nearly covering his eyes. You can see them because you’re shorter than he is.

“Excuse me? And who are you? Mind your business,” the guy says.

“I think you’d better let the nice girl check me out while you wait,” he motions for you towards the parallel cash desk, and you’re grateful to just follow.

You scurry away from the guy faster than is appropriate, calling out again as you cross the open space towards the other cash desk for a manager.

You can only hope they arrive while you’re helping this one. John Price, you think his name was. He's a memorable man. Him and his moustache and his expensive company.

John Price has left the guy flabbergasted. He also has twice as many carts as him, and when your eyes widen to see them he just says take your time in a smooth, deep voice.

Oh man.

You do take your time, already calmer for John’s presence. Strange maybe to feel safe in the company of a stranger, a contractor no less, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Beep, beep. You scan methodically. John has no hidden items, and he doesn’t pressure you. He leans up against his lumber order and watches you check underneath things, under the cart, doing everything you’re trained to do.

“Start early?” he asks.

“Hm?” you lift your head. “Oh, yes. 6am.”

He whistles.

“Hard worker, I see,” he helps you lift a heavy bag of concrete.

“Thank you,” Marx look away, you think. Your face is only a little hot.

Cody strolls in the lumber doors missing his apron and – you guessed it – his pager. You fix him with a look as he smiles in greeting.

“Need a manager when you’re free,” you rush. Cody is nice, but you’re kinda miffed now.

“Oh, sure,” he says, walking by you toward the breakroom.

John Price raises a brow.

“Not everyone’s up to the task, eh?”

You feel hot again.

“It’s just early.”

John smiles. He looks remarkably silly doing it, you think. His facial hair makes him look approachable, cuddly. Like a teddy bear.

John’s order totals double the guy, which isn’t really a victory for you but it feels like one. Ha! See, you aren’t the richest guy here. You feel vindicated. Cody looks miserable cashing him out, which makes you just a little guilty.

“Will that be cash or card?” you ask, finger hovering on the POS.

He pays with card. You certainly do not notice how he cradles the machine. You aren’t that down bad.

Only you are, and his fingers are huge. His knuckles are hairy.

When you go to hand him the receipts, printed twice for record keeping, he manages to slip a 50 into your hand before you notice.

“Oh, no! I’m not allowed to–”

He folds those big bear paws over your hand, enclosing the cash in it with a sh sh sh as you protest.

“For the trouble,” he winks.

“You didn’t give me any trouble,” you try. The warmth of his palm, the roughness of his calluses. You’re a goner.

He chuckles, and you wonder how he can be both so intense and so disarming.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he squeezes your hand, pushing it gently back towards you until you can put it in your apron pocket.

“Thank you,” you squeeze out.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he says.

“I’ll try,” you thank God or the universe or whoever that Cody and the guy finished a while ago.

“Attagirl.”

Yeah, you’re a goner.

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ YOU ARE MY ROCKSTAR

LATE NIGHTS IN THE STUDIO W/ MARK

wc: 0.7k warnings: none yet! notes: been on a mark listening streak, still think golden hour is one of my favourites | LIBRARY

The clock on the wall reads well past midnight, but really it doesn’t feel that late.

The warm hum of the recording studio surrounds you, the soft glow of the lights casting a mellow ambiance in the room. It feels cosy. All moments with Mark did, but something tonight feels especially comfortable.

Mark sits behind the mixing console, headphones perched on his head as he carefully adjusts sound levels. You don't really know what all the switches and dials in front of him mean, but you do know that they mean a lot to Mark, and that's enough for you.

He’s in his element. It's obvious from the way he narrows his eyes down in front of him. But there’s something about the way he moves that tells you he’s more focused on making the track perfect than anything else in the world right now.

You’re sprawled out on the couch across from him, with a spiderman blanket he'd placed over your lap earlier, as you watch him.

His usual cheerful, easygoing nature has shifted into a quiet, intense concentration, the mark of someone who cares deeply about their work.

It was one of the things you loved most about Mark, how much he cared, not just about his work, but about you, about everything.

Mark's loves in life were few, but his dedication to them was immense. He loved rarely, but entirely.

His brows furrow slightly as he listens to the beat, adjusting a few knobs here and there, nodding to himself in approval.

You smile to yourself, almost feeling a little self-conscious about how much you’ve been admiring him lately. You can't help it, though.

The way his hair falls over his forehead, the way his fingers move so effortlessly over the dials, the way his voice takes on a slightly deeper, more serious tone when he's in "work mode." It’s moments like these that make you fall for him all over again.

“Hey, you okay?” Mark’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, the soft crackle of his mic cutting through the air. You look up, meeting his warm gaze. His hair is an absolute mess, falling over his eyes and sticking out in all sorts of different directions— somehow Mark’s never looked better.

“Yeah, just… watching you. You’re really focused, huh?”

He grins, pushing his headphones off one ear. “Yeah, I get like this sometimes when I’m working on something that matters. You know, the kind of thing where I want everything to sound just right. But you’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

You chuckle, lifting a hand to rub the back of your neck, just a touch embarrassed. “Nothing, just… you. I love watching you work. You’re amazing, Mark.”

His eyes soften, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He reaches over and taps a button on the console, stopping the track. “Stop making me all shy. You know I get embarrassed when you say things like that.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a playful smirk. “But I’m glad you think that. It’s nice to have you here with me.”

In your books, that was a win, considering the number of times you'd been reminded just how much Mark hated to be disturbed during his solo studio sessions. But like most things, the rules were different for you.

You sit up, suddenly feeling a little braver, and slide off the couch, walking over to him. “Can I sit with you while you work? I promise I won’t distract you too much.”

Mark presses a soft kiss to your hand, gentle, reassuring.

“Of course,” he says, already pulling the chair next to his, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “You’re my favorite distraction.”

taglist: @yizhrt @suzayaaa @nanawrlds @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @flaminghotyourmom @jisworlds @jenobubbles @nctdreamchaser @lotties-readings @mystverse @chenlezip

[landosjpg]

fall back together | ln

the one where your ex-boyfriend invites you to spend a few days with him, but you two still have feelings for each other.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: pining, the tiniest bit of fluff i believe, language, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cockwarming

note: ehhh i don't really know how to feel about this but i wanted to post something, once again not proofread! also i have a looooong flight later this week so pls send in some requests so i can entertain myself during it! <3

you and lando had dated for a little over two years when you decided to call it quits. it wasn't messy; you two had mutually decided to stay as friends. and for the few months that you had been just that, it had worked well so far.

that's why lando had decided to invite you over for the monaco grand prix, insisting that you should spend a few days prior with him so you two could catch up and spend some time together.

as friends, of course.

it took him a few days to convince you, but you finally agreed. and that's why you found yourself walking down the corridor that led to his apartment, suitcase in hand. you could hear his giggles already from the other side of the hall, the sound bringing a smile to your face.

as you opened the door with the keys that he had insisted you should keep after breaking up, for emergencies (even when you lived in a total different country), you heard him talking.

"hey, chat!" you heard him say. you should've guessed he would use his days at home to stream like he used to. "guess who's here!"

you smiled as you walked to the room he was in. the fans had always loved you; you saw the edits they made of your relationship, how everyone used to lose their minds over the way you two looked at each other when you decided to make an appearance on one of his streams.

utterly in love.

and of course, you saw how everyone couldn't believe it when he had announced the end of your relationship.

it's not like any of you had expected it either, but you knew it was for the best or the relationship would consume one of you. but you were happy you had managed to make a friendship work, not really wanting to lose lando. and of course, his fans were excited to see you again.

he turned his chair around as you entered the room, his smile widening as soon as he saw you. you walked his way, happily waving at the camera. normally, he would grab your waist and pull you into his lap.

but this time he didn't.

so you stood there, right next to his chair. and as much as you knew that was how things were, it didn't fell completely right to you.

"i think i'm gonna head to bed," you interrupted after a few minutes in which you talked with him and with the viewers, answering a few questions just like you used to do before everything went down.

but after a long flight and a taxi ride to his house, you felt exhausted and all you wanted was to lie down and call it a day.

lando reached to mute his mic before he could answer you, turning to look at your face as he spoke.

"take my bed, i'll sleep in the spare room," he said. you were certain that the fans would try to decipher what you were saying later, but you didn't really care.

you thought about what he was proposing. it would feel weird, sleeping in his bed without him, so you weren't really convinced about it. and he must had seen it in your face, because before you could say anything, he added:

"come on, y/n". you're tired and the spare bed isn't even made," he looked at you with soft, pleading eyes.

you knew he still wanted the best for you, so you sighed in defeat and accepted his offer with a nod of your head.

after saying goodbye to the chat, you left the room to get ready for bed. as you went through your daily night routine in the bathroom, you noticed how everything you had left there behore the break-up was still in its place.

it looked like you had never left.

you tried not to think too much about it, there could be multiple reasons why he had decided to keep all your stuff. he definitely had moved on, right? it had been months since you two ended things.

you brushed it off, not really wanting it to get to your head and then walked to his room. everything was just like you remembered. damn, he even kept some pictures of you on his wall.

with your pajamas on, you climbed into his bed and covered your body with the soft sheets, the smell of him quickly washing all over you.

you rolled around with a sigh, the bed feeling way too big now that he wasn't next to you to wrap hismself around you. you were unable to sleep as your mind filled with all the nights spent in that exact same mattress between laughs, kisses and endless conversations.

you missed the feeling of his arms around your waist, the sound of his snores and the warmth of his body enveloping you every night.

with your mind racing with all the memories that wouldn't leave your brain, you realized it had been hours since you got in bed when you checked the time on your phone. the house was completely silent by that moment, so you figured lando was already asleep.

you sighed and got up, wandering to the kitchen silentely to not wake him up, with the intention of making yourself a tea that would hopefully help you sleep.

୨୧

sat on the counter, you contemplated the city lights with a warm mug of tea in your hands. the only light that illuminated the kitchen was te one that came out of your room. lando's room.

you were lost in your own thoughts, so you didn't notice his figure walking towards you.

"is that seat taken?" his voice made you jump a little in surprise, swearing under your breath as you turned to look at him, simply shaking your head in response. "sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he added with a chuckle, sitting on the stool right next to you.

you didn't really know what to say, so silence fell between you two while you just stared at each other. despite of it being dark, you could appreciate his messy curls, the spark on his eyes and the sly smile that beautifully decorated his lips.

"can't slep?" his voice was low and tender as he brokw the silence.

"bed feels too big."

at your answer, he just nodded. he kept quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and you could see that he was wondering wheter what he was about to say was appropriate or not.

"you know, as much as it hurts... i'm happy that you're moving on," he finally broke the silence, his words hitting you like a truck.

"i'm not... what do you mean?" you asked in confussion, but your mind was more focused on the fact that the possibility of you moving on hurt him.

"i've seen the pictures."

despite of the sadness that his whisper hid, you knew he wasn't mad at you. he had always said that he wanted you to be happy, whether it was with or without him.

silly of him to think that anyone else could ever make you as happy as he once did.

"just a friend," you mumbled, knowing that he was talking about the guy in your latest posts. but he was nothing more than a friend to you, not even close. "not really my type," you joked, earning a little smile from his lips.

once again, the silence felt deafening as he didn't give you an answer. your nerves were starting to kick in and so, in an attempt to try and make it feel less awkward between you two, you gazed back to the window.

"do you ever miss me?" he whispered again seconds later, the simple question making you freeze.

the answer was easy: yes, like crazy. but you couldn't just say that.

as he waited for you to reply, you felt his eyes on you, curious about what you would answer. and you swore he could hear your heart racing in your chest.

"sometimes, yeah," you finally decided to give him the truth.

or part of it, because confessing that it hadn't been a day in which he didn't cross your mind at least twice a day made you feel too exposed and vulnerable.

you halted when you felt his hand creeping up your legs slowly, stopping when he reached your thigh.

"i miss you, too," his murmur sent you a shiver down your spine, and he was looking up at you from where he was sitting, with puppy eyes.

you knew damn well what those words meant, and you felt your heart breaking at your own answer.

" i don't think it's a good idea, lan," you murmured, not able to hold his gaze for long.

"i know", he uttered, and you felt him sigh, but his hand stayed in your leg. "i'm sorry."

when you heard his simple apology, you closed yout eyes and tried to keep your tears from falling down your cheeks, but you failed miserably.

you knew he was apologizing for not being his best self during the last weeks of your relationship. at first, you had tried to convince yourself it only was a rough patch, but it was burning you down.

and, when you asked him for some time, he agreed. he knew he hadn't been the best boyfriend to you during that time, and he hated seeing you suffer because of him. so he ultimately decided to set you free.

"i'll never take you for granted again," he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears that fell down your face.

you hadn't noticed that he had stoop up from the stool and positioned himself between your legs, but having him so close again made your heart feel warm. and you looked down, knowing that if your eyes met his green orbits you'd throw yourself back right into his arms.

"lan..."

"i swear, y/n," he interrupted you; you could see his eyes were also watery, tears threatening to come out as well, but he held them back as he kept talking. "i know i fucked up, but it won't happen again."

closing your eyes, you sighed. your fingers softly wrapped around his wrist as you kept silently crying.

"please," his whisper made you sob, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never let go of him. "i promise."

as you took in his words, your hand slid to his neck and he rested his forehead against yours. your breaths were mixing together and you nodded your head slightly, giving him your final answer with that small gesture.

before you could think about it, his lips were on yours. soft, just as you remembered, and you could taste both your tears on his lips. he kissed you slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't want you to slip out of his fingers again.

and you knew he didn't.

"i've missed this," he sighed in between kisses, pulling you a little closer, his arms now wrapped around your waist. "i've missed you, baby."

at the sweet pet name that you never thought you'd be hearing from his lips again, you exhaled with a smile.

"want to join me in bed?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers softly brushing against the skin of his neck. you wanted nothing more than to sleep next to him again, so close that one would think you two were literally attached at the hip.

"you're inviting me to my bed?" he chuckled as his arms went lower on your body, pulling you closer and picking you up from the counter.

"our bed," you corrected him with a giggle of your own.

he planted a soft kiss on your lips and walked you back to his room, wrapped in his arms. he lied you down on the mattress gently, keeping his body over yours. your gazes locked for a few seconds before his lips attacked yours hungrily, the tenderness of the previous interactions now long gone.

your hands roamed all over each other's bodies, clothes soon flying everywhere as both your breaths got heavier.

he started trailing small, wet kisses down your breasts and torso, his hands carefully pulling your underwear down your legs. he spread your open for him and positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you from the edge of the bed.

you slightly nodded, giving him permission to go on. a long sigh left your lips as soon as you felt his lips pressing a soft kiss on your sensitive bud, and your fingers instinctively got lost in his curls, urging him closer.

"you're so gorgeous, baby," he mumbled, his hot breath against your slick making you moan softly.

you felt his tongue flatten against you and he started licking your cunt as if he was starving. a smug expression plastered on his face when your back arched as his lips found your clit again and he sucked, fingers tugging on his hair.

"fuck, lando..." you stuttered, your legs closing around his head as you felt the knot on your lower stomach about to snap. a small groan escaped his lips, his hands gripping around your thighs, surely leaving small bruises on your smooth skin.

soon, the warmth of his tongue on your pussy felt too overwhelming and your orgasm didn't take long to wash over you, leaving you a moaning mess under his touch.

as you came down from your climax, he got rid of his boxers and hovered over you again, his lips finding yours once more. as you tasted yourself on his tongue, you hummed contently into the kiss, your fingers finding their wait to his curls again.

"you alright, love?" he gently asked, taking a minute to look into your eyes.

"need you inside of me," you panted, your legs hooking at each side of his body as you pulled him closer.

he locked his lips with yours as he teased your folds with his cock, both of you moaning into the other's mouth at the friction. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside of you, letting you adjust to his size.

"so fucking tight for me, baby," his voice sounded breathless as he started thrusting into you without a hurry.

he took it slow, his movements almost lazy but deep.

and god, did it feel good.

you held each other tightly as he kept that slow pace that you two seemed to be enjoying. he reveled in the way your sweet moans filled the room and your nails drew crescent moons on his shoulders, your face contorting in pleasure as he stretched you out deliciously.

feeling your second orgasm starting to build up, your pussy clamped down on him, drawing him even deeper inside of you; which resulted in a low grunt from his lips.

"baby, i'm gonna... fuck..." you whimpered, unable to even form a proper sentence as the pressure in your lower stomach increased again.

"look at me, love," he groaned, and you did as he had asked.

with your gazes locked in each other's, it only took the two of you a few strokes to come undone, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt him cumming inside of you and leaving you weak under his body.

he collapsed on top of you, a little winded as he left a sweet kiss on your lips before moving to lay down on the mattres, pulling you with him.

"i love you," he uttered, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as he kept his cock buried deep inside of you.

"i love you, lan," you mumbled, your face finding the spot between his jaw and his shoulder as you caught your breath, feeling yourself slowly drifting off to sleep with your nose nuzzled on his neck.

[n3ptoonz]

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react when you ride them

this broadcast is brought to you by getting inspired from @dirtymortalkombatconfessions tysm for fueling my raunchy mind 🙏🏾 outworld guys here

all the guys here are submissive in these hcs cause i don't see it enough!!! and reader is GN

Smoke

first of all it's his favorite position. nothing he loves more than holding his partner in his arms while they have power over him at the same time

HE. WHIMPERS. A LOT!!!!

CANNOT keep his hands still he's always massaging or caressing some part of your body

begs. he begs. if you stop moving? he will deadass start tearing up and whispering pleas all in your ear

hold his face while you do it. look him in the eyes and give him praise && give him kisses 😔 he's got enough shit from bi han and this the only way he properly relaxes 💔

Raiden

he's not very vocal at first, but he does sigh and grunt a lot

when he's vocal? he's not loud, but curses up a storm. his eyes get all hazy and glossed over too like you gotta tap him back to reality sometimes

he can get handsy but prefers to either keep his hands in place or have them restrained in some way

speaking of which if you do restrain his hands there's a good chance he'll start bucking once he's close and try to pull free. silly goose, we know how to tie knots around here!

if you get really close to his face like holding it or just looking at him he can and will just start mumbling about how good you make him feel/how you're the only one who makes him feel like this

Kung Lao

(turns on self indulgence beam) ahem taps mic is this thing on??

lao is a praise kink BITCH you understand??? and since he's full of himself he for sure will not shy away from whimpering and groaning loud as hell just to hear his own voice

you give him praise and BOOM suddenly it's upturned eyebrows and beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. he will ask you to repeat what you said over and over

once his pride wears out he's a begging mess like smoke. he's super handsy but in the way where he's acting like you're gonna disappear before he nuts. i cracking up at the thought of that

afterwords "did i do good?" or "was i a good boy?" AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHG hey im normal don't give me that look. ALSO PLAY WITH HIS HAIR he's a sucker for it (glad i can say that now he's not bald)(love you mk11 lao i swear)

Kenshi Takahashi

oooo this sensual romantic ass man. sensual romantic ASS man (he likes ass)

he's not a loud guy or it's just rare. his hands aren't gonna go anywhere but your ass though. MAYBE your thighs, but it's always back to ass!

less on whimpering more on grunting but there's occasional cracks in his voice when feels really good. he only full on whimpers if you go fast and gets closer faster from the pace

please for the love of god leave some sort of marks on this man's neck. it drives him CRAZYYYY he'll be cursing like he's never done before especially cause he WILL return the favor

like raiden if you give his face more love especially around his eyes it's up for him you're going to be told how perfect and how good only you can make him feel for the next 72 hours

Johnny Cage

BRAT. he's a brat. Johnny John Carlton Cage is a B R A T

you will have to physically shut him up and that was his mission accomplished. don't let his hands be free either cause he'll keep trying to take control (and keep failing every single time)(again, this was allll part of the plan)

when he's completely helpless at your disposal...bottom bitch alert! whiny whimpering grunting sighing giggling you name it CENTRAL. he the type to whine about being restricted when it was literally his own idea in the first place

he's a praise kink bitch too i mean come on THE johnny cage ik you weren't expecting otherwise. tell him he's a good boy but also call him your bitch oh how he loves it

and by the way... record. everything. he'll watch those tapes back like they're old school vhs memories

Liu Kang

how you got a god to submit to you is beyond anyone's belief. but who cares?! drain that mf (balls)

he absolutely positively loves loves LOVES eye contact. you look him in the eyes long enough it's like your souls are fuckin too (literally that scene with him and titan kitana except you're looking down at him everybodyshutthefuckup)

give him a bunch of kisses pls pls pls he craves it he adores it CARNALLY. very very handsy man there's no part of you that goes untouched.

he's too calm to be loud but he does grunt and will have dragged out moans that result in a higher pitched tone

surprise, even a god could use some praise every now and then!!! he blushes the most whenever you call him perfect or tell him he's doing great even with all that's on his plate on the daily <3

Sub Zero

this stubborn fucker. just pull his hair and give him the same look he gives everybody and he's all yours cause then he'll look like this (i cannot stop referring to this picture)

in the privacy of your shared room (idc if this is ooc this is tumblr god damn it) he's a stuttering mess and cannot keep his hands off your hips and thighs for anything so prepare for those areas to have frostbite

there are times where his hands slide up your back when he's close, and by this time his furrowed brows and sharp gaze are completely gone. he's looking up at you like you've descended just to give him the ride of his life (bc you did obviously)

if he whimpers it's raspy and deep. he generally grunts and groans and a lot of profane language coming from them lips

however comma it's rare he'll shudder and whine like a lil bitch if he can't touch you oooo and he's a bucker too

Scorpion

last but certainly not least this sexy mf. i fully fully believe that he would not hesitate to submit to someone he's in love with (you hahaha)

you don't even need to pull his hair just glide your fingers through it he's set for life. he sighs and just smiles, you're so good to him

he's not very vocal but he certainly whines and has shallower breaths when he's close. when he looks up at you he has to try his hardest not to bust right there cause damnnn you fine as hail

thigh man thigh man thigh man. oh, did i say thigh man? i meant to say HE'S A THIGH MAN. and neck, like kenshi don't even think about getting up off of him without a bunch of marks on his neck and shoulders if ya feelin freekie

if you pull his hair he will cum. and you heard that from me.

ask box is open! <3

[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.��� Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[cheriladycl01]

Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 5

Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.

A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!

In the Villa the Next Day:

“I feel off about Zavi” you say to Daniel as you guys sit on the sunbed together looking round to see if anyone could possibly be listening other than the mic strapped to your body.

“What do you mean?” He asks, pushing his sunglasses up his forehead to sit atop of his head.

“Don’t you think it was … odd? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them talk” you said to him leaning over to grab your bottle of water and sip on it.

“Yeah it was strange … maybe they have their own thing going on and all of us have just been too busy to see it” Daniel comments looking around.

“So what is the plan going forward going to be?” Daniel asks her looking over her expression.

“With us?” You ask politely sitting up and placing your feet back in your flip flops on the hot floor.

“Mmmmm”

“Well, unless you wanna get to know me” you tease with your eyebrows going up and down in a funny way making Daniel burst out laughing. “But seriously you deserve to be happy … happier than me because of my reasons for being in here. So if you find a connection with someone here don’t worry about staying loyal to me” you say seriously and he nods, rubbing one arm on your thigh in thanks before giving it a light tap.

Lando and Oscar:

“Yeah I’m with Y/N on that. This Zavi girl is giving off bad vibes, I bet she isn’t gonna stay loyal to Charlie surely!” Lando asks watching the TV in his drivers room.

“Even if she doesn’t why do we care? I thought we hated Charlie” Oscar asks confused.

“We do but if Zavi continues on like this it’s gonna make things harder for our girl” Lando says concentrating more on watching Auriela in the rant room.

“One when did she become our girl? And Two don’t we want her back at the races?” Oscar asks confused making Lando roll his eyes and sigh.

“Hey she’s always been my favourite team member. Don’t tell Will or John that yah? And oh my god we defo want her to stay in there, unless you don’t want her to be happy and find love because there’s underlying circumstances one, ie me, doesn’t know about!” Lando asks giving him side eye.

“N-no definitely not” Oscar says gluing his eyes back to the TV.

“But I think this TV show is so superficial, she deserves the best and she isn’t gonna find it here” Oscar begins making Lando laugh knowing Oscar did infact have a different opinion.

Back to the Villa:

You and Daniel lay on the bed, Millie and Chris also there just chilling you were all getting to know each of her better talking about life before coming here.

“It got to the point that I just couldn’t go through the heartbreak anymore and it was like I was the problem without actually being the problem you know?” Millie asks looking at all of you who have cocked heads.

“Erm no” Chris laughs before adding some lip balm to his sun dried lips before offering it around.

“I mean, this is really different for me. I feel like I’ve never really had a proper relationship not like you guys describe because I’ve been so focused on my career and getting there. It hasn’t been easy one bit” you admit, knowing especially as a woman it was hard work to get to where you were now.

“I get that, being career focused is good but it also helps when you have someone to share the burden of life with” Daniel nods.

“I don’t really think I’ve ever had any burdens. I love my job, beyond measure and it’s such a team dynamic that whatever I’ve lacked in relationship support has been picked up by my team mates and those around me constantly” you admit and they all nod.

“Hey so what actually is your job, I feel like we’ve never been told” Chris asks.

“Erm well I’m an engineer” you explain and they all look up intrigued.

“Really that’s pretty cool” Millie smiles wiping some sun cream across her nose preparing to go for a dip outside.

“Mmmm I love my job, means I travel around a lot which I love” you grin.

“A hence the no proper relationships! You dirty girl. Hooking up in all corners of the world” Chris teases slapping your arm lightly.

“An experience for sure. Very lavish” you join the teasing and all of you laugh.

Lando and Oscar:

He’d seen the latest article and he immediately popped his head through Lando’s driver room.

“Lan, have you seen the article” he says and Lando looks up in shock, hunched over the massage bed, John working on his legs.

“What the fuck Oscar. Have you ever heard of knocking?” Lando asks.

“No I haven’t not a custom in Australia” he says bluntly, but Lando having known Oscar for over a year knows this is his way of being sarcastic.

“Argh you’re annoying, go on.” Lando says patting John in thanks before sitting up and rubbing his own knee out.

“Y/N told people in the Villa it’s finally got out and there are headlines in the daily mail and loads of other papers. She’s even in auto sport” Oscar says showing his phone in his team mates face.

“Yes that is normally what happens when big news gets consumed by the media” Lando smiles.

“Argh but some of them aren’t good articles” Oscar groans not understanding why Lando wasn’t getting his worry.

“Mmmm that also tends to happen when it’s something controversial. Look Osc, Y/N knew what they were getting into when they agreed to do this for Zac. She’s a big girl. And hey maybe people will see a different side to women in motorsport because of her” Lando nods his head making Oscar sigh and take a seat with him.

“Yeah you’re right” Oscar says.

In the bathroom of the Villa:

You’d just got out of the shower, Aaron having been brushing his teeth while you were in there. You’d both randomly started to sing As the Word Caves in by Matt Maltese and you guys actually didn’t sound too bad.

“We should form a Love Island Band and call it the Lovers” Aaron gasps after spitting into the sink and catching your eyes in the mirror.

“Oh my god! We should ask if we can do a set! That would be so funny! Doesn’t Auriela play the piano too!” You ask meeting his eyes as you brush through your hair.

“I GOT A TEXT!” A scream runs though the house and before you know it your wrapping a large fluffy pink towel around your body and you and Aaron are quickly going down the stairs as carefully as you can without slipping.

“Islanders … Y/N are you still in a towel?” Charlie bursts out laughing making you blush as you tighten it around you.

“I didn’t wanna miss this!” You cry in embarrassment before they continue.

“Anyway. Islanders with a boring afternoon ahead we thought it would be nice to let you guys chill and watch some TV. Head outside the villa entrance to see what awaits” Charlie reads out, you immediately run back up, fully drying off before changing into swimsuit and a day outfit before running up to joining the others.

“I’m kinda excited” you admit to Chris and Auriela who you were stood next to them.

“Excited? To watch TV?” Chris asks in shock.

“Well we aren’t just going to be watching TV are we! We’ll be … doing some kind of challenge. Maybe fighting for like dates?” You grin thinking off all the possibilities.

“Oh so true, yeah this should be good!” Auriela smiles grabbing Chris hand and walking with him as you come up to Daniel and Aaron.

“Hey boys, what we thinking about today?” You say wrapping arms round them pulling their heads down to your height laugh coming from the pair.

“Challenge time and watch out Aaron coz me and my girl Y/N are coming for your ass man” Daniel grins pulling you into his side as you guys all run down the steps to the edge of the beach outside the villa. On the wooden decking was a TV with a remote and a sofa in the front.

“Okay, each couple will take turns doing Trivia for common shows on Netflix whoever comes first gets a date out of the Villa” Charlie reads out holding Zavi close to her.

“Up first Chris and Auriela” Zavi says and they take a seat on the sofa infront of the TV they flick through the shows until it stops of Alice in BorderLands. They smash it both having watched the show actually being shocked that they both know so much about it.

“Okay, up next is Daniel and Y/N” Chris and Auriela smile getting up and holding the question cards.

“Come on Danny let’s go” you cry grabbing his hand and taking him to the sofa not missing the look from Aaron or Chelsea.

“Okay, let’s see what your show is. And we have Drive to Survive?” Auriela asks looking at the screen confused.

“Is this like … Top Gear my dad used to watch that” Auriela asks confused.

“It’s a formula one reality show. Embellishes what happened throughout the racing season” you nod knowing and being familiar with the show.

“Okay question 1. What season did the shows first season focus on?” Chris asks and you smile.

“2018” you grin and a bell goes out making Auriela draw a point on the board for the pair of you.

“Who won the 2021 Championship?” He asks the next question.

“Oooo Max Verstappen, shoulda been Lewis” you mutter with a small laugh as Daniel elbows your side.

“What I didn’t say anything” you grin sheepishly before moving on.

Afterwards more shows came and went. You and Daniel had accumulated the most amount of points. And ended up being surprised with a date that evening.

You were kind of excited as you saw a genuine friend in Daniel and thought it was about time you were honest with someone here in the villa and told him why you were here and who you worked for.

You all headed back to the villa all the girls getting insanely envious despite helping you get dressed. You wore one of your favourite relaxed evening outfits that you’d brought into the villa with you before heading down to the fire pit where Daniel said he’d wait.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[pickingupmymercedes]

Blessed - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Blessed - Daniel Caesar - @goldenroutledge

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (bc we need a lil breather from the news lately)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, alright!” The sound of a spoon tapping against a champagne glass drew everyone's attention toward the center of the room.

The reception room was glowing in warm hanging lights, the low hum of chatter filled the air as glasses were put down and chair were pulled closer. It was a night of celebration, of love and new beginnings – tale as old as time.

At the head table, the couple of the evening, Lewis and Y/n, sat side by side. Lewis’s arm draped protectively over the back of Y/n’s chair and she leaned into him slightly, her eyes sparkling as she looked out at their friends and family gathered around.

It had been a long road to get there. Everyone knew that.

Their love story wasn’t the clean, perfectly drawn-out romance people read about in books or saw in movies. It was messy. Complicated. And yet, they had made it there—newly married and completely in love.

Standing in the middle of the room, their friend held a mic in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Her grin promised a toast that would be anything but typical.

“As much as I’d love to pretend I’m not emotional about this... y’all know me too well,” she began, casting a cheeky look at the couple. “But first... let me just say—finally!”

A wave of laughter rippled through the guests. Y/n chuckled, nudging Lewis as he grinned wide, squeezing her shoulder. Their friend raised her glass, eyes twinkling.

“No, seriously though. I’m not gonna lie. There was a point where I thought, ‘These two? Getting married? Yeah, no way.’ But hey, life has a funny way of proving me wrong.”

The guests laughed, nodding in agreement. She looked around the room, drawing everyone in as she spoke.

“See, Lewis and Y/n... they were that couple. The one everyone’s always asking about. Like, ‘What’s going on with them? Are they together? Are they on a break? Are they—” she paused, turning to the person sitting next to her and raising her hand for dramatic effect, “Are they fine this time?’”

Everyone laughed, nodding along. Y/n exchanged a smile with Lewis, who shrugged as if to say, She’s not wrong.

“They always had this... thing, right?” their friend continued, making an animated swirl in the air with her hand. “Like, they’d walk into a room together and, boom, all eyes would go straight to them. You could tell they were just... magnetic.” She turned to Lewis’s mom, who was laughing and nodding knowingly.

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the families!” She gestured to Lewis’s mom with a playful smirk. “Carmen, you knew Y/n was family long before this day, didn’t you? You were still having your spa days with her even when these two claimed to be ‘over!’”

The room burst into laughter as Carmen raised her glass with a playful smile, shrugging unapologetically. “She’s family, with or without him.”

“And you sir,” Their friend pointed a finger at Y/n’s dad, shaking her head with a grin. “You’re just as bad. I remember calling Lewis during one of their ‘breaks’—you know, the ones we had to keep a calendar for—and he’d be like, ‘Oh, I just got off the phone with Y/n’s dad. We were talking about the race.’” She shook her head, laughing. “You all knew they weren’t fooling anyone, didn’t you?”

Y/n’s dad chuckled, glancing over at the newlyweds with a warm smile. “Some people need more time to figure things out.”

The friend shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, who didn’t lose track at some point?” She turned to a nearby table. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever had to ask someone else if they were ‘back together’ or ‘taking a break’ this month?”

A few hands shot up in good-natured fun, the crowd’s laughter rolling even louder.

“Yep! See? Half of us here had charts,” she added dead serious. “And the funny part is, every single time they said they were ‘done,’ deep down, I think we all knew. Because no matter how ‘done’ they claimed to be, they’d somehow find a way back to each other. Every. Single. Time.”

Y/n shook her head, laughing softly as if the memories were flooding back to her—late nights of arguments, quiet moments of reconciliation, times they’d sworn it was over for good, only to realize that no one else quite fit the way Lewis did.

She paused, glancing between Lewis and Y/n, before taking a slow sip of champagne. “You two are a pair, alright. A little unpredictable a lot stubborn. But that’s what makes it funny—and honestly, kind of beautiful— because you couldn’t stay out of each other’s orbit if you tried.”

Their friend took a breath, her grin turning into a soft smile. “And as much as we all like to joke about how confusing it was trying to keep up, deep down, we all knew. Because whatever you two have... It was messy, yeah. But it’s real. And it’s the kind of love that survives the storms because you make each other better.”

Her gaze shifted to Lewis, sincerity pouring into her voice. “Now, Lewis... yeah, you’re a lot of things. A goat, some would say... but let’s be honest—when it comes to Y/n, you’re the guy who can’t help but light up when she’s around. I mean, look at you!” She waved her hand, pointing as he grinned, clearly caught.

Lewis laughed, shaking his head, but the warmth in his eyes as he glanced at Y/n was undeniable.

She then turned to Y/n, her eyes softening even more. “And Y/n, girl... don’t think I haven’t noticed how you let him in, even when you’re stubborn about it. He’s broken through those walls in a way that, frankly, I’m still kind of mad about,” she teased, winking. “He really made me share my spot as your only confidante.”

Another wave of laughter and cheers erupted, softer this time, filled with knowing looks and nods. Y/n’s hand founding Lewis’s under the table, fingers squeezing his as she took in her friend’s words.

“And it wasn’t until you both finally stopped running from this, that the rest of us got to see the magic happen,” their friend continued, leaving her glass on the table to be able to use her hands to motion to the couple.

“And now? Look at you two. You’ve found your rhythm. You’ve learned that yeah, sometimes you drive each other nuts.”

“And us too, to be honest.” She pointed out as she motioned to the rest of the guests

“Sometimes it’s not perfect, and it never will be. But that’s not the point.” She paused, letting the silence hang for a second before speaking again. “The point is... you two, you’re so blessed to be stuck with each other.”

Y/n’s breath visibly caught in her throat. She glanced at Lewis, and the warmth in his eyes met her own, creating a small, private moment between them.

“I mean, look at them, guys. There he is, looking at her with the same adoration he always had, even back when they weren’t even ‘official’. They always saw each other, didn’t they? Even when they didn’t see themselves.” Their friend chuckled as she took their little moment to get her point across, just to cease the moment and break the atmosphere with another tease.  

“Gosh, I remember when you two were in those other relationships,” she said, eyes glinting mischievously as she winked. “And they were great, don’t get me wrong... But we all knew they were temporary. Because there’s no one else out there for you two. You tried to move on, I’ll give you two that. But you were just lying to yourselves. The whole time, you were still orbiting around each other, waiting to collide.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Everyone there had seen their journey. Everyone knew how hard they’d fought, how much they’d both been through to get to that moment.

“So yeah, you two might be a little messy sometimes” she added, a grin spreading across her face again. “But who isn’t? The important thing is... you bring out the best in each other. Lewis, you make Y/n smile like no one else can. And Y/n, you keep this man grounded in a way that nothing else ever could.”

And it was true.

Lewis was Y/n’s grounding force, the one person who could calm the storm inside her, even when she didn’t want to admit it. And she did the same for him, though he’d probably never say it out loud.

They weren’t perfect, but they were perfect for each other.

“To Lewis and Y/n. To all the highs and lows, to all the moments that got you here. And to the future, because if this crazy, beautiful love of yours has taught us anything, it’s that you’re in it for the long haul. Here’s to being blessed... and a little bit of a mess.”

The room erupted in cheers and clinks of glasses. Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned to Lewis, her fingers reaching for his over the table. When their hands touched, he laced his fingers with hers, giving her that same familiar squeeze he always did when words weren’t enough.

He leaned in, his voice low as he whispered against her ear “I am blessed to be stuck with you.”

Y/n smiled, blinking away the moist that had been threatening to fall. She turned to him, kissing him softly on the lips, savoring the moment.

Because their friend was right. It wasn’t always perfect. It wasn’t always easy. But it was real.

And maybe they were a little bit of a mess.

But they were each other’s mess.

And that was everything.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

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If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[thepixelelf]

superhero cheol x tech whiz reader warnings: coarse language. food. wc: 1.0k

[anonymous nights] As Seungcheol ducked behind the world’s most disgusting, foul-smelling, gag-inducing dumpster, he thought this was perhaps — no, definitely — the worst idea you’d ever had. His full-head mask was starting to itch, and he felt stupid in his suit sneaking through alleys and hiding behind trash cans.

“Remind me again why I’m following this random ass dude instead of Seo Jewon? What happened to catching the city’s ‘fourth most dangerous villain’?”

A bit of static tickled Seungcheol’s ear through the communication device implanted in his suit, which he knew meant you were getting further and further away the more he pursued the target. He had no idea where you parked your small van, aside from knowing it was somewhere in the city — a precaution put in place so Seungcheol would never be able to give away your location. Or, more accurately, so he wouldn’t risk losing the petabytes of information you’d collected over the years.

“Seo Jewon was a total red herring, this is our real guy,” you said through his earpiece.

The man he was following kept walking, and Seungcheol almost thanked him because he had to get away from whatever was polluting that dumpster. “And you know that because…?”

“Hey, who’s the brains of this operation?” You sounded slightly garbled, but Seungcheol could hear your mouse clicking in the background. “That’s right, me.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes even though he knew you couldn’t see it.

“I can feel you rolling your eyes, Solar Flare.”

Okay, maybe not.

“How do you always do that?”

He could hear your smile through the device. Maybe it wasn’t so hard. “I told you. Brains.” You tapped your mic twice, and Seungcheol winced at the plosive sound. He was about to complain when you spoke again. “Eyes up, Solar, you’re losing him.”

Glancing around, Seungcheol realized he did, in fact, lose track of the target, and he cursed under his breath. He heard you holding back laughter before you muted yourself. Picking up the pace and getting heavier on his feet, Seungcheol searched for your supposed ‘true villain’. Your silence only spurred him on; he knew you were making fun of him in your head.

You’d been assigned to him about a year ago, a decision made by the higher-ups because Seungcheol was apparently “too much of a handful” with his fiery powers (plus an equally fiery attitude), and you were the prodigious tech newbie they could force into working with him. Little did they know, spending too much time with him made you just as annoying. Hence why you and him were out tonight, chasing a completely new suspect instead of the one the bosses sent you after.

“Check your two o’clock.”

Seungcheol slipped into another alleyway, sticking close to the walls, though a load of good that did. “You know,” he said, a little breathless from his efforts to catch up to the target, “it might be a bit easier for me to tail this guy if I wasn’t dressed like Guy Fieri.”

“Hey, I didn’t design the suit, I just built it.” Your words sounded weird again. “Blame the fashion department, not me.”

“Okay, one, we don’t have a fashion department, and two, are eating cup fucking ramen right now?”

He could hear you slurping noodles up. “What? I can’t have dinner and save the city at the same time?”

“Dinner?! It’s like one in the morning!”

“I'm a busy sidekick.”

“You are not my sidekick.”

You snorted into the mic, an undignified sound you never held back from making when it was just you and Seungcheol. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

“Whatever. Tell me you at least had breakfast.” The line went silent, and Seungcheol cursed again. “You’re a hazard.”

Seungcheol could feel your greasy smile through the comm as you cooed. “I’m your hazard, Solar Flare.”

After working together for almost a year, you still hadn’t called Seungcheol by his name. You said it was “keeping things professional”, but Seungcheol was pretty sure you just liked to tease him. Before you, no one had ever made jokes about his destructive superpowers. In fact, most people stayed away from him as much as possible. Then you came along and started saying he was your personal barbecue grill or space heater, never once afraid of his tendency to catch things on fire.

Seungcheol never told you how much he appreciated that.

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“You lost him again.”

“God damn it.”

Seungcheol spent the next twenty minutes tailing your suspect through the city with you piping in every few turns, letting him know what he couldn’t see. He was beginning to think this was stupid. Of course this guy wasn’t the culprit, you must have been wrong — it wasn’t like you’d never been wrong before.

But then the guy turned a corner where almost no one ever went. He walked through another totally gross alley and went down some rusted outdoor basement stairs, glancing around. Almost like he didn’t want to be followed. Seungcheol silently pleaded it wasn’t what it looked like. (Though he probably shouldn’t have, considering this meant he was about to catch the bad guy.)

After the man entered the door, Seungcheol walked up to it, peering through the tiny barred window. He couldn’t see anything, so he opened the door just a crack and stepped through as quietly as he could. A dark hallway was all that greeted him, but down it, he could hear angry voices going at each other over something he couldn’t quite make out. Peeking out of the hallway, Seungcheol immediately retracted when he saw everything. A bunch of men and piles and piles of… well he didn’t know exactly what, but it didn’t look good.

“I fucking knew it!” you cheered through his earpiece. You must’ve already taken a picture during the millisecond Seungcheol had poked his head out and scanned it. “Alright, I’m calling backup.”

“What’s our cover story tonight? That I just so happened to stumble across the city’s fourth most dangerous secret lair?”

You clacked away at your keyboard. “No cover story this time. I found this guy fair and square.”

part 2 | part 3

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter three:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: drinking.

➴ word count: 4.2k

💌 from me to you: another chapter? clara, don’t you have better things to do with your life? yes guys i do but i spent my entire shift today thinking about publishing this chapter and just when i thought i shouldn’t because i don’t want you guys to get tired of me, tumblr sends me a notification that i’ve reached 250 reblogs today. so yes im taking this as a sign from the universe and im posting this today. also, angst? not here! we want madison and quinn to love each other and we want it NOW! (p.s sorry abt the word count. i got carried away)

౨ৎ

2024, MARCH

CLUBBING IN Vancouver felt like a fever dream, especially with Jack Hughes.

It was already one a.m. and you and Jack were incredibly drunk, dancing around with Luke and laughing. All of you minus Quinn, who had ordered just one beer and was sitting at your table like he was fifty years old.

Fortunately, not many people had recognised you or the brothers, which was good. But if you were to be honest, getting recognised was the least of your problems. Getting extremely shit-faced was your ultimate goal that night.

“These songs are all so fucking lame,” you yelled over some country music, making Jack— who was apparently the biggest country music supporter ever— give you the finger. Luke laughed, sipping on his non-alcoholic drink. Getting Luke inside the club with a fake ID was already enough of a mess so there was no need for any more scandals.

You and Jack on the other hand were drinking for both of them.

“Go complain to them, then!” He yelled, probably kidding, but drunk you wasn’t exactly the sanest person ever.

So you walked until you were side by side with the DJ, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. “Hey! Play some fucking good music!”

“What?” She shouted, looking at you with her headphones still on. There were so many people dancing around you both that you had no choice but to glue your body to hers.

“Play something like Rihanna,” you yelled, grabbing her microphone and shouting. “Are y’all tired of this lame ass music too?”

People shouted, apparently agreeing with you.

You looked at her, raising your eyebrow and silently asking for her to change it. She shrugged, not really caring about the fact that you had just called her playlist “lame”, and changed into some other song.

Rihanna’s voice and the customers screams filled the place, making you scream too. You were really out of your mind because not drunk you would never want this much attention.

You walked until you were on top of someone’s table, climbing on it with the help of a random guy, dancing and singing along to Rihanna’s song, Only Girl.

You could faintly see Jack, Quinn and Luke at your table, Jack shouting your name while Luke used his phone to record it. Quinn looked like he was having the worst time of his life, but you were probably just seeing things.

“I want you to love me,” you sang, grabbing someone’s spoon to use as your mic. “Like I’m a hot ride,”

Some girls were singing along with you, and you smiled at them. The club was ringing with the heavy bass of the song, casting vibrant hues of pink and purple through the air.

Even if you were drunk, all of your moves were smooth and effortless, like you’d been born for this. You were having fun and for the first time not thinking of the consequences of your actions— which was probably a bad move.

You looked down, noticing that Luke stood in front of you, offering you his hand so you could get off the table, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.

“Hey,” he greeted, while you hugged his neck.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Lukey,” you shouted over the music. “You’re so grown up now!”

“You’re so gone.” he laughed, putting his hands on your waist. “We need to go.”

He was absolutely right, you were very much gone. And you were a little tired, but it’d been so long since the last time you went out to dance that you didn’t really care about sleeping or going back to your hotel.

“Dance with me, Lukey,” you smirked. “We can go home after this song.”

He only nodded, moving his body with yours awkwardly, making you laugh really hard. You still loved them a lot, and they’d forever be in your heart, no matter how much time passed.

Someone grabbed your arm midway through going down to the floor, pulling you up. You frowned, looking up and watching Mr. No Fun scowling at you and Luke.

“I told you to come get her and you’re now dancing with her? Let’s go,” he hissed, pulling you with him, so close you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

“I would love to know what the hell happened to you, because why are you an ass all the time?” You yelled, the need of making him as upset as you was bigger than your common sense. “Or maybe it’s just with me.”

“Be quiet, Madison,” he growled before handing Luke his card and asking him to pay the bill and fetch Jack on his way back, while he dragged you out of the club. “We’re leaving.”

“I can see that,” you scoffed, waving to some of the girls who were dancing with you earlier. “Of course it’d be you to ruin my night.”

“Ruin your night?” He stopped, turning around and staring at you. “You’re drunk, dancing in the middle of people you don’t even know, when you’re well known and when you know anyone could do anything to you.”

“You said know thrice,” you giggled, stopping yourself when you saw that his angry face was still there. “And I was dancing with Luke.”

“Yeah, after you danced on top of a fucking table with I don’t even know how many men around.” He snorted, resuming his walk and dragging you with him again.

“Why are you so angry?” You rolled your eyes. “Is it because you still see me as your little sister? Is that what’s happening here?”

He stares at you, gray-ish eyes making you shiver. Locking his jaw, he only shook his head and didn’t say anything else, making you angrier.

But before you could properly lash out on him, Luke and Jack were standing by Quinn’s side, ready to say their goodbyes.

“I would’ve stayed for way longer but you know, duty calls,” Jack smiled, words coming out of his mouth slurred and slow, hugging you weirdly because he was really drunk too.

“Come see us in Jersey. We miss you.” Luke said, hugging you sideways.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I’ll give you my jersey.”

You nodded, kissing them both on the cheek. “Be safe. You guys keep doing your great work. I’ll miss you.”

“Bye, bro,” they hugged Quinn and you were confused for two seconds before remembering that Quinn lived in Vancouver. “See you soon.”

Quinn hugged them back, asking Luke to drive safely and text when they got to their hotel. As you watched them go, you resumed walking too, removing your heels and reaching for your phone to call an Uber.

“Where are you going?” Quinn shouted behind you, and you didn’t look back when you answered “hotel!”. “You’re barefoot, it’s almost three a.m. and you’re alone in a city you don’t even know.”

“First of all, I was born here. And second of all, I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you replied, trying to see one phone at a time. “Why do I have two phones?” You mumbled.

“Madison, come on,” his steps were getting closer. “Let me drive you to your hotel.”

“I thought you were a hockey player, not a chauffeur,” you snorted, pretty sure that you spelled the French word wrongly. “Go home, Quinn.”

You felt a hand on your wrist, holding you. You stopped, staring at it before looking up and looking at Quinn’s angry face. “Madison. You’re drunk, and Vancouver isn’t as safe as they made it out to be.”

“Why are you so worried now, H-Hughes?” You raised your brow. “You were just fine ignoring me for the entire night. I don’t understand what changed.”

He sighed, running his hands through his beautiful, perfect hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I’ve been an asshole this entire night but— it’s complicated. Just let me take you home, alright?”

You stared at him for a long time, watching as his frame sometimes doubled in quantity and two Quinn’s stood in front of you. Two Quinn Hughes would be a very pleasant sight, indeed.

“Why is it complicated?” You finally said.

“Madison, we’re not having this conversation tonight with you three sheets to the wind. Come on.” He said before pulling you again.

“I’m not leaving with you, and stop using hard words!” You shouted, removing yourself from his grip. “Good night.”

Turning around, you started walking again, one step at a time because apparently you had four left feet.

Only to feel your body being pulled and suddenly your feet were off the ground and you were in Quinn’s arms, with him carrying you bridal style, making you yelp.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Last time I saw you, you weren’t so dirty-mouthed.” he mumbled, his stubble scratching your temple.

“Last time you saw me I was fifteen. I am twenty-two now and very much allowed to say things like fuck.” You squirmed in his arms, tiring yourself even more. Quinn’s arms felt like they were made of iron. “I also fuck now.”

Oh you were so going to regret this.

He frowned. “I don’t want to know about that, Madison.”

“‘Course you don’t,” you mumbled, giving up and resting your head on his shoulder.

“We’re going to talk later.” He said, suddenly stopping and putting you down in front of a fancy black car. Probably his.

“About what? Me having sex?” You chuckled.

“No, God. Not that,” he dropped his key, bending over to pick it up. He opened the door for you and ordered: “Get in.”

“You’re actually pretty annoying.” You mumbled, but did what he said anyway. You were starting to feel sleepy and bickering with Quinn seemed uninteresting now.

Even though it was funny to watch him scowl.

His car’s seat was cold but he turned the heat on as soon as he started the car. He got out of the parking spot and started driving around Vancouver’s almost deserted streets.

You sighed, resting your head against the window and getting comfortable. Even though you were still upset with Quinn and even though you were pretty sure he also was upset with you, there was just something comforting about being around him. You loved it a lot, and hadn’t realized you’d missed it this much.

“Which hotel are you in?” He asked after a while, and you didn’t even open your eyes to answer.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Fancy and big, looks like a shoe b-box, but I don’t know the name of i-it.”

“How do you not know the name of the hotel you’re staying at?” You could hear the amusement in his voice, making you smile sleepily. “How were you even going to call an Uber, then?”

“You ask too many questions, Quinn,” you answered, before lulling yourself into a deep sleep.

You didn’t get to sleep for a long time, because soon you had Quinn opening the door and almost making you fall out of the car. “Oh, sorry. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You were amazed by the fact that he’d manage to find out in which hotel you were staying in even without you saying anything, and you found yourself smiling, remembering how you admired him as a kid, when he’d always have the answers to your questions.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked you, placing his hands on your lower back.

“Nothing.” You answered but you weren’t exactly sure if the word had come out right.

Either way you heard his quiet laugh, before taking your heels and purse— that you didn’t even remember you had— out of his car and locking it. He guided you through the small path, stopping in front of the big door and unlocking it.

Funny, this hotel looks a lot different than the one you’d checked in but maybe they’d finally upgraded your room.

“How did you get them to give me a better room?” You asked, looking around.

The room looked a lot like a house to be honest, it even had an open kitchen and a living room.

“What do you mean?” He asked, turning around and looking at you, apparently confused.

“When I checked-in earlier they— they,” you hiccupped, wanting nothing more than a bed. “They gave me a very shitty bedroom and I had to take a cold s-shower because the heater was broken.”

“We’re not at your hotel,” he rolled his eyes. “We’re at my house. I don’t know where your hotel is and I don’t have time to drive around until you remember its name so you’ll sleep here tonight.”

If you weren’t so drunk and ready to sleep for the next century, you might’ve put on a fight. But all you managed to do was walk around the living room and say “Okay, sleep well.” Before laying down on his big, fluffy couch.

“What— Jesus,” he echoed, grabbing your hand. “You’re not sleeping on the couch. I have a spare room.”

He walked you to another spacious room, gently helping you sit on the bed.

“Can you wait here for a second? I’ll go and grab something for you to wear. You’re probably uncomfortable with that… thing,” he said, pointing to your dress and leaving the room, not waiting for your answer.

Not that you would’ve given him one anyway, you were too distracted trying not to sleep. It was a hard job.

He didn’t take long, coming back with a plaid shirt and some blue shorts that looked ginormous. “This probably won’t fit you but it’s fine, it’s just for tonight.”

He placed them on the bed, helping you get up and stand on your feet. He turned you around, unzipping your dress and helping you get out of it. Then, he made you face him again, only that he wasn’t really looking at you. His head was down, his eyes on the floor, and you caught yourself smiling with how cute and respectful Quinn’s always been.

You changed into his clothes taking ten minutes more than you usually would, especially with how you are so used to changing fast during runways, but your limbs were heavy and you were on your final straw.

“This doesn’t fit,” you mumbled, watching as you tried to tie the shorts’ lace around your waist and failing miserably, just for it to fall at your feet, leaving you with just his shirt and your panties. “Quinn. It doesn’t fit.”

“I can see that, Madison,” he chuckled, finally looking you in the eye again. “Go to bed. Tomorrow we will find something else.”

You shrugged, getting on the tip of your toes and giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “Night, Quinny.”

You didn’t watch his reaction, heading to bed immediately and passing out before you even got to hear his answer.

౨ৎ

maddiecarter_updates

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maddiecarter_updates Looong night for our girl Mads! She was seen by fans in Vancouver at a night club with Jack, Quinn and Luke Hughes, and some locals said they saw her leaving the club with Quinn Hughes (@_quinnhughes)! We hoped she enjoyed herself! 😊

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user1 who r these fine men lmfao

maddiecarter_updates user1 They’re NHL players, Quinn plays for the Vancouver Canucks and both Luke and Jack play for the NJ Devils. 🙂

user2 lowkey wish she’d grab my ass too :/

user3 Aren’t they the guys she grew up with? I might be wrong though..

maddiecarter_updates user3 Madison never confirmed nor denied these rumours. The nature of her relationship with the Hughes is still unknown and we must respect that :)

user4 SHE’s SO FINEEEEEE

user5 HUGGY BEAR LOOKING SO DAMN FINE THATS MY CAPTAIN

user6 watch puck bunnies start dragging her in 3. 2. 1….

౨ৎ

WAKING UP the next morning felt like running an entire marathon barefoot and naked, after eating a whole bunch of junk food and drinking two gallons of milk.

In other words, it’d been hard.

It felt like you were emerging from a foggy, oppressive haze. Your eyelids were heavy, struggling to open, and when you finally managed to open them, the light from the window felt painfully bright, stabbing your temple.

Your mouth feels like sandpaper and the lingering taste of alcohol sits on your tongue. Every sound, even the gentle rustle of sheets, seems amplified, reverberating in your throbbing head. A dull, relentless ache pulses behind your eyes, making it hard to focus on anything.

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, trying to wet your lips with your tongue. “What the hell…”

Your body feels heavy, sluggish, and as you slowly sit up the whole room starts spinning slightly. A wave of nausea hits you, a queasy reminder of the night before. Your stomach churns, and there's an unsettling sensation in your gut, as if everything is on the edge of tipping over. You rub your face, feeling the sweat and the grogginess, struggling to remember what happened, but the memories come in disjointed flashes.

“Oh my God.”

You were mortified with your own actions. Dancing on top of a table? Grabbing the DJ’s ass? Talking with Quinn about your sex life?

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to throw up.

You got up, looking around, trying to recognise the room you were in. It didn’t have much decoration in it, just a plain wallpaper and a big bed with two nightstands. There was a door to the left which you opened, finding a small bathroom with a shower, a sink and a toilet.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you actually gasped. Your hair was all over the place, your makeup smudged and Quinn’s shirt had fallen off and your boobs were almost out.

“I need a shower,” you mumbled, getting out of your panties and Quinn’s shirt, turning the shower on. Your head was still pounding and it only got worse when you remembered that you were away from Bella and that you’d have to move to Vancouver in less than two weeks.

Even if you wanted to say no to La Vie en Rose’s deal so bad, you didn’t want to do that with Nicholas. He was a great person, and a great friend too, and you knew he had the purest of intentions. And it would only be for six months.

You scrubbed your body with the liquid soap, feeling the hot water worsening your headache but you weren’t the type of person who enjoyed cold showers.

Ten minutes later, the quickest shower of your life, you stood naked in the middle of the bathroom, looking for a towel inside the cabinets. After you found one, you wrapped your body around it and dried yourself while walking back to the bedroom.

You found a new change of clothes on the bed and a new pair of boxers, chuckling with how Quinn must have looked when he placed these things on your bed.

Oh, right. Quinn. You were at his house.

Thinking of what you’d even say to him, you put on the clothes he left for you, not wearing the shorts again. The shirt covered the boxers anyway.

You left the bedroom, walking around the house until you finally found the kitchen, reading the clock before you stared at Quinn. 7:34a.m.

“How did I wake up this early?” You asked, sitting on a stool and watching as he turned around and smiled at you.

His smile was still the same, just a little bit different. He looked tired, but his eyes still held that softness you adored so much.

“Morning to you,” he says, handing you a cup of coffee. “Your body’s probably still used to your usual routine. It’s normal.”

“That’s bullshit,” you groaned. “I feel like I’m about to die.”

“Don’t say that,” he chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

You raised your brow at him, watched as he leaned against the counter and stared right back at you. Usually, you’d feel self conscious and nervous, but Quinn looked at you with tenderness, with delicacy. He made you feel safe without even doing anything, even if you were still supposedly mad at each other.

Which reminded you of something.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He scoffed. “I wasn’t mad at you, Madison.”

“You keep calling me that,” you pointed out. “I don’t remember everything that happened last night, but I do remember how upset you were with me, and how you didn’t even look at me for too long. Only when you were frowning.”

“Madison—”

“I get that you’re mad at me because I never talked to you again, or visited you in the US or when I didn’t congratulate you when you got drafted but—” you sighed, running your hands through your hair, frustrated. “You have no right to be upset.”

You watched as he looked at you, incredulous. “I have no right to be upset?” He cocked his head, wavy hair falling freely to the side. “Wanna tell me why?”

“Well, for starters, the phone works both ways,” you pointed out. “And also, you never came back for me either. So we’re even.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed but you could see that he wasn’t thinking that what you were saying was actually funny. “Madison, tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not!” You raised your arms, regretting immediately because your body still hurt. “Why would I joke about that?”

“Because I went to your house.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to tell you he was the one who was joking. Only that he stayed quiet, waiting for you to realize he was being serious.

“What the hell, Quinn? What do you mean?”

“After I called you several times and you didn’t pick up, I went to your parents’ house in Toronto, back in 2018,” he gestured with his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “I told your mom I was in town and I needed to see you, but she told me you were in Los Angeles, training to be a model, whatever that means.”

“I only moved to LA when I turned eighteen,” you frowned, confused. “And I never got any of your calls, not once. So I never called you because I thought— I don’t know, I thought you had gotten tired of me.”

“Why would you even think that?” He asked, voice filled with distress. “Madison, you were my best friend.”

“You were surrounded by gorgeous, beautiful girls who were your age and in the pictures you looked like you were having fun with them, so—”

“I would trade them all for you, Maddie. And you know that.”

You didn’t know which part of his statement hurt you the most. Him calling you by the nickname he gave you for the first time in years or the fact that you knew he was telling the truth.

“I know,” you whispered, choosing to look at the cup in front of you. “Maybe that’s exactly why I didn’t call or text you. You deserved better than some stupid fifteen year old who thought love could change the world.” You laughed, humorlessly.

“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” he complained. “You weren’t stupid. And I’m sorry for all this mess.”

You looked up, frowning. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. My mom lied to you about me moving and she probably blocked your number on my phone.”

“Either way, I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I just… seeing you after all these years and listening to you talking about Los Angeles like it was heaven on Earth when you hadn’t visited me or my family in a long time made me go crazy, ” he chuckles.

“Well, now we’re both sorry,” you mumbled, drinking the rest of the lukewarm coffee in one go. “What do we do now?”

“We can try keeping in touch with each other even when you’re back in LA,” he suggests, moving his body around the kitchen. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going back to LA. At least not any time soon.”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“Got a job with a Canadian brand and I have to stay here for the next six months.”

“Stay here as in live here?” He asked, lips curling up. You nodded. “Oh.”

“Yup.”

“You don’t seem too excited.”

“I don’t really love the idea of living in the same city as my mom,” you mumbled, drawing invisible patterns with your fingers on the marble surface. “But I’ve been looking forward to working with them for a long time now.”

You heard Quinn’s steps, and next thing you know he was beside you, resting his elbows on the counter and looking at you with fond, blue eyes. “Don’t let people ruin what’s great for you, Maddie. No one should be more important than your dreams.”

You looked at him, smiling shyly. You didn’t really know how to act around him now that you were both in peace. And you still didn’t know what to do with your heart whenever it beat faster inside of you because of Quinn.

“Thanks, Quinn,” you sighed, getting off the stool. “I’ll go back to my hotel now. I’ll sleep before I decide what I need to do with my life.”

“A good nap is a good nap,” he nods. Then, scratching the back of his neck, he softly adds: “You can nap here if you want. I’ll head to the gym with my team but you’re free to stay.”

You can feel the blush adorning your face and you let out a fake cough, trying to get it back to normal.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

He chuckles and stares at you for a while, looking like he was in the middle of a battle with his thoughts. At the end, you’d have to thank whoever won inside of his head, because he walked until he was standing not even an inch away from you and kissed you on your forehead, soft lips making you shiver.

“No need to hurry. I like having you around.”

Oh, boy. This was going to be difficult.

taglist: @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @hischierswhore 🤎

[beausling]

pov: you’re jensen ackles’ controversially young gf (alt!musican!reader) part iii

read part i here, read part ii here

youruser 12m

jensenackles

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jensenackles Fun morning in NYC. Thanks @/goodmorningamerica and @/livekellyandryan for the chat. Sorry for the explicit spoilers 🤭!!!

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theboystv Hope the coffee was iced

gibson_g1rl i think i know what’s going on hereee🤭

pearlzier i think we’re thinkin the same thing🤭🤭

youruser you did so good superstar🌟🤎

jensenackles Thank you, honey. I’ll see you soon☺️🤎

caswh0re @/jensenackles @/youruser music stuff??👀

gibson_g1rl @/caswh0re don’t be delusional

caswh0re @/gibson_g1rl 😭😭😭😭😭

vamps4y/n @/caswh0re @/gibson_g1rl nonono she’s right, they’re probably abt to fuck nasty

pearlzier @/vamps4y/n BYEE☠️

j2texas OMGG why tf is #She here😭

gibson_g1rl girl why don’t you #kys

youruser

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youruser *taps mic* is this thing on? resurrection coming out october 13th🐈‍⬛🧙‍♀️🦇🧛‍♀️

(note: absolutely no graves were defiled, and not a single dead soul was woken, in the making of this project !!! and big shoutout to st. louis cemetery no.1 for existing and being so cool n morbidly beautiful🤞)

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jensenackles So fucking proud of you, sweetheart. I feel incredibly honored to have been apart of this beautiful project, and I really hope that the world loves it just as much as I do.🖤🖤🖤

youruser hey bro wtf !!!!! you’re abt to get a very tearful phone call here in a minute😭😭 thank you so much for everything, i love you🖤🖤🦇

vamps4y/n AWWW JENSEN THATS SO SWEET !!! OKAY NOW SAY “vamp life til i die”

hrtsy/n @/vamps4y/n NOT THE TIME GIRL😭😭

gibson_g1rl @/youruser YOU GUYS ARE SO DISGUSTINGLY CUTE !!!! ITS NAUSEATING !!!!!

jasvtsc ANYONE ELSE CRYING AND THROWING UP AND BANGING THEIR HEAD ON THE WALL RN😭😭😭

suicideleopard i see that mausoleum we used to always make out behind

youruser you tryna run it back??

suicideleopard @/youruser Pause…

youruser @/suicideleopard nah nah nah it’s good dw i got socks on😼

gibson_g1rl @/youruser @/suicideleopard ?????😭😭😭

vamps4y/n @/youruser @/suicideleopard you guys are fucking insane, just make out already

youruser @/vamps4y/n i Really wish i could thumbs down instagram comments…..

suicideleopard liked your comment

jensenackles liked your comment

vamps4y/n @/youruser 😭😭 you literally started this

youruser @/vamps4y/n blaming everyone but yourself…

hrtsy/n OMGOGKFMFO NEEWWWWWW ALBUMMMMMM ON THE FUCKING WAYYYY OMGGGG😭😭😭😭😭😭

gibson_g1rl WE USED TO PRAY FOR DAYS LIKE THESE🙏🙏

y/ngirlies MOTHER IS FINALLY FEEDING US AGAIN

archiveofvirtue THE DROUGHT IS FINALLY OVER😭😭🙏

pearlzier WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK YOU GUYS!!!!!

jasvtsc THE SUN HAS FINALLY COME THE RAIN IS GONE🙌

youruser

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youruser when you gon’ fly me in private so i can land on that dick🧎‍♀️ #oldpics

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gibson_g1rl i beg your finest fucking pardon⁉️

pearlzier THE SECOND PIC?????

jensenackles Hey, nice coat!☺️

youruser OH THNX😸 yeah i actually stole it from this random white boy, he was super chill abt it tho

jensenackles liked your comment

archiveofvirtue @/youruser you two aren’t fooling anybody anymore, just hard launch already so we can be crazy in peace

y/ngirlies @/archiveofvirtue @/youruser RETWEET !!!

jackleswife that should be me

vamps4y/n we should take you out back and shoot you like a deer with chronic wasting disease

deanluvr i’m obsessed with seeing you guys in this era, i don’t ever want it to end🙏

jasvtsc this might be their best era yet

deansluvr @/jasvtsc it is fr

hrtsy/n mama y papa liked🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

caswh0re @/hrtsy/n iktr they’re just like us

youruser

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youruser CHICAGO I HAVE SO MUCH TO THANK YOU FOR

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yourbffsuser baby came back home for awhile guys😸😸

youruser you can take the girl out of the midwest, but you can’t take the midwest out of the girl fr🙁

hrtsy/n the sixth pic is so real, like i felt that🤞

youruser we revisited the trap that day☠️☠️

hrtsyn @/youruser OH?????

youruser @/hrtsy/n ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

gibson_g1rl your silly ass was getting more train flattened pennies huh😭

youruser you know it babe🤭🤭

jasvtsc i love it when y/n in chicago🫶

pearlzier ykyk we always get some of the best music when she goes back🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

jasvtsc @/pearlzier EXACTLYYYYY

archiveofvirtue WELCOME BACK JUNE ADVENTURES !!!!!

youruser I FINALLY GOT TO FLICK THE BEAN AGAIN!!!!!

y/ngirlies @/youruser excuse me???💀

youruser @/y/ngirlies the giant stainless steel bean in millennium park☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

y/ngirlies @/youruser OHHHHH!!😭😭😭

vamps4y/n @/y/ngirlies @/youruser tf did you think she meant😭

jensenackles Hope you had fun sweetheart!!😊

youruser i did lovey, thank you🫂🤎

pearlzier @/youruser SWEETHEART AND LOVEY?????????😭😭😭😭😭😭

jasvtsc @/youruser LOVEY??? THATS SO FUCKING CUTE OMG????😭😭😭

gibson_g1rl @/youruser YOU GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE IM THROWING UP!!!!!!

deanluvr @/youruser PLS JUST GO CANON ALREADY OMFGG😭😭

caswh0re @/deanluvr @/youruser “go canon” 😭

youruser 3m

꩜ thank you so much !!! i hope you guys enjoyed reading this😸 all feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💟

꩜ SOOO much happening here, this part didn’t go the way i originally planned but i still like it🙏🏼

꩜ tags : @gibson-g1rl @pearlzier @jasvtsc @archiveofvirtue 🎀 lmk if you wanna be tagged and/or featured in the next part !!!!!

[raplinesmoon]

Breaking The Ice (KNJ x F!Reader) - teaser

pairing: hockeyplayer!namjoon x f. reader

genre/au: ice hockey au, college au, roommates au / smut, fluff, slow burn

rating: explicit/18+

summary: after last season, namjoon knows he can’t afford anymore mishaps. when you show up on namjoon’s doorstep looking to share his apartment, he thinks it couldn’t be more perfect. medical school has you even busier than he is, but what happens when what used to be the perfect arrangement turns into a bigger distraction than either of you bargained for?

word count: 911 for this teaser

warnings: clumsy Joon, injuries, lots of swearing, Joon gets a boner, OC is pretty and way too nice

a/n: *taps mic* is this thing on? happy Joon day! (i hope i made the deadline). I remembered I had this sitting on the bench (get it lol) as a scene from my wip for the 🏒on ice: for the boys collab that was announced a long time ago! I decided to spruce up this little scene and publish it, even though the final fic is nowhere near complete. This can probably even be read as a standalone (a cute moment between roomies)! I hope you enjoy this piece and happy bday again to Joonie! credits for the banner go to @joheunsaram!

You okay, Namjoon-ah?

Namjoon wants to deck Kim Seokjin and his stupid pretty boy smile into the boards just for asking, when that motherfucker knows he’s at fault for Namjoon’s current state. He feels a painful twinge in his side, sucking in a sharp breath. Practice had barely ended before Namjoon was hobbling out of the arena, the rough-housing that normally accompanied Bangtan’s practice going a little too far today.

When he sees the steps of his building come into view, he nearly wants to sob with relief. Cursing, he stumbles up them, skipping two at a time in the hopes that it’ll get him up and able to faceplant into the couch faster. Knowing his luck though, he’d probably eat his words and end up with his face straight into the ugly grey shag carpet instead.

As he limps down the hallway, he’s struck by dueling aromas – the earthy, nutty mellowness of freshly brewed coffee, and the warm, spicy cinnamon scent of cinnamon. Both coming from his door, propped open slightly, where he can hear the faint lilt of classical music escape. 

Anatomy must have been whooping your ass again.

Namjoon takes special care to slip inside quietly, wincing when he puts weight on his knee. He glances down to see that it’s swelled to an alarming size. Fucking Seokjin.

He knew he should have probably gotten it checked out by the team medic. Yoongi’s nagging is already echoing in the back of his mind, reminding Namjoon that if he wanted to be clumsy, he had to stay on top of his injuries. For the sake of his team.

But somehow getting his limbs checked by a crusty old guy who was past the retirement age didn’t seem nearly as exciting when there was you. 

You who always wore the comfiest sweats, ones he was half-tempted to steal from your closet. You and your penchant for always looking for a pen, when you always had one tucked behind your ear or in your hoodie pocket. You and your stress baking, winning the adoration of his teammates (Stupid Seokjin and his flirting), but most of all him. Your damn cinammon rolls were worth every extra minute he had to spend in the weight room keeping them off.

“Hey Joon, I was just finishing up the cinnamon rolls, they’re on the cooling rack— what happened?” Your smile falls when you take him in, knee as red as his jersey, and a nasty cut under his eyebrow, skin turning purplish underneath.

Namjoon thinks he might pass out, either from the pain or from the way your face falls in disappointment, and the plush cushions of the couch seem like a great place to bury his head into right now.

He’s given a few quiet moments to stew before he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. Lifting his head up, he swears when your face nearly collides with his, noses bumping with such force that you have to take a step back, rubbing gingerly at the bridge.

Great fucking impression you’re making on your pretty roommate, Namjoon. She’s totally into getting clocked in the face. The little devil on his shoulder must be having a ball right now.

“Fuck, ___, I’m so sorry, fuck–”

“It’s okay, Joon, I know you didn’t mean to. But we only have the resources for one injured party in this apartment, yeah?”

Namjoon feels his face heat, not sure if he’s just embarrassed or you’re too close close to him. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when you pick up his knee, studying it with a furrow in your brow.

What a day to decide to wear grey sweatpants. His dick-print was so happy with him right now, and he silently prays that your eyes remain downwards.

“We need to wrap this up. Give me a sec and I’ll help you.” 

Is he dreaming, or does your face look a little flushed? If you notice his boner, he’s happy you don’t say anything, humming softly s you disappear into the hallway, rummaging around in the closet for the first-aid kit.

You re-appear moments later, a roll full of medical tape in your hand, and you’re back to prodding at his knee again. Namjoon sinks into the couch, body relaxing at your gentle touch.

Only to jolt a few seconds later when he feels something cold hit his aching joints, nearly whacking you a second time. God, he had to be more careful.

“Shhh,” you put a finger to his lips, and Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat. “Gotta put some ice on it.”

“You should really increase your fees, doc. I’m pretty sure at-home care isn’t included in the job description.”

Is he flirting? Fuck, okay he’s flirting. He’s doing this.

“Maybe I like knowing I’ll always have a patient who keeps me in business,” you wink, fingers lingering longer than necessary on his knee when you finish wrapping it. Your hands move next to the cut underneath his brow.

“Now what are we gonna do with you?”

Oh fuck, abort, abort mission! Namjoon shoots straight up, grimacing at your shocked gasp.

“YouknowIjustrememberedIhaveanassignmentdueatmidnighttoday! I should really go work on that!”

You say nothing as he limps into his room, smiling widely at him the whole time. Namjoon collapses on his bed, groaning into the pillows.

Maybe getting banged up wasn’t so bad after all. Not when he always had you around to patch him up.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[sashaforthewin]

[on Ao3] Rated M, sex mention, Steddie

ATM Boy

The song started as a joke. Eddie wrote it to see Steve's reaction. 

It had a catchy tune and the lyrics began as a love song of sorts. Steve sat on the couch in Gareth's garage tapping his foot along to the heavy beat and smiling at Eddie as he sang. Until he got to the chorus, of course. 

"He's my ATM boy, my ATM boooooooyyyyy"

Steve rolled his eyes, assuming this was some dumb jab at his being rich. He was upper middle class, at best.

"I can tell he loves me / I can tell he's true / cause when we're in bed there's a thing that he lets me doooOOO!"

Steve was already frowning as soon as Eddie mentioned them in bed but Eddie kept singing, holding eye contact the whole time.

"He let's me go ass to mouth, ass to-"

"EDDIE! EDWARD J MUNSON, ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

The song cut off as various members of the band, Eddie most of all, lost their collective shit at Steve's reaction, laughing at his outburst.

Steve strode over to where Eddie was cackling into the mic, hands on hips, and when Eddie didn't stop, Steve just smacked the mic to the floor.

"Hey, that's expensive!"

"Then you better make sure not to sing about our sex life with the rest of your band present after you buy a replacement, huh?"

Everyone except Eddie agreed that Eddie had sort of deserved it and should replace the mic. Steve forgave him fairly quickly, though, since it was just some harmless joking among friends that would laugh it off. 

That was, until the gig. 

Corroded Coffin got booked to open for the metal band Devastator that were out of Indy. They had three times the fan base of Corroded Coffin, so probably upwards of twenty people were at the show. Sure, those people were also local musicians that were friends of the main band, but a fan is a fan, shut up.

Since the gig was at a shitty dive bar in the city, the kids couldn't come; but Robin, Jonathan, and Argyle decided to come along, as well as Murray, for some reason. Nancy had flat out said she didn't want to have to ride all that way to stand in a smoky bar and hear music she hated, so nobody tried to talk her into it.

Steve was up front in one of Eddie's home-made Corroded Coffin tee shirts. He was still wearing his light wash jeans and a pair of bright orange earplugs, though, so he didn't entirely fit in, but he wasn't as out of place as he thought he would be. There was a guy in a yellow disco suit in the crowd, after all. 

The gang were having a great time. Murray along with yellow disco suit dude were both at the center of the moshpit, slamming and being slammed, Jonathan and Argyle stood around Steve, helping block the worst of the crowd while Steve's hearing was muffled and he wasn't paying attention to anything but his boyfriend, and Robin was alternating hanging with Steve and going to hang against the wall where it was safest. 

Eddie and the boys seemed so happy and were doing great, aside from a few minor difficulties. One of Eddie's strings broke during their second song, but the guitarist from Devastator was quick to loan Eddie his own guitar for the rest of the set. 

The  rest of the Corroded Coffin set was going smoothly after the guitar swap. The crowd was really into the music, and Eddie looked like a natural up there. He introduced the band members and thanked the audience and Devastator for having them, and then announced that this next song would be their last. 

As the opening notes rang out, Eddie risked a glance at Steve and cringed. He was furious and Eddie would definitely be sleeping on the couch tonight. 

But the thing was, the song ATM Boy really was very catchy. It was daring, it was sexual, it was devious and queer, but above all, it was a bit of an earworm. The audience went nuts for it, they were screaming when the chorus hit and by the final chorus, a bunch of people were singing along. It went over better than they ever even thought it would. 

Which made it all the worse that Steve continued to stare at Eddie as if he had been betrayed in the worst possible way. He just stood there. Eddie had to force himself to concentrate on the crowd, not on Steve. As soon as the set was done, Corroded Coffin grabbed their shit and made way for Devastator while the party surrounded Steve and tried to pretend they hadn't just heard a very intimate fact about their friend, discussing the crowd energy and how good the boys had done and literally anything that wasn't the elephant in the room. Steve did not participate in the conversation at all, he was quietly seething. 

He refused to talk to or be touched by Eddie the entire rest of the night, making sure to put his arm around Robin so that only their party would know he was the so-called ATM boy. The ride home was awkward and a bit tense, but the fight was saved until they were at home, alone in Steve's house. Steve pulled off his Corroded Coffin shirt and threw it at Eddie's face before storming off up the stairs. 

"Baby, I'm sorry! Baby, come on, it was funny!"

"You asshole, you just told all our friends and Murray that I let you… that I… it was a one time thing! Do not think I am ever letting you do that again after you did this!"

"Yeah, that's fair. But baby, it's just shock value! And it's a surprisingly catchy tune, I don't know why it came out that way but it did! I swear I wrote it to make you laugh, but the guys all wanted to play it at the show. I voted not to but was overruled! Come on, please forgive me. Baby? Please? Baby?"

"Ugh... Fine, okay, fine. I forgive you for humiliating me in front of our friends. At least the kids weren't there and only about thirty people heard it. I guess. And now it's over and I won't see most of those people ever again. So, I guess, yeah, it's kinda funny."

"You know I love you and I respect you so much. I'd let you go ATM on me as an apology."

Steve just huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, but he allowed Eddie to kiss him and wrap him in a hug. He was just glad this was the end of it.

Months went by and Steve had nearly forgotten about the whole thing. 

Until Eddie and the Coffin boys recorded their first demo. It wasn't anything professional, it was recorded in a large truckstop bathroom with decent acoustics and it was recorded with a portable cassette recorder, but it was recorded nonetheless. 

They had made a bunch of copies, sent them off to a few radio stations, and sold a bunch to indie record stores, handed them out to friends and sold them at their weekly gig. In the second week, a few new people showed up specifically to buy their tape because they had heard their friend's copy.

Eddie was so excited for the growing buzz that he wasn't thinking when he popped the tape into Steve's stereo to celebrate. He had been very careful to only play Steve Side B, never Side A, up until now. 

As soon as ATM Boy came on, Steve slammed on the brakes so hard Eddie nearly broke his face on the dashboard. When he saw Steve's expression, Eddie thought maybe breaking his face would've been preferable. 

Eddie slept on the couch for a week after that, but Steve eventually forgave him. 

Steve had nearly gone back to a completely normal life free of mortifying embarrassment, having convinced himself only subculture dwelling weirdos had heard the song.

But then a local radio station played ATM Boy. Not just once, they put it into their evening rotation. And then another station farther away picked it up. And then another. And then things spiraled from there. 

The only saving grace was that the radio had censored it. The lyrics were now "he lets me go ah- - t'mouth" though Steve suspected people probably still got the gist of it from the rest of the song. 

Corroded Coffin got signed to a record label and they recorded their first album in an actual studio. On the studio release, it was decided for the lyrics to become "he lets me go A T M" even though "to mouth" did not strictly speaking need censoring, it flowed better. 

ATM Boy, meanwhile, was starting to spread. It reached the billboard Top 100 list and started climbing. The band started touring for real, not just road trips to Indy and Chicago. They started selling out mid-sized venues and meeting other bands and forming friendships with fellow creatives. 

Eddie was finally the rock star he had dreamed of. 

And Steve was struggling to be supportive while also wishing he was invisible and unknown to anyone. He was living in constant fear of being found out. Not just because he wasn’t publicly out, but because Steve did not want to be known as the ATM boy and he felt even being seen in Eddie’s presence would damn him. 

At first he refused to tour with Eddie and the band, but after not seeing his boyfriend for months, Steve was both lonely and worried Eddie would cheat or leave him for someone else. It took Eddie a while to notice how badly Steve was handling everything but once he did, he hired Steve as his hairdresser so that he would be able to drag Steve around and have an on-the-books excuse for his constant presence. He groveled and doted on Steve and tried everything in his power to atone for the embarrassment, paranoia, and distress he had caused the man he loved.

There were many rocky years but they managed to stay together through it all. Caring for Steve and focusing on him was actually what helped Eddie avoid the pitfalls of fame that so many bands fell victim to. Who has time to do drugs when they have so many beautiful moles to kiss and a gorgeous toned back to massage?

And on a talk show, nearly forty years after the song ATM Boy was written, Eddie Munson told the audience about his wonderful husband and about the real ATM boy.

“It wasn't my husband, just some other guy I slept with.” 

Unfortunately, two minutes later in the interview he off-handedly mentioned Steve is the only guy he's ever slept with or dated.

[jirsungs]

ep. 4: p.y.t (pretty young thing)

word count: 1.4k words

After discovering that the Park Jisung, the same guy who spilled his entire drink on your brand-new outfit a month ago, was in Rockway, you had little time to back out. There were twenty minutes until four, and you were mentally debating with yourself about whether you should tell your friends a useless lie or suppress the pettiness you felt.

But who could blame you? The dumb emo wannabe, with his stupid and cute glasses, ruined your outfit, and it took a whole week out of you to wash out the stains to the original color. Not only that, but trying to hide the mess from Ningning, who gifted you the outfit, was the hardest part that night. And for the big cherry on top, his excuse to go get napkins just to end up ditching you and never coming back is one of the oldest tricks in the book. So much for thinking you could get his number by the end of the night.

“Yo, Y/N, you alright?” Yeonjun's nudge to your shoulder takes you out of your trance.

You look around the room and see Yeonjun sitting next to you on the bed. Across from you, was Ningning sitting on your desk chair while Jaemin and Renjun kept themselves busy with your knickknacks on the bookshelves.

“Yeah, I'm fine. But how'd you guys get in here?”

Ningning gives you a disapproving look before retrieving the spare key from her purse, holding the metal object delicately between her thumb and forefinger. You suddenly remember that you entrusted her with a key.

“Now, what are we waiting for? Get changed, girl!” Ningning gets up from the chair and pulls you up by the arms.

“Yeah, it's almost four.” Renjun chirps out. He's now sat on the floor with most of his focus on the liquid motion bubbler sensory toy set in his hands. With you out of the way, Jaemin steals your spot on the bed.

“Okay okay, just give me ten minutes,” As you walk over to your closet to rummage for an outfit, you quickly snatch the sensory toy out of Renjun's hands, “And this is mine!”

“The fuck was that for?!”

Ten minutes turned into twenty, and when you and your friends arrived at Johnny's house, it was already crowded.

You all follow Jaemin as you squeeze through the crowd. He stops in the middle of what seems to be a hangout space and turns around to make important eye contact with everyone. "Okay, whatever you do, do not - and I mean, do not - drink whatever concoction Johnny gives you!"

Renjun raises his brow before asking, "You learned that the hard way, didn't you?"

There's a short pause.

"Maybe."

Jaemin was about to go over some more warnings that were associated with Johnny's parties until the attention shifted to the man himself as he tapped the microphone set in front of him.

"What's up, yall! You know me, I'm Johnny, and I'm glad you all made it tonight, before I pass the mic to my boy, Mark, I just wanted to let everyone know that my bedroom is off limits. After last time, I'm not trying to clean another mess up. Alright, thank you." Johnny removes the mic from the stand and signals Mark to take it, "Let's make some noise for Mark, everybody!"

Like clockwork, applause, and scattered cheers of the band members' names echoed around the room, including from your friends while you stood there slowly clapping your hands to not feel excluded.

Everyone's attention then turns to a guy named Mark, who, as mentioned earlier, has a guitar strapped around him and is dressed in casual, baggy clothing.

"Hey, guys. Once again, thank you for all coming out to support Rockway tonight. As requested by our beloved vocalist, Haechan," Mark is suddenly interrupted by cheers from the crowd at the mention of the vocalist. But he isn't a bit mad as he chuckles, looking over at his said band member who mirrors his delight.

He continues once the crowd quiets down, "As a request from Haechan, we'll be covering a song. Tonight, we will be giving you Rockway's version of P.Y.T, Pretty Young Thing by Mr. Michael Jackson. Please enjoy."

As the audience begins to applaud, Mark backs away from the mic, Haechan taking his place in front of it. Amidst the crowd, the noise of two drumsticks tapping against each other catches the crowd's attention.

And that's when you see him. Jisung.

Somehow, you feel the crowd blur out, and what's left is you and him. He begins to start the beat on his drums, leading Jeno to follow with his bass shortly after.

Ningning dancing and singing along next to you has your eyes finally being pulled away from the drummer, and that's when you realize Haechan's already singing the first verse.

Where did you come from, lady? And, ooh, won't you take me there? Right away, won't you, baby?

Your friends jamming out diverts your attention from Jisung for a while as you catch yourself singing along with them.

It almost felt like a mini-concert, and no one had their eyes on you.

Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up Haechan's vocal of the chorus, and your eyes move on their own, looking at Jisung once again.

And to your surprise, his eyes meet yours right when Haechan sings the line,

I want to love you (P.Y.T.) Pretty young thing

Talk about perfect timing.

You feel yourself getting hot because your eye contact lasts a lot longer than it should, but you can't help but not pull away. He's the first one to break contact when he stumbles on his rhythm, but he gets back in so swiftly that you're the only one who recognizes it, and the crowd is left unnoticed.

It was 8:10 when Rockway finished their set, and against your will, Yeonjun, Jaemin, and Renjun left to introduce themselves to Haechan and Chenle, who were socializing in the crowd. While on Johnny's living room couch, Ningning was busy chatting with Mark and Jeno once she found out they were fans of her work.

Which left you in the kitchen, alone, a solo red cup half full of cherry soda, the only thing keeping you company.

You watched the drink swirl around as you lightly spun the cup with your hand until you felt an arm brush against yours, leading you to look up at the person.

And there he is, once again, Park Jisung clothed in a baggy black shirt which he paired with even baggier denim jeans. And of course, his big black-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He doesn't see you looking at him when he's pouring himself a drink, but that's before he murmurs a "sorry" under his breath when he catches a glimpse of you.

That's when he sees you in a cute short dress and your arms are covered by a cropped denim jacket. Your hair dolled up, just as he remembered.

But his ogling doesn't last long when his eyes reach your eyes again, and they don't look... as pleased.

"So, you can say sorry. Good to know."

His brows furrow at you, almost as if he's trying to analyze the reason behind your malice tone, "Excuse me?"

You scoff. How could he not remember?

Before you can say anything, Jisung speaks again, "Look, I just wanted a drink, that's all. My bad if it got your panties in a bunch."

He immediately leaves the kitchen, leaving you stunned by his new attitude. You feel the frustration welling up inside you, steam practically pouring out of your ears.

As Jisung leaves, Yeonjun and Jaemin enter and spot you leaning against the counter, your drink perilously close to spilling as you angrily squeeze the cup.

"Woah, easy, girl."

Your mood softens as you spot your two friends, and Jaemin reaches to take the cup from your hand, which you oblige.

Jaemin busies himself by pouring a cup for him and Yeonjun when he asks, "Who's got you looking all mad?"

"Jisung. This hatred for him will last for more than a week, so Yeonjun," You look over at your friend who takes his focus off his phone, "Bet 30 dollars instead."

Then, you walk out of the kitchen, leaving your two friends to exchange looks in pure confusion.

When you're out of earshot, Yeonjun exclaims, "My ass, I'm betting 30 dollars!" prompting Jaemin to snicker.

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note: my first written chapter!!!! i'm kinda rusty since it's been awhile but i hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it :)) the next chapter will finally reveal jisungs side of the story 😔🙏

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