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inzaynety · 1 year ago

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he's a biter! ⤫

➢ summary: once you’re in his sights, hoshina has no choice but to leave a mark; or all the times he thinks it’s okay to sink his teeth in you and a time you return the favor

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2459 words, biting, some blood, suggestive & sex / nsfw, 3+1 things, friendship with okonogi & gen

➢ notes: so this man single handedly brought me back all motivated lol also i caught up on the manga ahaha and reader is a commander 🥴

check out the continuations!

You could say that being bit by a Kaiju was inevitable.

Everyday, going out and defending the public from them is your job and it always comes with risks. Hell, your arm was nearly chomped off yesterday if you weren’t quick enough to dodge right then and there.

Scratches, bruises, scars—all were familiar and just part of the job. It hurts, it stings, it stays with you until you do so much fighting you can just brush it off as another Tuesday.

They were Kaiju. They didn’t care.

You hiss at the sharp pain on your shoulder, your face giving way to an exasperated expression as you try to finish making breakfast.

That was not from a Kaiju. This one cared.

His teeth are sunk into your skin with enough force to leave yet another lasting mark. You can feel Hoshina smile against you before he pulls off, pressing small pecks to the dents and priding himself in feeling you shiver in his arms.

“You’re an animal,” you say, pushing an egg onto his plate but don’t make a move out of his arms. His bare chest is warm and you want nothing more than to fall back to sleep at the feeling. But that would mean commending his actions and his head is big enough as is.

“Am I, sweetheart?” Hoshina’s voice is low and gravely from sleeping so deeply only minutes before he decided to insert himself into your personal space. His hands trail delicately along your waist as he noses along the column of your neck, “Ya never push me away so I bet yer lovin’ it…”

You don’t say anything and he takes that as your answer, chuckling when you huff. He watches as you place the very hot pan down before he begins finding another suitable spot to continue. He settles on the back of your neck and while this time his bite isn’t so sudden, it still stings nonetheless.

“See?” He gently licks at the forming bruise and the lilt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s a lil too late and I know ya said I couldn’t leave anythin’ while you work, but please? Can’t let my girl go without a few more.”

Weighing out the options in your head, you realize you could never say no to him. So for the rest of the day you sport new red accessories that feel itchy underneath your gear.

Okonogi is a good friend of yours and she, along with the rest of the Third and at your own station, knew of yours and Hoshina’s relationship.

Your presence at the Third Division base wasn’t expected but was certainly not unwelcome from the multitude of members coming up and asking for tips or an autograph (Iharu was guilty of this and received a plethora of pushups as punishment). But your reason for being there was a secret to them.

“What are you doing here?” The familiar glare on her glasses catches your eyes first. Despite having your title, you were friends first and foremost so the flick to your forehead wasn’t a surprise.

“Ow! What the hell?” She only motions you out of her chair and places her items that you only shifted around in the mission of finding a pen to make some doodles to leave there for her to find. “Is it a crime to want to see my friend from time to time?”

Okonogi sighs but there’s no annoyance on her face upon seeing you again. It had been a while since you’ve talked in person but you supposed a time outside of work would’ve been better. If anything, you took the opportunity to tag along with your station’s operations leader and members to head to third.

Sora pokes his head in, still starstruck being in the presence of your friend while simultaneously being the professional he was. “Miss Okonogi? Do these numbers look right?” She stands up from her chair and walks over to him, hovering over his shoulder and giving pointers.

You take the opportunity to sit in her chair yet again and swivel around, looking at all the monitors and suits in the room below the control area. Feeling the stare of the third’s operation members beside you, you turn your head and greet them.

“Welcome to our base, Commander!” One of the younger ones says and you laugh at his enthusiasm. You were about to say something until you felt a rather unexpected sting on the top of your right ear. Immediately, you cover it only to have your hand caught by the culprit.

“Yes, welcome Miss Commander.” Hoshina has that grin he always bears and the surrounding third members avert their gazes upon the situation their Vice-Commander has created. Okonogi and Sora watch from the side, unimpressed with what was about to unfold yet again.

You hadn’t had the chance to tell him you were visiting as you thought it would be the day you could surprise him. He had been in training with one of the newer recruits so it wouldn’t hurt to visit and sneak up on him. So imagine your own when he did it instead?

“Sosh—Vice Commander Hoshina, what are you doing?” He only shrugs and stands back up, smiling oh so innocently.

“Nothing really.” And he just up and walks out of the room, leaving you in a flustered mess. You couldn’t even face the eyes on you and the look of unamusement from Okonogi.

The way back to your division’s building was full of teasing remarks while Hoshina felt no shame at all in the confines of his office.

Narumi Gen is the Commander of the First Division. The strongest soldier with the eyes of the oldest numbered Kaiju. Narumi Gen is also the bane of your existence.

“I didn’t come all this way for you to shit on me!”

"Well, if you didn’t play so shit, maybe I wouldn’t!”

You’re both cooped up in your apartment away from the outside world, and with him barging in on your day off, you had no choice but to let him in at his persistence. That and with the threat of losing your BS5 to him after his own miraculously broke.

You roll your eyes when he sticks his tongue out at you but quickly return them to the game at hand. It was 2-1, best out of five with you in the lead for keeping the console you so definitely paid for, but your car was miles behind it and it was already the last lap. Gen was radiating smugness from beside you and you couldn’t even reprimand him for it when he passed the finish line with ease, not even giving you time to throw that last blue shell for the hell of it.

“Why’d you play so shit?” If you weren’t such close friends.

“Shut up.” You groan and stand up to refill your glass before the final round.

“Get mine, too.”

“No.” He knows you don’t mean it when you’ve already grabbed his cup so he’s content with pulling out his phone and posting a story about his victory. Stepping into the kitchen, you pull open the fridge door for the juice. As you’re pouring both cups, there’s a knock on your front door.

You place everything back and leave the cups on the counter as you go to answer it and your mood shifts when you see him.

Hoshina’s holding up bags of snacks with a wide smile that you can’t help but kiss him. He reciprocates and you would’ve spent more time there if not for the annoyance in your background.

“Come on, I gotta be back before 10 or Hasegawa’s gonna be on my ass!”

“Good!” Hoshina chuckles and closes the door behind him, following you back into the living room as you bring the drinks. And right at the site of him, Gen shoots up from the floor and points at Hoshina.

“Hey, what is this asshole doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too!”

Gen’s eye twitches and he gulps down the entirety of his juice. You’re in the background looking through the bags Hoshina brought with the knowledge of their one-sided rivalry. See, before you even got together with Hoshina, Gen would talk your ear off about how much he hated the guy and you prepared yourself for the worst for if you ever had to meet him.

Well, that backfired for your friend.

They continue to bicker until you wave around your controller, catching both of their attentions, “Wrap up your cat fight so I can win.” Gen gives a final scowl and sits on the couch for the finale. Hoshina, in a mindful attempt to give the other more space, sits on the floor between your legs, his back leaning on the couch with his cheek resting on your thigh.

The race starts and it’s a map you’re not so good with. That’s already a disadvantage on top of it being one of Gen’s favorites. The race goes on and the closest you can get is 2nd with Gen reining in at 1st for the last few laps. You click your tongue and hope that one of the blocks would give you some sort of miracle item.

Hoshina watches as you get so close to becoming first and immediately loses it once you turn a corner, feeling the frustration from behind him. The first thought that comes to mind might have not seemed beneficial in the moment, but it would kill two birds with one stone. Or, well, three.

He turns his head just a little bit and bites your leg. You make a noise and distract your friend beside you who can see what’s happening in his peripherals.

“What the hell? Don’t do that when I’m right here!” That’s just enough time for Gen to miss his last drift and allow you to pass him right as the finish line comes into view. Gen sees this and curses under his breath, throwing his held item he manages to get in the middle of it all (a blue shell, figures) to stop you in your tracks.

Though, he didn’t expect the boombox you’ve been saving.

Suffice to say Hoshina’s plan did the three things he accounted for: getting you out of that frustration, annoying Gen, and satisfying himself.

You were just happy you got to keep your BS5 for that week and Gen wished his eyes could’ve told him what was going to happen.

With the job comes a busy schedule, but at least the nights were for you two alone.

It’s humid in the bedroom but neither of you cared amidst the hushed gasps shared. Despite being far from the station it seemed that these quiet habits were hard to break thanks to a certain someone.

Your eyes are glazed over and Hoshina places a hand on your face to keep your attention on him. “Tired out?” You hum into his palm but shake your head. You can feel him shift inside you, slowing his movements to make sure you were there.

“Just a ‘lil more, please?” Hoshina crumbles under your words and what kind of lover would he be if he didn’t indulge you? He kisses you softly before running his hands down to your hips, lifting them up slightly and you sigh at the adjustment. “Soshiro!”

“I got you, darlin’, relax f’me.” It's hard when his words fire you up more than you’d like, but for him to continue you had to oblige. Soft caresses on your skin and whispers of sweet nothings in your ear brings you so, so close.

But it’s not enough.

His pace is slower this round, him being mindful of how many times you’d come already but he’s also holding himself back and you can see. Through the tears in your eyes you look up and see the sweat on his face, his neck, and dripping down his chest. He’s straining, veins prominent in his neck and arms are telling.

Lifting your arms up you wrap them around his neck, pulling him down and burying your face into his shoulder.

“Faster, please. Soshi—“ You can’t even get his name out as he’s already fulfilling your wishes. Your moans are right in his ear, driving him to reach both of your climaxes as soon as possible. It’s been hours since you first hit the bed and the feeling never gets old. Especially when he finds that spot in you that has you seeing white, and especially when he releases his warmth soon after yours.

The feeling’s too much, your nails scratching down his back and your body shaking from the last of the night. It’s right there in front of you and before you know it, you’ve latched your teeth onto his shoulder. A hybrid of a whine and moan escapes him with surprise as he tries to ride out the aftermath.

“O-Oh, shit.” He chuckles and his hips stutter, “That’s dirty, sweetheart. Not fair for ya to be doin’ that.” You release him and lay back onto the mattress and with the energy you have left, you look at him again. You wish you could remember the view forever.

Hoshina’s covered in the sheen of sweat, either just his or both of yours, and there’s a sly smile on his face. His crimson eyes are right on you with the most mischievous yet adoring look in them—the color of which matches the liquid seeping from the mark you just left.

“Wait, baby, you’re bleeding—“ You feel weak and disoriented but still have half the mind to try and reach to the bedside table for a tissue, but he catches you by the wrist.

Hoshina presses a kiss to the inside of your palm and settles you back onto the sheets, “Don’t worry about it, I can tell ya like lookin’ so enjoy it a lil more.” He lets go of your arm and leans down to place a light kisses to your neck, suckling on the soft skin he can reach. You were already teetering on the edge of sleep and his ministrations were aiding in that.

Your arms come up to pull him down to you and he doesn’t resist. Not like he would’ve anyway.

“Soshiro?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.” Your voice is quiet and you think he doesn’t hear it. But Hoshina starts to smile against your skin and bring you impossibly closer to him. Lifting himself up a bit, he catches your half-lidded gaze.

You always say this after every night you spend together and he never gets tired of it. You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to, but he cherished you just as much.

“I love ya, too.”

©inzaynety 2024

#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 smut #kn8 x reader #kn8 fluff #kn8 smut #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #fics

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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 18

˗ˏˋ on your kneesˎˊ˗

"He didn't picture himself ever begging for pussy... but alas, here he is."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,7k

content: wet sloppy kissing, jungkook being too horny for his own good, vibrator usage, masturbation (f), jerking off while eating kitty (idk what possessed me but i had to), vanilla kink (are we surprised), begging, slight praise kink, comfort, endearing moments, these two being stupid as always, post-orgasm sharing bed (yeah sleeping together), thinking about maybes.

✧ author's note ✧

LISTEN. You’re so lucky I have multiple FMU chapters backlogged right now, because if I didn’t? I would have thrown an actual tantrum, declared a two-week hermit arc, and told you all to fuck off while I moved to the mountains. BUT. Thankfully, I’ve written up to around Chapter 23-ish and just need to edit, so you can all calm the hell down.

First of all, no—I still haven’t updated the update post, because I’ve been too busy prepping this chapter for release. I’ve had zero time to sit and ponder. That said, the only valid suggestion I’ve gotten so far is to keep the Tumblr note goal but ALSO require the Wattpad goal to be hit—so that’s what we’re trying this time around.

Also—BIG ANNOUNCEMENT—we now have an official Kiki Nation Community on Tumblr (yay!). That’s where you little gremlins can finally scream together in one place, throw theories at each other, and insult Jungkook and Nix in a safe, protected space. (Mainly Jungkook. Because he’s a man. And this is a matriarchy. HUSH.)

So please check it out! Join, comment under the official Chapter 18 discussion post, and if you feel inspired to make a meme or TikTok or post your spiral—DO IT. If it makes me laugh, I will absolutely reblog it.

NOW. About this chapter.

BAHAHA. Okay. First of all—I am so proud of the kiss. I wanted it to be sloppy and wet and messy and borderline excessive, and I think I delivered. It’s so long. I really put my whole kikussy into it.

And of course… it was time. The vibrator had to make its appearance. It’s literally law. I don’t make the rules (but I do).

Also: Rogue begging. crawling. STILETTOS. Why did I like this chapter so much. It was delicious. I love sexually down bad men. Wait until he’s romantically down bad. It’s going to be so satisfying. Trust me.

And the ending?? Made me soft. Actual progress?? Kind of??? They’re still filthy, but they’re also edging toward something stupidly endearing and I hate how much I love that. The way this story is progressing is so slow-burn it makes my bones hurt, but I’m obsessed with it. We are maybe… possibly… inching toward friendship territory. MAYBE.

I’m really looking forward to the next chapters—soon, we’ll meet a new LI on Jungkook’s side (YES!). Things are gonna get messy (eventually). Reminder: they have zero romantic feelings right now. ZERO. What you’re seeing is just… subconscious tension, subtle shifts. We’re nowhere near falling.

So please. I beg you. If I start getting asks about them being in love, I will throw my laptop out the window and revoke my dictatorship. Don’t test me.

Enjoy the chaos. Let me know how hard you spiraled. Love you forever.

OH. I said it before but I will say it again. This chapter is entirely based on the song "get on your knees" by Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj so. Do with that what you will. Listen to it. Enjoy.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

His kiss tastes like four days of wanting.

Your back hits the wall as his mouth crashes into yours—not gentle, not careful, just hungry. Like he's been starving for the taste of you since Tuesday.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips, a question that isn't really a question at all, because you both know how this ends. You part your lips anyway, granting him access because denying him feels like denying yourself.

His hand comes to rest on your neck, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point. It's a strange, suspended gesture—like he can't decide whether to pull you closer or hold you exactly where you are. The indecision is so unlike him that it makes your stomach flip.

Then his tongue flattens against yours, and any thoughts of indecision evaporate. He's not kissing you so much as he's tasting you, licking your flavor directly from the source. The sensation is filthy and intimate as his other hand comes to your cheek, fingers splaying across your skin, holding you in place for his exploration.

"Fuck," he breathes against your mouth, the word more vibration than sound. "Missed this."

Not you. This.

The distinction matters, even as his tongue circles yours in a slow, deliberate drag that makes your knees weak. He's coating himself with your saliva, savoring you like you're some expensive whiskey he's been saving for a special occasion.

You should probably be grossed out by how wet this kiss is, by how thoroughly he's claiming your mouth.

Instead, you find yourself pressing closer, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Because this is what you've been missing too—not him, not really, but this. The way he makes your body respond without even trying. The way he kisses like he's trying to memorize the taste of you.

And then his lips close over yours—soft but firm—like finishing the kiss just to start it all over again. Chained kisses. One bleeding into the next, seamless and endless.

You follow him because how could you not? The way he kisses—it’s not just skill; it’s instinct. Like he knows exactly what to do to keep you hooked, alternating between tongue and lips so perfectly that you never get tired of either.

Not that you could ever tire of him.

You’re pretty sure you could never erase the way he kisses—or fucks—from your mind even if you wanted to.

Maybe it’s him knowing what he’s doing. Or maybe it’s just the two of you—two mismatched pieces of completely different puzzles that somehow fit together anyway.

Just like your mouths do now.

Just like when your tongue darts out to lick at his lower lip in a kitten lick that has him hitching against you, a small, desperate sound escaping his throat. His hips stutter against yours like his body is telling you to stop messing around and get your tongue back inside his mouth where it belongs.

So you do.

You push forward, tongue meeting his again in a slick slide that has him groaning into your mouth. Then you close your lips to transition into another kiss and he follows, tongues forgotten for three, four open-mouthed kisses before he’s lost patience.

He moves his tongue against yours, seeking more, always more. Because when it comes to you, Jungkook is just this eager.

But this time you catch it. Suck it into your mouth in a soft suction that makes him freeze for half a second before his hand tightens on your neck.

And the sound he makes?

Undiluted filth.

It spurs you on.

You suck harder, dragging your lips down his tongue before releasing him with a soft pop that leaves both of you panting against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t let the pause last long—doesn’t let you last long—and dives back in with a hunger that feels less like kissing and more like consuming.

Tongues forgotten for other five or six kisses as his lips move against yours with bruising intensity—open-mouthed and messy—but he easily grows impatient and his tongue is soon back, sliding against yours like he wants it there.

You catch it once more—suck it again—and the way his hips jerk against yours tells you everything you need to know about how much he likes it.

Filthy sounds fill the space between you: wet kisses, soft moans, the occasional hitch in his breath when you do something particularly good with your tongue.

And when his teeth graze your lower lip before pulling back just enough to look at you?

You realize there’s no winning here—not for either of you—because this isn’t about who takes control or who gives in first.

It’s about this. About mouths fitting together perfectly even though nothing else about this situation should make sense. About tongues sliding together and lips bruising from too much pressure but neither of you caring because fuck—it feels good.

It feels better than good.

It feels addictive.

Your back hits the table near the entryway, and honestly? You never thought a piece of furniture could be an accomplice in your bad decisions, but here you are. Pressed against the entryway table. The one that holds your keys, Yoongi's forgotten mail, and now, apparently, your dignity.

Jungkook hasn't stopped kissing you—not for air, not for sanity, not for anything resembling common sense. It's like he's on a mission to consume you entirely, starting with your mouth and working his way through the rest of you.

These are not the kisses you exchange with people you tolerate. These are not even the kisses you exchange with people you like. These are the kisses of people who might actually hate each other but have found a much more interesting way to express it.

Your lower back presses against the edge. Hard wood digs into soft flesh, and you're about to complain when—

Fuck.

He lifts you. One hand. One fucking hand curves under your ass and hoists you onto the table like you weigh nothing, while his other plants itself firmly on the wood beside your hip. The display of casual strength makes something molten pool in your stomach.

Unfair. Completely unfair how stupidly hot he makes stupid things look. Lifting you shouldn't be attractive. It's basic physics, not foreplay. But your brain has apparently liquefied, pouring out your ears while he steals the oxygen straight from your lungs.

"Fuck, Nix," he mutters against your mouth, the words more vibration than sound. "Been thinking about this for days."

His mouth is relentless—wet, demanding, precise in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. He sucks your lower lip between his teeth and—god—applies just enough pressure to sting, like he's trying to extract something essential from you. Like he needs to squeeze you dry, drain you of whatever it is that keeps him coming back.

Didn't even know your bottom lip was an erogenous zone until Jungkook decided it was.

It's too much. The heat, the closeness, the way he seems to have forgotten where you are, who you are.

You push against his chest—not hard, just enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies.

"Jesus Christ," you gasp, chest heaving. "Let me breathe, you animal."

He grins at that—a scorching, self-satisfied smile that makes you want to either slap him or pull him back in.

Maybe both.

He bites his lower lip, swollen from your kisses, and immediately leans back in like your need for oxygen is a minor inconvenience to his plans.

Your palm against his chest stops him, firm this time.

"Wait," you say, voice rough.

Not because you want to stop—god no—but because your brain is finally catching up to your body. And there's something you want. Something specific.

His eyes find yours, dark and questioning. Patient, despite the hunger radiating off him in waves. He's holding himself back, you realize. Letting you dictate what happens next.

Your eyes drop, hair falling across your face as you gather your thoughts, your courage. When you look back up at him through your lashes, his breath catches audibly.

"Bring me the vibrator you chose for me."

His reaction? Pretty funny. Like watching a computer crash and reboot. His entire body goes still—processing, processing—then his eyes widen a fraction. He blinks once, twice, tension visible in the way his jaw ticks.

"What?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

Something about his reaction makes hot satisfaction curl through you. You like throwing him off balance. Like matching his chaos with your own.

"The vibrator," you repeat, slower this time, savoring each syllable. "The one you picked out. Go get it."

His eyes dart toward your bedroom door, then back to your face. For a moment, you think he might refuse. Might challenge you. But then:

"Yeah," he nods jerkily, already stepping back. "Yeah, I will."

"Will you?" you press, because you can't help it. Because you like the way his pupils dilate when you push.

"Fuck yeah," he breathes, already moving toward your bedroom with a kind of urgent, stumbling grace that would be comical if it weren't so hot.

You watch him go, breathing still uneven, lips still tingling.

And you think—not for the first time—that there's something dangerously addictive about the way Jungkook responds to you. The way he matches your energy, then amplifies it, reflecting it back at you until you're both caught in some kind of feedback loop of bad ideas and worse self-control.

Roommates with benefits, you remind yourself. That's all this is.

But as you hear him rummaging through your things, drawers opening and closing with increasing urgency, you can't help but wonder if "benefits" is too mild a word for whatever the fuck is happening between you two.

He sprints.

Jungkook doesn't walk to your room—he fucking jogs, like the vibrator might disappear if he doesn't get there fast enough.

Like this moment has an expiration date he can't afford to miss.

No shame. Not a single ounce of it as he bursts through your door, scanning the bedroom impatiently. The same room he's been in a couple of times, but never with this specific mission, never with this frantic energy coursing through his veins.

Where the fuck would a girl keep her vibrator?

No. Not a girl. You. Where would you hide it?

Under the pillow?

He lifts the edge of your pillowcase, peeks beneath it. Nothing. Definitely not there—you like sleeping too much, and having a hard plastic toy jabbing into your cheek all night would be uncomfortable as hell. You're smarter than that.

The wardrobe?

He eyes the wooden doors across the room, considering.

No way. Too far from the bed. You're too practical for that kind of inconvenience. If you wanted to get off, you wouldn't want to climb out of bed and trek across the room.

His eyes land on the nightstand. Bingo.

The drawer slides open with a soft sound. First thing he sees: a messy stack of panties, some lacy, some cotton, all of them instantly triggering mental images he doesn't have time for right now.

He fights—really fights—against the urge to pick one up. To feel the fabric between his fingers, to imagine it hugging the curves he's already memorized with his hands, his mouth. Maybe even bring one to his nose...

Focus, dickhead.

Pushing the underwear aside (what? sue him for wanting to fuel his imagination), his fingers brush against something solid. Hard plastic. Smooth curves.

There it is.

He pulls it out, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he examines his find. It's exactly as he remembers from the store—sleek, purple, designed for both internal and external stimulation.

Still in its original packaging, which means you haven't used it yet.

Something jittery and hot coils in his stomach at the thought of being the first to see you use it.

He grips it tighter, already imagining what it'll look like pressed against you, already wondering if you'll let him control it or if you'll insist on doing it yourself.

Either way, he's about to witness something fucking spectacular, and his body knows it. His cock strains painfully against his jeans as he heads back to you.

He takes a deep breath before rounding the corner from the hallway.

Tries to center himself, to cool down just a little.

To not look as desperate as he feels.

But then—

Fuck.

The vibrator nearly slips from his suddenly sweaty palm.

You're naked on the table. Completely, gloriously naked except for those high heels that make your legs look like they go on for fucking miles. The dress is gone—discarded somewhere on the floor—and your panties dangle precariously from one ankle like an afterthought.

One leg bent at the knee, heel resting lazily on the wooden surface. The other straight up, creating a perfect right angle that showcases everything he's been craving since the moment he walked through the front door.

And your hand—Christ—your hand is between your thighs, fingers drawing lazy circles over your clit.

His eyes stutter back to one thing though.

The heels.

What is it about the fucking heels?

He's never particularly cared about shoes before, but something about the way they elongate your legs, the way they make your calves flex, the dangerous point of those stilettos against the wooden table-it's doing something to him. Something unexpected and intense.

He nearly stumbles. Actually has to catch himself on the wall because his knees go weak at the sight of you touching yourself, waiting for him, spread open on the goddamn entryway table like the world's most perfect welcome home gift.

His grip on the vibrator tightens until his knuckles go white. He forces his face into something resembling control—a smirk, he hopes, though it feels more like a grimace of restraint.

"Needed it that badly?" he manages, trying to sound casual and cool, though he guesses he fails spectacularly at that.

Your eyes meet his, challenging. "Didn't you?"

The question catches him off guard, but he doesn't falter. Not much, anyway. Just a slight hitch in his breathing that he hopes you didn't notice.

"Yeah," he admits, the word barely audible. Then, louder: "Yeah, I did."

He starts walking toward you, vibrator clutched in his hand, but you stop him with a single raised palm. The universal sign for wait.

"Crawl to me."

His feet halt. He opens his mouth. Closes it.

What?

"What?" he asks, not sure he heard correctly.

"You heard me." Your fingers never stop their gentle circles. "Crawl."

He doesn't know why he does it. Doesn't pause to analyze why the command sends a jolt of electricity straight to his cock.

He just... does it.

Drops to his knees, then to all fours, the vibrator still clutched in one hand.

Maybe it's the novelty—you taking control like this when usually he's the one calling the shots.

Maybe it's the way your eyes darken as you watch him approach, like seeing him on his knees for you is doing something for you too.

Or maybe—most likely—it's just the promise of getting his head between those fucking glorious thighs again.

Whatever the reason, he crawls to you across the hardwood floor, too turned on to care about how it looks, too desperate to worry about his dignity. All he can think about is how wet you'll be, how good you'll taste, how he wants to make you come on his tongue before introducing the vibrator.

He's almost there—close enough to smell you, close enough that if he stretched forward just a bit, he could press his mouth to your inner thigh—when the sharp heel of your stiletto plants firmly against his forehead.

The pressure isn't hard enough to hurt, just enough to stop his forward momentum. To keep him back.

He looks up at you, disbelief warring with arousal.

Surely you're joking?

There's no way you're genuinely stopping him when he's this close, when you're this wet, when everything about this moment has been building toward his mouth on you.

Right?

"The vibrator," you say, extending your hand, heel still pressed lightly to his skin. "Give it to me."

His throat works as he swallows, suddenly parched. "Don't you want me to—"

"The vibrator, Ro."

The nickname, combined with the firm tone, makes his cock make a mating dance against the zipper of his jeans. He places the toy in your outstretched hand, watches as you examine it with curious eyes.

You turn it over in your palm, studying it like it's a puzzle to solve. Your brow furrows slightly as you locate the power button, press it experimentally, and soon enough its low hum fills the space as the toy comes to life, vibrating gently in your hand.

"I've never used one before," you admit, and he already knew.

You told him that much before buying it.

Nonetheless, the idea that he gets to witness this first for you—it does something to him.

Makes him feel special in a way he has no right to feel.

"Let me help," he offers, voice strained. "I can show you how—"

"I think I can figure it out," you interrupt, but there's uncertainty in your eyes as you look at the different buttons, the various settings.

Fuck, you're adorable. Even spread-eagle on a table with a vibrator in your hand, there's something so endearing about your determination to figure this out on your own.

He watches, mesmerized, as you press another button. The vibration intensifies, making you jump slightly at the change. Your finger slips, pressing yet another button, and suddenly the toy is pulsing in a rhythm that has him imagining it pressed against you, imagining your reaction to that particular pattern.

He can't take it.

"Here," he says, reaching up, a bit desperate, a tad impatient. "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, you nod, removing your heel from his forehead and allowing him to rise up on his knees. He takes the vibrator from you, quickly familiarizing himself with the controls.

"This button cycles through the patterns," he explains, demonstrating as the toy shifts from steady vibration to pulsing to waves. "And this one controls the intensity."

He presses it, the vibration becoming stronger under his thumb.

"Start low and work your way up."

He hands it back to you, then you glare at him and okay, he immediately settles back on his heels, waiting. Watching. Fucking aching to see what you do next.

You take the toy, reset it to the lowest steady vibration, and then—God help him—you bring it to your breast first. Circle your nipple with it, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

"Fuck," he breathes, the word barely audible over the hum of the vibrator.

He shifts on his knees, trying to adjust himself without being too obvious about it. His jeans have become a torture device, constricting him painfully as he watches you explore.

The vibrator trails down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He can see them form on your skin, can see the way your muscles tense in anticipation as the toy moves lower, lower—

And then it's there, pressed against your clit, and the sound you make—a soft, surprised gasp followed by a deeper moan—nearly ends him.

"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked.

You nod, eyes still closed, hips already starting to move against the vibration. "Good. Really good."

He leans forward instinctively, mouth watering at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He wants to taste you, wants to feel the vibrations against his tongue as he licks around the toy.

Wants to be part of this moment in a way that's more than just watching.

But as he moves closer, your eyes snap open, fixing him with a look that stops him cold.

You extend your leg, the one that was dangling off the table, pressing the point of your stiletto against his chest this time.

"Just watch," you command, voice breathy but firm.

He blinks, sure he's misheard. "What?"

"I said watch." You adjust the vibrator slightly, finding a better angle that makes your breath hitch, toe of your shoe pressing more firmly against his sternum. "Don't touch. Just... watch me."

Is he dreaming? Having some kind of bizarre hallucination? There's no way you're asking him to just sit here while you get yourself off right in front of him.

No fucking way.

"You're joking," he says, but the steady look in your eyes tells him you're not. "Nix, come on. You can't expect me to—"

"I can," you interrupt, increasing the vibration intensity with a press of your thumb. The change makes you gasp, hips lifting slightly off the table. "And I do."

He blinks, eyebrows tugging upwards in a cross motion. "Do you want me to bust untouched? Is that it? Because that's cruel, even for you."

A smile curves your lips, mischievous and knowing. "Maybe I just want to see if you can behave for once."

"I behave," he protests, even as his eyes remain fixed on the vibrator, on the way it glides through your wetness, on how your thighs have started to tremble already.

On those fucking shoes that, for some inexplicable reason, are making this whole situation at least ten times hotter.

"Prove it," you challenge, and fuck—he's never been able to resist a challenge from you.

Never really been able to back down when you push him like this.

So he stays where he is, on his knees, hands fisted at his sides, watching as you explore the toy, as you find what feels good, as you experiment with different patterns and pressures. Your foot still rests against his chest, not pushing him away now, just... there.

A point of contact that feels both like ambrosia and agony.

It's torture. Beautiful, exquisite torture to be this close and not touch you. To smell your arousal and not taste it. To hear your moans growing louder and know he's not the direct cause.

But it's also—strangely, unexpectedly—one of the hottest things he's ever witnessed.

Because you're not performing for him. You're genuinely discovering what you like, what makes you feel good. And there's something incredibly intimate about being allowed to witness that, about being trusted enough to see you this vulnerable, this real.

"That's it," he encourages as your movements become more focused, as you settle into a rhythm with the vibrator that has your breathing turning shallow. "Just like that. You look so fucking good, Nix."

Your eyes meet his, heavy-lidded but alert, and for a moment, he can’t help but stare back.

Then you close your eyes again, lost in the sensation as the vibrator buzzes steadily against your clit. Your free hand comes up to your breast, pinching your nipple in time with the pulsations of the toy, and he groans at the sight.

Your foot presses harder against his chest, whether intentionally or as an unconscious reaction to your growing pleasure, he doesn't know.

Doesn't care.

"Cruel," he mutters, because he needs to at least let you know. “You're fucking cruel, you know that?"

His eyes are fixed on your pussy like it's the only thing in the universe worth looking at. Maybe it is. The way you're working that vibrator against yourself, the little circular motions, the way your hips lift occasionally when you hit just the right spot—it's driving him fucking insane.

His dick is so hard it hurts at this point, and he thinks it's going to start a mutiny. He shifts his weight, trying to get some relief, but it only makes things worse. His forehead thumps against the corner of the table in frustrated surrender.

"God fucking hell," he groans, the wood cool against his skin. "Nix, I need to lick you. Please. Just—let me taste you."

You look down at him, eyes heavy-lidded but gleaming with amusement. Your stiletto traces a path down his chest, and when it reaches his stomach, you press slightly, the point digging into the muscle there.

A warning.

A tease.

He's not sure which, but it makes his cock throb painfully either way.

"What was that?" you ask, lifting the vibrator just enough that he can see how wet you are, how your pussy glistens in the low light. "I didn't quite hear you."

Fucking tease. Fucking gorgeous, evil tease.

"I said I need to lick you," he repeats, louder this time, pride completely abandoned. "Let me put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good."

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head like you're weighing your options. Meanwhile, he's about to combust from the inside out.

"I don't know," you muse, trailing the vibrator up to circle around your clit, making yourself gasp. "I'm doing pretty well on my own, don't you think?"

Your stiletto moves again, tracing along the inside of his thigh. He tenses, breath catching as it moves higher, closer to the straining bulge in his jeans.

“Phee,” he bites back a groan. "You're doing amazing. Fucking incredible. But I can make it better. You know I can."

"Hmm." You press the vibrator directly against your clit again, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before fixing back on him. "Maybe if you ask nicely."

Is this really happening? Are you really making him beg? His cock twitches at the thought, answering that question with an emphatic yes.

He swallows, throat dry.

"Please," he says, voice rough. "Please let me help."

The word lies suspended between you.

Please. Such a simple word, but one he doesn't use often—not like this, not with this much raw need behind it.

Your eyes widen slightly, like you weren't expecting him to actually do it. To actually beg. But then a slow smile spreads across your face, and you nod.

"Since you asked so nicely," you say. "Go ahead."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He surges forward, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wider as he buries his face against you.

The first swipe of his tongue makes you both moan—you from the sensation, him from finally, finally getting to taste you.

You taste amazing.

Like always.

Like something he could get addicted to if he's not careful.

"Fuck," he groans against you, the word vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "So fucking good."

He could honestly cum like this. Right now. Just from the taste of you on his tongue, from the way your thighs tense around his head, from the little gasps you make.

He knows he's got blue balls at this point. Knows his cock is probably leaking precum into his boxers, making a mess he'll have to deal with later. But he doesn't really care.

Until you kind of make him care.

"Jerk off."

He freezes, tongue mid-lick.

Did he hear that right?

Looking up at you, genuinely confused, he asks, "What?"

Your answer is a knowing smile and a slight increase in pressure as the heel traces the outline of his cock through the denim. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make him incredibly aware of how hard he is.

"I want you to get yourself off while you eat me out, Ro."

Jesus Christ.

When did you get so fucking bossy? And why is it turning him on so much?

"Yeah," he says, almost to himself, fumbling with his zipper. "Yeah, okay, absolutely I can do that."

His hands shake slightly as he undoes his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. It springs up against his stomach, hard and flushed and so sensitive that even the brush of air against it makes him hiss.

"Shit," he warns, wrapping a hand around himself, already knowing this isn't going to last long. "Just a heads up, but this might be embarrassingly short."

You laugh, the sound turning into a gasp as he dives back in. Your leg dangles over his shoulder now, heel pressing slightly against his back.

"That's okay," you manage to say between breaths. "I'm pretty close too."

Thank fuck for that. Because the moment his hand starts moving on his cock, he knows he's on borrowed time.

The vibrator hasn't stopped. That's the thing that's driving him absolutely fucking insane. You've got it pressed right against your clit, humming on its lowest setting while he licks at your lips, tasting every inch of you except the one spot you're keeping for yourself.

It's maddening.

It's genius.

It's the hottest thing he's ever experienced.

His tongue traces your entrance, dipping just slightly inside before retreating to lick broad strokes along your folds. He's taking his time despite his own desperation, despite the way his hand is working his cock at a steady, measured pace.

Because he wants this to last, wants to savor the privilege of having his face between your thighs while you take your pleasure so confidently.

"More," you breathe above him, and he's not sure if you're talking to him or yourself.

But then your fingers move, pressing a button on the vibrator, and the hum intensifies. The sound changes pitch, grows deeper, more insistent. Your hips jerk in response, a gasp falling from your lips that sends blood rushing to his already throbbing cock.

His fist tightens instinctively, pace quickening to match the vibrator's new rhythm. It's like his body is syncing with the toy, with your pleasure, his own arousal tied directly to yours.

"Fuck, Nix," he groans against you, the words muffled but still audible. "You're so fucking wet. So fuckin’ good, I swear—I swear I could do this for hours.”

“But you won’t last hours,” you tease, rolling your hips against his face. “Will you?”

He shakes his head, not even bothering to deny it. Not when his balls are already drawing up tight, not when each stroke of his hand brings him closer to the edge.

“Nngh—no,” he admits, the word punctuated by a particularly firm stroke that has his hips bucking into his fist. “Not gonna—ah—not gonna last long at all.”

Because the truth is, he’s dizzy with it—your taste, your scent, the sounds you're making above him. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, a sensory overload that makes his cock pulse in his grip, precome slicking the way as his fist moves faster, more urgently.

You shift the vibrator slightly, angling it for better contact, and your free hand finds his hair. Fingers tangle in the strands, not quite pulling but definitely directing, holding him exactly where you want him.

"Inside," you command, voice breathless but clear. "I want your tongue inside me."

He doesn't hesitate. Doesn't even think. Just obeys, tongue pushing past your entrance, delving into the wet heat of you while the vibrator continues its relentless assault on your clit.

The angle is awkward, his neck craned to accommodate both the toy and his mouth, but he doesn't care.

Can't care about anything beyond the way you clench around his tongue, the way your thighs tremble against his cheeks, the way your grip tightens in his hair.

His cock throbs in his hand, so sensitive now that each stroke sends sparks shooting up his spine, and fuck he's close—so fucking close—but he's determined to make you come first. Wants to feel you pulsing around his tongue, wants to experience every tremor of your orgasm firsthand.

Above him, your breathing has grown ragged; little gasps and moans that tell him you're getting close too.

"Don't stop," you gasp, basically riding his face at this point. "God, don't stop."

As if he would.

As if he could tear himself away from this even if the building were on fire.

Your thighs start to shake in earnest now, little tremors that grow stronger by the second. The hand in his hair clenches, your stiletto digs into his back, the pressure increasing as your body tenses, and now he just knows; knows how close you are to the edge.

It makes his strokes faster, more desperate.

“Shit,” he gasps, pulling back for air. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Don’t stop,” you command, lost in a whine. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And he feels it the moment you start to come—the way your inner walls flutter around his tongue, the sudden flood of wetness, the sharp cry that tears from your throat. His name, maybe. Or just a sound of pure pleasure. He's too far gone to tell the difference.

But it doesn't matter. What matters is that you're coming on his tongue, coming while he tastes you, while the vibrator buzzes against your clit, while his cock throbs in his hand, so close to his own release that he can feel it building at the base of his spine.

He pushes his tongue deeper, wanting to feel every pulse, every contraction of your orgasm. The vibrator keeps buzzing, prolonging the sensation, pushing you higher and higher until your hand finally yanks at his hair, pulling him back when it becomes too much.

"Fuck," you gasp, voice wrecked, vibrator still humming in your grip though you've pulled it away from your oversensitive clit. "Fuck, Ro."

The sound of his nickname—that stupid nickname you’ve given him—paired with the sight of you flushed and trembling from an orgasm he helped create, is what does it. What finally pushes him over the edge.

His release hits him then, stealing his breath as his cock pulses in his hand, spilling onto the hardwood floor in hot spurts that seem to go on forever.

He groans against your thigh, face pressed into the soft skin there as his hips jerk, chasing the last waves of pleasure.

“Ffff—shit,” he slurs as he strokes himself through the aftershocks. “Holy sssh—oh—fuck… Ahhh.”

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of breathing, harsh and uneven. The vibrator still hums softly, forgotten in your hand until you fumble for the off button, plunging them into sudden silence.

Jungkook rests his forehead against your thigh, trying to catch his breath, trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts.

His hand is sticky, his knees ache from the hardwood floor, his back tingles from the trail your heel left across it, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to look at the entryway table the same way again.

But fuck if it wasn't worth it.

He pulls back, gasping for breath, his hand still loosely gripping his spent cock. He probably looks a mess—hair wild from your hands, face shiny with your wetness, expression dazed and satisfied.

"Christ," he breathes, looking up at you with something close to awe.

"Yeah," you agree, equally breathless.

A moment passes where you just look at each other, both trying to process what just happened. Then, because he's Jungkook and he can't help himself, he grins.

"So," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his clean hand. "I guess you like the vibrator I picked, huh?"

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance there. Just a kind of fond exasperation that makes his chest feel weird and tight.

"It's alright," you say, casual as anything, like you weren't just having what looked like the most intense orgasm of your life. "Could've been better."

He laughs, full and genuine. "Liar."

Your lips twitch, fighting a smile. "Maybe."

He sits back on his heels, suddenly aware of the mess he's made on the floor. "We should, uh, probably clean up before Yoongi gets home."

You nod, both legs dangling off the table. “Wouldn’t want to scandalize him.”

"He's seen worse," Jungkook says without thinking, then flinches. "I mean—not with me. Just, you know, in general. Living with roommates and all."

You give him a look that's equal parts amusement and skepticism. "Right."

Awkward silence falls as the reality of what just happened settles in, because this? Yeah, it was sex. But this time you took control, you made him beg, you saw him at his most desperate and needy.

And he... liked it. More than he probably should have.

"So," he says, tucking himself back into his jeans with as much dignity as possible. "That was fun."

You snort. "Such a way with words, Ro."

"What can I say? I'm a poet."

He gathers the dress from the floor and gives it to you. You throw the dress at his head, but you're laughing, and he thinks—not for the first time—that he likes that sound. Likes being the cause of it.

He doesn’t analyze it further than needs to be.

He catches the dress, handing it back to you with exaggerated chivalry. "Your garment, m'lady."

"You're an idiot," you say, but there's no bite to it. Just that weird, fond tone that makes his stomach do strange things.

Fully on both legs now, he places both his arms between your spread thighs, his face hovering close to yours, tilting to the side.

"Yeah," he agrees, because sometimes the simplest truth is the easiest to admit. "But I'm an idiot who makes you cum really fucking hard, so..."

And there it is—that flash in your eyes, that hint of heat that never seems to fully dissipate between you two.

"Don't get cocky," you warn.

Too late, he thinks. Way too late for that.

He stands there with the taste of you still on his lips and he can't help but feel satisfied.

Good.

“Does this mean we’re not fighting anymore?”

You laugh, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet room. “I guess not.”

“Good. Because that was a fucking stupid fight anyway.”

“It was,” you agree. “But the makeup sex was worth it.”

“Always is with us.”

And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? No matter how much you argue, no matter how much you drive each other crazy, this thing between you—this chemistry, this connection—always brings you back together.

No strings attached, just pure, perfect understanding of what the other needs.

It’s not love. It’s not even like, most days. But it’s something.

Something that works for both of you.

And then, Jungkook feels your forehead press against his shoulder, which catches him off guard. Not because it’s heavy or anything—it’s not—but because it’s you.

You, who usually keeps your distance unless you're actively trying to rile him up. You, who just made him beg on his knees like some desperate idiot a few minutes ago.

And now you’re here, leaning into him like this is normal. Like this is fine.

It’s... nice. He hates that it’s nice.

His lips twitch upward despite himself, a soft smile breaking through the lingering haze of post-orgasmic bliss. His hand moves before he can think better of it, sliding up your back in a slow, deliberate stroke. His palm presses lightly between your shoulder blades, fingers splaying out as he rubs soothing circles into your skin.

Your back is warm under his touch—soft in places, firm in others—and he thinks about how strange it is that he knows what you feel like now. Not just your skin but the way you move under his hands, the way your muscles tense and relax depending on what he’s doing to you.

It’s intimate in a way that makes something uncomfortable stir in his chest if he lingers on it too long.

So he doesn’t linger.

“Cleanup?” he asks, voice low and rough from everything that just happened.

You grunt. Not a word, not even a real sound—just a grunt. Like the idea of moving is physically painful to you right now.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through both of you.

“Alright,” he says, hand still on your back as if that’s going to keep you from sliding off the table and face-planting onto the floor. “Let me get some wipes.”

Another grunt. This one sounds more annoyed than tired, but he can’t tell for sure because your face is still buried against his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me…” He pauses for dramatic effect because he knows how much you hate when he does that. “You’re a cuddlebug?”

That gets a reaction. Your head snaps up so fast he almost flinches, and then you’re shoving at his chest with both hands like you’re trying to push him off the planet.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it. Your hands stay on his chest for a second longer than necessary before falling back to your sides.

He snorts, stepping back and giving you space because even though he likes teasing you (maybe too much), he knows when to quit.

Most of the time, anyway.

“Stay there,” he says over his shoulder as he heads toward his room. “Don’t move.”

You don’t respond this time—not even a grunt—but when he glances back, you’re still perched on the edge of the table looking thoroughly unimpressed with life.

Very you, indeed.

Then he's stepping into his bedroom, and of course, it is dark when he steps inside, the only light coming from the hallway spilling in behind him.

He grabs the container of wet wipes from his nightstand (don’t ask why they’re there; that’s none of anyone’s business) and heads back out before his brain can start overthinking anything.

When he returns to the entryway, you haven’t moved an inch. You’re still sitting there with both legs dangling off the table.

And for a moment, he can’t help but think the sight is oddly cute.

“Alright,” he says again as if this is some kind of official business meeting instead of… whatever this is. “Let’s get this over with.”

He crouches down first, wiping at the floor where his cum has left an embarrassing mess that Yoongi would absolutely kill him for if he saw it later. The hardwood glistens faintly under the light as he scrubs at it with more force than necessary—partly because it needs to be cleaned properly and partly because maybe if he focuses hard enough on this task, he won’t think about how close your legs are or how good you smelled earlier or how fucking soft your skin felt under his hands.

When he's done with that part (and only when he's sure it's spotless), he straightens up and turns toward you.

Your eyes are on him—soft but unreadable—and it makes something twist in his stomach that has nothing to do with hunger or exhaustion or anything else logical.

“What?” he asks because apparently silence makes him nervous now.

You shake your head slightly, lips curving into something that might be a smile if it weren’t so small and fleeting.

“Nothing.”

He doesn’t believe you—not for a second—but decides not to push it because pushing things with you in this state never ends well for him.

Instead, he steps closer until he's standing between your legs again and tilts his head toward yours like he's trying to figure out what you're thinking without actually asking outright.

"Hold still," he murmurs after a beat of hesitation that's barely noticeable but feels significant anyway.

The wipe is cool against your skin as he starts cleaning you up—gentle but thorough in a way that surprises even himself. Your eyes stay on him the whole time—watchful but not wary—and it makes him feel weirdly self-conscious even though there’s no reason for it.

When he's finished (and only when he's sure you're clean), he tosses the used wipe into the trash can by the door without looking away from you entirely.

"Sleep?" he asks after another moment of silence stretches between you like an elastic band ready to snap at any second now if someone doesn’t say something soon enough.

“Yeah.” You murmur. “Your bed.”

Jungkook blinks at you like he’s not sure he heard right.

Not because it’s weird—okay, maybe it’s a little weird—but because you said it so casually. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world to ask to sleep in his bed after everything that just happened.

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He’s not used to this part—the after part. Usually, there isn’t an after part. It’s just sex, then goodbye, then see you whenever.

But this? This feels different in a way he can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes his brain stutter for a second before he finally manages to respond.

“Uh… yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sure.”

You don’t say anything else, just lift your arms slightly like you’re expecting him to do something.

He stares at you for a moment, confused, until it clicks.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, rolling his eyes but already stepping closer. “You’re not serious.”

You just raise an eyebrow at him, and yep—you’re serious.

“Lazy ass,” he grumbles under his breath as he bends down to scoop you up.

Your arms loop around his neck automatically, and your legs wrap around his waist like this is something you do all the time instead of… well, never. He tries not to think about how natural it feels or how warm you are against him or how your breath brushes against his collarbone when you settle into his hold.

It’s fine. Totally fine. This is just… practical.

Yeah.

Practical.

He carries you with ease because let’s be real—he could probably bench press you if he wanted to—and nudges his bedroom door open with his foot.

“Alright,” he says as he approaches the bed and leans forward slightly to deposit you onto the mattress. “Here we go.”

But instead of letting go like a normal person, you cling tighter for half a second before finally releasing him with a grunt that sounds suspiciously like reluctance. He doesn’t comment on it because honestly? He doesn’t trust himself not to make it weird if he does.

You flop onto your back with all the grace of a drunk cat and immediately start wiggling around like you’re trying to make yourself comfortable in record time. Jungkook just stands there for a moment, watching you with an expression he doesn't even know how to describe.

“You good?” he asks once you’ve finally stopped moving and are lying still with your eyes closed like this is your bed and not his.

“Mmhm,” you hum without opening your eyes.

He shakes his head but doesn’t bother arguing because what’s the point?

Then he’s going to lay down too, but you sprawl onto his bed like you’re claiming it for yourself, arms and legs stretched out in every direction like some kind of human starfish.

Jungkook snorts, standing at the side of the bed with his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent.��

“Move,” he says, nudging at your foot with his knee. “I want to sleep too.”

You crack one eye open, squinting at him.

“Then sleep,” you mumble, voice muffled by the pillow your face is half-buried in.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, gesturing dramatically at your starfish pose. “Not unless you move your limbs out of my personal space.”

You grunt something unintelligible but make no effort to move.

He sighs—long and exaggerated—before climbing onto the bed anyway, shoving at your leg until you reluctantly curl up enough to give him room.

He flops down beside you with all the grace of someone who’s been awake for far too long and immediately starts adjusting himself into what he considers optimal sleeping position.

Except there’s one problem: his arm.

It’s stuck under him, bent awkwardly against his side instead of stretched out under the pillow where it belongs. He tries shifting around to fix it but quickly realizes there’s no way to do that without encroaching on your territory.

“Hey,” he says, nudging at your side with his foot now.

“What?” you snap, voice sharp despite how tired you sound.

“Let me extend my arm under the pillow.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” you repeat stubbornly, turning your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “Figure it out without bothering me.”

He stares at you for a second like he can’t believe what he’s hearing before deciding that negotiation is clearly not going to work here.

So instead, he does what any reasonable person would do in this situation: he forcefully shoves his arm under your neck like it belongs there.

You jerk upright immediately, twisting around to face him with wide eyes and an expression that screams 'what the actual fuck'.

“Bro,” you say, voice incredulous as you try—and fail—to push his arm away. “Get off me.”

“Bro,” he says simply, already settling back down like this is perfectly normal behavior between roommates who occasionally hook up but definitely aren’t friends yet (or whatever this is). “You’re in my bed. Shut up and act like a plushie or something.”

“A plushie?” You sound so offended that he almost laughs but manages to hold it back because laughing right now would probably get him kicked out of his own bed.

“Yes,” he says firmly, pulling the blanket over both of you with one hand while keeping his other arm firmly in place under your neck. “A plushie.”

You open your mouth to argue—because of course you do—but he shuts it down with a loud, drawn-out “SSSSHHHHH” that’s so over-the-top, so him, it stops you cold.

“Sleep,” he adds a second later, voice low, eyes already shut like the matter’s settled and he’s the authority on bedtime now.

The room stills. One of those dumb, drawn-out silences where neither of you wants to move first. Like shifting even an inch might make it real. Might make it weird.

But then you sigh. Loud. Dramatic. Flopping back down beside him like you’ve just made the ultimate sacrifice.

“Fine,” you mutter, sharp as ever, head hitting the pillow with a thud. “But if I wake up with a crick in my neck because of this stupid arm thing—”

“You won’t,” he says, already drifting, smug and certain and way too casual for someone who just turned a routine argument into a full-body tangle.

You mumble something under your breath—probably rude, definitely deserved—and go quiet.

And for a second, he just lies there. Listening to your breathing even out. Feeling the slight pull of your body next to his.

The ridiculousness of the situation should hit harder than it does.

But it doesn’t.

It actually feels…weirdly good.

Not in the usual way. Not in the easiest way.

Just—solid. Like he hasn’t fucked it up yet.

Which is a surprise, considering he really thought he had.

After Tuesday.

After the whole Jason thing—the fight that was never really about Jason. The way the guy had looked like every goddamn red flag Jungkook had ever ignored. Too neat, too careful, too condescending behind a smile that felt fake even from a hallway away.

He’d projected. Hard. Got scared on your behalf. Angry in that twitchy, irrational way he hates. Like he couldn’t stand the thought of you falling into something he knew could break you.

But that wasn’t fair. Wasn’t his choice. You’re not fragile. You’re you. You can make your own calls without his fears bleeding into them.

And he should know better by now. Should’ve remembered that you’ve survived things he doesn’t even ask about.

Instead, he snapped. Like he always does when things get too close. Like he’s got some built-in timer that detonates as soon as someone sees more than they’re supposed to.

So yeah. He’d assumed it was done. That he’d pushed too hard, too fast—again.

That whatever fragile thing had been building between you would crack right down the middle, just like every other almost-connection he’s tried to hold onto.

But then… you’d talked. Actually talked.

And—somehow—you’d listened.

Not just tolerated him. Heard him.

And tonight, he thinks—for the first time in a long, long time—he feels…comfortable. With a woman. With you.

And yeah, okay—he kind of likes that.

It’s not some life-changing moment. Not some movie scene epiphany.

Just this quiet flicker of maybe. Of could be.

Maybe he can have this. A woman beside him. No pressure. No angle. No romantic feelings. No attachments, no entanglements. Not drama, not hurt.

Just a dumb, chaotic almost-friendship built on late-night arguments and questionable sleep arrangements.

And fuck—he’s kind of proud of that.

So he lets his eyes fall shut. Lets the warmth settle. Lets the thought linger.

Not friendship. Not yet.

But maybe.

goal: 500 notes, but the wattpad goal has to be reached too

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azsazz · 5 months ago

Text

Infest

Stalker!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel really really likes you.

Warnings: Stalking.

Word Count: 2864

Notes: Going to try my hand at something a little darker. No plans for what's going to happen next, so it might be a hot minute before the next part. 🖤

Also high-key for my Ghost girlies 🤭

_________________________________________

Thursday, October 31st

The city streets are crowded for the holiday, and Azriel’s there, too.

He must choose his target carefully, but he’s had one picked out since the first time he saw her strolling down the rainy streets one evening, all alone with no protection, head buried in her phone.

And that target is you.

He keeps his head dipped low as not to call attention to himself. The dark hood of his sweatshirt curls over his head, concealing his features. All attempts at blending in are futile, because he isn’t dressed as a cinematic axe murderer or a gimmicky super hero. He’s clothed as he always is; black hoodie and matching jeans, paired with thick-soled, military grade boots.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, because you haven’t noticed him in the forty-three days, sixteen hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-one…twenty-two seconds that he’s been following you.

Azriel can recount how you live your days by heart. He doesn’t need to, because you haven’t left his line of sight since he’d set his focus on you. At five-thirty, you wake up. In the gym at the top floor of your apartment complex by six. You run on the treadmill Mondays and Fridays, attempt the Stairmaster on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with sporadic weight-lifting in between. It hurts to watch, and there have been a handful of times Azriel has wanted to give up his position, make himself known in your life, and show you proper form in and outside of the gym. Wednesday is your rest day. After that it’s back to your apartment to get ready for your day. Protein shake, shower, blow-dry your hair, followed by breakfast, dressing in whatever you wear to your office, though he thinks he might even have your outfits memorized because there are only so many options in your tiny closet.

Tonight, you’re dressed as a scantily clad little red riding hood, which only makes him feel even more like the big, bad wolf that he is. He has much too patience, too much time, and has too much interest invested in you.

It’s dark, which is his home. He’s always sought comfort in the black of night, has had to with the household her grew up in, where he was often locked in the closet for bad behavior that was in no way his own doing. He would stay in there for so long his parents forgot, that time lost all meaning. Inside of that closet, he learned that he could fear the dark or thrive in it, and Azriel chose the latter.

Azriel slides off of the bus stop bench, trailing you and your friend. His eyes are sharp, calculating as he drinks in the surroundings. He is always on alert, even though the streets are filled with joyous laughter and squealing children that make the constant ringing in his ears sound like symbols clashing, reverberating his eardrums in the most annoying sense.

He shakes his head clear and refocuses on his target.

You’re with a friend. Morrigan. She’s the one that always has you rolling your eyes when you take her phone calls. Azriel knows this because he screens them. He doesn’t like her one bit, thinks that there are better options in your friend group that you should hang out with more, like Feyre or Tarquin. If Azriel really thought that he could pull it off, Mor would be gone from your life for good.

Okay, he knows that he can pull something exactly like that off. He didn’t train for a decade as a Night Stalker in the Army to not know how to murder quickly and quietly. Years of training has turned Azriel into a nocturnal animal. Always watching, always waiting for the right moment to strike.

You stumble over the curb when you cross the street and Azriel’s fists tighten in his pockets. You’re not paying any attention to your surroundings. There could people out here who want to bring harm upon you, and you’re too unaware, much too focused on the story Mor is telling you, her voice so loud that Azriel can hear her nasally pitch over the crowd of teens he shoves his way through.

“Hey!” A girl in a skeleton shirt snaps. Azriel deigns her a microsecond of a look. Cheap skeleton mask pushed up into her hair. Black circles painted around her eyes. Much too old to be trick-or-treating. “Watch it!”

Azriel’s only response is to snatch the mask off of her head and keep walking.

The teen calls out after him, outraged, but her friends circle in on her, making sure that she doesn’t start something that they can’t finish. She’s shouting something about getting him on video and that she’s calling her father, who she claims is the chief of police in this corrupt city.

She really shouldn’t be flaunting that information.

He doesn’t have to look up at you to know where you and Mor are headed, but he does because he’s meticulous in his work, and a simple double-triple-even quadruple check is not out of the ordinary for him.

Azriel hates and loves the platform red heels you’re wearing. Hates them because you’ve tripped once already, and they’re not good for running should you run into trouble. That is, trouble that isn’t him, because when he comes for you, there will be no getting away.

He loves them because they look incredibly sexy on you, make your legs look miles tall, and he wants them hooked around his shoulders while he devours you.

Your heels are tall. You look like a fawn standing for the first time. Azriel could blame it on the two drinks and three shots you had at your apartment prior to moseying throughout the city to find a club that doesn’t have a line around the corner to party in for the night, but he’s seen you trip over less. Clumsy would be your middle name if he didn’t already know what it is.

The dress you’re wearing isn’t even a dress at all. The hem hits you just below your crotch, and he knows you’re not wearing any shorts beneath it because he’s caught sight of the little red bow on the waistband of your panties already. His jaw flexes where it’s locked together as the breeze lifts the cheap fabric.

You laugh, brushing down your skirts. He’s caught two father’s drinking you in like bloodhounds. There are women who stare, also, and more than a handful of teenagers. Azriel has to shove the violent thoughts from his mind. He should have made his move weeks ago, because you would never leave the house in something like this if he had anything to say about it.

The bodice of your top—if it can be considered a top at all—is tight, accentuating your curves and pushing your breasts to your chin. It’s raunchy. It’s seductive. You look like an escort, one who is paid top dollar for the services you’d offer.

The crimson cape you’re wearing is the most modest piece of clothing you have on. It’s pulled over your curled hair, blocking your peripherals. If he were to stalk closer to you, you’d never see him coming. Not that you would anyway, not until he’s ready for you to see him.

His cock twitches in his pants, and he rips his gaze from your legs, traveling upward until all he’s looking at is your matching red cloak that currently conceals the rest of your body from how you’ve wrapped it around yourself in a makeshift coat. It’s brisk this time in October, and Azriel would happily give you the clothes off his back if you’re cold, or to cover you up.

Azriel examines the mask he tore from the teens head. It’s a skull poorly sewn to a balaclava, and it makes him think of previous recon missions he’s been on where he’s had to wear a mask of his own. It trudges up a feeling in his gut like he’s been stabbed with a hot knife again, but he shoves it over his head anyway, and readjusts his hood.

You and Mor come to a stop at the crosswalk. There’s a group of people waiting at the light, so Azriel slips closer. He’s not worried about you seeing him. If you did, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because you have no idea who he is, that he knows you, has been following you. You are blissfully unaware, and that gives Azriel an uneasy edge.

You smell sweet, like candy and cherries. It’s his favorite of your perfumes. Intoxicating, delicious. He wants to crane down and press his nose into the crook of your neck, lick it off of you until you’re a whimpering mess with your hands buried deep in his hair and your back arched against him, begging him for more.

Mor’s voice pulls him back into the present. She talks about a man that she had a one-night stand with and is rating him on how well he pleasured her in bed. Not well, it sounds like, and Azriel knows that he’d had no trouble working you to orgasm because of the good girl you’d be for him.

Soon.

“And when do you suppose you’re getting laid again?” Morrigan scoffs when you tease her about her horribly lay. The walk sign lights up and the two of you begin to cross the street. Mor crosses her arms over her chest, and all the action does is push her breasts higher into the sky. A man Azriel passes curses low under his breath, eyes glued to her chest. Azriel checks him with his shoulder as he passes, causing the man to grunt and spit that same curse at him, this time sounding irritated instead of like a man cursed to have the beauty of a young woman flaunted in his face.

Azriel keeps walking, lengthening his strides as you turn a corner, nearly at the bar.

You sigh, long and lonely. It makes Azriel’s cock jump as he imagines you making that noise when he pulls his cock from your mouth only to allow you to swallow down a desperate breath before he’s shoving himself back down your throat. He’s heard you make that noise aplenty: while you’re dreaming sinful dreams and he’s standing in the darkness of your room, watching you.

He imagines the noises you might make with his fingers in your cunt or bouncing on his cock. With a plug nestled in that tight little ass and your hands tied to the headboard. With clamps around your nipples and his face buried between your legs. Moan, maybe, beg, scream, cry, thrash, writhe, plead beneath his touch.

The number of things he’d like to do to you is endless. He’s had over forty-three days to think about exactly what he’s going to do to you.

“I don’t know,” you respond. Azriel knows. “Whenever I find the right one, I guess.”

Mor laughs, and Azriel doesn’t fail to notice the way that your shoulders stiffen at the shrill sound. Another strike against the blonde. “See, that’s your problem! You’re all ‘I need to find the right man,’ but you’re never actually testing them out! It’s not like the man of your dreams is going to drop out of the sky—” Azriel could. He’s trained in that. “And sweep you off your feet. You have to try!”

The streets are busier in the heart of town. The demographic has changed from toddlers and children dressed in silly costumes to adults dressed in even less. The bars that line the street are all packed to the brim, and Azriel’s never been a fan of places with this many people, but he’s used to confined spaces, and being pressed up against a wall in a dark bar while watching you let loose for once won’t be the worst night of his life by far.

He knows which bar you’re going to. Rita’s, the dirtiest, diviest bar on the block. It’s been a staple in Velaris for years, and only the locals, but they play the best music. You and your friends have been going here since before it was legal. You hope that they’re here because Feyre mentioned she and Rhys were in the Uber, but you know that they tend to get sidetracked in each other more often than not.

Maybe Cassian or Tarquin will be there.

“I try!” you defend, but it weak. You hate being on dating apps, and the conversations with the guys that you do match with are drier than the Sahara. And within days they always unmatch you. “It’s not my fault that I’m looking for more interesting conversation than a ‘hey, how was your day,’ or ‘sorry I didn’t respond, I fell asleep.’” You’re not boring, you refuse to believe that you’re the problem in these situations. These men can be so boring sometimes, and your life is already mundane enough, you don’t need entertain a man who is going to pussy out on you before the first date or only wants you to put out.

You and Mor get into the short line. Attor is working the door tonight. He’s a. large, brooding security guard that’s been working for Rita’s forever. He’s known you and Mor since the first night you came here, when you were juniors in high school and Cassian convinced you all to come here after the team won the homecoming game. He’s allowed you in all these years, but never lets you cut the line.

Mor leans against the brick wall of the building, shooting you an offended look. You make a face because you’ve seen more people out here crouched and puking their guts up against these very walls. You’ve seen people fondling each other against it, too, and you’re fifty percent sure that Cassian slept propped up against it one night when he got a little too drunk to coordinate a ride home.

“You just have to get past that part,” she says, and you bite your lip to refrain from mentioning that none of the guys that she’s met online have stuck around. Maybe you should be thankful for that, because she’s the only other single girl in your friend group. It can’t just be you and Cassian as the single ones, because that would ruin your chances even further.

Azriel doesn’t follow you into the line. He notices the smoking area is a waist-high gate and wants to laugh at the security of this place. He bums a cigarette off of a guy who keeps eyeing him, and while the guard at the front door converses shortly with you and Mor, he lifts a leg and hooks it over the fence, easily making his way into the bar.

He slides through the plethora of people, quickly and with the stealth of a lethal predator. He’s been here before on multiple accounts, thanks to you, so he’s familiar with the terrain and knows that you and Mor are headed straight for the bar to order drinks before scoping out the place for your friends.

It’s muggy, musty. The air smells like body odor and alcohol. Everything’s made of wood: the bar, the floors, the walls. There’s a tiny disco ball over a stick floor where the tables have been pushed aside for a makeshift dancefloor that no one uses until two hours before closing when there’s more booze than blood in their veins.

Azriel slides in next to you at the bar, but keeps his back turned away from you. It’s not time yet, but he loves the warmth of your body beside his. Goosebumps break out across his skin when you accidentally brush up against him.

He tilts his head, listening.

“Well…there might be this one guy,” you trail off, and Azriel’s fingers curl into fists.

He doesn’t like the man you’re bringing up one bit. Has dug well into his life, and even if he hadn’t, Azriel would have been able to tell upon first glance that this man is not going to give you the relationship nor the orgasms you deserve.

“Bitch! Tell me now!” Mor shouts, and Azriel can picture the grin curving her red lips. When you open your mouth to speak, your friend quickly cuts you off. “Wait, wait, wait! We need drinks first.” She waves over Rita herself, the older woman greeting the both of you with warm smiles. She waves in your direction, beginning to make your drinks without even asking.

“You know, the world doesn’t revolve around relationships and how many people you’ve slept with,” you huff, and Azriel agrees. It’s not his world, because in his head, his world revolves around you and only you, but he’d support anything that came out of your mouth, especially if it’s in regards to the other men in your life.

“Okay,” Mor snorts again. The both of you thank Rita for your drinks and head away from the bar, thankfully saving Azriel from having to hear about this new conquest that isn’t even a conquest at all if he has anything to do about it.

#azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel/reader #stalker!azriel #dark romance!azriel #azriel fanfiction #modern!azriel au

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bulgik · 3 days ago

Text

🫧 Manon Bannerman 𓄹⠀𓈒 ㅤׄ fri(end)s

𓈒 ゛⠀⎯⎯⠀Now i’m overpretending, so let’s put the end in friends.

Yn put the ‘end’ to their friendship, and Manon never understood why. That is, until tonight at the party, when they find themselves trapped in a bathroom together and have no choice but to lay bare the reasons behind their fallout.

Or: five times Yn gave Manon a reason to walk away, and one time she stayed anyway.

�𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𓈒𓈒𓈒 Manon Bannerman ⋆ 𝑓𝑒𝑚 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ・ 𝑤𝑐. 5.k ・ 𝑔. fluff. hurt/comfort —Friends to Enemies to lovers.

“Stop staring at me like that, your eyeballs are about to pop out.”

Manon snarled at the words.

“This is all your fault.” Her eyes bore into the girl sitting across from her, unfazed, as if she couldn’t care less about being trapped here.

Yn. The school’s volleyball team’s ace. School’s favorite girl. Manon’s least.

You might ask why, and Manon already had a list of five very solid reasons that had been burned into her mind over the years.

It started when they were younger, when they were friends. Yes, they were friends, as much as Manon hated to admit. Yn wasn’t always the asshole she was now.

“You have holes in your cheeks.”

Those were the first ever words Manon had said to Yn. The little girl puzzledly stared at her, looking half-scared, like Manon was some candy thief.

“Sorry?”

“When you smile.”

“Oh…” The ‘cheek holes’ resurfaced. “They’re called dimples. And they’re not holes…”

“Whatever. My mom told me I should ask you to play.”

“Okay…”

“What’s your name?”

“Yn.”

“Manon Bannerman.” She gestured at herself. “How old are you?”

“Five.”

“Nice, I won. I’m six. Now you call me Manz.”

They were next-door neighbors, and Manon was Yn’s first ever friend, since she was a newcomer at the time. Manon would describe young Yn as a snotty, chubby, yet adorable kid (she was lucky for having those dimples). Looking back, Yn should be grateful—Manon had helped her shape her social skills, dragging her around the neighborhood and introducing her to other kids.

Manon was the only one she had. Every day, they’d go to school together and walk home side by side. Yn refused to be separated from her even for Tuesday afternoons during her dance class.

“Manz, can I come to the studio with you?” Yn had asked her one time, eyes glistening with tears, just a snot away from crying.

Manon sighed. “No, you can’t.”

“But, why…?”

“Because you can’t dance too when I already do,” Manon huffed. “We can’t keep matching all the time. You’re gonna make their teasing worse.”

Their parents and friends would occasionally tease them as if they were items that came in pairs. A couple. It made Manon uncomfortable—or at least she was worried Yn was feeling uncomfortable. Yn was just her friend. People shouldn’t twist it into something else.

Yn pouted, adorably, almost like a puppy. “Then what do I do?”

“I don’t know… but stop whining like a baby.”

Simply put, they used to be inseparable.

Until one afternoon, when Manon came home from her dance lesson, hoping to find Yn waiting to play.

Only to see her playing volleyball—maybe the first time she ever played that sport—with the older girls in their neighborhood.

Yn, of all people, should’ve known that Manon hated to be left out. Sure, she could’ve joined in and played that stupid ball. Manon saw Haikyu!! once—she knew a bit about volleyball, like decoys, Hinata, and that being tall didn’t necessarily give an advantage in this sport.

She really knew nothing about it at all.

She had no option but to stare cluelessly as Yn played with the others. It wasn’t that she was bored. But when Yn was immersed in an activity, she wouldn’t notice anything else around her. And by anything, she meant Manon, herself.

At least Yn looked like she was having fun. But Manon couldn’t ignore the building anxiety gnawing in her gut at the sight—like she’d been replaced.

First reason Yn had ignored Manon all afternoon, replacing her with a group of Haikyu-wannabe girls.

“But, Manz, you said it yourself—I can’t join your dance class,” Yn explained as they walked to class the next day. “And those girls were so nice… They even taught me how to play.”

“I don’t care, Yn, you still ditched me,” Manon scowled.

The other girl grimaced. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Manz. It was just really fun. I can’t stop. You should join us next time.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather—”

Her words trailed off as her eyes caught on someone waiting outside their classroom. A man, young-looking, dressed in a long black sweater that made him look almost ethereal.

“Who’s that?” she asked, half-wowed.

Later, they found out he was Mr. Cho—their temporary art teacher. And possibly, Manon’s first ever crush.

Mr. Cho was warm and full of life. He always threw jokes that made every lesson feel alive, and to top it off, he was a dancer—just like Manon. With his long, silky hair and gentle demeanor, he looked like a prince straight out of the storybooks she used to read.

Naturally, Manon confided in Yn about her silly crush, making her sit through endless rambling about what went down with Mr. Cho each day.

“…and then he showed me his dance. It looked so pretty, Yn. He looked so pretty.”

Yn, barely glancing away from the volleyball match playing on the TV, huffed. “I’m still prettier than him.”

Manon sighed. “You’re a girl, Yn. You can’t be prettier.”

There was silence after that. She figured Yn was done entertaining her jabs. But then, she heard a quiet mumble—barely audible.

“You are.”

Manon froze. Unsure what to say—or whether she should say anything at all.

So she just brushed it off.

She never gave too much thought to the moment and eventually let it slip from her mind. But as time went on, she began to notice something strange. Every time she brought up Mr. Cho, Yn acted… off. Uninterested. Irritated, even.

It left Manon wondering—was Yn also crushing on Mr. Cho?

The suspicion only grew stronger when Mr. Cho asked her to perform a routine with him. She’d been thrilled—it would be her first time performing publicly, and she wanted everyone to see.

Yn was, of course, invited automatically.

“You have to come,” Manon had told her. “I won’t forgive you if you miss it.”

Yn promised she would.

But when the night came, she never showed up.

Second reason Yn, Manon’s best friend at the time, broke her promise and missed one of the most important nights of her life.

Yn had apologized, of course. And Manon eventually relented and forgave her after finding out she had a volleyball team trial that same evening. But Yn never really clarified whether she forgot to tell Manon about it—or chose not to mention it at all.

And judging by the way she’d been acting strange lately, it felt more like it had been on purpose.

“Do you think it’s weird when a girl kisses another girl?” Yn had asked one day.

Manon didn’t answer immediately, caught off guard by how sudden the question was. What a weird thing to bring up.

“Why do you ask?”

Her friend reacted like she’d been caught doing something illegal. “Uh… I don’t know—I just overheard some girls talking about it.”

Truthfully, Manon never really thought about it. For starters, she’d never seen one. She’d only ever seen her parents kiss. Or the people on TV. So she settled on the closest comparison her brain could come up with.

“Imagine us kissing, Yn. Would it be weird to you?”

Manon hadn’t meant anything serious by the question. She wasn’t even sure of her own opinion.

There was silence. Like Yn was really thinking about it. It got suspicious, and Manon turned her head just in time to catch her expression before she quickly responded.

“Yeah… yeah I guess it’d be weird.”

They never talked about it again. The young and shortsighted Manon—who easily forgot strange little things—never questioned how odd the conversation had actually been.

That is, until the accident happened.

They were in Manon’s bedroom, hanging out like usual.

“You won’t believe what happened today, Yn.” Manon flopped down onto her bed next to her, a huge grin on her face. “Mr. Cho kissed my head after I fell down the stairs and hit it.” She pointed to the crown of her head. “Right here!”

“It’s not that special, Manz.” Yn gave her usual flat response. Unimpressed. “I could do better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Manon rolled to her side, facing her. “You think you can do better? What, like kiss me on the lips?”

Yn instantly sat up, ears turning red. “That’s not what I—”

“What’s stopping you then, huh? Do it. Kiss me on the lips.”

“Manz, stop it!” Yn shook Manon’s shoulder relentlessly.

But Manon only laughed and quickly looped her arms around Yn’s neck, locking her close. Their faces now barely an inch apart.

“Are you gonna kiss me now?” Manon teased. “What’s wrong? Afraid? Come on, Ynie. You said you could do better. Prove it—”

And before Manon could finish, Yn leaned in and kissed her.

She froze, stayed still. Yn’s lips were soft and fleeting. By the time Manon could process what had happened, Yn had already pulled back, face pale and horrified.

“Oh my god, Manz, I’m so sorry, Manz. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

Manon blinked at her, mind spinning and heart pounding. What just happened?

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she finally said, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it.

It was as if her mind or maybe her heart was deciding whether they liked it or not.

“it’s not okay! I wasn’t thinking—I don’t know what I did—”

“It’s fine, Ynie, I—”

“It was a mistake!” Yn cut her off. “I’m sorry, Manon. It was an accident.”

That word—mistake—tugged at something inside of her. A tiny little pull in her chest. But she ignored it, assuming it was just some glitch in her heart.

“Okay.” Manon whispered, brain numb. “Let’s just not talk about this ever again then.”

Yn had agreed.

But nothing was ever the same after that.

Third reason. Yn stole her first kiss and said it was a mistake.

Time passed by and now they were in high school. Yn had grown fond of the sport, she joined the school’s volleyball team. “Volleyball gives me the distraction that I need, Manz.” Yn had said to Manon, though she never knew—or asked what distraction. She just knew Yn was living her best life.

Unfortunately for Manon, it was the opposite. She spent less and less time with the younger.

Yn’s little hobby sacrificed their little routines. Going home from school together was no longer an option since volleyball practice took over Yn’s afternoon. And then, when she was home, Manon waited on her home, the younger said she was too tired to play or even just for a little chat.

Manon could only say a pathetic, “I see… rest well then, Ynie.”

Only Mr. Choi noticed how she’d to hold back her tears that night.

Manon missed her best friend.

They barely even greet each other in the hallway anymore. Let alone, lunch. Yn would spend it with her teammates and new friends Manon didn’t even know about. Manon couldn’t help but feel Yn slowly pulling away from her.

Were they even still friends?

But thankfully, summer break came and Manon hoped it would make up for the time they missed. She'd been looking forward to their annual sleepover marathon. Maybe, Yn would tell her recent volleyball progress for Manon to catch up.

But then Yn dropped the bomb.

“I have a volleyball camp out of town, manz,” she had said, voice tinged with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Manon had tried to play it cool. “Oh. When are you leaving?”

“…Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?!”

“I thought I mentioned it before…”

“You didn’t!” Manon wanted to be mad, but she settled for an eye roll instead. “Fine. But you better text me. And call. No excuses.”

Yn gave her dimpled smile. “Of course, I will.”

And for the first two days, she did. Yn texted about how intimidating other kids’ skills were, how strict the coach was, they even had a late-night call once.

On the third day, Yn replied later than usual. And it gradually happened until she stopped replying to Manon’s text, let alone calling.

She told herself that Yn was just busy. Training must be tough. Maybe she was too tired to text. Maybe her phone died. Maybe—

But then Yn posted on her social media.

It contradicted all of her speculations about what might have happened. That was the moment when Manon realized.

Yn wasn’t busy. She'd simply ignored her.

Ghosted her.

And that was the fourth reason.

If Manon wasn’t an overthinker, she could just comment or DM Yn, like "hey, are you mad at me? do you purposely ignore my texts?"

But the more she mulled it over, she didn’t want to look pathetic, it was starting to feel one sided—like she was desperately trying to reach Yn. Manon just wanted to stop… reaching, and see if Yn would come back on her own.

A day before school started, Manon noticed Yn’s room glowing with vibrant lights from her window.

Weird. She didn’t even know Yn was back from camp.

Wasting no time, she went straight to the next door, knocking on the door out of habit.

Mrs. Laforteza’s face appeared from behind. “Ah, Manon, to what do I owe the pleasure today?”

“Hi, Mrs. Laforteza. Is Yn home yet?”

“Yes, since yesterday, sweetie. Didn’t she tell you?”

Manon weakly shook her head. A dull ache settled in her chest—disappointment, maybe. Or something else. A strange, creeping anxiety at the distance Yn had put between them.

“Oh… she must have just forgotten or was too tired,” Mrs. Laforteza tried to reassure. “Go on up, you know the way.”

An uneasy feeling settled in Manon’s stomach as she climbed the familiar stairs, making her anxious.

Then, just as she reached Yn’s door, she heard it—laughter. Not just Yn’s. There was someone else.

She swung the door open.

Yn was with another girl, not older than them. The vibrant lights turned out to be the TV glow. They were watching a volleyball match together.

“Manz!” Yn greeted, she couldn’t even mask her surprise on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you got back yesterday, Yn.” Manon didn’t bother to subtle her irritation.

“Yeah… forgot to tell you.” Yn rubbed the back of her neck before motioning to the new girl . “Anyway, meet Megan. We were at camp together, and guess what? Turns out she lives just a few blocks away!”

Yn’s gaze flickered to Megan, who gave a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Megan.” her voice was flat, distant. Then, turning to Yn. “Can I talk to you? Outside.”

Yn hesitated for a split second before excusing herself and following her out into the hallway.

As soon as the door closed behind them, she frowned, “Why are you acting weird, manz? You were kinda rude with Megan.”

The words went straight to her head. Did I really act weird?

Manon tried to reflect on why she was feeling this way. So annoyed. So betrayed.

Was I being rude to Yn’s friend because of it?

But the longer ahe thought, the clues were all pointed at Yn. She wouldn’t act like this if Yn didn’t make her guess why she’d been avoiding Manon but not other people. She wouldn’t act like this if Yn just… talked to her about what was going on with them.

“No!” she snapped, frustrated. “You’re the one who’s being weird! Why did you stop texting me during your camp?”

Yn blinked, clearly taken aback. “I mean… It was just for two weeks,” She brushed it off without showing any sign of regret. “Why are you being so clingy, manz?”

Manon felt something inside her crack.

“Clingy?” She scoffed, a mix of amused and disbelief. “Don’t try to gaslight me, Yn. You’re the one who ditched me out of nowhere.”

“What are you talking about?” Yn asked, her tone as sharp as the crease forming between her eyebrows.

“Ever since you've been focusing on volleyball, you’ve completely ignored me!” Dejection flitted in Manon’s voice, she whispered as she continued, “it feels like you're avoiding me.”

“I didn’t ignore you!” Manon flinched at Yn’s sudden high pitch, and she looked just as startled. “I just need space…”

“Right,” Manon ’s eyes were blank as she stared at the girl in front of her—the girl she used to be so close to. “The thing you gave to your Megan inside.”

Yn didn’t respond immediately, as if she knew she was caught with her own excuse. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, “Maybe I needed space from you, Manon.”

No Manz. Just Manon. Yn didn’t even shout, but her words shattered a part of her heart. What did I even do to Yn? The question floated in her head out of her anger and sadness.

Her body moved before she could think, stepping back as she felt the tears threatening to drop just a second away. Yn couldn’t see her crying like this.

“You know what, don't ever talk to me again.” Her voice was cold as ice. “Have fun with your new friend.”

Yn didn’t say a word.

Manon didn’t wait for her to. She turned and walked away.

It became the fifth reason. Yn just let Manon walk away from their friendship, no effort to make her stay.

And so it goes. The days when Manon was close to Yn felt like a lifetime ago.

After their friendship fell apart, Yn didn’t even seem to notice Manon’s absence. Too busy with her new friends—and her one and only volleyball. It was as if their friendship had never existed in the first place.

Manon could only be thankful that their parents never questioned the sudden distance between them.

That was fine. Manon had other things to focus on now.

Dance.

It consumed most of her time, filling the gaps Yn had left behind. She joined the school’s extracurricular club, trained hard, and for once, everything went well for her.

Until Megan showed up.

“Aren’t you Yn’s friend?”

“No.”

Megan tilted her head. “Pretty sure you are. You went to her house that day, right? Wait—Manon, isn’t it?”

Did I tell her my name that day?

“…Yeah.”

“Knew it.” Megan smiled excitedly. “You remember me? Megan.”

Of course I remember my replacement.

“Right.” Manon’s tone was flat, contrasting the latter’s. “Didn’t know you danced too.”

“I do a lot of stuff. Dancing, Singing, volleyball.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

Megan laughed smugly, couldn’t seem to sense Manon’s disinterest. “Anyway. I’m glad we paired up for the duet.”

Can’t say the same.

And just like that, Manon (begrudgingly) found herself acquainted with Megan.

To her reluctant surprise, the more time she spent with Megan, the more Manon realized she wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. At the very least, Megan made her grateful for their partnership—especially after seeing how some of her classmates struggled with their duet partners. Megan was incredibly talented at dancing.

But she was also ridiculously careless.

“Megan, here.” Manon handed her a flash drive containing their final dance choreo. “Our recording. Give it to Mr.Avanzini tomorrow morning.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not coming to school tomorrow. I told you this.”

“Right. Dentist appointment.” After a while Megan groaned.

“What now?”

“I have a party tonight.”

“So?”

“I can’t promise that I won’t get wasted and miss school tomorrow…?”

Manon exhaled sharply. “Megan, I swear to God, I will drag you out of that party myself.”

“Please do.”

Manon rolled her eyes at the older’s lack of accountability. “Where is this party anyway?”

“Lara’s? I thought you knew… We celebrate Yn’s achievemet. She made it to the national youth team.”

The news sank in, making a strange hollowness in her chest.

So, I guess we’re already on that stage now. The stage where I hear about her life from other people.

“I told you—we’re not friends anymore,” Manon muttered, her voice quieter this time.

Megan shrugged. “Yeah? Doesn’t look like it.”

“Whatever. Let’s just start practice.”

They ran through the practice. Manon struggled to focus, she couldn’t stop thinking about the new information about Yn.

She was happy for her. But it felt sad Manon couldn’t tell it directly.

Though, in reality, she’d probably slap Yn first before Manon could congratulate her.

The moment they wrapped up, Megan quickly grabbed her phone, checking for the time. “Shit. I’m gonna be late.” She hastily stuffed up Her bags before standing up to leave. “Gotta go now, Manon. See you tomorrow!”

“Wait—the flash drive!”

But Megan had already closed the door.

Manon groaned, running a hand down her face. The deadline was first thing in the morning, and Megan was the only one who could submit it.

She had no choice.

She was going to that party.

Lara’s house was packed with drunk high schoolers from nearly every grade.

Which was no surprise. As the captain of the volleyball team—their school’s most popular sport—Lara often hosted parties, and students were always eager to join.

But it seemed like Yn had expanded her social circle too.

A massive banner hung across the living room.

‘Congratulations, Yn Laforteza! Our newest national player!’

Manon stared at it, the same strange, uneasy feeling settling in her chest.

The name—the person—once so familiar, now felt like nothing more than a stranger.

Shaking it off, she refocused on her mission.

Manon asked nearly a dozen people for Megan’s whereabouts before finally getting a lead.

“Upstairs bathroom,” a boy said.

So, she went.

Upstairs hallway was dim and the music faded in the background. The bathroom was weirdly unoccupied for a packed party like this.

But Manon, having zero sense of self-preservation, stepped inside anyway.

A second later, she realized why the bathroom had been empty.

It was a trap. A prank. And the victim stepped right after her…

Was Yn.

The bathroom’s door closed with a bang. She heard laughter outside

And that was how Manon ended up here.

Locked in Lara’s bathroom.

With her ex-best friend.

The person on top of Manon’s hate list.

“This is all your fault.”

“How the hell is this my fault, Manon?”

“If your friends weren’t completely idiots, they’d be more careful with their pranks—like, I don’t know, not locking random people inside.”

Bitterness lodged in Manon’s throat, it had been a while since she talked with Yn. She had mixed feelings. Built-up irritations and something like… longing.

“Oh, so now you blame my friends?” Yn scoffed, shaking her head. “This was supposed to be my trap.” She leaned closer like she was inspecting Manon. “This is on you. Why did you come to this bathroom? Matter of fact, what are you even doing here? At my party.”

Manon’s jaw tightened. She hated how Yn said it. My party. Like it was some exclusive thing Manon had no business being at.

“I came here to give this to Megan.” She lifted the flash drive between her fingers.

“Oh?” Yn said half-amused, half-bitter. “So you guys are friends now, huh?”

Manon narrowed her eyes, annoyed. “We’re dance partners. So what?”

“Funny,” Yn muttered. “You were being dramatic when I started hanging out with her.”

Manon exhaled. She needed to stay calm. “It’s different.”

Yn let out a humorless laugh. “Different how?”

Manon could answer, oh, because you were in position of ignoring me at that time, said you need some space but surprise, Megan was there. Manon could say, because you were acting like a jerk.

But she chose to reply, “Just… the situation. You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re so complicated, Manon,” Yn whispered, as if she was disappointed. “I can never understand you.”

“You’re one to talk. Remember when we’re still friends, Ynie?”

Yn visibly gulped as she braced for Manon to continue.

“Should’ve stopped being friends when you ditched me for your stupid volleyball.”

“It was a long time ago, Manon! And I did that because you wouldn’t let me join your dance lesson!”

“Oh, that was just the beginning,” Manon spat, filled with hurt more than anger now. “Then you missed my first-ever public dance performance because of that stupid volleyball trial you didn’t even bother telling me after it was over!”

Yn’s mouth parted slightly, caught off guard. “I didn’t know it was important to you—”

“It was! You were my best friend, Yn!” Manon’s voice cracked, the words tasted sour on her tongue. “But you let me walk away from our friendship… You didn’t even try to make me stay. Why?”

A heavy silence filled the space between them, years of suppressed confusion and anger finally out. For the first time since the argument started, Yn didn’t try to shoot back another defensive remark. She just sat there, Her gaze blank as she stared at the floor, as if she was reliving in Manon’s pain, or maybe in her own.

“I…” Yn finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought it was for the best for us…”

Manon let out a bitter laugh, but it came out choked. “Fuck you!” her tears were falling now. “You don’t get to decide that! You even ghosted me weeks before it all fell apart!”

Yn’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—regret, maybe. “I didn’t ghost you, Manon.” her voice wavered, hesitant. “I was… I was trying to figure out my feelings.”

Manon froze. “What?” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “What… what do you mean, Soobin?”

Tears now glistened Yn’s eyes. “I like you, Manon.”

Manon blinked. The words barely registered. “Wait—” her heart pounded, confusion clouding his thoughts. “What did you just say?”

“I like you,” Yn repeated, steady this time

Manon’s breath hitched. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. her mind spiraled, searching for cracks in Yn’s words, for proof that this wasn’t real. Flashback flooded in—every time Yn pushed her away, every moment she chose something, someone, else over her.

“No.” Manon shook her head. “No, you don’t.” her voice trembled, not with anger or pain, but with fear. “You pushed me away. You left me. You don’t like me.”

Yn slowly moved closer to reach for Manon, but she pulled away.

“Manon, I did it because I didn’t know what to do with my feelings.” She took a shaky breath, now sitting cluelessly right before she could reach Manon. “Every time I tried to accept it, you’d say or do something that—That scared me.”

Manon’s pulse roared in her ears. She didn’t know what was worse—the years of hurt resurfacing, or the new discovery behind it, might have been nothing like she thought.

“Like what?” Manon asked.

“I… I always thought you didn’t like it when people ship us together. You always acted uncomfortable and it hurted.”

“What?” Manon’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, no, that’s not what happened… I thought you were the one who uncomfortable—”

“And the kiss.”

“What kiss—” Manon’s eyes widened in realization. My first kiss. “You’re the one who said it was a mistake!”

“It was never a mistake!” Yn stuttered. “I—I was waiting for your reaction but… but then I suddenly remembered the time when I asked you about two girls kissing and you said it’s weird—”

Manon felt like a constant wave of realization hit her mercilessly.

“But I had already done it. I kissed you. And I freaked out—”

“Yn.” Manon moved closer, closing the gap between them. “Hey, look at me.” She gently grasped Yn’s face, forcing her to focus.

Yn’s frantic eyes finally meet hers.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt like that.” Manon’s voice was soft, hoping to calm Yn down. “It was my first kiss, Yn. I was just as shocked as you are.”

Yn’s breathing evened out as her panic faded. Manon couldn’t help but flash a fond smile. All these years and it was just a series of miscommunication.

“So, your kiss wasn’t a mistake?” Manon asked again, just to make sure.

Yn shook her head. “No… never.”

“I’m sorry…” Yn whispered. “For everything. For pushing you away. For ended things and didn’t stop you. I ruined our friendship because of my feelings. I’m selfish—”

“Hey. Stop.” Manon went for a hug, her voice was calm as she spoke softly in Yn’s ear. “It’s not just you, okay? I should’ve asked before it was too late. We should’ve talked instead of assuming things.”

Manon exhaled, her mind reeling from everything they had just admitted. She finally realized that the pain of Yn leaving wasn’t just about betrayal—it was about fear. Fear of losing her.

“It’s too late isn’t it?” yn asked, making manon let go of her embrace and stare at Yn confusedly. “Our friendship… it ended.”

Manon let out a small chuckle. “We can start over.” her heart pounded as she looked into Yn’s eyes. “Or, we can turn it into something new.”

“Something new?”

Without wasting more time, Manon leaned in, her lips brushing against Yn’s. It was hesitant at first, almost as if asking for permission, but when Yn didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. It was soft, full of everything they built up over the years—apologies, confessions, and yearnings all at once.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling, lips tingling. A small smile played on Manon’s lips, mirrored by Yn’s.

“I missed your cheeks holes,” Manon murmured, poking in Yn’s dimple.

Yn laughed wholeheartedly, as if she just had her best moment of the day. “I miss you too, Manz.”

“So, you’re back to calling me Manz again, huh?” Manon teased, too happy to not to. Yn laughed harder.

And then as if on cue, the door cracked open. A familiar face popped behind the door.

“mei…”

The girl stared at them knowingly, amused. Manon was suddenly aware of the position they were in. “I knew it.”

They hurriedly scrambled to get up.

“Is Yn still your friend now, Manon?”

“Shut up Megan.”

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye manon #manon bannerman #manon x reader #meret manon #meret manon x reader #megan katseye #katseye megan #katseye lara #katseye lara raj #manon x fem reader

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luvtak · 1 month ago

Text

get him back! ⊹.✮₊⋆ yji x reader

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you

⊹ genre/tw angst angst angst seriously so much angst i'm sorry, but also fluff!!! a lot of fluff! f2l, fake dating, revenge dating?, hurt/comfort, ex!hyunjin being horrible (I'm sorry), reader wears a skirt at one point and is referred to as ‘my girl’ once, jokes about pregnancy (its not serious i promise) its suggestive at times but no smut, probably a little rushed at times, mostly unedited

⊹ w/c 10, 469

⊹ a/n this has been a long time coming, originally this was a fic for jaemin from nct dream that was like 8000 words long or something and i absolutely hated it so i started back from scratch and changed mostly everything but the main idea. for a long time, i have been fascinated with the process of heartbreak and falling in love again, and in essence that is what this is--I hope you like it, don't forget to like and reblog and tell me all your thoughts!! hopefully it's not terrible lol, mwah!!

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you; Everything from the cups in the cabinet to the paint splatters on the floor. The four walls of your room storing a lifetime of memories of the boy who loved you; nighttime laughter and limbs interlaced. It’s completely foreign to not have him next to you, skin to skin, hearts synced to a song only the two of you know.

You loved him for three summers, almost from the first time you saw him–sat next to the river, with headphones on and a pen in hand–He was beautiful, a timeless photograph of affection, and you were smitten as soon as he opened his mouth.

The past 36 months were lovely and joyous, 1095 days spent foolishly glued together, yet when Hyunjin decided to end the relationship three weeks ago, you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue. He’d been so busy, graduating last year and going on to bigger and brighter things–exhibitions almost every week, assisting an artist he loved–so many wonderful things that took him away from you. When he was home he was too tired to love you, so it made sense when he ended it. So much sense that it’s kept you awake all the nights following.

Every night–at roughly when he would’ve come home to you–you find yourself waking up to the loss of his cologne. For a moment, you’re given a momentary bout of bliss, confusion clouding up your mind with questions of where’d he go, rather than if he’s coming back. The answer comes quickly, though, rupturing your heart before the rest of you knew you were awake.

Your mind is lost in the goodbye, the taste of salt on your lips and your favorite blue sweater wrapped around your arms, the way his eyes were wide with sadness. Did he kiss you then? Was it his tongue that swiped away the tears or your own? Did his hands hold you one last time, make you cry from pleasure before pain? All you seem to remember was him walking away, so fast you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to recall–but it's all you seem to be able to think about.

He broke your heart on a Tuesday, but did he kiss you then?

He was sweet with the farewell, telling you he was sorry, that he loved you but it wasn’t enough any more. There was just too much time and distance living between the two of you, but nothing really has to change… we can all still be friends.

What a sad thought, friends with the boy who held your bleeding heart in his hands.

Why should you still be friends if love wasn’t enough for him?

You know you look pathetic, his too big clothes swathing around your limp form, keeping you toasty where your bare legs hit the bathroom floor. His voice flowing from your phone's speaker in happy waves, echoing off the tile right into your ears. It’s almost like he’s next to you, almost like it’s his arms filling out the gray hoodie and wrapping around you.

Shivering, you close your eyes just for a minute, with his last voicemail reverberating through your brain, you feel content for the first time since that sunny day three weeks before.

“...I love you, sweetheart!” his voice rings, lighting up your heart with all the affection the name used to bring you. He hadn’t called you that in months, trading sweet nothings for sighs and sorry’s. How you long to feel the name pressed against your skin, interlaced with the kind of happiness only he could draw out. A love so undeniably him that anything else couldn’t come close.

Loving him was sitting in planetariums and comparing each other's portraits to statues, sharing straws and blankets, breath and hands. Loving him was every star fall, trying to catch dragonflies and yelping when they grazed your hands. It was magical and devastating, everything you ever wanted.

Hyunjin was meant for stars and lullabies, a boy meant for nighttime, but the morning is fast approaching.

Soon, your roommate will wake up and discover your tearful form, and envelope you in coos and cuddles. He’ll wrap you up in pink comforters and bring you cookies for breakfast, a day spent with rom-coms and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio, but just for a few more minutes you’ll sit with your lovers voice in your head and his scent around you, and it’ll be as close to him as you’ll ever be again.

“Okay!? I love you so much, call me sweetheart, seriously! Call me, call me, call me.”

“He never even deserved you!”

“Yeah, babe, like you’re so hot and funny and nice! What does he have going for him?”

“For real! Other than being super handsome and talented, he has nothing.”

Your friends, drunk and silly, can’t seem to stop trying to comfort you, you want to laugh, and maybe in time you’ll be able to, but here in this fresh grief with his love still palpable, you can’t seem to find it in yourself to be angry.

Sure, he broke up with you, but it didn’t seem like too bad of a reason… he was busy all the time, and his distance brought anger and disappointment. You were fighting restlessly, forgetting to say I love you before you left for class, kisses became shorter and farther in between, but at the end of the day you did love him; endlessly and reverentially, and no matter what he said or didn’t say, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that that will never change.

“You guys don’t have to shit talk Hyunjin just because he broke up with me, we were all friends.” Your voice is quieter than you meant it to be, slow from all the wine and covered in the sadness that seemed to follow you. “He was a good boyfriend…”

“No, babe, a good boyfriend does not break up with you a week before your anniversary after ghosting you for a month.” Minjeong says, her tone soothing even if her words are not.

“We’re not friends with that douche canoe, okay, we only stomached him because he was your boyfriend, and now that he’s not, I personally never want to see him again.”

“Chaeryeong! Stop, you've been his friend for literal years.”

“Nope, I can’t remember!” she sings out, giggling as her wine glass spills out red liquid all over the floor.

“He’s persona non grata now, girly, if I see him, I’m coming in swinging!”

Minjeong’s claim, however silly, does have you finally laughing. Deep, belly ache inducing laughs that fill your little apartment with more joy than it’s held in weeks. It’s true that before the official break up, you were infuriated, anger escaping your lips whenever the man was mentioned. But since the finality of that day, all you’ve felt is an insurmountable grief daring to erupt at any moment.

You loved him, you lost him, and isn’t that just so sad?

You thought you’d have him forever… daydreamt weddings and forever homes, Late night whispers of baby names and honeymoons. Everything you’ve ever planned, out the window with the first signs of conflict. Sure, maybe it would’ve ended anyway, but would it have killed him to try? How dare he take that future away from you, a happy ending too good to be true.

A betrayal that cut too deep to be anything but devastating.

But sitting here now, listening to your friends being mad and protective, you think you can see a future where you are angry again–a day in the coming weeks where everything he said is tinged with red instead of blue. And maybe after that you can be happy, really truly happy, even when the girls' laughter aren’t around to accompany you.

“Hey, we love you, okay?” Chaeryeong says, breathing heavily through her giggles. “I know it’s hard now, you loved each other so much, but don’t waste anymore of your time locked inside this apartment. You’re way too cute to not let anyone see you.”

She smiles at you, her hand wrapped around yours as a few tears stray. You don’t know if they’re happy or sad, or maybe a bit of both, all you know is you love her. You love the both of them so much that even through this inescapable loss, you smile back. They’re your favorite people on earth, and if they think you’ll be okay maybe you will be.

“I love you guys too, I’m sorry I’m so mopey… Felix keeps trying to get me to smile, but there's just so much I can take before I’m crying again.”

“Hey, hey,” Minjeong whispers, “Don’t apologize, you get to be a little storm cloud.”

“Personally, I like you stormy–makes it more fun when you snap.” Chaeryeong tells you, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to get you to laugh again.

Miraculously, it works–laughter seeping out of you and onto the wine soaked tiles. Maybe they’re right, maybe all you need is some time…

Maybe another day of watching The Princess Diaries and eating ice cream for dinner will cure you, maybe falling asleep in Hyunjin’s sweatpants will finally ease the hole he left, maybe all you have to do is leave the house tomorrow. Whatever it is, you promise them you’ll try–and as they cuddle up to you, dropping popcorn in between the couch cushions and cracking up at the same jokes you’ve heard a thousand times, somewhere inside, you feel a little bit more okay.

Unfortunately, that feeling can only last so long.

It’s thirty minutes past the witching hour when you see the photo. He’s gorgeous, devastatingly so, heartbreakingly handsome just like you remembered. Clad in denim and decked out with silver, wrapped around a girl you’ve never seen before.

Your phone light glares through the night, spotlighting your place in the living room. You know you should turn the brightness down, lower it or move from your place in between Chaeryong and Minjeong, less they wake up and threaten to kill you for interrupting their slumber, but you can’t seem to make yourself move.

His hands rest on her waist, a smile breaking through close to her own, and he looks so happy. Happier than he’d looked in months, unencumbered joy leaking off him through the camera lens. And how it breaks your heart, who cares who that girl is… how could he look so happy when you haven’t even left the house in two weeks?

“Son of a bitch!” you whisper, angry tears trying to escape. How dare he? And how dare Chris for posting it on a story he knew you could see. We can all still be friends, right? What absolute bullshit.

You find yourself laughing, laughing so hard the tears find themselve trailing down your cheeks. Howling at the unbelievability of it all, here you were defending him still, while he couldn’t wait a month to have his tongue shoved down some other girl's throat. How funny to think you love him, truly love him with every part of you, and he doesn’t respect you enough to keep his escapades a secret while you heal.

Minjeong shuffles in her sleep, waking up to the sound of your inane outburst, pretty eyes squinted in your phone light.

“What is it? Nothing is that funny at 3 AM.”

“Look at this, Min.” you giggle, shoving your phone against her nose.

“Too close!! Hold on… WHAT THE FUCK!” she yells, jolting up against the cushions and waking the other girl in the process.

“What! What is it?!” Chaeryeong moans.

“Hyunjin is a fucker that’s what.” Minjeong says. “An actual despicable little shit.”

The phone is passed around, each of you staring at the picture with a sense of pure unbridled anger. To think you trusted him, gave him your heart and felt safe that he would respect it even when he gave it back.

“I just don’t understand,” You say, your voice breaking– confusion wafting through the words and encasing you in a painful blanket of disarray.

Through your tears you hear Chaeryeong, “Listen, we have to get him back.” She’s saying, Minjeong nodding along sleepily.

Get him back? What does she mean?! How can she already be thinking of revenge when all you want to do is cry yourself to sleep.

“What do you mean get him back, I don’t understand.” The brokenness in your voice gives your friends pause, and for a moment the only thing you hear is the sound of Anne Hathaway monologuing on the TV.

The two girls, true friends even with sleep dancing at their fingertips, wrap their arms around you–holding onto you like you’d drift away if they didn’t, who knows maybe you would; You do feel minutes away from being empty, like you're a bottle slowly pouring out its contents.

Their skin is warm, and their hands carry so much comfort that you collapse against them, listening to their plan like a bedtime story that lulls you to sleep.

“You want me to do what?!” You cry.

“We talked about this last night!”

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered you saying I have to go on a date with Yang Jeongin, Minjeong!”

“It doesn’t have to be Ayen, any of his friends will do, I just thought that that’s who you were closest to…” She sighs, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. “I mean it could be Changbin for all I care, I just didn’t think he’d go for it.”

“I don’t want to date ANY of his friends, Minnie!!! Hello!” Your voice sounds shrill even to you, and as much as you're trying to keep it down for fear of the librarian coming over and yelling at you, you don’t have it in you to dampen your frustration.

Last night was a blur, anger permeating your sleep and clouding your morning. Going through the motions of classes and too many cups of coffee before your friend called you to come deliberate on the fully formed plan they dreamt up. A plan that you don’t remember agreeing to.

Sure, you remember saying making him jealous might make you feel better and make him feel worse, but nowhere did they say that Jeongin would be involved. You love the boy, as cynical and cold as he could be–he could make you laugh more than anyone else you ever met, and of course he was handsome, but he was one of Hyunjin’s best friends. As much as you’re angry with your ex-boyfriend now, were you really willing to use one of his friends to get back at him?

“Plus, I don’t think he’ll go for it, I mean Innie likes to mess with the guys every once in a while, but I think hooking up with his best friends ex is too far for him.”

You try to hide the flinch at the word ex, but Minjeong sees right through you–bringing her hands up to rub your shoulders comfortingly, before she tells you:

“It doesn’t have to be real, silly!” Minjeong laughs, “Hyunjin only has to think it's real, I mean you don’t actually have to hook up with him… Unless you want toooo.” She draws out, singing the last sentence in an annoying voice.

“Minnie!” you whisper in a faux yell.

“What?! Don’t look at me like I don’t remember the infamous truth or dare of 2024.”

“Minnie.”

“Okay, Ms. I’d makeout with Jeongin if I had to kiss any of Hyunjin’s friends.”

“Minnie!”

“Fine, Fine!” She laughs, “just talk to Ayen about it, and we’ll go from there okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I can’t stomach thinking that Hyunjin is out there having fun at your expense and you’re just taking it.” For one moment she looks truly sad, and you’re reminded, not for the first time, that this breakup isn’t just between you and your ex, but all your friends who have to adapt to a life that looks different

Her eyes are comforting, but her mouth is all smirking revenge, and something about it urges you to listen. It can’t be worse than what Hyunjin’s already done, right? And it’s all pretend anyway, just a game of house where you and Jeongin hold hands at a party and go get slurpees after. None of it has to be real, you shouldn’t feel bad for giving the boy who hurt you a taste of his own medicine, right?

So with a heart full of guilt and stomach heavy with nerves, you find yourself asking,

“When does it start?”

On your way out of the library you found yourself cursing Minjeong and Chaeryeong and all their evil scheming that always finds its way back to you. If only you could have listened to Felix when he told you that those girls were trouble, and that the only friends you needed were him and your childhood dog, Milo.

When you left her, Minjeong reminded you to talk to Jeongin, told you where she thought he’d be and smiled at you the way she would a puppy.

God, what am I doing? You ask yourself, begging some invisible entity for help with this god forsaken plan. You like Ayen just fine, but the idea of hurting Hyunjin just because he hurt you fills you with some inescapable dread. And what if Jeongin says no? What if he’s as disgusted by you as you are of yourself? What if he turns around and tells Hyunjin?

The thoughts circle around you, haloing your form in scalding nerves until you find yourself outside of the diner Jeongin works at. You’d only ever been at night, your hand shivering within Hyunjin’s hold–so many twilights spent sitting crushed in a tiny booth, Hyunjin’s friends hollering around you and your lovers arms holding you to his heart. How different it looks in the day.

For the first time you find yourself walking through the diner doors alone, feet shuffling onto the sticky vinyl floors and searching for Yang Jeongin’s smile.

You find it behind the counter, warm and inviting as he asks a little boy what he wants. He looks different when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, freer than when he’s with the boys, shinier when there’s no one else’s light glaring. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile remains, but becomes that tight look of pity you’ve become so used to–a look so out of place on his pretty face, you want it gone right away.

“Don’t look at me like, Jeongin.” You tell him, words stricter than your voice portrays.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he tells you, “but how are you doing?”

“Better if I had a cherry coke,” You say and without another word he begins filling up a plastic cup with ice and burgundy liquid. You can’t help but watch his hands as they work, knuckles clutching around the drink tighter than what's needed–the only indication that he could be uncomfortable with you being here. “How are you doing, Ayen?” you ask him.

“Well, not too bad,” he says, handing you the soda. “It’s not too busy today, and I don’t have any classes until tomorrow afternoon, so the day is just breezing by.”

“Easy, breezy, beautiful!” You tell him and finally that pretty smile breaks out on his face again as he lets out a loud laugh. He tells you he’ll be right back, smiling the whole way to the rest of his patrons.

Maybe it’s because you were dating Hyunjin before, and no other boy seemed to live up to the fairy tale you wrote about him, but for the first time you see Jeongin, not as Hyunjin’s friend but as a cute boy you could’ve met at a diner just like this. He’s boyishly handsome and sweet, giggling with the little kids and getting old ladies pie on the house.

Maybe your friends were onto something when they offered up Jeongin as the sacrificial lamb–sweet, ever happy Jeongin.

When he returns to you, that slightly sad smile returns to his face before he tells you:

“I’m sorry about you and Hyunjin… I didn’t know he was gonna do that.”

“What break up with me, or make out with a girl before the corpse is even cold?” Your voice is stronger than you meant it to be, and you feel bad as soon as you see Jeongin’s body tense–obviously surprised at your animosity.

“Both, I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” he tells you, much to your surprise, “We– we had a fight, and I hadn’t talked to anyone but Changbin and Seungmin…” his voice is thick with tension and his jaw is tight as he tries to tell to you what happened, a sight you’d never seen from him–much more used to the happy-go-lucky Ayen of days past. “I didn’t even know you guys broke up until he posted that picture last night.”

You’re surprised by this, of course, Jeongin and Hyunjin had always been close, but what's more surprising is how truly angry he looks… As angry as Chaeryeong and Minjeong, if not more. It’s this look that allows you to tell him,

“I just don’t know what to do, Ayen…”

“Whatever, I can do to help, I will… I promise.” Jeongin tells you, long fingers making you jump as they settle over your own. It’s this promise that brings you to tell him why you came–rushing out the plan your friends made for you, making sure to tell him over and over how it would just be a favor; just a way to get Hyunjin back for being a treacherous loser.

It’s through this rant that Jeongin finally smiles again, a devious look you’ve only ever seen settle onto his face during game night, and without preamble his hold on your hand grows stronger until he says,

“I’ll do it.”

It’s three weeks later when you finally realize that you’d have to actually go on a date with Jeongin for this to work. In theory, you knew this would happen, knew that you couldn’t let Jeongin sit around thinking about how he agreed to piss off his friend, but putting that plan in practice is scarier than you thought it would be.

And why? Why does Hyunjin get to ride around town happier than ever, posting that girl on his instagram story every day while you’re sitting at home crying for weeks.

Yet, the thought of doing anything romantic (even if it was pretend) with someone else, causes frost bitten chills to cover your skin. Even if the someone else was Yang Jeongin; sweet and funny Jeongin who always took your side when the boys started teasing you, who brought you a cherry coke everyday when you had class together freshman year. Jeongin who blushed pretty pink when he heard your answer to Changbin’s truth or dare last year, Jeongin who was your friend as much as Hyunjin’s, who would put that friendship aside to do you a favor.

You know you should call him, reprieve him from the quicksand thoughts you sure he’s buried in, but you can’t seem to latch that door to self hatred that has been held open since the night Hyunjin broke up with you.

You can’t seem to find where everything went wrong, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to find the moment where Hyunjin stopped loving you.

“You should stop torturing yourself you know,” You hear, and there he is standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Jeongin stands tall and handsome, leaning against the wall in a way that makes you think he has been there for a while. “You went AWOL on me, y’know, I was worried.” He’s smiling, but his words have a layer of debilitating truth that makes you a little sick. You can’t help but feel sorry for making anyone feel as bad as you do.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to go after that last conversation we had.”

“Well, usually when you ask someone on a date… you take them out on a date.” He smiles at you, approaching your bed the way one would approach a wounded animal–slow but sure.

When he finally lays down next to you you’re struck by his closeness, the feel of his body heat settling over your skin and the way his cheek bones slope over his face. He’s so pretty, it’s not like you never noticed it before, but seeing him up close like this–like he’s completely under your disposal, like you’re a scientist looking at him under a microscope–you can’t help but be a little breathless.

He’s so beautiful and he’s lying here with you.

“What did you want to do on our date then?” you ask him, feeling braver the longer he looks at you.

When he smiles, it’s like the sun explodes–incandescent and radiant like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He tells you he doesn’t care, first dates are silly anyway, he says, before grabbing your laptop from its place on your desk and telling you to pick a movie. It’s a little nerve wracking to be with him like this, it’s odd because it’s not something inherently romantic, nor any different from something you could’ve done with him before, but the fact that he called it a “date” makes the whole thing more anxiety-inducing than you thought possible.

This is supposed to be pretend, yet the way his arm presses against yours brings a warmth to your chest that you can’t seem to decipher. Sure, you’re a bit touched starved and the constant vulnerability you’ve felt has lent itself to a mixed bag of feelings, but the strangest thing is, nothing about his heat is confusing. It feels like the surest thing in the world to have him next to you, laughing at the stupid jokes flowing out from your computer and asking if you want to order a pizza.

This is supposed to be pretend, but it feels real–like the realest thing you’ve held in months.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what happened with Hyune?” He finally asks you. The sun has finally eased its way into night and the blue hour has opened up the air for truth telling, you always loved this time of night… Always loved the way the soft prussian hue would fill the room, the way it could coat human skin. It’s this blue honesty that motivates you to answer him, more honest than you’ve been with anyone else, much less yourself.

“I think It was always gonna end like this… me all alone and him surrounded by friends.” You see him gearing up to protest, so quickly you add, “I know I’m not completely alone,” you tell him, “but I loved him so much, it was all I thought about for three years. And… and he’s out there living his life like I didn’t even matter.

“He broke up with me cause he was busy, like I was just something on the to-do list too insignificant to keep.” You stop to breathe, in and out, before starting again, “I hadn’t talked to him in weeks… in the beginning I called and texted, but I never got a response so I thought I’d just give him space. Felix kept asking me where he was, y’know? Like I would know, I should have known–I wanted to know, but I had no idea. Finally, he showed up out of nowhere telling me he was sorry, how he’d been so busy–I was so stupid, I was just happy he was there at all”

“You’re not stupid,” Jeongin tells you, but you’re not finished.

“He–” you whisper, “He told me that he thought we should break up… said it like there was no room for arguing. I said okay… I said okay because I wanted him to shut up about how busy he was–wanted him to stop talking about his great life that I wouldn’t be a part of anymore.”

“You’re not stupid,” He says again, stronger this time. “Hyunjin’s a fucking idiot, a selfish idiot, okay? You’re not stupid.” He brings you into his arms, holding you close enough that you can hear his heart beating wild in his chest. He smells good, like sunshine and coffee, and part of you wishes this wasn’t pretend.

You wish you could lay here like this all the time, cuddled close to him, safe in his arms, and sure of the fact that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

“We’re gonna make him regret this okay, make him see what he’s missing out on.” He’s whispering to you, but it almost seems like he’s talking to himself, reassuring himself that what he’s doing is okay, “He’s an idiot, and you’re perfect–do you hear me?” he asks you, tilting your chin up to see him from your place in his hold. “We’re gonna get him back.”

“You know, when I let him in last night I didn’t think he was sleeping over,” Felix tells you, once you come back inside from walking Jeongin out.

Truthfully, you didn’t think he was going to sleep over either, yet the feeling of his arms around was so deeply comforting you’re glad he didn’t leave. You’d spent all night talking, going over your plan to make Hyunjin jealous, but that wasn’t all you’d talked about. Jeongin told you all sorts of things to make you laugh: secrets and stories, other peoples and his own.

You spent all night telling each other things you’d never told anyone else, and for once you’d woken up happy. Strangely, it wasn’t awkward disentangling yourself from him–it was almost normal, even sharing the sink to brush your teeth felt like you’d done it a million times over before.

No, it wasn’t awkward at all–that is until Felix woke up and found you together in your room.

“Listen, Felix, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, so you’re not dating Jeongin to make Hyunjin jealous?” He asks, looking at with with a skeptical glimpse in his eye.

“Well, I guess it’s exactly what you think,” you pause, “wait, how did you guess that?”

“You’re not the only one friends with Minejeong and Chaery, sweet pea.” he tells you, stirring honey into two cups of tea.

You’re not surprised the girls blabbed, especially not to Felix–the boy has too much of an angelic face to lie too–However, they should know better than to expose you to your oldest friend. Felix, has always been your best friend, your soulmate in all definitions, and because of this he is chronically worrying over you and your wellbeing. Hyunjin had been his friend, closest to him only second to you and Chris, and the way Hyune treated you at the end was such a deep betrayal to Felix’s sense of friendship that he is grown even more annoyingly protective in the past weeks.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lix”

“Obviously I do, I take my hands off the wheel for one minute and suddenly you’re in bed with Innie.”

“I was not IN BED with him, we just slept.”

“Yeah, okay, just don’t get pregnant. Yeah? I’m not old enough to be the dad that stepped up.”

“FELIX!” you yell, but all you hear is laughter, deep happy laughter that has been unfamiliar in your usually joyful apartment. You can’t help but feel guilty, even though it isn’t your fault. You wish everything could be normal–wish with every piece of your soul that life would go back to how it was.

You didn’t need Hyunjin to be in love with you, but you wished that your friends could go back to how they were three months ago, happy and normal and free.

You love Felix, you love Minjeong and Chaeryeong, and the thought of them being as cut up about this as you, breaks your heart.

“You know I love you, right?” You tell Felix when he’s done laughing to himself, and the way he looks at you–rolling eyes and all tells you all you need to know.

“I love you too, sweet pea…” He smiles, “but wear protection.”

The diner is busy and your friends can’t seem to shut up.

“OH MY GOD!!! He keeps looking at you!” Minjeong cries, happy as a clam in her little white sundress. The weather has finally warmed up and with it sundress season has finally arrived, a fact that Ayen seemed to be especially happy about when he saw you in one of your own.

It’s just pretend, you tell yourself, even though you can’t help but blush when Minjeong whispers, “there he goes again, ohmygoodness!”

“Minnie, it’s not like that it’s just–”

“It’s just pretend!” Chaery and Minnie sing together, mimicking the phrase you’ve told them over and over again for the past month.

That first sleepover became dinner and movie every Friday, which became study sessions on Sunday when you began falling behind, and lunch at the diner every Tuesday so he could see you before his schedule got too busy. Yet, you still hadn’t gone out–out, a problem that has wrapped itself around you like an ugly sweater, the whole reason you’re pretending to date is to make Hyunjin jealous, but you haven’t gone anywhere that he’d see you two at. Not too mention, any insta post the two you have been in together isn’t so overtly romantic that one could believe you’re together–In conclusion, the two you are pretending to date for no one but each other, so does that make it not pretend?

“It is just pretend, and you guys know that.” you tell them a bit meaner than you meant.

“Okay, okay…” Chaery says, “but you should remind him of that, cause Minnie’s right: he really has looked over here like seven times in the last thirty seconds.”

“It’s just because you guys are here,” you say, but even you sound unconvinced. “Anyway he’s probably just worried because we’re going to the party tonight, which will take this little plan of yours from 1 to 100”

“Girly I love you, but him sleeping in your bed every weekend is what took the plan to 100” Minnie sassed.

You want to admonish her, but she was right, you should never have let each other break this many boundaries. You should’ve had rules, should have watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before together and knew what would come of this fake dating nonsense your friends came up with. But you’ve gotten so used to him, fallen so far into friendship that the idea of him not being around physically hurts you.

You catch him looking at you again, a soft smile on his lips as he asks someone their order, when your eyes meet he winks at you, silly and sweet just like him. You laugh and smile bigger than your friends have seen you in months, and if you were paying attention you would have seen the two girls share a look so obviously judgmental it would have warranted a slap.

“Yeah, just pretend my ass.”

The night is just beginning and the party is in full force when you arrive, hand in hand with your “boyfriend,” You’d dolled yourself up for the occasion: tight shirt, miniskirt, and all that jazz, and when Jeongin picked you up he blushed so red you thought you might’ve had a fever.

The party is already wild as soon as you step foot inside, people chatting and dancing, girls who must’ve just met singing Brittany together as it rings out from the stereo. You find yourself cramped in between bodies, Jeongin’s hand being the only lifeline in the sea of humans–more than once, you feel eyes on the two you, old friends looking on in confusion as you hold the hand of the wrong guy, yet you feel more at ease here with Ayen than you ever did before.

When you finally arrive in the kitchen, unscathed except for a few wrinkles in your tiny skirt, Jeongin makes you a drink and compliments you again on your outfit. He’s called you pretty five times tonight: Once when he picked you up, two times in the car, right before you walked in, and now he’s saying it again. Each time the words emerge from his lips they sound a little braver, like he’s more sure of himself every time you say thank you.

He looks absolutely divine tonight himself–when he took his jacket off in the car, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing hotter at the sight of his arms in the tight white tee he picked for the occasion. More annoyingly he seemed to know and relish in your admiration, he seems more confident tonight, cocky in a way that wouldn’t be so attractive if it wasn’t him.

When he hands you the drink, hands tight on the plastic cup just like the first time, his empty hand immediately goes to your waist. His touch, familiar and pleasant, eases you into the corner–forcing you to be close to him in ways you’ve only been in private. A part of you feels insecure, like he’s only doing this to show off the people around you, but one look into his smiling eyes tells you he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to.

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you again–that’s six, “So so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky I am, even if this is all pretend… I’m so so lucky to be here with you.” It stings a little, the truth of this being pretend, but you can’t help but agree, you really are so so lucky to have each other.

His hand moves away from your waist, moving up, up, up, until it reaches your clavicle–fingers fanning out to touch your collarbones, his ring finger gently brushing over the skin. He’s not so much as looking at you as looking into you, almost like he’s trying to see into your ribcage and decide if he can fit in there too. His intensity is burning, chipping away at your composure not unlike pick into stone. His hands are so soft, fluttering against you in curiosity, like he can’t believe he gets to touch you–feel you under his force and mold you into him. Your eyes are fluttering shut, influenced by the alcohol and his hands and the way he thinks you’re beautiful.

Too comfortable for a kitchen counter, especially not your own, his movements are even more dangerous when he is reminded the two of you are not alone.

“Innie!” You hear a voice familiar and grating in your current predicament, Jeongin’s hands stop their curious journey, but he does not move away from you–if anything he draws you closer, protecting you from whomever would dare rip you away from peace.

Changbin is shining as always, happy and handsome, like he has always been, but seeing him here is not a welcome surprise. You’re still upset you never heard from him after the breakup, sure he was Hyunjin’s friend first, and he doesn’t truly owe you any loyalty, yet it still hurts after three years of friendship to be dropped by 50% of your friends.

“Oh, hey,” he says when he notices it’s you and not some random girl here with the younger boy. “It’s been awhile, I’ve missed you–both of you.” You can see him observing your position–you, encompassed by Jeongin, huddling close into his chest… Ayen rubbing his hand up and down your back. It's clear what the closeness means, and Changbin who has claimed to know exactly what's going on with Jeongin at any given time, feels a little hurt that he didn’t know this.

“So are you guys like, together?” he questions, “Does Hyunie Know?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care, Hyung” Jeongin answers, “and yeah, we’ve been together for a little while now,”

“A little while…” Changbin whispers to himself, and you almost feel bad for the mental gymnastics he must be putting himself through to explain the timeline of your so-called relationship. “And you’re happy? I mean you look happy, so you must be right?” he asks.

“Yes, we’re happy” you say, before even thinking about it. And it’s true–you are happy. Happier than you’ve been in months, here at this party with Ayen. His hands are warm on your skin and his smile is alive, and you’ve never been happier than here in this moment, sharing your body heat in a random kitchen.

“Very Happy,” Jeongin agrees, looking down at you with a big smile, and your heart bursts at his agreement. “Well, hyung if you excuse us, my girl wanted to dance.” Did you? You ask yourself, but you see his urging look and decide to go with it. You do want to dance–you would do anything to stay this close to him, even if that means going back to the cramped sea of people in the living room.

It’s hot, and you can feel him everywhere—hands on your waist, brushing against your tummy, running through your hair. You’re breathless at his touch, breathing him in as your bodies move together in time to the song. You feel so alive, sticky with sweat; skin on fire where the two of you meet.

The music is deafening, miscellaneous pop songs mashed up together to get everyone dancing. It’s devious and devilish, a dionysian madness that has infected you down to your bones. You wonder if he’ll take you upstairs, ravish you bloody and leave you wanting more more more. The way he’s looking at you–looming and predatory like a God searching for a devotee–sears your skin, scorches a brand onto the small of your back where his belt buckle digs into you.

It’s all pretend, but it doesn’t have to be, not when he’s looking at you like that.

Your friends got here an hour ago, sharing shots with you and trying not to give each other “I told you so” looks when they saw Jeongin’s hand sit lower and lower on your hips than they would deem platonic. You can remember Felix laughing at you when the third shot went all over your top instead of down your throat, and the way Minjeong triple-dogged dared you to pound down some Apple Crown even though she knows it always makes you sick. You can remember how happy they all looked, Chaeryeong’s hips swaying as she danced with you and Lix, laughing deep into her belly.

You can remember all of this, but you can’t seem to remember getting here… Can’t seem to find the moment where Jeongin’s touches went from casual to burning.

The alcohol found its way into your system quickly, warming your tummy and your heart—intoxicating you with the notion that maybe all of this could be real in the morning, as Jeongin’s hands tighten on your waist. You feel his head dipping, lips sliding over your neck, his tongue lighting fires along your skin. He feels the rumble of your moan, feels the way you draw into him and sigh—your hands, delicate and lovely clutching at his jacket.

“Let me take you home,” he’s saying, begging, pleading. He wants to be alone with you, wants to play pretend somewhere private, somewhere where it doesn’t have to be a game.

You find yourself nodding, turning around in his hold so you can look at him, still so devastating through the hysteria. His eyes meet yours, so lovely in the dark room, and slowly his hands reach up to push the hair out of your face.

“So beautiful.” He says, matter of fact.

His hands linger, settling on your jaw, before slowly, achingly so, bringing your lips to his. He doesn’t kiss you at first, just brings you close enough so he’s breathing your air—almost like he’s giving you CPR, breathing life into a dying body—until finally he is kissing you, and taking all that life back.

The feel of him, the taste of him–is too much to bear. His hands are still clutching at you, holding onto your face and your neck, fingers leaving indents on the most vulnerable parts of you.

He’s everywhere, he’s everything, he’s come alive.

He tastes like the apple crown he took with you, sweet and sour–a taste you’ve only ever associated with sickness, yet when it’s dripping from Jeongin’s Tongue all it causes is euphoria.

“Let’s go home,” He’s saying again, pushing the words against your lips, and you find yourself nodding again–kissing his jaw as he pulls away.

“We,” you begin, a little breathless, “We have to go tell Felix, or he’ll break down my door to make sure I’m still alive.”

The way Jeongin looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the room, shakes you down to your core. He’s grinning, wide and mercilessly, but his eyes hold that same mischief they carried the day he agreed to do this with you.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He asks you, before taking your hand and pulling you through the sea once again.

You finally find your friend in the backyard, fairy lights glinting off his cheekbones. Felix is always handsome–impish and charming–but there’s something about his face now that sets the visage apart. Rather than the joyous expression you left him with, he looks angry… Angrier than you’ve ever seen him, (except for the time you misplaced your friendship necklace in fourth grade), he’s not yelling or bursting with volatility, but there’s something about his form that reminds you of a grenade. He’s so still, his body tense and eyes steely.

The haze of your previous euphoria clouds your mind enough to make you wonder what’s going on–the picture being so out of place, your intoxicated mind can’t seem to make sense of it. Jeongin’s hand squeezes your hand tighter, and suddenly the painting comes together–there he is, standing in front of Felix, saving all of the volatility for himself.

Hyunjin is beautiful, even now, standing tall and angry like an archangel. You knew you’d see him here, had planned on it even, but seeing him like this is so daunting. He’s beautiful and terrible, and as you watch him yell at your best friend–who is only ever good–you can’t seem to conjure up that love you always felt for him.

You can feel Jeongin holding you back, his gentle hands holding onto your intertwined fingers tighter than normal, and when you look up at him his face urges you stay with him,--to leave with him like you planned, but even he can’t stop the current from bringing you towards the Conflict.

With one last look at Jeongin, you find yourself walking away from him and towards the boy who broke your heart.

When you approach the boys you can finally hear their voices, angry and insistent. They’re being drowned out by hushed refrains of “c’mon guys!” that you think must be coming from Chris and Minho from their place behind the two boys. Hyunjin’s voice cuts through, “Can’t you just fuck off? God!” he’s groaning, and suddenly you’re rushing forward.

“What the hell is going on?” You cry, alerting the boys to your presence. The noise stops almost immediately as they look at you, shocked that you would be a witness to this outburst, as if it was something private you just stumbled into and not in the middle of a party. There are people scattered along the patio, some you know and some you don’t, but they’re all looking at you–waiting for something good to happen.

Yet, The only person you’re looking at is Hyunjin–he’s shaking with anger, but his eyes are so sad. It’s an unwelcome sight, no matter how angry you are with him, to see him so clearly devastated. He looks different up close, all the signs of anger from far away slip into sadness the closer you get to him.

When you turn to look at Felix, you can see that he’s crying–oh your emotional boys, they could never feel anything by half. “So?!” you ask again, “What the fuck is happening?”

“Just go,” Felix tells you, not unkindly.

“What? Now, she can’t talk to me?” Hyunjin throws at him, before looking at you and smiling–It’s so out of place on his angry face, a smile so heavenly it used to bring you to peace. Now, all you feel is disappointment.

“Nothings wrong, sweetheart,” he tells you, the old nickname making you flinch. “Me and Felix are just talking, you can go back with your boyfriend.” The smile is still on his face, yet the words are venomous.

The reference to Jeongin, snaps you out of reality. Of course, you knew what you were doing by coming here with him… Knew that this was the whole point, to get him back! But being here, seeing the hurt you knowingly caused, doesn’t make you feel good–just sad.

“Can you just fuck off already?” Felix asks, his words coated in a thunderous anger. “Leave her alone, it’s none of your fucking business what she’s doing,”

“More like who she’s doing,” Hyunjin says, still smiling at you like this all one big joke, but you know him–you know everything about his heart, the sound of its beat, the amount of time it pounds against his chest when he’s upset about something. It hurts you that he’s acting like this, pretending what you’re doing means nothing to him, even when it so obviously does.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” You hear from behind you, Jeongin’s hands catching yours into his hold and subtly rubbing at your knuckles. You thought he left, hoped he wouldn’t, but thought he did… How grateful you are that he’s still here, next to you and holding your hand like nothing is different than it was twenty minutes ago.

“Oh, I’m Pathetic?!” Hyunjin cries, staring at where your and Jeongin hands meet. “I’m Pathetic?” he asks again, “You’re the one whose fucking my girlfriend, and I’m pathetic?” He laughs out, an ugly mean thing that brings tears to your eyes.

All the boys start to yell at him now, telling him to fuck off, that that was too far… But you can’t seem to find your voice. Can’t seem to be able to conjure up any sentence that would accurately portray how you feel–how angry you are, how deeply cut you are that Hyunjin would be doing this.

How could he do this to you again? How could he suck out all the air in the room every time you see him.

The noise is rushing back up, people trying to get both Felix and Hyunjin to calm down, and all the while Jeongin is shaking his head and rubbing the stress out of your palms.

You feel nothing but sadness…

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You whisper, just loud enough for the group to hear you.

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m not your girlfriend, Hyunjin… I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.” You tell him, you can hear him say your name–see him begin to protest, but before he can start, you say again “I’m not your girlfriend, and you have no right to yell at anyone, not when you’re the one who fucked everything up.”

You see him take a deep breath, try to steady himself before he says,

“C’mon, Sweetheart, don’t do this right now…”

“Me don’t do this?!” You cry, “Are you even listening to yourself?!” Your tears are falling freely now, catching onto your lips. The salty taste is ruining the sweetness of Jeongin, obstructing all the life he gave. “I can’t believe you, seriously–you should go,”

Hyunjin says your name again, pleading for you to listen to him, but you don’t want to… you can’t, all that is doing is causing you deep aches inside your soul where all your forgotten love resides.

“Leave her alone, Hyunjin.” Jeongin speaks up, his hold on you becoming more protective as the moment goes on–standing taller and taller as if to hide you from your ex’s view. “Just go home, nothing’s gonna be fixed while you’re like this.”

Hyunjin looks like he wants to argue again, but one look at his friends makes him stand down, before he walks away–Minho leading him back into the house with an apologetic look at you and a nod to Jeongin. When Chris passes you, he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and that's what does it–that's what brings you to full on sobs, the thought of Chris being even a little disappointed in you.

“Come on, let's just go home…” Felix tells you, tear tracks still shining on his pretty face.

“I don’t want to be with you right now,” You tell him. You can hear him try to complain, try to tell you that he was defending you, but you don’t want to hear it. Everytime you look at him, all you see is Hyunjin standing there and looking at you like you were nothing. You just can’t seem to get past the frustration that Felix couldn’t just walk away, even if Hyunjin was being an asshole.

“Listen, I love you, okay? I don’t know what happened, and honestly I don’t care, I’ll talk to you in the morning, I promise… but I can’t do it anymore.” You whisper, looking anywhere but at your best friend. Lovely Felix, who only ever wants you to be happy. He’s so sad, soul crushed and bleeding, but he understands. Understands in that way he always does, so without anything more than a nod he walks away, pressing his hand to your shoulder as he passes.

The world is quiet for a moment, dark and honest like you like it, here alone with Jeongin again. All the prior heat is gone, all of intensity leaving the air as soon as everyones gone, and all that remains is Jeongin’s hand in yours and his dark eyes looking down at you.

“Let’s go get something to eat, huh?” He whispers, and before you can resist, he’s pulling you through the night.

The diner is achingly familiar in the midnight hour, walking through the doors holding a different boy's hand than all those times before. The warm air is a comfort after trekking through the cold, abandoning the car for a night time walk through the city.

Jeongin’s hand never left yours, holding you like a wounded bird. You can’t seem to wonder what he must think of you, sullen and sad–what if he doesn’t want you anymore? Now that your heart is shining on your face.

He leads you into the restaurant, smiling at his coworkers behind the counter and ordering two cherry cokes. When you go to sit down, he sits on the same side of the booth as you, corralling you into his arms once again. You’re all cried out, can’t seem find it in yourself to let anymore of the pesky tears escape, but when he brings you into him–so close you can hear his heart beating, just as wild as the first time you listened to its song–you can’t help but feel like you need to cry again.

You’re quiet for a long time, listening to each other's breath and sipping on your sugary drink. Your head isn’t cloudy anymore, your heart is no longer so sad… It’s nice, sitting here with him; having a front row seat to his life passing before you. He’s a little awkward, fidgeting with his soda straw and tapping his foot. He’s waiting for you to say something, giving you space and time to break the silence yourself.

“You don’t have to be so quiet, y’know” You tell him, your voice scratchy from crying.

“I know, I just didn’t want to scare you,” Jeongin responds, his arm moving its way up your sleeve and into your hair. “It was so loud before, I wanted to give you some quiet.”

You can’t help but swoon, can’t help but love the boy in front of you–how sweet he is, how thoughtful. For weeks now, you’ve sat here with him like this–sharing space and time, loving him as a friend before anything else–perfect and pretend.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Innie… I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’ll always worry about you.” He says, with such honesty that it takes your breath away.

Jeongin thinks you’re radiant. Has thought so, since the very first time he saw you–snuggled into his friend and laughing at some stupid joke. He’s cared for you longer than you know, longer than he should have… but seeing you here now, holding onto him like he’s the only thing you have… It breaks his heart in two. He wants you to be okay, wants to wrap you up and keep you safe until the storm passes.

Jeongin doesn’t know when this became real, if it was real on the dancefloor, when he was kissing you and his world stopped. Was it real when you were being yelled at? Or has it been real since that moment in your room? The moment when he saw your heart open up for the first time. He doesn’t know, and honestly he can’t find it in himself to care–Who gives a fuck when it started? It’s real now.

He is worried about you, that much is true… How could he not, with your makeup ruined and your lip still trembling. You’re still so beautiful, but there's something so very innocent in the way you’re looking at him, like all you want is for him to keep you safe.

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time now, honey” He tells you, the pet name sweet on his tongue and warm in your ears. “It’s why I hadn’t talked to Hyunjn even before you guys broke up–” He stops to take a deep breath, to look out into the night before he starts again, “You’ve always been so alive, and in the end… every time I saw you with him… you just looked so sad.”

You try to remember, try to think about the last time you saw him at a get together before you and Hyunjin broke up, but you can’t. Those memories hidden behind months of trying to act like nothing was wrong, like Hyunjin still loved you–like you were happier than ever.

“I don’t remember seeing you,” You say, “I’m sorry.”

“I was always seeing you, even before I was supposed to.”

Oh your darling boy, sweet like candy and so so honest. It strikes you that everything you’ve done all night has gone past pretend, that this boy in front of you might as well truly be your boyfriend. When you think this, all the dread lifts away–seeping out of your bones and washing away as his eyes smile down at you.

He knows, you think, he knows exactly what you’re thinking–it’s never been pretend, hasn’t been since the minute he stood in your doorway and held you while you slept.

“You’re everything.” he whispers, and his smile is a thousand suns.

“HE SAID WHAT?!” Minjeong yells.

The morning after the party has been a whole thing. Waking up in your bed with Jeongin smiling down at you, cuddled together in your party clothes, peaceful until Minjeong and Chaeryeong burst in to interrogate you about what happened.

You’re not sure how they got in, even less sure if you want to ask, but they're here now: cuddled up next to you and shoving Ayen out of bed with instructions to make you all coffee.

“Minnie, I already told you–Hyune was a dick face and made me and Felix cry.” You tell her.

“That fucking guy, I can’t believe you guys cried… I would’ve just slapped him.” She says, much to the chagrin of you and Chaeryeong.

“You would not have slapped him, Min.” Chaery says, rolling her eyes as Minjeong insists she would have.

You find yourself giggling to yourself, laughing at how horrible everything was, and how funny it is now. Last night was horrific, but sitting here with your girls you really see how ridiculous the whole thing was–Hyunjin called you his girlfriend! How silly is that?

“What are you laughing about, sweet pea?” Felix asks–he’s standing in your doorway, smiling but sullen. Anxiously waiting for an invitation into the room, holding some of the coffee’s Jeongin must’ve made. It hurts you to think about him sitting up all night and waiting for you to forgive him, as if you could ever stay mad at him.

“Oh nothing, just how ridiculous we all are,” you laugh. “Why are you still standing over there, come on!” Felix’s smile is incandescent, brighter than you remember it being, and he quickly bounds over to you and the girls. Giggling about how much he missed you even though its only truthfully been a couple hours.

When Jeongin finally comes back, coffee in his hand and carrying around that 1000 watt smile, you can’t help but feel like everything is right in the world; here in your bed, with all the people you love most in the world… nothing pretend about it.

The morning is alive and sweet with friendship–Felix and the girls teasing you about Jeongin, and laughing as your face heats up.You can feel him smiling at you, you can feel the heat of his stare soaking into your skin like the sunrise. It’s a tether to reality, the proof that you didn’t make anything up… You’re everything, he said, and what a lovely thing that is–to be so intrinsic to him and his life that that's the only way he can describe you.

He’s your everything too.

You find yourself smiling at the thought, closing your eyes in bliss, you can almost hear your heart beating–louder and louder as reality sets in. It’s all real: him, you, this. You can almost see the future, prophetic daydreams passing over your eyelids of what is to come–more of this, of course, but also more–more, more, more. You can see him, laughing in the sun, kissing you under the stars, singing your favorite songs. It will be perfect, lovely and real, and everything.

When your eyes open, you see Chaeryeong smiling at you–looking at you like she can see every thought buried inside your heart. She loves you, you know that, but seeing her know you can feel it too. How you love her too, even with her silly jokes and mischievous plans. Her eyes flit to where Jeongin’s hand holds yours raising her eyebrows in that familiar way, and she tells you,

“Just pretend my ass,”

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pullupinarari · 9 months ago

Text

Concentrate [LH]

Author’s note: hiii girlies, welcome to this side blog! This is my first time posting something for Lewis, and I really like this little thing so I hope you enjoy it as well! 🥰 mwah mwah

Warnings: this is smutty so MINORS DNI!! Fingering, shower head comes into action, unprotected sex, girl is gonna ride 🤠 let me know if I’m missing something ‼️

• masterlist

wc: 2017 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen Lewis for the last time. Work has been keeping you away from each other, on both ends. You’ve been out of the city for work meetings, and Lewis was in Belgium for the Grand Prix.

Today is Tuesday, and you just got back from your work trip, but your boyfriend isn’t home - he texted you earlier, letting you know that he would have dinner with his manager to discuss some sponsorship deals.

You are tired, your entire body hurts, your feet are sore from wearing heels for so long - you need a nice, deserved break. And all you can think about when you enter your house is going straight to the tub, wanting nothing more than a warm and relaxing bath.

You turn on the water, letting it fill the bathtub as you lazily take your clothes off and put on some slow music to set the environment. The feeling embraces your skin as your foot touches the warm water. You lay in the tub, not rushing to wash your hair nor your body, wishing to feel the quietness, the peace of being by yourself and without a schedule to follow for now.

You silently thank god for the fact that Lewis isn’t home, needing your alone time, but you can’t forget how much you miss him.

Being away from your boyfriend is never easy - no matter how many years you two spend together, you never get used to being away from each other. When two bodies are connected in such a deep way like the two of you are, it’s never easy to let that connection fade when you’re forced to distance yourselves physically.

But the thing is, it never really fades. Lewis is a very devoted boyfriend, he texts you the entire time you two are apart, sends voice messages, video calls you whenever you two are available, and makes sure you know how important you are to him.

Not even in the most magical dream you could ever have, would you imagine that you would be lucky enough to have such a confident and mature man by your side.

So, even when you’re away from each other, you two are always present in the other's days and lives, even if it’s just through a cute text or a phone call.

And while you’re feeling the warm water hitting your body and relaxing your tense muscles, Lewis is actually a nervous wreck, wanting to get his dinner meeting done as fast as possible so he can finally go home and find you. God, he misses you like crazy - he needs to hold you, to kiss you, to touch you. As soon as he finds a breach, he makes up an excuse so he can leave the dinner and drive home.

The noise of the front door opening and closing disturbed your peace, and by the way Roscoe immediately started barking, you knew he was welcoming Lewis.

“Love! I’m home!” - you hear Lewis’ voice echoing through the hallways, giggling to yourself while you wait for him to open the bathroom door.

When he does, his eyes light up when he catches your features in between the dim light of a few candles that illuminate the space surrounding you.

Your body is covered with bubbles and foam, your hair lazily tied in a bun, he can only see some parts of your face due to the lack of light, but he doesn’t need anything else. He knows your features by heart, he knows exactly how you look and he absolutely loves it, feeding himself off the angelic energy that emanates from your body into him.

He kneels down beside the tub, placing his hands carefully on each side of your face, holding you gently as his lips finally meet yours in a much expected kiss.

“Hi” - you whisper softly to him, letting out a giggle.

“Hey” - he whispers back, kissing you once more.

The kisses are slow, gentle, yet so full of love.

Your hand leaves the water, reaching his face to caress his cheek, beard, hair. The warm touch makes goosebumps appear on your boyfriend’s skin.

“I missed you so much” - he says to you, still whispering, as if neither of you wants to ruin the immaculate and peaceful feeling going on. Lewis feels a sense of belonging when he’s with you - he belongs to you, he only feels complete when he has you by his side. And the most beautiful part of loving someone this hard, is that you feel the exact same way towards him.

“I missed you more” - you reply, reaching for his lips once more, while your hand travels from his hair to his neck, to the beginning of his back, wrapping your fingers on his t-shirt, letting him know that you want it off.

“Join me” - you say to him in between kisses, deepening them now, slowly lighting a fire inside of Lewis. He starts to feel it burning lightly as your tongue licks his bottom lip, trying his best to keep his patience, while his body reminds him of how much he misses you.

His tongue slowly touches yours, intertwining them as his hands travel from your hair, to your jaw, to your neck.

His touch feels hot on your skin, and you gasp quietly as his fingers wrap around your neck firmly, as he gives you a proper kiss now, a deeper and needy one, as he distances his face from yours so he can stand up and take off his clothes.

You know his body like the palm of your hand, but the sight is always breathtaking. You take in every inch of his skin, and he feels your eyes burning his body.

He smirks at you when you look into his eyes, blushing from eyeing him so intensely. Lewis slowly joins you on the tub, taking a breath as he lets the warm water hug his skin. You immediately cradle him in your embrace, your arms hugging his back as your lips connect again.

The kiss is heated, as Lewis’ hand reaches to finally touch your body, resting on your hip before traveling through the water to grab your left boob. You hum at the feeling of his hands finally on you, a feeling that you’ve been craving for the past weeks.

“God, I missed this” - he admits, his mouth leaving yours, only to start painting your neck with his lips.

You gasp at the sensations of his wet lips on your skin, as if it was the first time. His hand drives through your body, making the water ruffle and adding new sensations to what the two of you were already feeling.

He stops at your core, slightly caressing it as his lips dive into yours once more, his tongue racing against yours. He grabs the shower head after opening the drain, letting the bathtub empty almost completely, leaving little to almost no water left to caress your bodies. Your skin gets chills at the sudden change of temperature, and Lewis is no longer in your arms, since he got on his knees to take a look at you.

Your body is on full display for him, and even with the dim light, he can see you blushing, trying to cover yourself up. He kisses your knee sweetly, using his hand to open your legs for him.

“Don’t hide from me, angel” - he begs you, his voice barely above a whisper - oh, the secrets he saved to tell you tonight.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of the water pressure going straight to your clit, giving you a surprisingly amount of pleasure. Lewis is still in front of you, on his knees, with his left hand holding your right leg, and his right hand holding the shower head, moving it slowly so the water can draw circles on your pearl.

Now, you two can only hear your throaty moans and breaths and the sound of the water running, while your soft music is still playing on the background. Lewis is looking at you with fire in his eyes, hungry to give you more pleasure, so he switches the shower head to his left hand, leaving his right hand completely free.

Then, his slick fingers tease your entry, as the water keeps adding pressure to your clit. He adds two fingers inside of you, moving them slowly as he hears you moaning his name.

The water is the perfect temperature, and that amount of pressure building on your pearl for so long is making you see stars already - Lewis’ fingers send you straight to heaven.

After some minutes of fingering you hard, but slowly, you end up reaching your high, feeling empty when your boyfriend distances his fingers from you. He takes the shower head and uses it to wet your bodies with warm water once again, while he moves to close the drain, letting the bathtub fill again.

His body glues itself to yours again, kissing you more as you missed his touch, even if it was just some seconds without him touching you.

“You make me feel so special” - you admit, feeling affectionate after your orgasm, hugging him and connecting your mouths again in a sensual, passionate kiss.

Lewis uses his strength to lift you up, holding you tightly as he sits in the tub, while you’re straddling him now.

The kisses become calmer, but your hand teases his member, desperate to get some attention as well. Your boyfriend groans at your touch, letting you know how good it feels.

You’re the one attaching your lips to his neck, shoulder and collarbone now. After a moment of touching him where he needs you the most, you lift your hips, aligning yourself with him and sinking slowly, making the two of you moan at the sensation.

You start moving, and Lewis uses his hands to help you, while your skin is now slapping against the water.

“Woman, what have you done to me?” - Lewis questions, almost like a prayer.

He keeps moaning and grunting, and his sounds mix with the tune that’s still playing in the background, sounding like a song - a song that you could listen to for the rest of your life.

Lewis is at loss for words, he can only focus on the feelings that you’re providing him. Your ocean is drowning him, your arms are wrapped around him, and he can’t concentrate on anything else. Your kisses make goosebumps appear on his skin, his stomach swirls every time you sink harder on his dick.

He definitely makes you feel weak, but you have no idea how lost in pleasure he is right now. And he could feel like this forever, from night until the morning, taking you nice and slow, without a care in the world.

When you two burst your bubbles, he holds you tightly, letting you rest your head on his chest while he looks down at you, like you are the most precious thing in this world.

“I love you so, so fucking much, my love” - he whispers, while his hands gather some warm water to pour on your back, so you don’t feel cold.

“I love you more” - you reply, landing a kiss on his cheek, making a bright smile appear on his face.

“I’m so lucky” - he says to you like it’s another secret that he’s breaking to you. “Everything you do to me, the way you make me feel. Fuck, I am never letting you go” - he seals his promise with a meaningful kiss to your lips.

Lewis truly makes you feel special, like a true princess that’s deserving of this world and the entire solar system. But you could never deny how special Lewis is. Your rock, your safe haven, the man of your dreams. The world stops when you’re together, but nothing could stop the connection that you two share, and the feeling that invades your hearts at every second of the day, by just thinking of each other. Truly, your match made in heaven.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fic #thoughts about lewis #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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apple-kiwi · 6 months ago

Text

Skz Calling you clingy

Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N.

Part 1

Authors note: This was supposed to be out on Tuesday but then I got into K-drama and kinda forgot about. I honestly hate how this turned out but whatever. I tagged everyone who asked for part 2, if you want to be untagged lmk, also if you want to be added to my tag list for this series lmk

Warning: None I think

Taglist: @heaveniseverywhere @straykidslvr @staybychoice @luckymilkshakerebel

Not proof read

Word count: 939

Days passed since your argument and you hadn't gone back to the apartment. You'd been crashing at a friend's place, needing time and space to cool down. Lee Know, on the other hand, started to realize the gravity of his mistake and how much he had messed up.

He hadn’t expected you to just up and leave, leaving him alone in the apartment. He also hadn't considered the fact that you might not come back anytime soon. His initial indifference was gradually replaced by a feeling of regret. He had stood you up, ignored your texts, and then called you clingy. The more he thought about it, the more it dawned on him how much he had screwed up.

Each day that passed, the more he longed to see you, to apologize and make it up to you somehow. And so, after a few days of stewing in his thoughts, he decided to make the first move. He sent you a text.

The text read: 'Can we talk? I messed up and I'm sorry. Please come back.'

You stared at the screen of your phone contemplating whether to respond or not. Your anger was still fresh, but the pang in your heart wouldn’t go away. After debating for a while you decided to type a simple reply.

'Alright, we can talk.'

Your short response surprised Lee Know. He hadn't expected you to agree to meet so easily but his heart slightly leaped with hope. Immediately he texted back.

'Can you come back home? I want to apologize in person.'

‘Ok.’

Lee Know’s anxiety spiked at your simple 'Ok’. Did that mean you'd come back? He waited anxiously for your arrival, pacing around the apartment. He hadn't seen you in days and it was eating him up inside.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of the apartment door opening grabbed his attention and he turned to see you walk in. Your expression was neutral and your eyes were slightly puffy. You avoided eye contact with him, closing the door behind you. A tense silence hung in the air as neither of you knew how to start the conversation. But after a few moments, Lee Know spoke up, his voice laced with remorse, "I'm sorry," he took a few steps forward, still maintaining a small distance between you two. With an apologetic look, he continued, "I shouldn't have stood you up and called you clingy a brat. God, I don’t even know why I said that. I should've been there for our anniversary and I'm sorry I ruined it. I hadn’t realized I hurt you so much."

You remained silent for a while, finally meeting his gaze. He looked genuinely apologetic, his eyes showing genuine remorse. He wanted to come closer and hug you, but he was hesitant, not sure how you would react. He knew he had caused the damage and now he didn't know how to fix it. You let out a shaky exhale, “You really hurt me min…”

Lee Know looked at you, his face a mix of guilt and sadness. As you spoke, his heart felt heavy.

"I know I hurt you, I made a mistake and I'm so sorry.”

"I promise I'll make it up to you," he said softly. That day was a big day for us, and because of my selfishness, I ruined it. I was thoughtless, and I'm sorry.”

He looked at you, his eyes expressing his remorse. He took another step towards you. "I'm sorry. Do you," he hesitated for a moment, "Do you want to break up?"

Lee Know asked nervously, dreading the answer he might get, but he needed to ask, he knew what he did and said was wrong and unforgivable.

“What? No,” you say almost instantly, looking up at him, surprised he would even think that you know the argument was pretty bad and there were words that shouldn’t have been said but it was nothing that couldn't be talked out, and it was not bad enough to throw away a 2-year relationship, though if he hadn’t apologized it would have definitely been over.

He hesitantly closed the distance between you, carefully bringing his arms around you in a gentle embrace. He knew this wasn't enough to win you over but he wanted to feel your presence closer.

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he hugged you, feeling the weight of his mistake.

And he truly meant it. He wanted to fix this, to make things right. He knew it wouldn't be easy but he was ready to try. The thought of losing you had scared him and he realized that he needed to put more effort into being a better boyfriend.

“I know…” you whisper

Lee Know held onto you, not wanting to let go. He knew sorry wasn't enough, he knew he needed to prove it through his actions.

"I love you," he said softly. "Please don't leave me."

“I'm not… I won't…” You say softly, sniffling and trying to wipe your eyes

Your words provided him with some relief, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Thank you,” he said softly, letting go to examine your expression. He reached up gently, wiping away the last traces of tears from your cheeks. "I promise I won't mess up like that again.”

"I'll do better," he added. "I'll prioritize you more and make sure we communicate better."

He kept his arms around you, still afraid to let go. He wanted to savor this moment of having you close after days of missing it so badly. You two stay like that for a while before you playfully pinch his side, “You owe me dinner.”

#🍎🥝’s post #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know angst #Lee know hurt/comfort #minho x reader #minho x you #minho angst #lee minho #stray kids x reader #lee know fluff #minho fluff #stray kids x you #skz x you

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lcriedlastnight · 11 months ago

Note

Accidentally saying I love you with Lando

tysm for your request anon, i appreciate it so much! p.s lando deserved that win today. max verstappen i am inside your walls.

tw: fem!reader, short and sweet, swears, lmk if there's anything you want me to add.

w/c: 1k

you and were a newer thing. you weren't new new, but new enough that you have not said those three little words to each other yet. you knew you loved lando since the third date, when even though he didn't like seafood, literally couldn't even stand being near the stuff, he took you to a sushi restaurant because you had never tried sushi and you wanted to give it a go. turns out you didn't like it either.

there had been a few times where you had almost let the words slip out your mouth but you had managed to bite your tongue at the last second. you would tell him when you were ready and when the time felt right.

lando was currently in spain for the spanish grand prix and this one was difficult. it was only the first race out of the three in the triple header and yet here you were, laying in yours and lando's shared bed, on facetime to him, close to tears. just seeing his face made you miss him more.

"come on honey, don't cry. don't do this to me. i don't want to watch you cry." lando frowns from his own hotel bed, the sheets too white compared to his usual ones. the bed too empty without you. you were usually really good with the distance but this was your first triple header with lando. there were double headers but even with those you made it to the last race so it was even less time. this time around you can't even go to one.

you sniffle as you try to stop your tears. you wipe your eyes with the sleeves of lando's jumper. "i know. i'm sorry. it's not your fault. i just miss you a lot tonight, lan." you express.

you can see lando nodding along with your words as you speak, you know it's not easy on him either. you sigh.

"okay. sorry. we can talk about something else now." you try your best to shake off the sadness. you can always cry when lando hangs up the phone.

"don't apologise, my sweet girl. i know it's hard, i'll try speak to you as much as i can. and i know i'll be busy but i'm back in monaco for the next three tuesdays." lando tried to find a positive in all of this. it was difficult.

you nod, with a hum taking his word into account. "not gonna let go of you for the full night on the tuesdays." you insist with such determination it makes lando's heart melt.

"is that a threat or a promise?" he asks, cheekily. that stupid smirk on his face as he tries his best to make you laugh. it works, not because it's funny but because his smirk always made you laugh.

"promise." you say through giggles. lando laughs along with you until he checks the time on the top of his phone. he sighs as it reads two am.

"m' gonna have to go now, honey. it's gettin' a little late." lando frowns like the words actually hurt him physically to say. you frown too but you understand so you don't put up any fight.

"g'night lan. speak to you tomorrow. i'm not working so call whenever you can i'll keep my day free for you." you bid him goodnight and send him a kiss through the phone screen. lando smiles at your cute gesture.

"night, honey. i'll call you whenever i can. i love you." it is quick but you catch it. lando blows you a kiss then ends the call. you didn't get a chance to say anything back. you don't think he even realises he said it. well he will now he's laying thinking about it. you think to yourself as you settle down on lando's side of the bed and fall asleep.

it's not until he returns home that it's spoken about. you are happy he loves you too and you are even happier that you didn't say it first. you were scared that if you said it first and lando didn't feel the same then he would break up with you. you let your mind carry you away sometimes.

you wait on the couch in your living room for lando to come in. you hear his key in the lock and the rolling of the wheels on his suitcase through the doorway. it makes you giddy but instead of leaping off the couch you stay where you are. lando notices you there and makes his way to you. he doesn't give you time to think before he is wrapping you up in a hug.

your head resting in the crook of his neck as he picks you up in the hug. you laugh at his strength. when your giggles die down thats when you hear him. he's mutter a quiet stream of "i love you"'s into your ear. this is when the tears spring to your eyes again. you pull his head out of your neck to really look at him.

"i love you too. you didn't let me say it back last time." you try to slip the joke in but lando doesn't laugh. no, he just springs forward, lips locking with yours in the sweetest kiss you've had yet from the brit. he pulls away put sends a quick few pecks to your lips, because he can never get enough of you.

you both spend the rest of the day repeating those words to each other like you have just found out what they mean. lando literally feels the need to shout them to everyone he see's in the airport as you wave him goodbye the next again.

while lando is on the flight with no internet he spends his free time typing the words 'i love you' out individually, over and over again then sending it to you just before he lands so that when he does actually land and you get the message. you will be reminded that you are all he thinks about even when you aren't with him.

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ramp-it-up · 7 months ago

Text

Knock You Down: III

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky feeds you after the failure of date number 2.

This is a follow up to Part II

Word count: 2.3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Okay I Lied! I added more words as I edited this and it ended up over 5K. So... there will be four parts to this fic which has posessed my soul. It will be posted Tuesday 10/15. Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, idiots in love, playful banter. Bucky and reader talk about sex, without talking about it. Or doing it. This is fluffy, yet angsty and I feel like you might not like it. Let me know if you do.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

Bucky Barnes was sitting at your table eating Thai food with you and you weren’t mad. He had ordered twice the amount you requested and damn you, you thought it was cute.

He was cute, casual in t-shirt, sweats and a ball cap. He looked as alluring as he did in a suit.

You were doomed.

Bucky didn't try to get into a deep discussion or get close to you. He just kept you company as you ate and poured you some of the best rosé that you’d ever tasted.

Food was your love language, and having good food did a lot for your mood. It also didn’t hurt that the delicious snack known as James Bucky Barnes was sitting across from you.

You respected his game.

But somehow you didn’t think it was a game. He’d been honest and straightforward with you. As much as a man in his position could be. Then you realized that he’d probably told you too much.

“What is it, Frumoasă? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you here to give me a last meal and then kill me?”

Bucky laughed loudly. He loved that you had the ability to make him do that. He loved…

“That mind of yours, Y/N.”

He shook his head at you.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want you safe. Even if you are not going to be mine.”

Your ears perked up at that phrase.

You already knew that Nico was parked outside of your place. You realized that he had been hanging around since Monday night.

But what you were tripping over is that Bucky said that he wanted you to be his.

You normally weren’t into possessiveness, but on James Barnes it was sexy as fuck.

After eating, it was only polite that you gave him a tour of your brownstone. He didn’t touch you, but the proximity of his body to yours at the door of your bedroom was heady stuff. You wanted him to…

But you just took a deep breath and led him back down to your front door.

“Before you kick me out, I have something to say.”

Bucky had never felt the need to explain anything to anyone in a very long time. But you weren’t just anyone.

“I apologize for giving you a security detail without your knowledge. And then piling my friends on as well. They wanted to check you out, and I wanted to be sure that you were safe. Those gossip blog posts have heightened the risk for you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What posts?”

“We’ve been papped every time we’ve gone out. You didn’t know? I thought that’s why you asked what you did tonight.”

You groaned.

“No, my friends must have seen them. What do they say?”

Bucky hesitated. Just a moment, and then responded to the look on your face. He ascertained that he was going to have to be straight with you consistently if he wanted to be in your company.

“Well… Since we’ve been spotted together more than once, one particular site is claiming that we’re already in a relationship. They say you are my girlfriend.”

The softness of his voice when he said ‘girlfriend’ got to you.

Whoo boy.

You groaned, then laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never even kissed me.”

Bucky laughed too.

“Ha ha. Yeah. It’s crazyyyyyy.”

“Isn’t it though…?

You tried to look deep into his eyes, and he let you. You saw something that didn’t really surprise you. So you decided to just ask the question that was on your mind.

“James, what do you want out of this? This…”

You didn’t say what you were thinking, but he knew exactly what you were thinking when you didn’t finish your sentence.

Bucky looked off as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there yet, then back at you.

“I want… you. I don’t want a one night stand. Or a situationship.”

He watched you carefully as he said the next words.

“I want, I need so much more from you.”

He took both of your hands into his as he leaned against the door frame.

“Listen. When you left earlier this evening, it knocked me on my face. You’ve got me thinking about a lot. Things like what our life might be like in the future.”

You were spiraling as he spoke. ‘Our life,’ ‘future.’ But you tried to remain calm.

“This was never supposed to happen to me. Y/N. But ever since you came into my office on Monday, my heart has been racing. I’ve got feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Wow.”

It was all you could say. But when you thought about it, you felt the same exact way. You smiled at him and his nerves calmed.

Just a bit.

“I have to admit that every morning when you text me, I get the biggest smile on my face. That wasn’t something I wanted or planned.”

You looked down at your fingers entwined with his. Yes. This could be a thing.

“It’s not exactly convenient to have these kinds of feelings this fast, James. Especially with all has happened.”

You looked up at him, and the hurt on your face destroyed him.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. And I understand if you want to pump the breaks. I-”

“If you want me, then why haven’t you made a move?”

You interrupted him to ask about the next most important topic on your list.

Bucky recognized your insecurity.

“Don’t ever doubt the sexiness of your appeal, Frumoasă. I want to kiss you, and more to be honest. But I haven’t because I am so afraid of you.”

The way he looked at you caused a tingle of fear to unfurl in your belly.

Or was it desire?

“You are afraid of me. I see. You’re a terrible kisser. That’s why you don’t go on second dates. I get it now.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.

“Maybe so.”

He gazed at your smile and the way your entire face was alight. Then he brought one of your hands to his lips.

His mouth on your palm enabled you to feel the salt and pepper whiskers on his face. And when he slid those lips to your wrist you moaned a little and squirmed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the scent there.

“The skin here is so soft and fragrant, makes me wonder about…”

He stopped speaking but the silence spoke volumes. This man was having wild thoughts about you. Of that you were sure now. You wanted him everywhere.

Bucky brought your hand down from his face and rubbed your wrist with his thumb. The sensuality of the act made you feel unstable. You must have wobbled because his hand went down to your waist to steady you. But you just felt more dizzy.

He chuckled at your tell and saved you again.

“Can we sit?”

“Yeah.”

The couch was a bit dangerous, but the blood was leaving your head.

“Truth?”

“Always, James.”

“Okay. The truth is I don’t think you could handle it.”

You scoffed at the challenge.

“Come again?”

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes and then he sobered up.

“If I kiss those lips, Y/N, I’m not going to abandon them in haste. I’m going to take my time. And I’m not being cocky, but I’m pretty sure things will progress rapidly. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop myself from giving you anything you ask for. Anything.”

The sensual promise was making you wet. You clenched your thighs together, causing Bucky to look down at them and lick his lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were dilated.

You knew that you could have him right now if you wanted. You took a deep breath to clear your head and Bucky’s eyes were on your lips.

This feeling was a drug.

“I’m already falling for you, but I know that I will crash into you. I can get intense about the things and the people that I care about. And you’re not ready for that, Frumoasă. Not at all.”

You pulled your hands away from his even though you wanted to jump his bones.

“How do you know what I’m ready for, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“You just said that your feelings for me aren’t convenient.”

You sucked your teeth at him and crossed your arms, turning your body away from him. Bucky was charmed by your pout, but a little mad at you closing yourself off from him. If you were his, he’d teach you a lesson about that. He’d open you up.

But damn, he didn’t need to be so hard right now. You had an important day ahead, and he wasn’t going to rush this experience. He tried to calm down, but his voice betrayed him.

“You also haven’t asked me for a kiss. Although you did tell me that you wanted to fuck my voice...”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Let’s not!”

He laughed, on cloud nine at your shyness with him. He’d teach you to be wanton, and have a grand time doing it.

“Frumoasă mea, you could request a kiss at any time. And I will always give you anything you ask of me. If you ask nicely of course.”

You cocked your head and Bucky bit his lip at how adorable you were.

“You want me to beg you for a kiss?”

Bucky took in the fire in your eyes and his own darkened.

“A kiss is not what I want you begging for.”

You coughed to cover a whimper as your mind went where Bucky wanted it to go. You couldn’t believe that your panties were soaked by someone you’d never even kissed.

“I just want you to know what you’re signing up for if we get physical.”

“From a kiss? It’s like that?”

You tried to be incredulous, but you believed every word that he said. You just wanted to verify.

“So let me get this straight. I kiss you, you rock my world, but I’m not ready for it?”

You’d never been so annoyed yet so turned on.

Bucky shrugged.

“Or you could be right. I’m a horrible kisser. A lousy lay. I’m just trying to stretch out the good times with you before you find that out and dump me.”

You shook your head at him, not wanting to laugh, but doing so anyway.

“...But, in order to find that out, I would have to kiss and lay with you.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…”

Bucky teasing you was the best kind of foreplay. You felt comfortable with him. And now you were intrigued.

“I can’t with you.”

“So we agree.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, but you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you, James.”

“Is that a request?”

This banter was everything.

You got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“I’m going get you something to drink. Do you drink tea? You seem a little thirsty.”

“As long as you drink with me. You seem a little parched yourself.”

Bucky called after you while watching your curves in your sweats as you flipped him off. He rubbed his hand on the ridge of his semi-hard dick. You were so damn hot. He concentrated on calming down while the kettle heated.

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

You laughing was amazing.

You came back with a tray of herbal tea, milk, and honey and sat down again.

“I do want to talk to you about something else.”

He said it as he prepared his cup.

“Yes?”

“I want to let you know, as much as I can, the plans for me to go legit. Can I have just a little bit of your time tonight? And then I will let you get some rest.”

Your heart melted and you smiled at him.

“Yeah. You got it.”

—-

You woke up at 3 am, Bucky’s steady heartbeat under your ear and his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep after hours of talking about the future. You looked up at him and those lips were right there.

You could just steal a kiss.

But you didn’t, just tried to ease out of his arms so you could go pee.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you couldn’t move. He was awake.

“What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

He let you go and sat up, looking around, then at you.

“I’m sorry, I talked your ear off and bored you to sleep.”

You shook your head.

“I wasn’t bored. You made me feel safe.”

Bucky grinned.

“I’m glad that you feel safe with me. You are, you know.”

His morning voice was sensual heaven. You never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

“And for your safety, I probably need to leave now.”

You wanted him; his body felt good against yours. But he was right. You chuckled and then led him to your door.

“Okay.”

At the door, Bucky turned and looked down at you. He was thoughtful.

“Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No, why?”

“I wanted to ask you on date number three Saturday night.”

You two stared at each other for a beat before he continued.

“How do you feel about a late dinner at my place after the exhibition? Since you don’t have to get up early the next day.”

You took in his meaning, but you didn’t address it.

“Are you trying to feed me, James?”

His gaze got intense. You got wet again, realizing the double meaning.

“You have no idea, Frumoasă.”

Holy shit. He caught it too. You gulped.

“Okay. Sounds… intriguing.”

Bucky looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“I’ll stop by the center around midday, then go shopping for our meal. Nico will bring you by. About 8?”

“It’s a date.”

You two grinned at each other like idiots. Then he opened your door to leave.

“James.”

“Yes, Frumoasă?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. It was perfect, and a little bit like a promise.

Then he left, straight into the early morning fog, waving at Nico as he got into a sleek black sports car, blew a kiss at you, and then pulled away.

That felt like an escape from the inevitable.

To both him and to you.

——

As always, let me knowww! ❤️

Part IV Here

#ramp-it-up falloween 24 #falloween #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #seb stan #sebastian stan #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #art dealer!Bucky Barnes #mob boss!bucky Barnes #Art dealer! Bucky Barnes #mob boss! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut

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jburrgf · 7 months ago

Text

Bags.

“Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time. I can't read you, but if you want, the pleasure's all mine. Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse, walking out the door with your bags.”

pairing: joe burrow high school! x book nerdy y/n reader.

summary: high school sweethearts, book nerdy girl, shy-misterious jock, player x nerd girl.

description: joe starts going on s/n book club, and one day they got stuck together at the classroom by mistake.

It was a truth universally acknowledged in my high school that Joe Burrow, the star quarterback, was unattainable. Joe Burrow is basically a myth. He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time—on the football field, leading our team to state championships, and in my honors classes, where he sits quietly, blending into the background. He’s the quarterback, but he's not what people expect. He’s shy, nerdy, and mysterious.

I’ve always been invisible to Joe Burrow.

I mean, not exactly invisible—we’ve gone to the same school since we were in kindergarten, sat in the same classrooms, shared the same air—but for someone like him, I might as well have been a ghost. I always thought he had no idea who I was, just another face in the sea of people who adored him.

Still, I was ridiculously in love with him.

I had been hopelessly, head-over-heels, and completely smitten with Joe Burrow since the seventh grade. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, or that he was the star quarterback—although those things certainly didn’t hurt. No, what had drawn me to Joe was how kind he seemed to be to everyone, how he went out of his way to help people even when he didn’t have to. There was something about the way he carried himself, a quiet humility that made him different from the other guys on the football team.

Still, none of that mattered because, as far as I was concerned, I was just another face in the crowd.

So, when I saw Joe walk into the same after-school book club that I attended every Tuesday, I was shocked. The school's book club is a quiet, nerdy escape for me after hours, and apparently for him too. At first, I thought he had wandered into the wrong room, but then I saw him sit down and pull out a copy of Great Gatsby. The fact that the quarterback was not only in the same room as me but also reading the same book threw me completely off-guard. For weeks, I couldn’t focus on anything but how to avoid making eye contact with him while somehow hoping he’d notice me.

But he didn’t.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself every single time I snuck a glance at him. He was quiet, focused, and didn’t engage much during discussions, unlike me. I always had my hand up, always contributing to the conversation, but never to him directly.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the faint scent of old paper filled the school library. I sat in my usual spot, the far corner of the room where the sunlight barely touched. My hands played absently with the spine of the novel in my lap, but my mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on Joe Burrow.

He was late to the book club meeting again, not that it surprised me. I was used to him sliding in just as Mrs. Fowler began her rambling analysis of whatever novel we were discussing. His late arrivals had almost become routine. He’d offer a sheepish grin, mutter a quick apology, and take his seat across the table from me. Every time, my heart did that ridiculous thing—skipping a beat or two—like I wasn’t used to seeing him in the same room after months of this.

He was a mystery I couldn’t quite solve. In class, he was quiet, smart, but always reserved. In the hallways, he blended in despite the attention the football team got. And here, in book club, of all places, he sat a few feet away, focused, intense, and always... distant. It drove me crazy, even though I had no right to expect anything from him.

I sighed, glancing at the clock. Mrs. Fowler was wrapping up her talk about the The Great Gatsby, and I hadn’t heard a single word. The meeting was almost over, and there was still no sign of Joe. Maybe today he wasn’t coming at all. Maybe—

The door creaked open, and there he was, slipping inside the room as quietly as possible, his eyes scanning the room. As expected, his gaze landed on the empty seat across from me, and my pulse quickened. He muttered his usual apology, and Mrs. Fowler barely acknowledged him. I kept my eyes down, pretending to be engrossed in the pages of my book, but my mind was far from calm. I could feel his presence like a warm weight across from me.

The minutes ticked by, and the meeting ended, the rest of the club members gathering their things to leave. I lingered, as usual, taking my time. Joe remained seated too, flipping through his copy of Gatsby, even though he’d barely participated today. I stole a glance at him, hoping he wouldn’t catch me. But as fate would have it, our eyes met.

My heart jumped into my throat, and I quickly looked away, my face heating up. Get a grip, Y/N, I scolded myself. He’s just a guy. A guy who probably doesn’t even—

“Hey, Y/N,” Joe’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft and hesitant.

I blinked, turning back to him, my heart now hammering in my chest. “Oh, hey,” I managed to say, surprised he’d even spoken to me.

He gave me a small, nervous smile, like he wasn’t sure if he should have said something or not. “Did you like the book?”

I blinked again. “The book?” I repeated, feeling like an idiot. “Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s a classic, right?” Great response, I thought sarcastically.

Joe nodded, and for a second, it seemed like he might say something more, but then he fell silent, his attention shifting to the clock on the wall. “I guess we better—”

Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the sound of a door clicking shut made both of us freeze. I glanced toward the entrance of the library, my stomach dropping as the realization hit. “No way…”

Joe got up, striding over to the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He pushed it again, harder this time, but nothing happened. “I think… we’re locked in,” he said, turning back to me with a bewildered look.

For a moment, I just stared at him, processing the situation. Locked in? With Joe Burrow?

I stood up, clutching my book to my chest as I walked over to the door, peering through the glass. The hallway was dark, deserted. “The janitor must have locked up,” I muttered, feeling a strange mixture of panic and disbelief. “They didn’t notice we were still in here.”

Joe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

I glanced up at him, the reality of the situation sinking in. We were stuck. Together. For who knows how long.

“Yeah,” I breathed, my heart racing. “Unexpected.”

We sat in silence for a while, both of us too awkward to speak. Joe leaned back against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, while I perched on the edge of a desk, nervously flipping through the pages of my book. The quiet between us was almost suffocating, and I could feel my pulse in my ears.

“Do you think they’ll notice we’re gone soon?” I asked after what felt like forever.

Joe shrugged, his eyes flicking to the window. “Maybe. But I think most people have already gone home.”

I swallowed, trying not to let the panic rise. “Great. Just… great.”

Joe chuckled again, and I glanced at him, surprised by the sound. It was soft, genuine, and I realized then how rare it was to hear him laugh. His eyes caught mine, and for a moment, the tension between us eased.

“You don’t seem like the type to panic easily,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know me very well, then.”

The silence stretched out between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts. I could feel the warmth of Joe’s presence even though we weren’t sitting close. My mind raced, but my words seemed stuck somewhere in my throat, tangled up with nerves. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, watching as he fidgeted with the cover of his book, his fingers tracing the edges like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Um,” I started, then immediately regretted it. The sound of my own voice startled me, and I felt my cheeks heat up. “What… what about you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you join the club?”

Joe shifted a little, glancing at me briefly before his gaze darted back to the floor. He shrugged, his shoulders rising in that quiet, unsure way that made him seem far less like the confident quarterback everyone assumed he was.

“I guess… I just like books,” he muttered, his voice soft. “It’s easier than… you know, everything else.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah. It’s kind of nice to disappear into a story sometimes. I get the feeling. Nobody know me."

Joe gave a small nod, still not quite meeting my eyes. There was a vulnerability in the way he held himself that surprised me. Here was Joe Burrow—the guy everyone talked about, the quarterback who led our school’s football team to victory—and yet, in this quiet room, he seemed almost… unsure. Just like me.

The room felt smaller suddenly, like the space between us wasn’t as wide as it had been moments ago. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat, tangled up with my nerves. I wasn’t used to talking to Joe, and now that we were alone, I found myself hyper-aware of every small movement he made, every glance he sent in my direction.

After what felt like an eternity, Joe cleared his throat, the sound quiet but startling in the stillness. “I’ve… always noticed you,” he said suddenly, his voice barely audible.

My heart stopped. I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “What?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Joe’s face flushed a deep red, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I—I mean, not in a weird way,” he stammered, his words rushed and awkward. “Just… you’re always there, you know? In class. In book club. And, uh, you’re really smart. I just… noticed.”

I stared at him, completely at a loss for words. Joe Burrow— Joe Burrow —had noticed me? My heart raced, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was too stunned, too flustered.

Joe shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting his confession. “Sorry, that was weird. I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” I blurted out, louder than I intended. I winced at the sound of my own voice, feeling my face grow even hotter. “I mean, it’s not weird. I just… I didn’t know.”

Joe’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. There was something raw and uncertain in his gaze, something that made my stomach flip in a way I didn’t fully understand. He looked just as nervous as I felt, and somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

“I didn’t think you’d ever notice me,” I admitted quietly, my voice shaky but honest.

Joe’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “No, that’s… I mean, how could I not? You’re…” He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words. “You’re kind of amazing.”

My heart stopped again. Amazing? Me?

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t used to compliments—especially not from Joe Burrow. I could barely manage to look at him without feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. So instead of speaking, I just offered a small, shy smile, hoping it was enough to show him I appreciated what he said.

The silence between us stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It felt like we’d crossed some invisible line, like something had shifted between us. Neither of us knew what to do with that shift, but neither of us seemed to want to break it, either.

After what felt like forever, Joe glanced toward the door, then back at me. “Do you think… we’ll be stuck here for a while?”

I shrugged, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me despite the situation. “Maybe. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joe nodded, but instead of looking anxious like he had before, he just leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxing a little. I could feel the tension in my own shoulders easing too, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t mind the idea of being stuck in this room. Not with Joe.

“I’ve always thought you were too smart for me,” he confessed, avoiding eye contact as he ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know how to talk to you. And then, everyone expects me to be this... athlete. Like that’s all I’m good for.”

I was speechless for a second. How could someone like Joe, someone so confident on the field, be so unsure of himself off it? That quiet moment between us, surrounded by old paperbacks and classroom desks, felt like something out of a story I’d read before. And suddenly, all the reasons I’d convinced myself he wouldn’t ever notice me melted away.

“You don’t seem like the typical quarterback,” I said before I could stop myself.

Joe raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “What does that mean?”

I blushed, realizing how that sounded. “I just mean… you’re here. In book club. That’s not exactly where you’d expect the star athlete to be.”

He laughed, the sound soft and self-deprecating. “Yeah, I guess not. But I’ve always liked reading. It’s just… different from what everyone expects.”

I nodded, understanding what he meant. We sat in companionable silence after that, the quiet no longer feeling so heavy.

As the minutes ticked by, the air between us softened, and the weight of our earlier awkwardness started to lift. Joe’s posture became more relaxed, and for the first time, I felt like we weren’t just two strangers stuck in the same room. We were two people who, despite everything, had more in common than I ever realized.

“So,” Joe started again, his voice low but steady, “if you like reading so much, do you have a favorite book?”

I bit my lip, considering his question. It seemed like a simple one, but the answer was anything but. There were so many stories I loved for so many different reasons. “It’s hard to pick just one,” I admitted. “But I guess, if I had to choose… maybe *Jane Eyre*.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, and he tilted his head slightly. “*Jane Eyre*? Really?”

I nodded, feeling a little self-conscious but also oddly proud. “Yeah. I mean, it’s more than just a romance. It’s about finding yourself and standing up for what you deserve, even when the world expects you to settle.”

Joe’s lips quirked up into a soft smile, and for a moment, I wondered if he was laughing at me. But then, he nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s... about being strong, right? Even when things don’t go your way.”

“Exactly.” I smiled, surprised that he seemed to understand. “I guess I always admired Jane for that. She never let anyone make her feel small.”

Joe’s smile faded just a little, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I get that more than you’d think.”

His words hung in the air between us, and I felt my chest tighten. I wanted to ask what he meant, but the look on his face told me it wasn’t something he’d share easily. He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck again—a nervous habit I was beginning to notice. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer than before.

“People always assume things about me,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the floor. “Like, because I’m the quarterback, I have it all figured out. But… most of the time, I don’t. I feel like everyone’s watching, expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

I stared at him, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy. I had never considered what it might be like to be Joe Burrow. To have all that pressure on your shoulders, to be constantly seen but never really known. “That sounds… hard,” I said quietly.

Joe nodded, his expression still serious. “It is. But… then there are moments like this.” He glanced up at me, his eyes meeting mine, and my breath caught in my throat. “Where it feels like maybe… I don’t have to pretend.”

For a second, neither of us said anything. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. Joe’s eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could see the vulnerability there, the quiet need for something real—something he didn’t have to fake.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” I whispered.

Joe’s gaze softened, and the tension between us thickened, but not in the awkward way it had before. This was different. There was something unsaid in the air, something I wasn’t sure either of us was brave enough to address. But it was there, lingering in the space between us, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

Joe shifted again, pushing off the wall and taking a small step toward me. My heart pounded louder in my ears as he came closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and suddenly, all the air seemed to disappear from the room.

“So, what book are you reading lately?” I asked.

His eyes met mine then, blue and steady. “Oh, um... just some science fiction stuff. I’m not as into the classics like you seem to be.”

I blushed. “How do you know what I read?”

Joe smiled, a little shyly, looking down at his hands. “I pay attention more than you think.” He stopped for a moment and got back talking again. “I’ve liked you for a long time. But I never thought you’d be interested in me. I mean, you’re... you. And I’m just... well, I’m just the guy who throws a football.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Joe Burrow—*the* Joe Burrow—liked me? All this time?

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” I stammered, still reeling from the shock.

He glanced up at me then, his blue eyes more vulnerable than I’d ever seen them. “You don’t have to say anything. I just... I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but I was too nervous. I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

I shook my head, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Joe, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The room felt impossibly small, like the world outside had shrunk away and all that existed was the two of us.

“I never asked you out because I thought you were too smart for me. You always know what you want and you’re so intellectual and funny, and smart, and beautiful…” Joe admitted softly, his gaze still locked on mine. “I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with a guy like me.”

I couldn’t believe it. All this time, I had thought he was out of my league, that he didn’t even know I existed. And yet, here he was, confessing that he felt the same insecurities about me.

“I always thought you didn’t even notice me,” I whispered.

He smiled then, a small, soft smile that made my heart ache in the best way. “I noticed.”

My breath caught, and suddenly, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us. Joe took another step closer, so close now that I could feel the warmth of his body against mine. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking down to my lips and then back up to my eyes.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I knew was that Joe Burrow was standing inches away from me, looking at me like he wanted to close the distance between us.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my skin. My heart raced, and for a moment, I thought—this is it. I thought he was going to kiss me.

But just as the space between us seemed to disappear, the sound of keys jingling echoed from the hallway. The door creaked open, and the janitor appeared, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw us.

“Oh!” he said, startled. “Didn’t realize anyone was still in here. You two okay?”

Joe stepped back quickly, his face flushing red. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as well, the moment shattered in an instant. “Uh, yeah,” Joe muttered, running a hand through his hair nervously. “We’re good. Just… stuck.”

The janitor chuckled, oblivious to the tension in the room as he held the door open for us. “Well, you’re free to go now.”

I glanced at Joe, my heart still racing from the almost-moment we’d shared. His eyes met mine briefly before he looked away, his face still red. Neither of us spoke as we gathered our things and made our way to the door.

But as we stepped into the hallway, Joe’s hand brushed against mine, just for a second. It was brief, but enough to send a jolt of electricity through me.

“Y/N,” Joe said softly, his voice hesitant, “about what I was going to say before…”

I looked up at him, my heart still racing. “Yeah?”

He swallowed, his eyes flicking away for a moment before returning to mine. “Would you, um… maybe want to go to the spring dance with me? If you’re not, you know, already going with someone.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. He looked so nervous, standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, waiting for my answer.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. “I’d love to.”

Joe's face lit up with relief, a shy smile pulling the corners of his mouth. "Great. I was so afraid of you saying no to me."

"I could never," I said, honestly.

"That's... that's perfect." He agreed with me. "So, I'll pick you up around 7:40 pm, okay?"

I agreed with my head, giving him a smile back. But instead of Joe moving away from me, he started walking towards me. Slowly, making my heart throb inside my chest. The last thing I saw was his eye just before mine, and then he kissed me.

Like a real kiss. A kiss from the movies, that kind of kiss you say to your children. His lips were soft, his mouth tasted like peppermint. His hands were lost, but he found his way to the place I liked - my waist.

The boy walked away, looking into my eyes soon after. I just couldn't believe it. He smiled, shy, his cheeks turning red at an extreme speed, showing that he was also nervous. Nervous just like me.

"So..." He started talking again, but suddenly stopped. "Sorry, I got lost. I didn't expect this to happen today. Actually, I wanted to, but not in a strange way, you know-

"Joey." I called him by his nickname and saw his eyes getting brighter. "It's okay. I got you. See you at 7:00 at my house?"

He smiled, winking at me. "I'll see you on Tuesday." He smiled again. "We can read our books together after the club.

"It looks like a plan!" It was the last thing I said to him when I turned my back on him.

We separated in the hallway, but as I walked towards the exit, I couldn't stop smiling. I had come to the book club just expecting another quiet afternoon. Instead, I left with the promise of something new—something real. Something real with Joey.

#Spotify #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joeburrow #joe shiesty #cincinnati bengals #joey burrow

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 1 year ago

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Pinky Promise 2

Pinky Promise Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Summary: Part 2 of Pinky Promise. The two of you become close friends, but one night shows Jake just how much you trust him.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a hot minute since I have put something out but I promise you I have a good reason for it! I just had a baby and haven’t had time to sit down and write. But hoping to put out more content here soon! Thank you all for reading!!! - C

It was an ungodly time in the morning when you heard the doorbell ring. It took more will power than you would like to admit to even sit up in bed, head pounding with the slight elevation change. You wiped the sleep and last night’s makeup from your eyes, most likely smearing streaks of it across your face. And you sat there contemplating all of your life’s choices up to this point.

The doorbell seemed to yell at you, telling you that whoever was on the other side must have been impatient. A quick glance at the clock said it was 8:30 and you had to take a deep breath to not hurt the person who was making you get out of bed.

A few stumbling steps later, you opened the door to find a delivery guy with a bag of food. While you took the bag from him, the confusion was pretty clear. Even the guy who was turning to walk away could see it. “There is a note on the receipt.” And then he was gone.

Between the hangover from hell and very few hours of sleep you got; you were slow moving to get back inside. To anyone walking by you must have looked like you lost your mind with the amount of time you spent looking at the bag. But by some miracle, your legs took you back to bed while your mind was still reeling.

The bag didn’t have any sort of logo or name on it, but it did smell good. You opened it up and reached for the receipt first, trying to find answers.

The tacos I promised you. – Jake

A laugh came out as you put the piece of paper aside, making your way to the things that were making your mouth water. Breakfast tacos greeted you and suddenly being woken up was not a bad thing anymore.

You went to reach for your phone to thank the blond-haired pilot but stopped when you remembered exactly why you now had tacos. Your drunken self called your brothers most hated teammate last night because you didn’t want to get your brother involved. You winced at the thought of him finding out and pulled your hand back.

You dreaded looking at your phone, knowing Bradley most likely had blown it up after last night. So, instead of being a responsible adult who answered for her own actions, you turned your phone over. What you couldn’t see meant it wasn’t there. Denial was one of your favorite places to live in.

Jake seemed friendly enough, offering help whenever you needed. He also wasn’t quick to judge you like others. It wasn’t lost on you that Bradley had most likely told his teammates how “reckless and wild” you were, already painting a bad picture of you. But Jake didn’t make you feel that way. He actually made you think that you might be able to call him a friend, even if he didn’t see eye to eye with your brother.

Jake heard a knock at his door and tried to think who would be here at this time of night. The confusion only grew when he opened his door to find you walking past him and making yourself home on his couch.

“Ever think about how dumb Tuesdays are? Like the only thing they are good for is tacos.” Jake had to blink a few times for his mind to catch up to what was happening.

“I can’t say that I have. Did that burning question drive you all the way over here?” He closed the door and walked to the adjacent couch to sit. He had a feeling this was going to be a long visit.

“I had to thank you in person for the tacos since I’m ignoring my phone.” Jake’s eyebrows rose that comment and pushed you on it. He watched as you played with your hair, giving him a hint at one of your tells. You were either uncomfortable or nervous about your answer and he locked that piece of information away for later.

“Look, my brother can be a bit much sometimes and I didn’t have the energy to deal with him this morning. Then this morning quickly turned into this evening, and I figured it’s a lost cause now.”

Jake bit back a smile, “So, you thought ignoring him was your best option?” He thought back to his conversation with said pilot at work this morning and was surprised when he saw a new side of him.

Bradley at first apologized for “having to deal with you.” But once he realized he didn’t mind making sure you got home safe, he thanked him and said it won’t happened again. Jake brought up his sisters and how he would want to make sure that if they needed help, someone would be there regardless of how good of terms he might or might not be with that person. This seemed to clear the air between them a bit, making work a little easier.

“I know it isn’t exactly my smartest idea, but you can only be called irresponsible so many times before you lose it. Was he mad at you this morning?” Jake shook his head, “Thankful for getting you home. That’s all.” He watched you nod your head but could see you didn’t fully believe him.

“You pinky promise I didn’t make things worse for you at work?” Jake laughed at yet another pinky promise.

“Yes, I pinky promise. Have you eaten dinner? I have leftovers I was about to heat up.” And with that offering, it opened the door to a new friendship.

Jake often found himself answering the door to you, texting you at random hours of the day, and always making sure you made it home safely. The two of you quickly became good friends, making the random house visits become a normal thing. He started to look forward to you coming over, knowing that your carefree way of life would bring him some sort of interesting story.

Until tonight.

The knock on his door was a little later than normal. Typically, you made your way over right after he got home from work. But tonight, it was hours past that time. Jake opened the door expecting you to waltz right in, but instead you were stood rooted in place with your head down. Red flags instantly went up as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Hey darlin’. How about we head inside?” His heart dropped when you lifted your head up. A bruise was starting to form around your right eye and by the way you were holding yourself, he knew it was from something bad.

A million different scenarios went through his mind, each worse than the last. But until he could get to the bottom of it, he needed to make sure you were okay. The ever so confident girl he had come to adore was nowhere in sight as he fully took you in. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, almost as if you were trying to be as small as possible. Despite the swelling from the bruise, he could see redness around your eyes from crying.

He moved to the side as you slowly made your way in allowing him to close the door and give you his full attention. ��Sweetheart, what happened?” You flinched as he moved his hand towards you, making him stop his motion and put his hand up.

“You know I would never hurt you. I just need to look at that eye.” He waited for you to give some sort of okay before he tried again.

“I had this date and he wanted to go back to his place. All I did was tell him no.” Your words came out as a near whisper, but Jake heard you loud and clear. He had to take a second to calm himself down to not scare you any further.

“Can I give you a hug?” His words surprised you. The two of you were never one to show affection but for him to ask permission before doing it solidified why you chose to come here. A small head nod and he pulled you into his chest.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever have to feel that kind of fear.” And that simple gesture pushed you to your breaking point. The tears started all over again, but this time you felt a sense of comfort as you let them out. He continued to hold you for a few minutes and when he let go, you could see just how much this had affected him too.

He couldn’t help but think about his sisters and what he would do if they were ever in this situation. To have someone hit them simply because they said no made him sick to his stomach. Which is why he knew he needed to let your brother know.

“Sit down on the couch and I’ll grab you some ice to help with the swelling.” You did as he said, and Jake walked into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen vegetables for you. While he was in there, he sent a quick text to Bradley telling him he needed to come over now. Jake knew he would do it based on the zero interactions they have outside of work. Bradley would know something was wrong.

He walked back out and saw you curled up on the couch, wiping a few tears from your face. When he picked you up from that bar a few weeks ago, he never imagined the two of you would be here. But he was glad to be that person for you.

“Put this on your eye for fifteen minutes and it should help numb the pain a bit.” You took the bag from him and did as he said. “Also, your brother should be on his way.”

The look of panic crossed your face, and he knew there was a chance you didn’t want your brother to know.

“I know you don’t want him to find out, but this is something your brother would want to know. I promise you that.” He watched as you played with the ends of your hair.

“He is going to try and say it’s my fault.” Jake knew the two of you had a bumpy relationship with just how different your lives were. But he didn’t for one second think that your brother would ever blame you for this.

“Let me get one thing straight. This is by no way your fault. A man should never lay his hands on a woman no matter what the reasoning. You said no and he needed to respect that. End of story.”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Jake waited a second before he went to open it. He gave Bradley zero warning on what he was walking into, and you weren’t in the best headspace to begin with. He knew there was a chance this wasn’t going to go well, but your brother couldn’t be left out of this.

Jake opened the door and said, “Try and keep calm.” Bradley walked in and took one look at you and pushed Jake up the wall. “The fuck did you do, Bagman?” Jake knew the initial reaction was going to be rough, but he was hoping he would still be able to fly tomorrow.

You stood up and quickly tried to push your brother away. While he didn’t budge, you at least got his attention. “He didn’t do this. I didn’t know where to go so I came here.”

Bradley looked back to Jake for confirmation and then backed off. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked between the two of you. “Someone needs to start explaining. Now.”

Jake looked over to you to see what you wanted to do. He had no issue telling Bradshaw the whole story, but he didn’t want to step on your toes. You didn’t tell him the two of you were friends for a reason, and he wasn’t sure how much you wanted to explain.

You took a deep breath and tried your best to answer, “Ever since the night Jake gave me a ride home, we’ve been hanging out. He’s been a good friend, one that I probably don’t deserve, but someone I know I can go to. I had a date tonight and it clearly didn’t go well. I was going to go home but I knew it wasn’t the best idea. Here was the next best place.”

Bradley shook his head, “Why here? Why not to my house? You know you can come to me for anything.”

You looked down as you said, “You always say how reckless I am, and I didn’t want this to be another huge disappointment for you.”

You heard Bradley curse under his breath but couldn’t find the courage to look up. Which is why you let out a yelp when he put a hand on your shoulder. “I know I’m hard on you but that’s because you’re the only family I have left. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me for things. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. But this? This is something I need to know, and I would never say it’s your fault. Something like this shouldn’t have happened and you best believe I am going to kill the guy who did this to you.”

You gave him a small nod and he turned your head to get a better look at your eye. “This is going to be a nasty bruise. Did he get you anywhere else?”

Jake watched in curiosity when your eyes seemed to light up some. “No. I stopped him before he could do anything else. Didn’t hurt as bad this time either.” The two pilots were confused until Jake looked down at your hand to see some slight bruising.

“Looks like you got him good.” Bradley caught on but then asked what you meant by “this time.”

You looked over to Jake for help explaining. “Killer over here has a nasty right hook. Said you taught her how to throw it.”

Bradley slowly nodded his head and almost looked excited when he asked if you used it on Jake. “You wish.” He chuckled some and then looked over to his teammate. “Thanks for looking out for her. Clearly you are doing a better job at it than me.”

Jake smirked, “Just one more thing to add to the list that I’m better at.”

A/N: Thoughts? Still deciding if I am going to add another one of these to the mini-series. Thank you so so much for reading!! - C

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy @alldaysdreamers

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #topgun maverick #topgun #chelsea writes

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corpsedogs · 1 month ago

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Jason Todd X Reader

angst, reader fakes death (spoilers?)

✿ francis forever — jason mourns you, but then he sees a familiar figure in an alleyway

It's been six months since you left. Jason has been lost in your absence. He can’t eat knowing that the food in front of him isn’t made by you. He can’t sleep because there will be no one to comfort him when he wakes up from a terrible dream. He can’t smile because there is nothing to smile about anymore. He misses your touch— and he misses holding you. He had hoped you thought of him when you died.

They said an assassin killed you. Jason woke up one morning to an empty bed, sunlight creeping across cold sheets. On the kitchen table: an envelope, photos, a letter. Rage consumed him. He vowed to hunt down whoever took you from him. He chased every lead, tore through every clue, only to slam into dead ends over and over again.

Every day, Jason visited your empty grave. He brought your favorite flowers, whispered updates about his day, left little gifts you’d once loved. Sometimes, he just sat there, fingers tracing your name carved into stone, willing it all to be a nightmare.

He hoped you noticed the things he still did for you. Washing the dishes. Buying groceries. Watching over Gotham from rooftops. Picking up the books, sweets, and records you used to stare at.

But there was one thing he regretted more than anything: not saying "I love you" enough. Words had always been hard for him. He hoped you knew how much he loved and adored you, but he would never stop blaming himself for not saying it more.

Of course, his family was there to comfort him. But he doesn’t want their reassurance, he wants yours. Your validation, your gaze, your love is what matters. He cannot bear your absence, he cannot believe you left the earth.

Last summer, quiet streets and solitary walks.

He remembers walking on the streets with you, no matter how awful looking the Gotham view is. He would always lead you to the other places like the docs or a walk around Wayne manor. You always insisted on Gotham’s streets in daylight—said the sun made even Gotham feel safe, just for a little while.. and it wouldn’t hurt exploring the city.

On Tuesdays, he would go out walking on the streets. Hands in pockets, no goal in mind— just hoping your ghost would be walking there with him. He goes to the Gotham park and walks in the treeline street. If you were here, he’d scribble the spot on a sticky note and slap it on the fridge—your unofficial invitation to join him.

He looks at the horizon on the tree-lined street. He misses you so much.

Then, Jason comes back to the ugly streets of Gotham. He walks to an empty alleyway, graffiti painted all over the walls. He heard a commotion ahead—fists hitting flesh. Instinct took over. But when he rounded the corner, he froze.

The figure fighting off the thugs felt… familiar.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, barely a whisper. The figure stilled. “You should leave,” you said, and Jason’s heart stopped. He knew that voice.

He walks forward with steady and heavy steps, the sound of his boots echoing through the empty and dirty alleyway, “It’s you?” he asks.

You turn your head, and there you are. Still beautiful as the day he lost you. You were a bit different of course— shorter hair, different clothes, different look in your eyes.

The way you looked back at him hurts. Fear flickered in your eyes— guilt too, but mostly you just waited. Silent. Bracing for the words he hadn’t figured out how to say.

You huff, “I know what you’re going to say.” you started, wiping the blood in your knuckles. “How could I have done this? Faked my own death, wondering why I never came back to you.”

He walks closer to you as you back away an inch, “I don’t know, okay! I wanted to keep you safe, I don’t want the thing that could’ve been my fate happen to you.”

He doesn’t utter a single word and you start to get frustrated, “Oh, stop with that. Go on, say something. Shout, scream— say something!”

He placed a hand on your cheek and the world seemed to stand still.

How could he yell or scream at you? How could he when you were right there in front of him. He could see you, feel you, touch you. It felt so real. His thumb slowly stroked your cheek while his eyes searched your face.

“Jason—“ you utter his name, begging him to say something.

His mind couldn’t wrap around it. You were in front of him. Breathing. Real. His heart believed it, but his brain told him this had to be a dream.His fingers traced your eyebrows, your nose, your lips—memorizing every inch of your face.

Finally, he spoke. Soft. Fragile.

“Why?” he asked. His voice was tight, his blue eyes locked on yours like he was afraid you’d vanish. “Why did you leave me?”

His hand slipped behind your neck, the other settling at your waist. He pulled you close, burying his face against your shoulder. His grip tightened—like he’d never let go again.

Tears welled in his eyes. All he’d wanted—for six long months—was this. To hold you. To feel you. To have you.

His fingers curled in your shirt, his voice muffled in your neck. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

He clung to the warmth of you. Your breath. Your heartbeat. The feel of you in his arms. It all hurt—it hurt because it was real.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

Now it was your turn to be speechless.

Despite the dark, grimy alleyway, Jason didn’t care. All that mattered was you. You closed your eyes. Pulled him close. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just repeated your name softly, like he was trying to believe this was real.

When he finally pulled back, his face was streaked with tears. He looked at you, disbelief still painting his features.

Then the anger returned.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, his tone harsh. “Leaving me like that? Letting me think you were dead for months?”

You didn’t answer. Guilt weighs heavy in your silence.

“Six months!” he barked. “Six months I thought you were gone! I went through hell trying to accept it. And now you just show up, like nothing happened?!”

His voice cracked, rising. “Did you think I wouldn’t care? That I’d just move on?”

His chest heaved as he stared at you. Anger. Pain. Desperation.

“I spent every night wondering. Wondering if you were alive, if you were in pain, if you were alone. I didn’t know why. I just knew you were gone.”

He broke again. Voice shaking. “Why… why did you leave me?”

You grabbed his arms. “I was afraid. If they found out I was alive, they’d come for you next.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Afraid?” he repeated. “That doesn’t give you the right to vanish like that!”He pulled away, stepping back as he tried to rein in his emotions.

He clenched his fists, remembering that awful morning. The cold sheets. The letter. The silence.

He tried to move on. Tried violence, rooftop patrols, long walks in the park—but nothing filled the space you left behind.

“I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I was a mess—all because of you.”

You snapped.

“Then leave me if I hurt you so much! If I don’t deserve you—then just go!”

Jason froze, eyes wide at your words.

He stepped closer, gaze locked onto yours. “You think I can just walk away from you? Like you never mattered? You’re out of your mind if you think I could give up on you.”

You shook your head. “How could you still love me after everything I did?”

He exhaled slowly.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m still waiting for you to come back. Because I know I can’t move on from you. I won’t.”

His voice softened. “I know you’re worth the wait. But do you even understand how much it hurt? How hard it was just to breathe without you?”

Another step closer.

“I need you. I need you, sweetheart…”

You looked at him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

“You really want me back?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Jason said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. He lifted your face, thumbs brushing your cheek. “I don’t care about anything else.”

You stood still for a heartbeat—then broke, throwing your arms around him.

He kissed your forehead, breath hitching. “I love you,” he whispered.

i should be… studying……….

#✿ saf’s fics #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd dc

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megs-1800 · 3 months ago

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The One Where We Were On A Break- (Part 2)

Notes: This was highly requested after Part 1. You can read part 1 here. It is a 'will they' 'won't they' story and I really didn't know how it was going to end until I finished it. Please leave me reviews and requests as usual.

Summary: You and Mason have so much thrown at your relationship, will you be able to come out stronger or will the force that is dividing you apart finally win.

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Swearing, Smut, Mentions of spiking and sick.

Its been 2 weeks since that night, me and Mason did our awkward morning after conversations both not sure what to say to eachother. Its hard when there are so many feelings and emotions involved, I have never had a one night stand but I am thinking they are a lot easier than this. Mason made us breakfast whilst I sat in one of his shirts, on the breakfast bar across from him. Its like old times, it was like nothing has changed but at the same time everything had changed. We hardly spoke a word to eachother, everytime I wanted to say something nothing came out and I feel like Mason was the same. We looked across at eachother and eat in silence like we were strangers, I guess this moment in time we probably are.

I quickly made my excuses after that and went home, we haven’t spoken since that morning. Its now been 2 weeks. Mason has sent me a good morning text every morning and a good night text every night, he has tried to ring me a couple of times but I just cannot bring myself to respond. People would think its stalkerish but knowing Mase I know he just trying to put as much effort in trying to win me back. As magical as that night was, it has made everything 10000 times more complicated now.

It was late on Tuesday night and I see my phone light up, I was just drifting to sleep when it woke me from my sleepy state. I didn’t even look who was calling I just answered it:

“Hello” came the voice from the other line. Fuck I thought.. That’s Mason. I cannot hang up now. I continue to let him speak. “Sorry did I wake you?”

“Y-Yeah kinda a little bit its been a long day just needed an early night. Whats up?”

“Ah I am sorry for waking for you. To be honest I didn’t think you would answer."

“Yeah I know sorry about that I just don’t know what to say. Whats up tho Mase? Surely you cannot be ringing me at..” I quickly pull the phone away from my cheek and check the time as I wipe the sleep out of my eye “11:30pm on a Tuesday night just to say hi?”

Mason is silent for a little I guess trying to think of the answer, I can hear cars in the background so I am assuming he is driving somewhere. “I don’t really know in all honesty y/n/n, I started today and I scored a goal! It’s the 1st time that I actually started and scored a goal in so long. It was amazing, I got all these messages after the game and I guess all I wanted was to tell you. I am sorry for ringing you” I can hear the excitement in his voice, I am so proud of him.

“I am so proud of you. Go on Superstar!” That was the nickname that I always used to give to him which always made him roll his eyes but I knew deep down his ego loved it. “I actually knew you were starting, not going to lie I actually had the game on I just fell asleep so early I have been knackered. But I am glad you called thank you for telling me” I can feel my heart hurt even having this conversation with him.

“I will let you go and get some sleep. I just really wanted to hear your voice. Have sweet dreams beautiful”

“Thank you for calling and letting me know, I am generally so proud of you Mase. Get home safe okay. Message me once you are home”.

I sit awake not being able to sleep after that call, I sit staring at the ceiling. I haven’t heard his voice in 2 weeks and hearing his voice made all my feelings come back. The sound of my phone buzzing pulled me out of my trance which it was Mason telling me he was home safely. We sat up all night texting back and forth, it was natural. Like old times when we first started talking, both of us fighting the tiredness to stay up talking to eachother.

A week later I am sat on Lauren’s sofa playing with Jude over our monthly catch up brunches. We always make sure to see eachother once a month and this time it was my turn to travel up to her. “so whats new with you?” Lauren asks as she joins us on the sofa.

“Not much to be honest” I try and play it cool whilst I take another sip of my coffee.

Lauren gives me a little smirk “Oh really that’s not what Dec has been saying?”

I look at Lauren confused “what are you talking about?”

“Well apparently Mason has been saying that you two are talking again? So spill the tea whats happened?”

“I don’t know Lauren we started talking the other night when Mason scored that goal, and we have just been talking since. I just don’t know how I feel, cause I don’t wanna get hurt again but its so easy to love him Lau, I just don’t know what to do!”

We laugh and she gives me relationship advice regarding the situation, well of course she is rooting for us, everyone was. “I get he hurt you babes honestly I do but he made a mistake. Believe me we all were fuming with him for doing something so stupid but don’t punish him forever for a mistake.”

“I know.. I know. He was the first guy that I let all my guard down for and he broke me in every way possible so now I feel like I have my guard up again. I guess I will just have to see how things go”.

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Mason’s POV

I pulled up at the restaurant and make my way inside. I see Lauren and Declan waving at me from the table on the right. I quickly go over and hug them both and sit down. We are chatting away when Lauren asks “I did ask Y/N if she wanted to come? She said she was going to try?” I look down “yeah she said she had to work. I am not sure if it was an excuse or not as I have been asking to see her for a while and she keeps putting it off but I am giving her time so I just agreed with it and said she would be missed”.

We are having a great night chatting away and the food is delicious. That’s when I see over Declan’s shoulder a couple enter the restaurant. That’s when I double take as the girl looks so much like you.. wait that is you. Then I realise the guy that is with you is James. Are you serious? You tell me you are busy at work but actually going out with James? I am fuming. I watch as you say a couple of things to James and make your way to the bathroom. I quickly excuse myself to the bathroom too.

I wait outside the bathroom when you exit you look shocked. “Mase? What are you doing here?”

“I am out for dinner with Declan and Lauren. You know the dinner that you were invited too but were too busy ‘working’ to attend.” Which I put quotation marks around working. I sound a lot more confrontational then I wanted it to be.

You roll your eyes at this “really Mason we are going through this again?! I cannot keep having the same argument with you. Please its getting pathetic! I was working and then James asked if we wanted to continue working over dinner. Whats wrong with that? I am now not allowed dinner?” I can hear the anger in your voice, this is not how I wanted us to see eachother again.

“Come on y/n there is nothing innocent about James’ actions. Taking you for dinner? Come on he is just trying to fuck you.”

“Get over yourself Mason, we work together. But you know what who cares if he did wanna fuck me. You know what I could fuck him all night long if I wanted to, do you know why? Because I am not yours Mason! You know what I cannot keep having this same stupid pathetic argument! I cannot even believe I thought about getting back with you. You know what fuck off!” You shove past me and storm out of the restaurant. I watch as James see’s you and follows you outside.

I go back to the table trying to engage with conversation with Declan as I look over their shoulders at the window I can see you shouting with James. You are pacing in the street which I know you do when you are stressing out. I can see your voice is raised and you point over to the table which both you and James turn your head, I watch how James rolls his eyes and you both walk away.

I can feel my heart break, I have probably fucked it up with you again but at the same time I hate that you are with that prick. He was the whole reason we had that argument in the first place, and I was right he did have a crush on you I just wish you would see that.

I hated myself for causing that argument again, I never thought I would be the jealous type but here we are. Its like you have some kind of spell over me, I just want you all to myself. We both haven’t spoken since that night as I thought it would be best to leave you to calm down. Its been a week and I hate not speaking to you, I just wish I could go back to that night and not cause that argument, we were doing so well and I was winning you back.

I got home from training and I find myself slumped on the sofa, I keep looking over our pictures together which brings a small smile to my face. My fingers now hover over the call button and before I know it the phone is dialling you. I really do not expect you to answer but after a couple of rings the call connects:

“Hey Mase” you sound quiet like you are anxious to have this conversation

“I’m sorry” I blurt out I just need to apologise “I was an idiot I should of never caused that argument I was just jealous that you cancelled on me to work and then suddenly out for dinner with him. I am sorry I let my emotions get the best of me, please lets just go back to how we were, we were making progress please y/n/n.”

“I slept with James” I hear you blurt out. I am shocked I am not sure what to say, did I hear you right?

“I am sorry what?!” I am in complete shock

“After the fight James dropped me home. We ended up having like 3 bottles of wine. I was drunk and so pissed off with you I was like ‘fuck it’ you keep thinking that I am fucking him so I might as well make it a reality. I know its pathetic and childish I felt like shit the next morning. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to message you. I am sorry”

“Right okay” is all I could reply to that sentence I am in complete shock. I cannot believe you slept with James. After all the arguments we have had about him and then you just slept with him just like that.

“Mase we are not together, I am allowed to sleep with whoever I want.”

“I know it just hurt out of everyone you could of slept with you slept with him. Are you two now together?” I hesitate as I really do not want to know the answer.

“No of course not, it was a one night stupid thing” I can hear the desperation in your voice.

“What? So you into one night stands now? That’s the girl you are now?” I am being blunt and I know I am out of order. I just want you to hurt.

“Are you actually calling me a slag right now Mason?!” I can hear your voice break at the end and I know you are now crying.

“Y/N I didn’t mean th-“

You cut me off “I cannot do this Mason. Everytime we see eachother we are arguing p-please I-I can’t” I can hear you trying to control your breathing. We sat on the phone for another 30 seconds both of us not knowing what to say.

You eventually break the silence “I-I gotta g-g-go” you eventually chock out and I let the phone go dead. I am still sat there on my sofa just staring blankly into the TV. Once again we cannot make it work maybe we are just not meant to be.

Readers POV

As soon as I hang the phone up I throw myself into my pillow and let the tears fall. I can feel my heart break all over again. Mason and I love eachother so much you can tell how much love there is between us both. Why can’t we just make it work.

I don’t even know how long I have been crying for until a knock at the door wakes me up, I quickly look in the mirror and I can see my eyes are red and puffy for the amount of crying. I look through the peep hole unsure who will be knocking at my door at this time.

Mason is stood there, he looks wet from the rain pour from outside. His eyes look the same as mine, not sure if it’s the rain but I know its obvious he has been crying. He had his head down and I could see his hands shaking I knew he was nervous.

The second I opened that door and saw Mason’s face I knew exactly why he was here, I could read the expression all over his face.

“We are done aren’t we?” I say defeated.

“Yeah I am done. I am done arguing and I am done caring.. I have loved you for so many years, you are the love of my life.. but I am done running after you.. I need to let you find peace and I need to be okay knowing that your peace isn’t with me. I will always love you but I need to be done now.. I need to let you go”.

And with that I watch as Mason turned around and walked back to his car. I can feel the tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t say anything I was frozen in the moment. Damn I will always love that man.

Mason’s POV

It’s the longest I have gone without messaging you, we have been no contact since that night. Its now been 4 weeks and 2 days. Yes I have been counting. The whole time all I thought about you, I wonder what have you been upto. Are you thinking of me? I always type a message out but I cannot bring myself to press send. We are toxic for eachother and staying in contact with eachother will just make it hurt more, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway.

Today is no different, I have been in training trying to recover from my current injury. As I drive home our song comes on the radio- Can’t help falling in love by Elvis and it makes tears form in my eyes as I sing along.

I bring my tired legs inside and do my usual evening routine. I am just about to get into bed when I see a call from Declan. It’s a bit unusual that he is ringing me this time of night especially as I know that he has an event. I quickly answer:

“Hey Mase, so sorry to ring so late. You alright?”

“Yeah you know so-so. Is everything alright Dec? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight”.

“Hold on let me move it’s a bit loud here” I can hear Declan is in a club or something due to the amount of noise. He moves to somewhere quieter. “Listen Mase, its y/n”

The sound of your name gives me butterflies but then I need to remember to be strong “Declan please I know you are close with her but please I cannot keep hearing her name and speaking about her”.

“I know mate honestly I have rang everyone in my phone but no one can help please. I promise you were my last resort” . Now I am becoming worried but I let him continue. “Look Mase I have never seen her so drunk, I think she has been spiked she is all over the place. She has been dancing with these guys all night, I have been watching her to make sure she is okay but I cannot go over there as I gotta go in a bit to get to the event and I do not have time to take her home and there is no point me causing the drama and leaving her on her own that would make it a lot worse for her. I cannot leave her in that state Mase, Lauren will never forgive me. I am really scared she is going to get herself in trouble. I didn’t want to ring but no one else is around”.

I sat there debating it in my head the whole time he is speaking, as much as I really cannot see you right now I cannot leave you in a state like that. I would never forgive myself if you got hurt and I didn’t protect you. I must have been sat there debating in my head for a while as Declan brings me out of my trance “Mase you still there?” he asks.

“Yeah sorry Dec text me the address and I will be there in like 10 mins” Declan thanked me and messaged me the address as I quickly throw on a hoodie and joggers and ran out. I knew this club, you used to love going there. My hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles are white. I quickly find a parking spot just outside the club, its on double yellow lines but right now I don’t give a fuck about a ticket I just need to make sure you are safe.

I speak to the bouncer on the door and he lets me in straight away, I guess my fame does come in handy meaning I didn’t need to queue. I push myself through the waves of people, a couple of people stopping trying to take photos of me which I just continue past them. Right now my mind is focused on you. I see Declan and he waves me over.

“Thank god you are here I gotta go like now. She is over there” and he points to a booth in a corner where you are dancing with some guy. You look like you can barely stand and your head keeps rolling back, you look so out of it. “Lauren says thank you by the way. She couldn’t come because of Jude but she honestly appreciates you coming to the rescue, we both do”.

“Just because of everything that happened between us Dec doesn’t mean I stopped loving her believe me. I am glad you called at least I know she is safe” Declan thanks me again and makes his way out the club. I go over to the bar and grab a coke, it looks a bit less weird then me just standing in a club staring at you with no drink.

I watch you for another 30 minutes I have seen you in all your drunk states but you have never been like this, and I know you would never let yourself get into this state especially if you are on your own. You must have been spiked. I see the way this guy is swaying with you on the dancefloor and the way his hand keeps travelling to your bum. God I wanna break that hand is all I can think. He then helps you to sit at the end of the booth and he comes over to where I am stood at the bar, he orders 2 more alcoholic drinks you cannot ingest anymore alcohol you are fucked I have to intervene now before you end up in hospital.

I make my way to where you are sat. I crouch in front of you and hold your head in my hands, you roll your head into them as I hold the whole weight of you head. With my other hand I place some stands of hair behind your ear “Y/N hey! Can you hear me?” You open your eyes but there is nothing there, you are completely out of it. I stand up furious at what these guys have done to you, I grab your arm and place it around my shoulders as I take your entire weight trying to keep you standing.

As I about to walk, the guy you were dancing with stops me “Uh what do you think you are doing bro! Find your own slag this one is mine!”

I turn to him and shoot him a glare if I weren’t holding you right now he would already be on the floor. “who the fuck are you calling a slag! Now I suggest you let me leave with my girl” I square up to him. Some other guy walks over to him and whispers something in his ear all I hear is my name and ex, so I assuming that this guy has said to him that you are my ex. The other guys speaks up “Sorry mate no hard feelings yeah, my friend didn’t realise she was your girl our bad yeah”. I ignore them, not needing to give them a reply and walk away. I am able to get you to the bar as I shout over to the bar tender and point them in the direction towards those 2 guys and tell them to keep an eye on them.

With that I try and walk you out of the club, you are complete dead weight and its going to take us an age to even make it to the car. I quickly pick you up bridal style as I watch you nestle into my chest and I walk you out of the club and towards the car. I watch as the cameras clicked away, but right now I don’t care I just need to get you to safety.

I place you upright as I open the door and get you strapped into the passenger seat. You have your eyes closed and not even aware what is going on. I don’t know where to even take you as I don’t want to leave you on your own right now. I made my way back home.

Readers POV

I let my eyes suddenly adjust to the light, what happened last night? I remember that everything is blank. I begin to worry where I am but when I look round I know these surroundings I am at Mason’s. Why am I here, what happened?

As I sat myself up I feel the pain in my head suddenly and I quickly make my way to the toilet to throw up. I make my way back into bed, I am not sure where Mason is and grab my phone. The first thing I see is a news article from last night:

Mason Mount Seen Carrying Ex Girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N Out Of Manchester Club In Early Hours Of The Morning!

Shit I thought what the hell happened? why was Mason carrying me out of the club? What happened to my friends?

Mason brings me out of my trance as he walks into the bedroom wearing just a towel with some specks of water running down his chest. Fuck he looks fit.

“Sorry I used the guest shower as I didn’t want to wake you. How are you feeling?”

I try to look anywhere else so it doesn’t look like I am staring. “I feel like utter shit. What happened I cannot remember anything?”

Mason starts getting dressed and now I have to pull my eyes away when he takes the towel off. I can feel my heart rate increasing. “Declan rung me he said that you were off your face dancing with some guy he was worried about you but had to go to an event so he asked me to come down and save you I guess.

“Save me? Was I really that bad? I literally only had a couple of drinks”

Mason is now dressed and perches himself of the end of the bed and turns towards me, “y/n you were out of it. I was actually quite worried. Me and Dec have seen you drunk many times but never like this, we think you were spiked. Who were you with anyway? As when I got there you were on your own dancing with some prick” I can see the anger in his eyes, I hate that I made him worry.

“Uh shit I seriously don’t remember a thing. I was out with Brittany and some of her friends”.

“Well that makes a lot of sense” he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she spiked you herself for a laugh. I cannot believe she fucking left you in that state, when I next see her I am giving her a peace of my mind. If Declan didn’t ring me and I didn’t turn up when I did god knows what would of happened y/n. You should of let me know you were going out with fucking Brittany and I would of come out with you and kept an eye on you. You know I hate you going out with her.”

“How was I suppose to ‘let you know’ Mason we haven’t spoken in weeks, but thank you for coming to my rescue as usual.” I look down at myself sitting in Mason’s bed and now realise I am literally just wearing Mason’s top and my hair still a little damp. “Uh Mase we didn’t uh you know have sex did we?” As right now sleeping together would make things a lot more complicated.

Mason giggled and gave me a small smile whilst he held my hand, “Uh no we defiantly didn’t do anything. You were completely fucked you couldn’t even keep your eyes open. I didn’t even think you knew who I was. But you were sick over yourself so I got you out of your dress and showered you and put you in a tshirt as I didn’t want you getting cold. I put you in my bed so I could keep an eye on you, I didn’t want you rolling on your back and choke or anything”.

My heart melts with the kindness that Mason is showing me. “Thank you Mase I really appreciate it.” As I place a small peck to his cheek.

“I gotta get going to training.” He says starting to move away from the bed.

“Shit sorry Mase. You shouldn’t of come to get me. You must be knackered.” I now feel so guilty.

“Shhhh” he says trying to sooth me as he pushes me back on the bed and plays with my hair. “I will never regret coming to save you. Now you get some sleep okay, I have only got training until this afternoon. When I am back I will take you home yeah? Or I can order you an uber now?”

I debate in my head but right now my head is pounding and I really do not want to move, I stretch out and makes me realise how comfortable his super king bed is. “I think I will vote for staying here if that’s okay?”

“Of course now you get some beauty sleep baby girl” he gives me butterflies as he grabs his training bag. As he walks out the room he turns around and gives me one more look, I gave him a warm smile and he says “I love you” his eyes turn wide when he realises what he is said “I am sorry its habit”. At with that he walks out the door. I roll over to his side of the pillow and let sleep overcome me.

When I wake up I look at the time on my phone, I see that its 1pm and Mason will be back from training anytime soon. I quickly get up and shower as my head feels relatively better now, I text Mason earlier and said I was awake. As I am getting dressed, I found my favourite tracksuit that he owns and I hear a text notification:

Mason: Five guys for lunch? xx

Me: You read my mind xx

Mason rang me asking me want I wanted and 30 mins later he was home with lunch. He comes in smiling. “Wow you look happy. Training went well I am guessing” he placed the five guys on the living room table in front of me as I start opening everything.

“Training was alright, maybe I was just happy because I am coming home to you” he sends me a wink. He puts his training bag down and looks at me. “How did I know you was going to wear that tracksuit”. Which we both giggle.

We talk and laugh the whole time we eat our food. I end up staying until the evening, we non stop laugh and play playstation together its like old times whilst he teases me because I am so bad at fifa. Then when I score I do his celebration which makes him giggle. I then catch a glimpse at the time. “Damn I really should be going. I got work tomorrow so need to get all my work bits ready”.

I see the disappointment in Mason’s face “did you want me to drop you home or I can order you an uber?” I smile at his consideration to always make sure I am home safely.

“Its upto you, if you want to drive me home I won’t say no” Mason agrees and we make our way back to mine. We are singing along to the radio and laughing. I am wishing all the traffic lights turn red so I can spend that extra couple of seconds with him. We pull up outside and what I wouldn’t give for one more lap around the block. I turn to Mason “Thank you Mase for everything. You didn’t need to come and rescue me but thank you Mase. Today has been amazing. I actually don’t want it to end.”

Mason is learning over the middle of the car so he is closer to me, I can feel his breathe on my skin, “I don’t want to let you leave. I am scared if you leave we will go back to our usual chaotic selves.” We continue to look at eachother for a moment until I reach across the car and pull him closer, I put my fingers through his hair as our lips touch. I am caught up in the moment, the kiss is passionate and we are desperate for eachothers lips. Mason deepens the kiss, we continue like this for another couple of minutes. I pull away and we just stare into eachothers eyes, god I could get lost in those eyes. Mason sits there playing with my hair. “I will see you soon yeah” I say as I get out the car. I get to my doorstep and turn around Mason’s eyes do not leave mine. As I get inside, I shut the door behind me and slide down the door. I love that man!

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Another month has passed and me and Mason are the best we have ever been. We have had a couple of dates and we are taking these slow. Its like when we first started talking and I am definitely loving it. I am in my kitchen making me and Lauren a drink for a monthly catch up:

“So tell me Y/n/n I wanna know about you and Mason?”

I giggle like a little school girl “Lauren you have no idea its amazing! Its back to how we were before we moved to Manchester I keep getting those little butterflies in my stomach and we both putting so much effort into it. I think I am falling in love with him all over again!”

“Ekkk I am so excited for you” she squealed. “Have you guys slept together yet?”

“No we have been taking it slow, no offence its not like we have never had sex before so we know that is incredible! But its been nice to actually just to go back to how we were when we first stated dating. We have a got date night for this weekend though so possibly that night might be the night!”

Lauren gives me a small excited clap “Yayyyy I cannot wait to hear all about it. You know we are all routing for you both” I know she always got my back.

Its date night and I have tried all 4 outfits on and I just cannot make up my mind, I need everything to be perfect and in my mind I am panicking that something will go wrong. Mason and I have been on dates since we started speaking again but we haven’t actually had sex since so that makes tonight extra special. Its like our first time all over again.

Mason has booked us a table at the restaurant we had our first date at, it’s a small restaurant in London. We haven’t been to it since we moved to Manchester so it will be nice to go back. I opt in for a mini skirt with some tights and a cute little top and jacket. I wore my new red lacey underwear set underneath, which empathises my boobs, I know Mason will be in love with it. I curl my hair as I know Mason's preference is to have it curled. I check myself out in the mirror on the way out the door. Mason has picked me up in his land rover. “Ready to go?” he asks as I climb in the car. I throw my overnight back into the backseat as he pulls off. Mason has booked a nice London hotel tonight near the restaurant. “You look beautiful by the way. Absolutely stunning” he made me blush “ thank you, you look so fit as well” I responded back.

We pull up outside the hotel and park up, “you okay if I just leave the car here? Means I can have a couple of drinks with you if we walk? It’s a lovely night for it?” I nod in response to Mason, I have suddenly become all nervous. I take Mason’s hand in mine as we talk the short walk to the restaurant.

When we arrive they sit us in the back out the way which we are both grateful to have some privacy. “You know this was the table we sat at for our first date”, Masons eyes sparkle reflecting off the light and I feel just like I did that first night.

“I know! Who do you think booked this table” he replied. He was always so thoughtful. We continue to talk over dinner about my work and his training and just general life. He has me non stop laughing as we end up going through 2 bottles of wine.

The bill comes so I turn to Mason still holding his hand across the table “did you want me to get half? Or I can get the whole dinner as you got the hotel?” I offer, Mason lets go of my hands like he offended.

“Of course not! I didn’t let you pay for our first date so why do you think I am going to let you pay now? You can get the next one” .

I laugh at his attempt “you say that everytime so I probably owe you like what 56 dinners?”

Mason giggles back at me “well we will just make 57 then won’t we”.

Mason pays the bill and we make our way out, as we go to leave there is paparazzi outside. “Its just like our first date” I joked with Mason but he didn’t sound too impressed he hates that we cannot just have a dinner. He goes to one of the waiters and they point towards the back so Mason grabs my waist and guides me out.

“I am sorry I know its annoying. They always find a ruin everything” I can see the anger in his eyes.

“Its fine Mase it kinds of comes with the territory of dating a footballer babe. I have been in your life many years I am kind of used to it at this point”. I try to reason. I stop and hold Mason around his waist.

He pulls me in gripping my sides “you shouldn’t have to get used it though”

“I would get used to anything if it means keeping you” Mason doesn’t reply but kisses me, it’s a short gentle kiss. We pull away and I can suddenly feel the alcohol start to kick in and I am now starting to feel a little tipsy. We continue to walk hand in hand back to the hotel. As we arrive Mason unlocks the car and we get our overnight bags out.

Mason checks us in whilst I stand back trying to focus, as the alcohol has now apparently starting to affect my vision. Mason walks back over to me and leads me over to the lifts, as soon as the lift door closes I wrap my arms round Mason and attack his lips. Its desperate and passionate as I feel him grab my bum and hips as he deepens the kiss. He pushes me against the lift walls as we deepen the kiss. We hear the lift ding and the doors open, we suddenly pull away from eachother as another couple get in. We stand across the lift just seductively staring at eachother trying our hardest not to touch eachother. It was the longest 30 seconds of my life. As soon as the lift dings indicating that we are at our floor, we practically run out of the lift and as soon as the door closes we are attached again.

Mason continues to kiss me as he guides me to our room, we pull away to enter the room and place our bags down. I give myself a couple of seconds to admire the room and Mason is back on me. He pushes me against the wall, as he pulls my skirt up to get more assess to my ass. He tilts my head to the side as he attacks my neck, he is sucking away and I can already feel the hickey forming. I am continuing to grind into him as I can feel his dick harden as he moans into my neck.

Mason pulls away and whips his shirt off, which I pull my skirt and tights in one swift motion and in the same throw my top off leaving me in my red lace bra and matching thong. Mason is stood in his pants as I can see his growing cock fighting to get out. He stands there and admires me for a couple of seconds as he rubs himself over his pants. “Fucking hell I am so lucky” his lips are back onto mine. We both fighting with our tongues for control, he continues to grind into me as I am pushed against the wall. He inches his fingers down and rubs me through my thong, I can feel my wetness growing as I have waited so long for this. He goes down and sucks on the top of my boobs that is pushed out of the bra. I cannot stop moaning his name which is fuelling him more, I know he loves it when I say his name.

“Y/N I honestly wanna tease you all night but I don’t think I can hold it. I need to be inside you” I bring Mason back to me and continue to deeply kiss him as I reply. “Mase please I need your cock” I plead with him. Mason wastes no time as he picks me up and throws me onto the bed as he removes his pants and I watch his dick spring up. He flips us over so I am on top and he gives himself a couple of pumps and then lines himself up with me and he moves my thong out the way and lowers my hips down onto him. I cannot hold the moan that escapes my lips as I feel him stretch me out. I give myself a couple of seconds to adjust to his size and then I begin my pace bouncing up and down on him. “This sight I could actually look at all day long” Mason whispers into me as I continue my pace. “fuck y/n your pussy is so good” “honestly Mase you have no idea how good your cock feels in me right now”. I continue my pace I can feel me getting close but my legs are starting to give out as I can feel the burn I am not sure how much longer I can go.

Mason realises that I am slowly down and realises what is happening, he quickly flips us over in one shift motion so he is now on top with my legs wrapped around his waist. “I am sorry” I apologise feeling embarrassed and try to look away. Mason grabs my face so I am looking into his eyes “don’t be silly you know how much I love being on top of you. I am going to absolutely destroy you” and with that he makes a massive thrust.

I moan Mason’s name as he continues his rhythm “uh Mase I can feel you in my stomach” which makes him smile into my lips as I know it gives his ego a massive boost when I say that. I can feel my walls clenching around him, I am so close. “come on cum for me baby girl” Mason continues his pace and then he hits the spot and I come undone, I am a screaming mess underneath him which the sight of this makes him cum as well. He quickly remembers to pull out and cums all over my stomach and collapses next to me. “Fuck you are so sexy. I fucking love our sex” he says turning to me and we have a long kiss. “Stay there I will get you some tissue” he says coming back into the room with some tissue so I can clean up.

I wake the next morning of the sound of someone knocking at the door, Mason is already up so goes to open it. He walks back into the room with a cart “I ordered room service I thought you would be starving after last nights antics” I giggle remember the three rounds that we went last night and how sore my body is today from it. I quickly get up and wrap the hotel robe round myself and join Mason at the hotel table so we can share breakfast. At this moment everything is perfect!

We continue in our honeymoon phase, our relationship cannot be more perfect. I am basically staying at Mason’s every night and we talk all day everyday that our work allows us. No arguments, no fights, just love and passion. Last night was no different, Mason had a late Tuesday night game so I decided to stay at home. I have been watching the game, Mason didn’t get to start but came on after 60 minutes, they lost but at least Mason got game time which is the main thing.

I am woken to notifications on my phone, I see different people have text me all asking to look at the news, they have screenshotted pictures of the news statement and when I open the message I see the headline: I AM PREGNANT WITH MASON MOUNTS’S BABY!

My heart suddenly drops in my chest, I am used to all these rumours of people trying anything to get a story but for some reason my gut is telling me this is different. I try and ring Mason as I knew he would be home now but no answer. I try to sleep but that’s all my mind can think of.

I have tried to tell myself the news article isn’t real but Mason hasn’t responded to any of my texts or calls so I guess I got my answer. I cannot believe it, everything was going so well with us and now this has got to come along and ruin everything. I am wreck all over again, I hate the not knowing what is going to happen next.

I am working away in the office trying to keep my mind occupied when I see a text message from Mason:

Mason: “Hey, is it okay if I come over once you finish work. I owe you an explanation? x”

I quickly reply “Of course. I will look forward to seeing you x”

Mason doesn’t reply but I cannot wait to get out of work. I am counting down the minutes to before I finally finish. When I pull up outside my house I see Mason is already there waiting for me. “Hey” he says. I shoot him a smile and let us inside. I offer him a drink and then we both sit on the sofa, I have to hold my hands still to stop from shaking. I am so anxious right now.

“I am sorry for not replying or contacting you. I just had to get my head around everything. I still don’t know how I feel”. Mason finally speaks after our long period of silence.

“So I am guessing its true”

Mason nods. I gulp swallowing the lump in my throat that is forming. I feel sick but I know we need to have this conversation I need answers. “Who is she?” I ask.

Mason looks down as he cannot look me in the eye “She is just a girl. A one night stand thing. It happened when me and you were broken up. She was just a girl I used to try and get over you. She is 7 months along. So basically due soon.”

“Okay I thought you said you used protection with those other girls? And why now? Why did she wait 7 months to come forward”.

“I thought I did too but I was so pissed everytime I slept with those girls I had no idea what was happening half the time. And I have no idea why now. She said that her relationship broke down when he found out it was my baby and she couldn’t do it on her own”.

“So she just wants money?” I spat out

“Possibly but I don’t care. Its my baby y/n. The dates add up, I went to the hospital with her for her scan and they confirmed the date of conception. I have to be a part of my baby’s life. I have to be a dad you know how much I want children. But at the same time I cannot loose you”.

I bring myself to look at Mason and his eyes match mine, we are both fighting back tears “so where is she now?”

“She is staying with me, I said to her I wanted to be part of every moment of the pregnancy as I have already missed out on so much”.

I nod slowly trying not to let emotion overwhelm me “Mason I cannot be with you knowing another girl, that you slept with might I add, is living in your house and having your baby. Having your 1st baby Mason. It would be different if me and you met and you had a child. But everything we have been through and now this! I cannot handle that Mase, I cannot let my heart break like that and I cannot ask you to choose.”

“I understand” Mason sniffles and tries to control his breathing.

“Are you getting a DNA test or do you trust this girl?”

“I trust her, but you know me I have always been too trusting. Dad is adamant that I get a DNA test but cannot get one done until the baby is born so for now I am assuming it is mine until I proved wrong”.

“Okay” is all I can reply. I wish I prepared myself for this conversation. In my head I just kept preparing that it wouldn’t be real.

“I don’t want to loose you y/n/n. Please tell me you will still be around. I cannot do life without you”. I watch as a tear slips down his face.

“You will always have me Mase. But at the same time I cannot keep letting myself love you. Look at all the shit we have been through. I have got to distant myself from you, I have to let myself move on otherwise I will continue to be fixated on you, I will let you control my life. But if you ever need me no matter the time or day ring me and I will come running.” I am trying to assure Mason as I wipe his tears away.

We share a small kiss, a goodbye kiss, us both not wanting to let go. With that Mason walks away, as soon as gets to the car he turns around and gives me one more look and I watch him drive away as I let my tears fall. Well that’s us finished for good.

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Masons’ POV

I knock again in case you do not hear me, I look through the windows but it looks like no one is home. I call you again but there is no answer. Where are you? The panic is setting in, are you okay? Are you ignoring me? You said you will always be there so where are you? I go back to sit in my car with Lewis, as its clear you are not at home. I am not sure who else would know where you were. I didn’t want to call your family as I am not sure they would want to speak to me after everything that has happened.

All I can think of I could try Lauren, I quickly hit dial which after a couple of rings she answers: “hey” she states. “Where is she Lauren?” I blurt out.

“Where is who?” Lauren questions.

“Y/n” I reply “I need to see her Lauren, where is she?” I hear Lauren take a breathe

“Did you not know?” I can hear the confusion in her voice

“Know what?” I can feel my tone getting heated a little as I am getting tired of not getting the answers I want.

“She is leaving Mase. She got a job in Germany. Her company is expanding and there new head office is going to be there so she is going over there for 6 months to trial it out and get them all set up.” I feel my heart drop you are leaving? Lewis gives a sympatric look.

“When did she leave?”

“uhhh now I think. Her flight is today, hold on I might have the time” I heard her tapping away on her phone. “Yeah 2pm”. I look at the time its 12pm now. I look at Lewis with hope.

“I might have time to grab her before she flies. I gotta tell her everything, I cannot let her leave not knowing how I feel” I said this to both Lewis and Lauren. “Where is she flying from?”

Lauren gives me a couple of seconds of silence then replies “Manchester” that’s it I am going.

“Lauren text me her flight information I gotta go tell her”. Lauren agrees and hungs up the phone. I start driving towards the airport.

“What do you think is going to happen? What you going to tell her how you feel and she is going to decide to stay?” Lewis asks trying to speak rationally but right now I am not thinking, all I can think of you.

“I don’t know Lew, but I cannot just let her go and never know. I have to allow myself the chance to tell her. She deserves to know”.

“I don’t know Mase, you are just going to turn her life upside down again. Shouldn’t you just leave the poor girl alone”. I know you and Lewis were always close, you were always his favourite girl I have dated.

“Your my brother Lew, you are supposed to be on my side!” I argue

“I am on your side, I am the one in the bloody car on a way to the airport so you can declare your love to this girl. But Mase she is moving on with her life you are about to throw all these emotions her way. You just need to be prepared you may not get the reaction that you want”. I don’t reply I just focus on the road ahead with my knuckles gripping the steering wheel. I know deep down he is right but I need to allow myself to try.

We find somewhere to park near the airport, that is going to cost me and an arm and leg I thought. I looked at the time and we have 30 mins until your gate closes. I really hope you haven’t boarded yet. We run to the front desk and buy 2 tickets and run through security. We find your gate number on the board and of course it has to be the gate that is the furthest away. We continue to run as quick as I can which Lewis tells me to leave him as I can run quicker.

I make it to your gate but there is a massive queue of people, I search through but I cannot see you. I stand on one of the chairs and I see you in the middle. I shout for you and you turn around and see me, you looked shocked. You walk out of line and come and meet me, at this time I turn around and Lewis has been able to catch up but stands out of the way.

“Mase what are you doing here?” you look nervous.

“I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how I feel” I go to grab your hands in mine but you pull away.

“Mase I can’t do this right now. How did you even know I was leaving?”

“Lauren” we both say in unity.

“Please y/n 5 minutes and then if you wanna go then I will let you go please.”

“Mase nothing is going to change. I know how you feel but you are having a baby with another women and I will never make you choose but at the same time you cannot make me stay.”

“Its not mine” I blurt out. “She gave birth to a baby boy last week, we got the DNA test back this morning. Its not my baby. She lied, she slept with someone else the same week we slept together. She told me that she only slept with me and there was no doubt in it, but the truth was there was always the chance that it wouldn’t be mine. She just tried to get as much money as she could out of me. I am glad my family pushed me into the DNA test now.”

You look down “Uh shit Mase I am so sorry”

“I am not. It made me realise I don’t want to be a dad unless you are their mum. I can only do parenthood by your side. I want you to have my 1st child and all my children, I want to see you have that beautiful baby glow and I want to have a baby that is half yours. I cannot do life without you y/n. I love you baby, please. I can’t do this without you. You are the reason my world turns, you are the reason my heart beats. Please don’t leave y/n, I need you by my side. I will do anything to make you stay. I will get on my heads and knees in front of everyone and beg you to stay if that’s what you want? Please y/n just give us a chance, you know we are made for eachother, we always find a way to make it back to eachother no matter the storm.”

I watch as you try and look up trying to hold in the tears “M-Mase I can’t do this right now I gotta go”. And with that you give me a small smile with watery eyes and walk towards your flight. I can feel myself trying to hold it in. I turn to Lewis “I really thought she would stay” . Lewis gives me a hug trying to calm me down “I know bro I really thought she would too”.

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Mason's POV

I am still not over you, I think deep down I will never be able to get over you but I just try and stay on the positives. I count myself lucky that I was still loved by you, and that you got to be such a big part of my life. That’s the mindset I am trying to have, I am letting my wounds slowly heal and I know eventually I will be okay but at the same time I am not sure if I want to heal, as that will mean I will have to stop thinking about you and I don’t think I ever want to do that.

Today is match day and all my family have come down to watch the game, all I wish is that you were here. I try not to message you so I can allow myself to move on but I ask Lauren for updates. She says you are loving it in Germany and absolutely thriving, part of me is gutted as you are so far away but at the same time I am so proud of you. Its been a month since you have gone and I still miss you more then ever. I ask Lauren if you speak about me which she says no, I don’t know if that’s the truth or if she is just trying to protect me.

I had the best game of the season so far, I started the game and got a hattrick in the first time in ages. After the game we do our interviews and get changed then I make my way to the players lounge to see my family. They all say words of encouragement and how proud they are off me, Mila and Summer come over and hugging me. I hug Lewis when he whispers in my ear “if I were you Mase I would turn around”. Confused at this sentence I turn around and that’s when I see you. You are stood in a pair of skinny jeans and one of my united tops, your hair is straightened and blonder then I remember. You look phenomenal, you make my heart skip a beat. “Hey” you say softly.

I slowly walk over to you, still trying to figure out if you are real. I stop in my tracks in front of you. “W-what are you doing here?” I am speechless and in complete shock. I wasn’t expecting to see you.

“You think I would miss my superstar’s best game of the season?” which makes us both giggle. We were always eachothers biggest supporter. You grab my hands in yours “I realise that I couldn’t be apart from you either. I tried everything to get over you but that day in the airport constantly plays in my mind. I realise that I can’t be without you Mason, no job or location is worth loosing you. I will choose you over everything life throws at me. So I came back, I couldn’t live another day without being yours. I need you Mase. I love you”.

I am still in complete shock, I have no words to reply. I grab either side of your cheeks and give you a needy kiss. I am scared if I let you go then you won’t be real. We both stand there in the moment for a little too long when my brother coughs and pulls us out of the moment. We both pull away smiling at eachother, your eyes are sparkling and I swear you have got more beautiful then the last time we saw eachother. If that was even possible.

I turn to my family “Did you guys know?” they both look at eachother for a response which my mum speaks up “she told us not to say anything. She wanted to surprise you”. I guide you over to the table where we are all sat and Mila is straight on your lap whilst you play with her hair. We all engage in conversation about your trip and about the game and for this moment the world has stopped spinning. For the first time in a while everything is how its suppose to be.

#angst #fluff and angst #football #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #manchester united #footballer smut #smut #mason mount fanfic #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount

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flymetothexmoon · 1 month ago

Text

Ties + Hidden Gazes

Part Two

Warnings: Shockingly, none really. Angst turned to minor feelings of extreme emotions. Happy ?? Good ?? Bad ?? Read and find out~

Pairing: Seunghyun xF!Reader

Authors Note: I was most def not prepared to write three Seunghyun xF!Reader fics back to back but thank you to everyone who voted in my poll and asked for part two 🤍 enjoy !

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"I've always loved you."

The last four words that Seunghyun ever said to you before he took off. He did not know where his feet were taking him, but he ran off– he left the party you two were attending without saying goodbye to a soul, including you, the woman he'd loved for the last twelve years of his life.

It happened so quickly that he knew by the time you'd open your eyes, he would not be there, and for the first time in over a decade, you would not have to worry about him being the greatest burden love of your life.

Seunghyun knew it was not going to be easy. For better or for worse, you two had been the most consistent people in each other's lives. It was definitely going to be a change the both of you would have to get use to he thought. He'd ran away from people before, he'd even ran away from the brothers he'd known for more than half of his life, all he'd ever done in the amount of time he has known you was bring you down.

Wrong.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Four months had passed.

Four months had passed since Seunghyun last saw you and the two of you were having a silly disagreement about what constellation was visible in the night sky. The more Seunghyun thought about that night, his chest would tighten and his lips would push together, thinking hard about some of the things he'd said to you and some of the things you'd said to him. To say a lot happened that night was an understatement.

During those four months, Seunghyun had bleached his hair again. It was not the man's first time sporting lighter colored locks, but it been a few years, and honestly he was embracing the change and feeling more confident; his drinking had slowed down and the amount of cigarettes he'd smoke in a day was cut in half. He had even done the one thing that he swore no matter how bad it got he would never do, and started to attend therapy.

It was a random Tuesday afternoon when the two of you would bump into each other again. For a city so big it seemed to swallow you both whole, and despite having a similar friend group, you went a pretty good bit without having any awkward run in's until today. Seunghyun would be coming back from therapy and you would be coming back back from a dreadful first date.

Seunghyun would not be able to get the idea of you out of his head as the outfit you where wearing painted images in his head better than any artwork he'd seen recently; maybe it was the way your dark jeans had holes exposing your knees, a body part he'd never explored before, or maybe it was the way your oversized denim top came down to your hips, Seunghyun's favorite part of you.

Here you were and there he was, both of you silently waiting on the other to break the silence, something the two of you never really had a problem with before.

You two were not even scorned lovers, it should not feel this way, or feel this awful.

But it did.

"Hello Seunghyun," your voice was quiet– like you were unsure if making the first move was what the taller man wanted.

He had reached behind his neck, tousling his hair a little as the two of you made eye contact rather than exchanging hidden gazes with each other. Seunghyun's heart hurt a lot more than he expected it to whenever he accepted the cruel fate that you two would eventually see each other again, as much as he would have like to run forever, he knew he would eventually need new running shoes and there you would be.

The two of you would agree that something felt different about this meeting, almost like it was a new meeting for the first time and you two did not have over ten years of memories together. It was not always bad between the two of you, neither of you could pinpoint what caused the constant nagging, but when it happened, that became both of your personalities and the two of you forgot what it was like to be human with each other.

Seunghyun stepped forward, closer to you.

"Hello. You look happier."

To anyone else, if someone had told them they looked happier, it would be an easy confidence boost, but when the now lighter haired man in front of you said those words to you, you knew Seunghyun well enough that it was his own demons speaking for him into believing people are better without him and justifying his actions of running away whenever things get serious or do not go his way.

Wrong.

Seunghyun meant it. You did look happier, and he could definitely feel that about you, and he secretly hoped you would be able to feel that about him too.

Your eyes narrowed as you really looked at him, trying to study what he had just said to you. All you could notice was that he was smiling when he said it, not a huge toothy grin that you would do as a child when getting candy as a reward, but a smile that would show off his bottom tooth he was self conscious about. You could not remember the last time Seunghyun smiled like that, let alone smiled like that with you.

Eventually you would smile back, nodding your head as your hands frilled out the bottom of the oversized denim top you were wearing, tilting your neck to the side as you did, the leather of the small choker you chose to wear that morning catching the sunlight; catching the eyes of the man in front of you.

Soft murmurs began to escape both of your lips as you shared what had happened in the four months you two had not seen each other. There was no venom laced with the words you two spoke against one another, and it felt real again, like you were two quote on quote normal people.

Seunghyun was engaging, and you were happy to really listen to what he was saying instead of trying to prove him wrong, and Seunghyun was happy to provide you information out of excitement instead of out trying to prove how smart he was.

The two of you started to feel comfortable with each other again, a feeling that you had not felt around one another in quite some time. The taller man even told you about how he was doing, how he was going to therapy.

Instinctively, you grabbed his hand, your thumb gently gracing against knuckle like a lost lover would.

"That's great, Seunghyun. I am really glad to hear you are getting help."

Getting help.

Seunghyun could feel his insides burn at the sound of your remark and it pierced his heart so strong he felt like his chest pull forward, the sensation causing him to move his neck from side to side a few times, earning a hushed popping noise to come from his body.

You had not even realized that your hand was still holding his as you quickly let go, stepping back from him the tiniest bit. Your mind raced back to when Seunghyun told he always listening, and that he always listened to you and the people you were with while knowing each other. You did not quite understand at the time what he meant, but it had registered now, now that your hand had held his even for a moment.

His eyes met yours again as he watched you step away from him, a small frown pushing his lips together in a way that made you almost want to reach for him again and apologize. You two had never crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell it was whenever you two bickered. Your side of the friend group would say it was his way of flirting with you and Seunghyun's side of the friend group said it was your way of flirting with him.

The two of you fell silent as the world began to swallow you both again, the people around you still walking and living their own lives, the cherry blossoms on the trees were still blooming, and the scents of the food vendors were still floating in the air.

Seunghyun's heart did the little twitch thing again as he watched you mess with the bottom of your denim top again, trying to straighten something that could not be straightened anymore than it already was, your hands trembling to make it seem like you were struggling for something other than him to say something.

"I should not have ran away that night..."

Your world stopped. People had stopped walking, the cherry blossoms had stopped growing, and the smell of food had drifted toward the river in the opposite direction. You wanted to agree with him, you wanted him to know what it did to you, how you spent the last four months wondering how long the line was that you crossed, and how broken it made you feel when you saw him go.

But you couldn't.

Because that was not how you and Seunghyun were. Even though he'd been going to therapy, and you had time to think about how completely in love with him you were, it was not enough– it probably never would be and you had to accept that.

You would never be enough.

Little did you know, Seunghyun also thought he would be enough. His therapist had even tried exercises to potentially help strengthen the way his brain worked, and he would lie and say they were working, but they never would. His mind began to race about when you told him he was not destined to be sad all the time and that everyone was always sad.

The silence loomed over you two like a storm cloud that was waiting for just the right amount of wind before it would begin to fall.

You felt it, and before you had an opportunity to talk your brain out of it, the words fell from your effortlessly and somehow with all the effort in the world.

"So why did you?"

Seunghyun's breath hitched so hard you could feel how your words affected him.

"I—"

He had tried to speak, but could only get out one syllable before looking down, his mind starting to spiral, his own hands starting to tremble as he dug deep into his pants pocket, looking deep for a cigarette as his hand came back up empty.

A murmured curse word left his lips you watched Seunghyun have a quiet anxiety fit in real time. His former band mates had warned you how he gets when he's anxious, but in all the times you two had ever spit fire with each other he was always the overly confident one.

It was your turn to feel your heart do the little twitch thing as you did not know what to do. You could barely bring yourself back up when you were feeling like this, so how were you suppose to help Seunghyun?

You stepped forward again, a small frown tugging at your lips as you reached for him, grabbing the same hand you grabbed earlier.

"You do not have to tell me,"

As much as you wanted him to, you wanted him to make it right, but that was selfish, and deep down you both knew it.

Finally, the lighter haired man looked up; his eyes locking onto yours like he had the dart in hand and your eyes were the bullseye.

You waited in silence to see what he would do, what he would say.

Just as quick as he had looked at you, his hands cupped your face, causing you to stumble at the contact.

Your lips opened to say something, say anything, but before you could...

Smack.

Seunghyun's lips were on yours.

An inner instinct, an inner feeling kicked in that you had never felt before when you were around him– desire.

His lips tasted like chapstick, and not the cheap kind you'd pick up at the gas station during a road trip, but the expensive kind you'd get tiny samples of from the makeup store as a free sample. His tongue did not hesitate at finding its way deeper in your mouth as it played with yours, your body just barely reacting, but a twitch in your bones still make you realize what was happened.

Seunghyun felt your bones rattle as he pulled away from you, nesting his forehead against yours as he still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your facial structure, almost like he was trying to remember what it felt like so he could think about it later, the faintest of smiles spreading across his lips as he spoke, unsure of really how to comprehend what just happened.

"Hidden gazes are only ever fun when they are hidden."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#choi seunghyun #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p #fanfiction writer

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