#or there might not be anything to see here at all

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[greengoblinswifey]

Little Do You Know—Player 001/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary—after making a passing remark on the possibility of the front man being attractive, your crush on young-il who unbeknownst to you is the front man, boils over. based on this request.

warnings— flirting, oral(f&m receiving), praising, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

The group sat gathered around with a small meal, the kind of makeshift dinner that felt comforting despite the bleak circumstances. Gi-hun leaned back, his arms crossed, recounting some story about the Front Man. “I’m telling you, he has cameras everywhere. He probably sees and hears everything we’re saying.”

The mood was tense, as it often was when the Front Man became the topic of conversation. But your lips twitched upward, a thought making you suppress a giggle.

Dae-ho, ever the curious one, caught it immediately. “What’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. It’s silly. Forget it.”

Young-il, sitting across from you, tilted his head slightly, his expression soft. “Come on,” he said gently, his voice soothing in a way that made you feel oddly safe. “Anything you have to say, we’ll appreciate. Don’t hold back.”

Encouraged by his tone, you hesitated for just a moment before shrugging. “Alright, but don’t judge me.” You exhaled a breathy laugh, looking down at your lap for a second before glancing back up. “What if the Front Man is, like—really hot?”

The reaction was instant. Dae-ho choked on his milk, sputtering, while Jun-Hee’s eyes widened slightly before she went back to eating as if she hadn’t heard you. Even Jung-Bae, usually laid back, looked at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Seriously?” Gi-hun said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“What?” you asked defensively, your shoulders lifting in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. It’s possible!”

Gi-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “We’re talking about a guy who might be orchestrating all this madness, and you’re worried if he’s good-looking?”

Before you could respond, your eyes flicked to Young-il. Everyone else was either laughing awkwardly or shaking their heads, but Young-il wasn’t saying a word. Instead, a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible to anyone else. Almost.

Your gaze stayed on him for a moment, your brow quirking as you tilted your head slightly in return, a silent question hanging between the two of you. His smirk deepened just enough for you to catch the meaning, amusement, maybe even intrigue, but he quickly smoothed his expression before anyone else noticed. He was hot too, you thought.

Gi-hun, still shaking his head, muttered, “Out of everything you could be thinking about.”

“Well, excuse me for lightening the mood,” you shot back playfully, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like I said I wanted to marry him or something. Geez.”

As the group moved on, you couldn’t help but replay the moment in your head. Maybe you were overthinking it, but wasn’t Young-il’s smirk a little too knowing? Or maybe it was just your ridiculous crush on him twisting your perception. You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet confidence, the calm authority he exuded even in casual moments like this.

It was ironic, really, here you were crushing on Young-il while joking about the Front Man. Little did you know, the very man you were teasing about might as well have been sitting right in front of you, wearing the mask in plain sight.

You shook the thought off with a small laugh. Overthinking, as usual. Still, when Young-il glanced your way again, his gaze warm and unreadable, you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering.

The night had settled into a familiar stillness, broken only by the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep. You couldn’t sleep, your earlier exchange with Young-il replaying in your mind. That smirk, so brief, had lodged itself in your thoughts.

You were still awake when he appeared, his footsteps quiet as he approached where you lay, tucked into a dim corner of the quarters. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down beside you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked softly.

“Guess not,” you replied.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Still thinking about the Front Man being hot?”

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said laughing and flustered.

“You didn’t,” he assured you. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have a type.”

Your cheeks warmed under his words, and you rolled your eyes, trying to deflect. “Oh, come on. I was joking.”

“Were you?” he teased, his smile widening just a bit.

You were about to retort, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand, warm and steady, brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “if you wanted to get something off your chest, now’s the time.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you trying to say, Young-il?”

“Just that I’m here,” he replied, “If there’s something you want.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss started slow, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as his hand came up to cradle your face.

The thought of the games seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands were firm but gentle, holding your face as the kiss turned hungrier, more insistent. His fingers found their way into your hair, tugging slightly, drawing a low moan from him that you quickly stifled.

“Quiet,” he murmured against your lips, a teasing smirk playing on his face as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone, would we?”

Your heart raced as his lips moved to your neck, his hands on your waist as he guided you back against the small bed. He trailed kisses down your chest, his kisses slow and savoring every moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his kisses grew bolder, trailing lower. He pulled off your bottoms and your lace panties, tongue licking from your hole to your clit. The way he did it so suddenly, so smoothly, made your pussy throb. You instinctively bit down on your lip, your hands fisting the fabric beneath you as you fought to keep your composure.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me taste you.”

His hands slid down your thighs, spreading them open as he adjusted your position. He glanced up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of mischief and tenderness. You pressed your lips together tightly, his skilled tongue flicking your clit then moving to your leaking hole.

“Don’t hold back too much,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I want to hear those pretty moans, just a little.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, his tone leaving you breathless. You felt the warmth of his fingertips on your thighs and the tenderness of his kisses on your pussy, and his praises were a quiet balm to the storm of emotions swirling inside you because of the game.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he continued ravishing your pussy, mouth engulfing you and sucking as though the meal from earlier wasn’t enough. He was attentive to your pleasure, fingers pumping steadily inside your pussy as sucked and flicked your clit with precision. The precision you expected and appreciated in an older man. No one had ever made you feel this good. The pleasure was otherworldly and your legs shook from it all.

The coil in your abdomen and euphoria built with every passing second and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. His words and actions blurred together, creating a warmth that left you trembling. When his tongue brought you to your peak, you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry, your entire body shuddering as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit.

“You did amazing,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned closer.

You gently nudged Young-il to lie back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “My turn,” you murmured, your fingers grazing the waistband of his bottoms.

He raised an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping him, but there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted softly.

Slowly, you slid his bottoms down, taking in the sight of his, long, thick cock with a mixture of nervousness and determination. He was big, but you could take him. His sharp inhale was audible as your lips wrapped around the head, his hand instinctively brushing against your cheek as you went down.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered, his voice low and tinged with awe.

Your fingers wrapped around his girth, careful and deliberate, and you began to stroke as you sucked with a rhythm that earned a quiet moan from him. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused, letting his quiet praises guide you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his fingers threading in your curls. “You’re doing so well.”

You glanced up at him, mouth full, eyes watering and saliva mixed with pre cum dripping down your chin. Your cheeks warmed from his words and the darkness of his gaze. The way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful little thing in the world as you took him down your throat made your heart race. You bobbed your head faster, using as much tongue as you could on his thick shaft, your actions conveying what words couldn’t.

The effect was immediate. His head fell back against the pillow, a low moan escaping him as his free hand gripped the fabric beneath him.

“God, you’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough. “That pretty face of yours, how will I last?”

You couldn’t help but smile with his cock buried in your throat, your movements continued, now slower and purposeful as you went up and down. His breathing grew heavier, and his hand in your hair tightened slightly as he struggled to maintain composure.

“You’re too good,” he managed, his voice breaking slightly. “I—”

Before he could finish, the coil in him snapped, and his praises were replaced with a low, drawn out moan of relief. You swallowed the ropes of hot cum, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his gaze locking with yours almost immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his tone full of affection and disbelief. He reached out to cup your face, pulling you closer until his lips pressed against yours, savoring the taste of himself on your lips.

Your confidence emboldened by the way he looked at you with dazed, lust filled eyes. His hands still rested on your waist, fingers brushing your skin as you leaned into him, your voice soft but teasing.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, pussy aching for him.

His lips curved into a smile, his thumbs drawing slow circles on your hips. “Anything you want, princess,” he murmured.

You bit your lip as you shifted, settling over his hard cock with a nervous laugh that he silenced by cupping your cheek. “Take your time,” he said.

When you finally sank down onto his length, his hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you with a steady rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The quiet moan he let out made you even wetter, and you instinctively leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest for balance.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with admiration. “You ride me so well, just like that.”

His praises made you bolder, and you bounced on his cock with more confidence, your breathing shallow as he let his hands roam, one sliding up to gently cup your tits. The warmth of his touch made you bite back a moan and his eyes darkened as he noticed.

“You’ve got to be quiet pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands still steadying you. “Think you can do that?”

You nodded quickly, though the feeling building inside you made it harder with every moment. His grip on your hips tightened, and he thrusted up into you, the two of you finding a rhythm that made it impossible to focus on anything but how he stretched your pussy. He was so big, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock after you were done.

“I want to cum with you,” you admitted breathlessly, leaning down so your lips were close to his ear. “Inside me.”

Young-il’s breath hitched, his eyes meeting yours with pure lust. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Beg for it,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but the desire in his gaze made you bold. “Please,” you murmured, leaning closer. “I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice unsteady. “Just hold on to me.”

The pleasure between you reached its peak as his praises and your whispered pleas filled the air. When the release finally came, it was almost overwhelming, and you buried your face against his neck to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. His hands held you firmly in place as he came with you, cum spurting inside you while you soaked his cock, his breaths ragged but filled with relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured after a long pause, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. His gaze softened as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you settled against him. “So are you,” you whispered back, letting the moment linger in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.��� vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[stalkedbytrains]

[Behold! More! As requested by a lovely person on my kofi]

It had been a weird week if you're being perfectly honest.

Your usual bread guy was held hostage by one of the new weird upstart villain that has been bucking the trend of signing up with the Villain Union, so you didn't have the good sourdough for a few days. Which would have been fine if you had the time to make it yourself but you haven't had the time. And honestly your sourdough isn't nearly as good as Jesse's.

Fearsome Night has been coming in as something of a weird regular. He's... not subtle.

And you don't want to cast aspersions on anyone, especially a super villain. But like... he came in whatever he considers his non-villain persona to scout the place, and it was clear that he was a super villain.

He might as well have had the newspaper with the eyes cut out for as subtle as he was being in your shop.

Still ordered the Equinox and chips.

And, again, he was extremely not subtle, since someone in front of him ordered the Fearsome Night with "extra fearsome" he let out a loud whoop that he utterly failed as disguising as a cough.

If you didn't know any better, you'd suspect that he was waiting to see if Equinox would come in and order from you.

He didn't, at least not while Fearsome was lurking around.

Adrienne Moore did come in and get a double Vestige on rye though. The entire shop went eerily silent as you made the sandwich. She was intimidating as hell. And it was interesting to see Fearsome make eye contact and not react or do anything to notorious rule breaking hero.

You could have sworn there was some recognition there.

No one in the shop dare commented on her ordering the sandwich named after her infamous villain mother.

At least Adrienne tipped super well. Always did.

Eventually Fearsome Night didn't come in for a few days, and you were honestly a little grateful. This weird energy he was bringing in was not making for a healthy working environment and you don't know how chummy you want to get with a super villain.

Finally at the end of the week, you were close to finishing up for the night. You needed to bag up the last of the day old bread to take to the local homeless shelter, mop, and then lock up.

The bell over the door rang and in walked Equinox of all people.

You tried to bite your tongue, you really did, but you hadn't managed to fully leave 'customer service' mode yet.

"Hey there, haven't seen you in a little bit. You good?"

You shouldn't have asked. You shouldn't have opened that door.

Very rarely will someone see the opening created by small talk and just answer honestly. It's always off-putting.

"Yeah, been busy. You know, the job," they say as they gesture to their elaborate costume.

You nod politely. "Usual?" you ask to try and shift the subject but somehow you know that it isn't going to work.

"Yeah, Fearsome Night on sourdough."

You grimace. "Out of sourdough this week. Sorry. My guy got held hostage by Siege Works or whatever that new guy was that took over the library. He's taking some time off to recover and stuff."

"Damn that villain! He can't stop until he ruins everything he touches!"

"Sorry. I can do any of the other usual breads."

"Fine, can I get it with rye then?"

"Sure," you mutter and try to distract yourself with the sandwich crafting.

"Yeah I was going to come in," Equinox says to fill the dead air, "but I saw Fearsome Night was here. So I thought it would be awkward if I ordered his sandwich in front of him."

"Yeah... he's been something of a regular this week. He's ordered like 12 sandwiches from me this week."

"Really? Do I want to ask?"

You plead, beg, silently, that they don't ask what you know they are going to ask.

"What sandwich does he get?"

You look up from the mostly completed sandwich. You hope that your look is conveying enough sad pleading to get them to relent the question. You don't want to be in the middle of this. It's so weird. It's awkward.

But they don't relent.

"He's a vegetarian apparently so he gets and Equinox. Anyways! Here's your," you say. As you hand them the sandwich and start to say the name outloud when who should bust in, causing the bell over your door to dance and happy little jingle.

"Fearsome Night," all three of you say at the same time. No one else adds the "on rye" but you do.

"I KNEW IT!" he shouts.

"Don't read into this! They make a great sandwich!" Equinox says, trying to defend themself.

"Yes I do," you say at the same time that Fearsome Night says, "Yes they do!"

"YOU LIKE ME! I mean... YOU LIKE MY SANDWICH!" Fearsome Night declares.

"We're closing soon. I have to mop," you say, but no one is paying attention.

"That doesn't mean anything! Don't you dare think any more of this!" Equinox counters.

"It's going to be eight dollars. Here's your chips."

"HA! YOU EVEN LIKE BARBECUE CHIPS! THE MOST SUPERIOR CHIP FLAVOR!"

"What does that even have to do with anything?" Equinox counters.

"It doesn't," you mutter, even though neither of them is paying attention to you.

"IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH!"

"TO DO WITH WHAT?"

"I KNEW THERE WAS SOME SEXY KIND OF SPARK HERE! WHEN WE FOUGHT BY THE LIGHT HOUSE LAST YEAR!"

"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS SHOUT?"

"STOP DEFLECTING THE QUESTION!"

"Mister Fearsome Night," you try to interject and get nowhere.

"You are insufferable!" Equinox says.

"You like it!" Fearsome Night counters.

"GUYS!" you finally shout. They turn to you as if they just now realized that you were still there. "I'm closing shop now. Here's your Equinox and chips. Here's your Fearsome Night and chips. This is on the house. Now please leave."

"I DID NOT ORDER A SANDWICH!"

"I KNOW!" you shout back. "But now you don't have an excuse to not sit and eat together. There's a nice secluded little park a block north. Now I really have to mop so I can go home and shower!"

"OH! Uh... thank you," Fearsome Night said awkwardly.

Equinox took their own sandwich with some reluctance and a little shame, like they had just gotten caught doing something embarrassing.

"Thank you," they muttered.

"Yes, yes, you're welcome, now please, please leave. And I swear if you ever do this kind of thing in my shop again I will ban both of you from ever returning. And you may be thinking 'oh this cute and very talented sandwich maker can't ban a super villain and super hero from their shop who do they think they are to challenge us?' I want to remind you that I have a standing order for Mariana and their whole entourage. And Dayline comes in every Sunday for a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. If you want me telling my best costumers why they might not be getting their stuff, try me."

Suddenly both supers were very humble.

"Thank you," they both say quietly.

"Go. Eat. I'll see you later," you say as you push them fully out the door.

The bell jingles as the door settles into it's closed position.

You turn the lock, and flip the open sign to closed. The last thing you hear is, "I guess we should go to the park?"

"I HEAR IT IS LOVELY THIS TIME OF NIGHT!"

You own a sandwich shop in the heart of a superhero city. After gaining customers by making sandwiches based on heroes, you decided to try making some based on villains. Today, a villain stopped to review theirs.

[hyunsuloves]

Hii!! Would you be willing to write some nam-gyu/player 124 x reader hcs? I just love roh jaewon sm <3

boyfriend nam-gyu in the games.

warnings … this is kinda buns… that’s it

lovely notes … i lowkey hate how his character acts but i love roh jae-won too ᥫ᭡!!

꩜ [ 630 words ]

boyfriend nam-gyu who didn’t tell you he was entering the games. he intended to disappear for a week, and then show up with some bullshit excuse and a large sum of money.

boyfriend nam-gyu who was pissed off beyond belief when he came to find out that you were in the games because of his debt. the salesman recruited you to ease your boyfriend's debt and unfortunately, you couldn’t resist.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wouldn’t allow you to leave his side. it irks thanos a little bit, but he doesn’t really say anything because you and nam-gyu are together.

boyfriend nam-gyu gyu who only votes to leave because of your presence. no amount of money could aid him if you were to die here, and all because of him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who gets into countless arguments over you. he’ll argue over the dumbest shit, like someone bumping into you and not apologizing. he feels the constant need to defend you but he tends to take it a bit far.

boyfriend nam-gyu who constantly has a hand on you. it may be on your waist, his fingers interlocked with yours, or his hands in your hair.

boyfriend nam-gyu who insists on a “good luck kiss” before each game. you both are well aware that he just wants an excuse to kiss you, but who’s going to complain about it?

boyfriend nam-gyu who would lose his mind if thanos were to say something about you. if something he said was the slightest bit of suggestive, he might actually fight him about it.

boyfriend nam-gyu who loathes seeing any other player talking to you. even if it’s simplistic small talk to pass the time, he feels a surge of jealousy seeing other people interact so casually with you.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has you alongside him during every game. you don’t really have a choice because he has a vice grip on your hand. you couldn’t go anywhere even if you wanted to.

boyfriend nam-gyu who encourages you to stay away from thanos. he knows he’s a terrible person and despite hanging out with him, he doesn’t want you anywhere near a person as heinous as him. he definitely doesn’t want you taking whatever drugs thanos has on him.

boyfriend nam-gyu who always offers you a portion of his food. he’s a little greedy and secretly wants to keep it all to himself, but he puts your well-being before him, so he always offers you a piece.

boyfriend nam-gyu who sleeps in the bed directly next to yours. the beds are so tiny and can barely fit two people, so he finds peace in sleeping in the bed adjacent to yours.

boyfriend nam-gyu who only allows himself to be vulnerable with you during lights out. he doesn’t want any other players to view your affection as a weakness and use it against either one of you. so, the only time you see the true doting state of your boyfriend is when no one else can see.

boyfriend nam-gyu who wants nothing more than to be affectionate around you, but he knows he can’t for the sake of both of your safety. if he wants the two of you to make it out alive, he’s well aware that he has to put on an uncaring facade in the face of everyone else.

boyfriend nam-gyu who would kill someone for you. it’s a terrifying concept, yet not an unusual one amid the deaths all around. it’s slightly unnerving how quick he’d end other players life in your defense.

boyfriend nam-gyu who has plans to take you out somewhere after you get out of here. he’s the reason you’re here in the first place, and the least he can do is try to make it up to you.

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter four. doors and burgers

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.2k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, panic attack, boobies lol, Scarlett should be her own warning, daddy issues,

authors note ⇢ sorry that i messed up on my last post yall!! i confused scarlett with heather. she was supposed to be Heather but i was like….. heathers get too much crap thank you conan 😒 and i forgot to change it lol sorry!!! also i rewrote this like five times and i this was the one i was most satisfied with, so enjoy!!

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Scarlett leaves from what you can tell. People are talking about the kitchen debacle and there are mixed reviews. Some are still kissing Scarlett’s ass, others don’t like her any longer. But it doesn’t seem anyone’s on your side. You’re still invisible. You’ve since taken off your jacket that was drenched and Rafe has given you his. It’s big but it doesn’t cover you entirely, and that makes you feel so damn embarrassed.

Despite your mission being to get Jonah to see you, neither of you can find him anywhere. Kiara and Sarah had their eyes out for him as well but they’ve since lost the mission at hand. Now, you’re all sat in the living room where there are a few people dancing around Sarah who’s singing obnoxiously bad on the karaoke machine. No one has any idea where it came from but everyone is loving it.

You’re clapping along with Kiara, laughing when Sarah messes up another lyric and blames the song. For the first time in what seems like a long time, Rafe isn’t drinking. He isn’t doing much of anything but staying by your side. He’s sitting beside you, watching his sister with amusement. He refuses to clap though, only doing it when you reach over to lift his hands and make him clap.

It’s Kiara’s turn to sing when you get up off the couch and look for the bathroom in the huge figure 8 house. The home has photographs scattered, a happy family shown in them all. It might just be the beer in you that makes you want to cry. You’ve seen the kid around school before and he isn’t anything to you. Anything at all. But you’re wishing him the best. Yeah, you realize it’s the beer.

You stumble into a random room and let out a screech when a body gets up from a bed.

“What are you doing here?” Jonah’s voice sends a flutter through your belly. Your belly. Your stomach. You take a hold of Rafe’s jacket and tighten it around yourself, hiding your body from the guy you want badly.

“Oh… uhm…” you wipe the tears from your eyes that had bled out at the family pictures. “I’m looking for the bathroom.”

He’s immediately up on his feet at the sight of your tears. Your eyes widen when his hands take a hold of your round face and examines you carefully. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Your breath hitches at the feel of his warm hand. It’s soft. Far too soft for a man who puts his all into the gym and football. “Oh? I… uhm… haha, what? Yeah? I'm… I’m fine. Just…” you sniffle and gently move his hand from your face. You’re refusing to meet his eyes,shy about your sadness. “The pictures… they look so happy.”

The look on his face makes you want to run away. And then, he laughs. “You’re crying because Tommy and his family look happy?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, stuck. “It’s not a bad thing.” Are his words when he seems to realize how stunned you feel. “It’s… adorable.”

You fumble your words, “oh, I, uhm, yeah, okay, that’s… yeah.” To have the guy you’ve been into for years call you such a word is a rush. A scary one. But you like it. And whatever it is you did, you wish you could keep doing it until he saw you as you saw him. Perfect.

You’re still standing by the door of the random bedroom and it’d be easy to just run off. But you can’t. Making a fool of yourself in front of Jonah will only make your plan harder. And Rafe would kill you for letting his effort go to waste. “What are you doing in here?” It comes out more abrasive than you wished, internally scolding yourself.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, he takes his seat back on the bed and shrugs. “It’s noisy.”

You understand. You really, really do. And you want to say it aloud but your tongue is tied as you watch him throw his head back, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows gently. After a moment, you semi-gather yourself. “Did you leave cause of Sarah?” You joke lightly. “That’s what made me leave.”

This garners a soft laugh out of him and you want to jump up and squeal. But Rafe told you to act nonchalant. “Yeah, she’s certainly… singing.”

You take one step away from the door. Just one. You were going to sit beside him. You were going to talk to him. Really talk to him.

The door behind you swings open and hits your head. Hard. “What the fuck?” Jonah’s quick on his feet, rushing to you in a panic. You turn to look at the culprit and your frown turns into a glare. Rafe.

“What the fuck, Rafe?!” You hiss, sending a punch to his shoulder.

“Why were you standing so near the door?!”

“Why would you swing it open like a maniac?!”

“It’s not my fault you were standing there—“

“Maybe don’t open doors like that—“

“Oh, shut up, do you ever not complain—“

“Says you! You’re, like, the king of complaining—“

“King? King—“

“Should I leave?” Jonah’s soft voice speaks and you shove Rafe’s face as you look at him and smile.

“N-no, you shouldn’t have to. He was just leaving.”

“I was? I don’t— ow, fuck, okay, I’m leaving.”

The mood was ruined. Whatever mood Jonah was in was gone. And so was your confidence. It's awkward as you sit next to him on the bed. The palm of your hands are on your knees, anxiously rubbing at them. He’s laid back on the bed, arm crossed over his eyes, the only thing telling you he’s up is the soft twitch of his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” His voice cuts through the thick silence.

Panicked, you glance over at him with wide eyes. “Does… does what hurt?”

“Your head. He opened the door pretty hard.” He still doesn’t move from his position and you’re grateful he’s not looking at you. You do better when people can’t perceive you.

“Oh, my head… yeah, it’s fine, doesn’t hurt. I-it’s a little sore but I’ll make him pay for it.” You shrug, fixing Rafe’s jacket on your body.

“You two are close.” It’s supposed to be a question. It doesn’t sound like one.

You shake your head despite his eyes being covered up. “Not really. I… he’s nice but we’re not like friends.”

He sits back up and this makes you tense up, looking straight ahead at that damn door you hate now. “Just never seen him with anyone but his same three friends.”

“I’m friends with Sarah. We’re just… around each other more.” It’s a lie. But you don’t believe Rafe would want people to know just how much time you’re really spending together. The less people that know, the better.

“You and Scarlett are really done?” He questions, eyes on you. But you can’t look over at him. You’re stiff and awkward and unsure of how to act around him.

You nod softly, “y-yeah… she’s, uhm, not a very nice person.”

It’s quiet for another moment. “She’s been running her mouth about you. Calling you names. Really bad names. And all you can say is ‘she's not nice’?”

Hearing that she’s still talking about you is a punch to the guy and suddenly you don’t care about your crush. You don’t care that you two are sitting so close to each other. All you can think is how horrible she truly is. How blinded you were. And how stupid you feel for missing her. “Well… just because others are doing bad things, doesn’t mean I should. Be the bigger person and whatnot.” You let out a small and awkward laugh to try and shrug off what you’re really feeling.

“Wow.” Are his words as he gets up off the bed and walks to the dresser of the bedroom and picking up a magazine. “You’re really not like other girls.” An even bigger punch to the gut. Logically, you know he’s trying to be kind. He’s only saying this to make you feel better, your feelings on Scarlett written all over your face.

You don’t wear makeup, not like other girls do. You don’t dress up, not like other girls do. You don’t giggle over guys, not like other girls do. You don’t go out and have fun, not like other girls do. But you want to do it all. You want to be like other girls. You never felt worth it. Lipstick on a pig. You’re too big to fit trendy clothes. You don’t giggle over guys because they’d be disgusted that you’re into them. You don’t go out because you’d be the biggest out of the group of girls that are around you. You’d be an eyesore.

In a frantic move, you get up off the bed. “Right. Well, I, uh… I have to go.”

“Huh? What—“ but you don’t pay any attention to his words as you rush out of the random bedroom. There are kids littering the hallway. The steps are being used as seats, shoving people slightly as you go. The music is loud. Too loud. You can feel it bouncing in your eardrums and filling your already muddled thoughts. Theres nothing you can think about other than getting out of that damn house. And in your panicked stupor, you can’t find the damn. The house is too damn big.

There’s a couple making out in the bathroom when you rush inside and when they see the fear in your eyes, they rush out, leaving you to be.

The drive isn’t awkward. Not like you thought it would be. He didn’t question you. And despite his last text, he didn’t bring it up. And you’re grateful he didn’t.

“Where are we going?” You ask when you realize you’re headed downtown. “I want to go home, Rafe.”

He shrugs, hands on the wheel. “I’m hungry. We’re just stopping by The Wreck real quick.”

He doesn’t ask you to get down with him. He parks, heads inside, and he’s out fifteen minutes later. But he doesn’t start driving. In fact, he immediately takes a bite out of his burger, your food untouched on your lap.

“You’re not gonna eat?” He asks with his mouth full, but you don’t grimace like you should. You grab a napkin and hands it to him but he shakes his head refusing it.

“You’re dirty.”

“And you’re not eating.” He swallows his food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying.”

“So because I'm fat, I must be hungry?” It’s a joke but the look he gives you tells you he’s not amused in the slightest. “Tough crowd. Seriously, I'm not hungry.”

“Is this that thing where you don’t eat in front of people cause you’re with a guy? Sarah told me it’s some shit she does.”

“It’s that thing where I’m not hungry, actually.” But it smells divine. Usually, you’d happily eat this but after tonight, you’re not sure if you’ll ever eat greasy foods again.

He scoffs, putting his burger down and holding a fry up at you. “Try the fry.”

“You try the fry.”

“I already did. Seriously, my mom had this trick while we were growing up. Sarah always swore she wasn’t hungry and wouldn’t get anything to eat but she’d make her try something from the plate to realize how hungry she really was.”

“How old was she?”

“My mom? She was pushing forty.”

You glare at the proud look on his face at his joke. “Sarah, stupid.”

“I don’t know… seven?”

“You’re treating me like a seven year old?”

“Try. The. Fry.” He swipes it across your lips and this gets a laugh out of you, shoving him away.

“Okay, okay! I’ll eat a fry. But that one has lipstick all over it now.” You pick a fry from his and he squints his eyes at you.

“You have a perfectly good batch.”

You pop the fry into your mouth with a content smile. “Not as good as yours.” And he was right. The salt and buttery soft fry proved to be true— you are hungry.

With a sigh, you grab your burger and say— “okay… just… don’t look.”

This amuses him. “Don’t look at you eat your burger? Well, there goes my spank bank.”

“Ew, Rafe!” You laugh, nose scrunching at his crude words.

You take a bite of your burger. And it’s absolutely delicious. Just like you knew it would be. Instead of worrying over stuffed up cheeks or looking fat while eating, you share laughs, mouths full and not a single care.

taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 @acidfeens @congratsloserr @murdockcastleslut @cl4uus @clairesblouse @ange111 @daddydraco @wtfdudesblog @honk4emoboyz @fionaapplelover2010 @raiemarine @totonella1 @lilmixed-girl @enjoymyloves @darlingisntit @c1gsaftewhat @lil-sparklqueen @bambisribbon @easybakeoven7 @vviolets444rroses @aesthetic-lyss @dr3wstarkey @sleepmaster69 @yose2123 @aligned-starz @vex-et-soleil (if your name is red, it’s not letting me tag you for some reason, sorry!)

[ohsugar-honey-iced-tea]

Requesting a fic with soft Wanda who takes care of sick reader. Bonus if she gives R a whole bunch of forehead kisses, cuddles, and chicken noodle soup <3

-rémi

Pouts and kisses

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

A/n: this is a request from my dearest friend @cthulhus-curse . I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Thank you for being my friend and for helping me get back into writing ♡

Summary: where Wanda is trying to make you do the impossible

-------------------------------------------------------

It was a battle like nothing ever seen before. A battle no one wanted to have and was crucial to win.

And unfortunately, Wanda was losing it.

Pouts were thrown her way and heads were shaken no.

See, the thing is, you had gotten a nasty flu that just wouldn't go away. And whilst Wanda found you extremely adorable, she had also found out that it was the most frustrating thing to ever exist.

"Come on detka, you have to eat something..."

Wanda tried with all her mights as she tried to bring a spoon filled with her famous chicken noodle soup to your mouth.

You, however, were having none of it.

You were tired, feverish, dizzy and your throat was hurting. You were miserable and deep down you knew Wanda was trying to make you feel better but your cloudy judgement got the better of you.

You moved away from the bite of soup, pouting so hard Wanda would think it hurt. You quickly hid underneath your warm Bluey blankie Wanda got you a few years ago, hiding from all the agony you were in.

Defeated, Wanda sighed and put away the spoon. She had tried everything, what could she do anymore?

"You know, my sweetheart... sick ones only get their kisses if they eat well"

This got your attention. There is only one thing you wanted the most, and that was Wanda's kisses. Slowly your head came out of your hoodie, making direct eye contact with Wanda.

"I'll tell you what... for every bite of soup, you will get one kiss"

You thought deeply. Eating anything was the last thing you wanted right now, but it would earn you Wanda's kisses.

"I suppose we could start with one bite"

Wanda smiled to herself, feeling pleased with her little victory.

"That's my good girl. Now, open up..."

You opened your mouth and allowed Wanda to place the spoon filled with soup in your mouth.

You let out a soft moan as all the tastes came over you. Rich and filled, with a hint of paprikash, reminding you of the first time Wanda teached you how to make it. All your favorite vegetables inside it and noodles in the shape of little hearts.

It tasted like home.

You opened your eyes, a small twinkle in your red and puddy eyes. You saw Wanda smile at you and you knew there and then you wanted this woman to be right next to you every day for the rest of your life.

"There! One bite down, and..."

Wanda leaned in, and as you were getting ready to get yourself a kiss, you felt Wanda's lips on your forehead. Pouting again, you pulled away.

"Hey, that's not fair'

Wanda chuckled, putting the spoon back in the bowl to get another bite ready for you.

"Now, don't make me wait, little one, open up"

Slightly grumpy still, you opened your mouth for yet another bite. After this bite you felt your insides slowly warm because of the soup.

Before you could say anything else you felt Wanda's lips on the tip of your nose.

"Mwah! Boop!"

You were officially getting cranky now. You were promised a kiss, a GOOD kiss, and you didn't get it yet.

"Now listen here-"

You were quickly given another bite, and a big kiss on your lips followed.

You were blown away by the feeling of Wanda's lips on yours. All of your worries and troubles melted away as all your foggy mind could register was Wanda. Before you even had the chance to deepen the kiss, Wanda pulled away.

"Hey..."

You wanted to protest more, but Wanda's kiss left you feeling weak.

"My dear sweet little one... we still have a whole bowl to finish!"

After finishing the bowl of soup and even some strawberries (cut in the shape of a heart, or you didn't want them), you were finally filled with some decent food and vitamins. Wanda even managed to get you to take some medicine to get the fever down.

As you were about to fall into slumber, Wanda gently lifted you up. Seeing your tired but confused look, Wanda giggled softly.

"Let me get you all nice and clean, my love"

As the bath was filling with warm water, Wanda took her time undressing you. When the water was ready, she led you into the bath. You tried to protest, wanting Wanda to join you, but Wanda silenced your small protests with another kiss.

"Soon, my beautiful girl, let me take care of you, please"

40 minutes later, you were bathed, in a clean set of pajamas (Wanda's, to be exact, as you kept asking for them as they gave you comfort) and in Wanda's arms.

Wanda saw you struggling to keep your eyes open. As much as it warmed her heart, she knew you needed your rest.

"Sleep, my detka, you need your rest. I will be here when you wake up"

With that you were asleep in minutes. Wands looked at you, and realised how lucky she was.

Sure, you always seemed so confident and strong in front of others, but with her, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. And if that meant for Wanda to take care of you when a nasty flu declares a battle, Wanda was all too happy about it.

Taking a few more looks at you, Wanda decided to get some rest as well. She should be, as she was planning to officially ask you to be her wife as soon as you were better.

-------------------------------------------------------

Let me know if you want to be added to the Wanda taglist! If you have any requests, send them! Reblogs are much appreciated :)

Taglist: @wandanats-goodgirl

[cthulhus-curse]

Soft mommy Wanda who…cradles you closely whenever you have a bad day, something yoou don't even need to tell her. "Mommy knows," is what Wanda oftentimes explains. She will hum softly as you lay against her chest, her arms wrapped around you as nimble fingers trace lazy fingers along your exposed skin -- her body similarly nude. She will plant one, two, and maybe three kisses for good measure atop your forehead, each bettering your mood more than the last. "I'm here for you, baby," Wanda promises you. "Mommy will always be here."

Soft mommy Wanda who…loves cooking for you. She takes it very seriously, ensuring to try a handful of recipes on a weekly basis. You feel a tad bit antsy as you sit around waiting for whatever new meal your mommy will prepare for you, but she has none of that. Instead, Wanda sends you off to enjoy some time alone, partaking in your hobbies to not dare peek into the kitchen and ruin her surprise. One of your favorites ends up being a deliciously made tomato soup, albeit simple, with a grilled cheese oozes out the cheddar in only the most mouth-watering of ways. And of course your mommy doesn't let you take a bite of your food unless she blows on it to make sure you won't burn yourself.

Soft mommy Wanda who…can spend hours between your legs making you see the stars. She gets off from simply using her mouth to please you, at times her fingers which stretch you out in the most lewd ways imaginable. Wanda leaves love bites all over your skin, worshipping you as though you were an entity -- which, in her mind, you might as well be. And when you cum, Wanda has to hold you down. "Shh, mommy's got you, sweetheart. Let go for me. There you go. There's a good girl. Oh, you did so well for your mommy."

Soft mommy Wanda who…enjoys aftercare more than anything. She just loves taking care of you so much. Cleaning you up, getting you a glass of water and a snack, all while she peppers sweet kisses on you. And then of course she draws a bath for the two of you to enjoy, ensuring she sits behind you to carefully wash your hair, her fingers casually massaging themselves along your scalp, as you relax on her.

Soft mommy Wanda who…shudders when your lips encircle her nipples. Oh but does she love it. At times she has to grab a fistful of your hair to keep herself grounded, but soon finds relief in the way you suck on her breasts. It makes her feel all warm and fussy inside, much like your checked-out mind in those moments. "There you go, baby. Bet that feels good, huh?" Wanda mumbles to you, her lips hovering over your forehead as you keep nursing. "Such a good girl. Oh, mommy's best girl."

[bluem1lls]

hii, could you write a one-shot where se-mi fucks fem reader after an argument/angry? like including really rough sex, degradation, hair pulling, a strap, etc, anything you feel comfortable with. im sorry if this is too horny this is my ovulation week 💔

✧₊⁺ but you belong to me

se-mi x fem!reader

authors note: so clearly, this is very much headcanon shdjdjj i tried mixing both together and this came out! thank you so much to both for the request and i hope u like it!

✦ synopsis: you're so in love with your best friend that is not really a surprise when you two fight because she wants to hookup with a random girl.

but as she sees you sitting next to nam-gyu, talking so close, she needs to show you who you belong to.

content: minors dni, best friends to lovers, jealous se-mi (AAAA), smut, strap on, dom!se-mi x sub! reader, bathroom sex, fingering/oral (r!receiving), slight choking and degradation, hair pulling

i can't believe my anger lead me to this pathetic path.

sitting here, with nam-gyu. that's like... as low as you can get.

"why are you here, doll?" he says, staring at me. "like, don't get me wrong, i'm happy that you decided i'm the best option to hang out but... don't you have a little bodyguard that you're always with?"

i frown as i stare at a blank point. "she decided it's best to go fuck a random girl than staying with her best friend"

se-mi and i have been best friends since senior year from high school. we did everything together, that even lead to eachother being our first kiss for example, but we always said it was a way to experiment, for when the real time comes.

of course, that didn't stopped me from falling for my best friend.

so when we met this new waitress at our usual coffee shop that couldn't stop poiting "how pretty se-mi's piercings are", i didn't liked her.

i was hugging se-mi, feeling cold and confused as she broke our hug to chat with a random girl. random! girl!

that's was so mean of her.

i mean, she has no idea of the feelings i have for her but... she can't be that blind?

right?

so, that lead to us fighting at se-mi's house afterwards, where we were having the last hangout of the year with our group and a few others.

the 'fight' being me telling her how much i didn't liked this new girl as she replied by scoffing and rolling her eyes.

like always.

that brings me to present time. where, the party has already started. i can see se-mi talking and laughing with this girl (she even invited her, i can't believe it!) while im sitting next to nam-gyu, a boy who i know she really fucking hates but just got used to his presence because we're in the same friend group.

"i think the word you're looking for is jealous" he keeps with the conversation. he chuckles as i stare at him like he was insane.

"don't say that. i'm not jealous. i just think it's stupid that i tell her 'oh hey don't hook up with her, she gives me bad vibes' and she still goes for it!" i tell him gesturing with my hands, getting angry all over again.

"you're too pretty to be jealous, doll" nam-gyu says, staring at me.

"maybe not more than a random blonde" i mumble, covering my face.

"hey listen. we might not get along great, but" he says, removing my hands out of my face, making me stare him. "you're the most gorgeous girl in this trashy party" we both chuckle.

i smile, thankful. he's actually making me feel better.

"thanks, i can't believe i'm saying this but... you're actually a decent person" i spoke, smiling.

he grins as one of his hands goes to grab a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

as he was getting close, a hand grabs the neck of his shirt from behind and pulls him away.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" se-mi says to him, her face twisted in anger and betray. her stare now focus on me as she frowns. "were you going to kiss him? for real?" she scoffs as she lets nam-gyu free of her hold and sarcastically chuckles.

i stare at her, confusion all over my face.

what was she talking about?

getting up from the couch, i stand in front of her.

"i don't get it. if i get in between your hookup i'm a bitch but you interrumpt a conversation and you're a heroe?" i say close to her face. we're standing a few inches apart. i can feel her breath on my face. i know she's mad. she has the same harsh look everytime thanos or nam-gyu say something that she doesn't like, before punching them.

but i'm not used to her staring at me that way.

"this is ridiculous. we're all having a good time. we'll talk about this later" i say turning around, heading to the bathroom.

i can hear her loud steps following me as i enter to the bathroom. she pushes the door before i can close it and enters, closing the door behind her.

she walks towards me, taking a deep breath as she stares my features. annoyance is clear on her face.

"what the fuck? nam-gyu? that's who you choose to go for, out of all the people here?" her expression growing with irritation.

"oh i'm sorry, i thought you were too busy with the blondie to notice my presence!"

"what are you talking about?" she says like i'm insane. "why does she makes you so angry? you never aprove of anyone i try to hookup." she says, scoffing.

"well, im just looking out for you"

"bullshit." se-mi replies, her expression growing angrier "you push me away, you flirt with nam-gyu-"

"flirt with nam-gyu?" i say, stopping her mid-sentence, confused. "what are you talking about? i wasn't flirting with him!"

"you were. you literally let him get close to you, touch your hair"

"you do that, my friends sometimes do that, i thought it was friendly" i shrugged. was he really flirting with me? "i didn't noticed. i promise"

she gazes into my eyes and looks for any sign of a lie in my face. her stare softens once she sees that i'm not lying to her. she steps closer to me, her body still tense.

"it made me so angry seeing you with him" she said, avoiding my eyes. "i thought you were trying to make me jealous on purpose and.." she stops and pins me against the wall. "it was driving me crazy"

my heart beats like crazy, i feel my cheeks heating up from how close she's standing to me.

"wh-why did it drive you crazy?"

her eyes becoming darker, filled with possessiveness. her raw voice, talks in a low tone.

"why do you think? i want you. all the times i hate seeing someone else get too close to you? i knew i was a little too much overprotective over you but," she stops, lifting my chin so i can stare into her eyes. "tonight? you ignoring me and talking to him instead? made my blood boil. i wanted to bend you against the table and fuck you right then and there so everyone can see who owns you."

i felt a heat set on my lower stomach, my panties becoming soaked for her words. i bit my lip as my stare drops to her lips.

her breath hitches. she swallows hard while closing the distance between us, trapping me against her and the wall. her lips capture mine with a kiss, her hands roaming all through my body as she settles on my throat, squeezing to remove air from my lungs. my hand wraps around her bicep, squeezing it one the choking becomes too much.

the kiss turning into a hungry, desesperate one. deepening as her tongue enters my mouth.

"you have no idea how much i want you" i moan in between kisses as her hands lower to my waist.

"if you keep saying things like that, i'll fuck you here, no time to take you to the bedroom" she says, eyes darkened with desire.

i nod as her kisses go lower to my neck, bitting, licking and leaving hickeys as i whimper.

"when i finish fucking you stupid, you're gonna go show him your hickeys and tell him who left them there" she says in a growl.

i nod, completely at her mercy.

she kneels, her hands slowly going under my skirt as she pulls it up, making me hold it.

"you and this miniskirt have been driving me insane all night" she says, her fingers teasing my folds over my panties. "look at you baby, you're soaked. you ruined this pretty pair of undies. being my whore made you this wet?" she says, her fingers still softly tracing my cunt, feeling the wetness.

"all for you, all for you. please se-mi" i beg whimpering, my puffy clit needy for stimulation.

"please what baby? use your words like the grown girl you are" she says, her eyes dark and feral, staring at the wet patch growing on my underwear.

"please fuck me."

her eyes graze all over my face as a smirk forms in her lips. i whimper as her fingers grab the elastic band of my panties. her face so close i can feel her breath against my cunt, making me clench to nothing. her tongue can't help but swipe across.

i moan, one hand holding to my skirt as the other one heads to grab her hair to pull her closer. she chuckles at my desperation, giving another flick of her tongue.

finally, she slowly begins to pull my panties down, removing them.

cold air hitting my clit, making me squeeze my thighs. her breathing getting heavier as she parts my legs, seeing the wetness covering my inner thighs.

she grabs my leg and places it on top of her shoulder, getting closer to where i need her the most. her fingers slowly teasing my clit as i give her a choked moan.

her tongue meets my clit, giving kitten licks as her fingers lower to tease my entrance. i yank her hair, trying to pull her even closer, making her stop. my eyes become watery.

"n-no wait, wh-why did you stop" i whimper, so needy.

"you're such a brat. you tease all night, you make me angry and you want me to take it to your pace?" she says, two of her fingers enter without warning in my soppy cunt, making me moan loudly. "you'll do as i say when i say it, you're my slut" she stares at me, as my eyes threaten to shut close from pleasure. i nod, making sure she knew i understood.

"lets fuck the attitude out of you, hm?" she says, her tongue meeting my clit once again as her two fingers curl inside of me with no mercy.

her tongue flicks on all the right places, fingers never leaving my inside as she thrust deeper and harder, making me clench.

"i-if you keep going i'll cum...i'm gonna cum please" i moan loudly as her pace seems to go even faster.

my head against the wall, feeling completely overwhelmed by how good she's fucking me. i can hear the squelching sounds of my pussy as she keeps thrusting, hitting that spot that makes me wanna crumble for her.

she keeps eating me, soft moans leaving her mouth, turning me on even more.

then suddenly, when i'm about to hit the climax, everything stops.

i open my eyes wide as i see her smirking playfully in between my legs.

"you're ready to take my cock princess?" her voice dripping in lust as she stood up. she grabs my hips and bites my pouty lips, kissing me once again.

she pounds with no mercy into me with her fake cock, my eyes rolling back from pleasure as i feel her hand squeeze my throat, choking me as she thrusts harder.

"you like it baby? you like my cock?" she says, heavy breathing as i mumble something that sounds like "yeah..yes..yeah"

she keeps slamming into me as her fingers leave my throath and go straight to my aching clit. she circles as i clench, showing i'm getting closer and closer to my release.

my moans get louder as she goes deeper and faster.

"you're gonna cum for me princess? i wanna feel you tight around my cock" she says, her moves never stopping.

i nod, desesperate. "se-mi.. baby i love-i love you so much.. so so much-" i cry out as my mouth opens in a "o" shape.

heat positions in my lower stomach, expanding more and more with each thrust, until it snaps.

i pull her by the neck, kissing her deeply to shut my loud moan as i cum. my cunt pulsating around her cock as she never stops moving, making my orgasm last even longer, while she hungrily returns the kiss. her hand leaving my clit and settling on my throat, choking me while she bites and pulls my lower lip.

"i love you so much princess" she says, slowly pausing her thrusts.

as she pulls away her cock leaves my insides, making me whine as i let my body go numb against the bed. my eyes closing as i feel her move from on top of me to sit besides me

her hands position behind my head, pulling me up to drink some water.

i open my eyes to see her hair sticking to her face, cheeks flustered and her eyes dilatated.

as i stop drinking and slowly sit myself in bed, she kisses me once again, her tongue exploring once again my mouth. the feeling that i'll never get tired of this sits on my chest.

"you didn't think this was all, right baby?" she smirks, breaking the kiss and grabbing my hips.

"you're such a good slut, you like this huh? being a whore for your best friend? this' what you wanted?" she teases me as her cock slams into me from behind, spanking me, leaving a red mark of her hand.

tears running my cheeks from pleasure and humiliation. the moans that came from my mouth chanting her name sounded almost pornographic.

"poor baby, all she ever wanted was to go dumb on my cock. you're taking it so good, my little slut"

she had me on all fours, rutting into me, making me take her whole lenght.

her black strap hitting places that made me scream from pleasure. my face against her pillow trying to quiet the moans she took out of me by fucking me ruthless.

"you only wanted me to fuck you dumb, fuck that bratty attitude out of you. look at you now" she said, spanking me as she went harder. "pathetic whiny baby"

one of her hands on my hips, helping her slam deeply into me, while her other hand threads my hair and pulls it, making me lift my face from the pillow with a moan.

"i dont hear you screaming princess, and neither can the idiots downstairs. i bet they want you like this, but you're all mine" she whispers in my ear bringing me closer to her chest without removing her cock, who fucks into me while my slick is covering it entirely.

she keeps pulling my hair harder and tighter. her moves becoming sloppier as her hand sneaks to play with my clit.

the circles over it and her cock thrusting non stop to my squelching cunt made me clench, the release feeling so close again.

"se-mi..se-mi i'm coming again" i cried as she kept slamming and pulling my hair so i couldn't fall against the pillow. my moans becoming louder with each thrust.

the pleasure taking all over my body, i cried as i felt myself reach the climax. she kept going with her moves, but started to slow down, softly grabbing my body to prevent me from falling hard onto the matress.

she pulled away, the feeling of nothing filling me left me whining. my body lays in bed as my breathing tries to become normal. i felt like i was passing out.

she lays besides me, moving my body to be almost resting on top of her as she kisses my head.

"i never wanted anyone else. and you're dumb for not telling me about your feelings. we could've done this sooner" she chuckles as i nod, tired.

"i wasn't flirting with nam-gyu. i always wanted you" i said with my eyes close, almost falling asleep.

"i know baby. but tomorrow he'll see the hickeys and i'll be happier" she mumbles, closing her eyes to doze off.

i hear a few knocks on the door as we both open our eyes.

"why do we get all the cleaning and you two get the sex? that's so unfair" thanos said, knocking again on the door.

we could hear him and nam-gyu mumbling as thanos laughed at him.

"a chance? "thanos snorts, teasing nam-gyu. "you're stupid if you thought se-mi would let you get an inch close to her" he says as the other guy shushed him.

se-mi scoffs as she hugs me, forcing me to close my eyes and doze off.

who knew falling for your best friend could end this good?

[cherryxbooo]

You deserve only the best

Summary: Y/n falls for her best friend Carlos, but after he introduces his new lover, she discovers his true intentions. Heartbroken, she tries to move on.

Reader x Carlos Sainz

Genre: fluff/angst

Carlos Sainz had been my best friend for as long as I could remember.

We shared everything, inside jokes, moments of laughter, and a bond that felt unbreakable.

For years, we had been inseparable. Yet, for just as long, I had harbored feelings for him that I had kept hidden.

The truth was, I was in love with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I was terrified of ruining our friendship, which meant the world to me.

So, I stayed silent, even as my heart would race whenever he would act affectionate toward me, kissing my cheek, calling me pet names like "mi amor" or "querida," or giving me those long, lingering glances that made me believe he might feel the same.

It was complicated, especially when he’d kissed me a few times, nothing too serious, but enough to leave me wondering if something more could come from it.

I wanted to believe that he felt the same, but I was too afraid to make the first move, too afraid of pushing him away.

Then, one fateful day, everything changed.

We were at the paddock during one of his races.

The excitement in the air was palpable, the sound of engines roaring, the buzz of fans, the rush of adrenaline.

It was a typical race day, but something caught my eye that I hadn’t expected to see, Carlos talking to a girl.

A random girl. She was standing next to him, laughing, clearly comfortable in his presence.

I felt a twinge of jealousy course through me as I watched them. I didn’t know who she was, but something about the way they were standing so close made my stomach twist.

I immediately tried to push the feeling aside, but it was impossible. I needed answers.

I couldn’t just ignore it, so I approached Lando, who had become one of my closest friends over time.

I figured he might know who she was.

“Hey, Lando,” I began, trying to sound casual. “Do you know who that girl is? The one with Carlos?”

Lando glanced over, then shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve seen her before. Why? You don’t like her or something?”

I gave a small laugh, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “No, I’m just curious.”

Lando gave me a knowing look but didn’t push further. “You should ask Carlos, though. He’ll tell you.”

I nodded, though my mind was already racing.

I made my way back to the Ferrari garage, trying to shake the knot in my stomach.

I wasn’t ready to confront him, but I had to. I needed answers.

When I got there, Carlos spotted me right away. “Y/N!” he called out, a wide smile lighting up his face.

He waved me over, and I walked toward him, hoping to mask the turmoil inside me.

As soon as I got closer, he introduced the girl who had been standing next to him earlier.

“This is Sofia,” Carlos said, his voice filled with warmth. “My girlfriend.”

The ground seemed to fall out from under me. My heart sank into my stomach, and for a moment, I couldn’t find my breath.

My hands suddenly felt clammy, and I forced myself to smile, though it felt more like a grimace.

“Nice to meet you, Sofia,” I said, my voice steady, even though I felt anything but.

I turned quickly, excusing myself from their presence, and walked away before they could see the hurt that flashed across my face.

I barely made it to the restroom before the tears started falling.

I locked myself in a stall, letting my emotions spill out.

Why had I been so foolish to believe that Carlos could feel the same? I had spent so much time hiding my feelings, convincing myself that he might care for me, but here he was, with a new girlfriend.

But why would he lead me on? Kiss me, hug me, cuddle me, give me pet names?

Was it because I was too naive which made him take advantage of me?

Clearly.

He had never given me any reason to think otherwise, he had always been affectionate, always flirted, but it was all in my head, wasn’t it?

He never saw me as more than a friend. Just as someone to pass time with.

After a few minutes of crying, I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and told myself to stop.

Carlos didn’t deserve my tears. I wasn’t his girlfriend. I had no right to feel like this.

I walked out of the restroom, determined to leave the paddock. I couldn’t bear to stay and watch him with her.

I needed to put myself first.

As I walked toward the exit, I bumped into Lando.

He took one look at my tear-streaked face and immediately pulled me into a hug.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment. “I can’t do it, Lando. I can’t stay here and watch him with her. It hurts too much.”

Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes soft. “You don’t have to stay. You know you can always come to my garage.”

I smiled weakly at him, grateful for his kindness. “I need some time alone, Lando. But thank you.”

He nodded understandingly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

I hugged him tightly before walking away.

I knew Lando understood, he was the only one who knew how I felt about Carlos.

Back in my hotel room later that evening, I let myself cry. The tears came without warning, a flood of emotions that I had kept buried for so long.

They were painful, but I needed them. They had been building up for weeks, months, even years because I had been lying to myself.

I had let Carlos get too close to my heart, pretending he was everything I needed, hoping he would eventually realize that we were meant to be together.

I had allowed myself to become wrapped up in his promises, those little gestures that I now realized had only ever been casual flirtations.

The kisses on my cheek that made my heart race.

The way he would hold me close for just a second longer than necessary, as if our closeness was more than just friendship.

I had convinced myself those moments meant something.

But now, all I had was the overwhelming truth that I had been foolish.

Carlos didn’t want me. He had never truly wanted me.

But more than anything, I was angry at myself. How had I let him take up so much space in my life without ever truly giving me what I deserved?

I had spent so much time convincing myself that he would come around, that he would eventually see how perfect we were for each other.

But he had never promised me anything. He never made me a priority.

And when it came down to it, when he found someone else, I was just... nothing.

I was left standing there, heartbroken, all the while wondering if it was somehow my fault.

But as the night dragged on, something shifted within me. The tears slowed, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me, the one who had let Carlos walk all over her, the one who had been too afraid to face the truth.

It was time to change.

I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep holding onto something that wasn’t real.

It wasn’t Carlos who needed to change; it was me. I needed to find my own happiness.

I had been so wrapped up in waiting for Carlos to realize how great we could be together that I had forgotten to love myself first.

The truth was, I had allowed him to use me. I had been there for him when he needed me, while he toyed with my emotions, knowing that he had me hooked.

I had been loyal, caring, and patient, but none of that mattered to him.

It was time for me to stop chasing after a love that had never been meant for me. Carlos didn’t deserve me.

I swallowed hard, the weight of the realization sinking in. I wasn’t perfect, but I had so much to offer.

I deserved someone who would see me, appreciate me, and treat me with the respect I had given him.

I wasn’t going to wait around any longer.

It was time to focus on myself, to heal, and to become the best version of me that I could be.

I was worthy of real love, and I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Weeks passed, and I slowly started to feel the fog lift.

I spent more time on self-care; going to the gym, reading books I had long ignored, and enjoying the things I loved without the cloud of uncertainty hanging over me.

It wasn’t easy.

Some days were better than others. But I was finally starting to feel like myself again.

I spent a lot of time with my friends, especially Lando.

He had been such a rock for me through everything, and I could never thank him enough for always having my back.

One afternoon, we were having lunch together when he looked at me, his eyes full of concern.

“How are you really holding up?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

I had been trying to push everything down, but Lando could see through me.

“Honestly? I’m not doing great. But I’m getting there, Lando. Slowly, but surely.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Have you heard from Carlos?”

The question hit me like a punch in the gut.

I tried to act unaffected, but the truth was, I hadn’t heard from him since that day at the paddock.

He hadn’t called, texted, or even checked in on me.

“No. Not since that day. I haven’t heard a word from him,” I said, my voice tight.

Lando frowned, shaking his head. “That’s messed up. He’s been distancing himself, huh?”

I nodded, my chest tightening as I remembered the way Carlos had moved on so easily.

It stung, but I didn’t want to dwell on it anymore.

“He’s got Sofia now. I don’t think he cares about me at all. And honestly? I’m done caring. He made his choice.”

Lando’s face softened, and he reached across the table to give my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re doing so much better, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

I smiled at him, a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Lando. It means a lot to me.”

We spent the rest of the lunch talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company.

For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was starting to come back to life.

I had been so consumed by Carlos and his inability to see my worth, but now I realized that I didn’t need him. I was enough on my own.

A month passed, and I was feeling stronger than ever.

I had rediscovered my love for life, for the things that made me happy.

I was no longer sitting around waiting for Carlos to give me the validation I craved.

I was content on my own.

One day, I was supporting Lando at a race, as I always did.

I was walking down the hallway of the paddock when I spotted Carlos talking to Sofia.

They were standing close together, whispering to each other, but as I got closer, I couldn’t help but overhear snippets of their conversation.

They were fighting. Loudly.

I turned the corner and kept walking, but my mind was racing. I didn’t want to get involved in their drama, but it felt strange.

For a second, I wondered if Carlos was starting to see the same thing I had.

Maybe Sofia wasn’t as perfect as he thought she was.

I didn’t care. I didn’t need him to come back to me, I had moved on, or so I thought.

When I got back to McLaren’s garage, I asked Lando,

“Have you heard anything about Carlos and Sofia?”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard they’ve been fighting a lot lately. He’s been acting... different.”

“I think he’s starting to see her true colors.” I said, feeling a strange sense of vindication.

Lando nodded, agreeing with me.

“Could be. But don’t waste your energy on it, Y/N. You’re better off without him.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Lando was right.

I had spent too much of my time focusing on someone who didn’t deserve me. I was finally free.

A week later, I was running late to meet Lando for lunch.

As I rushed through the hallway, I accidentally bumped into someone.

Papers flew everywhere, and I quickly apologized, bending down to help gather them up.

But when I looked up, my breath caught in my throat.

Standing in front of me was a man who was everything I wasn’t expecting.

Tall, dark-haired, wearing a sharp suit that clung to his broad shoulders.

His smile was warm, magnetic.

There was something about him that made me feel instantly at ease, yet also strangely excited.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice smooth and confident.

“But you’re in a rush, huh?”

I laughed, trying to hide my flustered reaction. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

We finished gathering the papers, and when our eyes met again, there was a spark. It was undeniable.

“You sure you’re not in too much of a rush?” he asked, a teasing smile curling on his lips.

I smiled back, shaking my head. “No, I’m good. Just feeling bad about bumping into you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, the best way to make it up to me is by giving me your number.”

My heart skipped a beat, and for a second, I couldn’t quite process what was happening.

But then I realized... he was serious.

I had been so wrapped up in Carlos’s drama for so long that I had forgotten how to enjoy moments like this.

I had forgotten that there were good people out there who actually valued me for who I was.

I blinked in surprise but couldn’t hide my grin. “Okay. You’ve got my number.”

He chuckled, clearly pleased. “I’m Pablo, by the way. I’ll be in touch.”

I watched him walk away, a rush of excitement swirling in my chest.

Maybe this was what I needed, a fresh start, someone who actually saw me.

As I rushed to meet Lando, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Who was that?” Lando asked, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"His name's Pablo. We bumped into each other, and one thing led to another. He asked for my number."

I said, unable to hide the grin on my face.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Look at you, getting a man.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin. “We'll see where this leads."

The next weekend, the excitement was palpable.

I had agreed to go on a date with Pablo after weeks of messages, calls, and a growing connection.

I was ready to experience this new chapter with someone who treated me like I deserved.

The day arrived, and I spent the afternoon getting ready, wanting to look my best.

I carefully picked out a beautiful dress, a deep emerald green that accentuated my curves, with a delicate lace overlay.

It was elegant, but not too flashy.

I wore my hair down, letting it cascade in soft waves, and my makeup was done elegantly, with just a hint of smokey eyeshadow and a natural, rosy lip.

I was almost finished when I heard the sound of the doorbell ring.

My heart skipped a beat.

As I walked to the door, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

When I opened it, I was met with Pablo, standing there with a charming smile, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"For you, beautiful." His voice was warm, and his eyes gleamed with admiration.

The flowers were soft pastel colors, delicate and fragrant.

I took them from his hands with a smile, feeling my cheeks flush under his gaze.

“Thank you, Pablo. They’re gorgeous.” I felt a wave of appreciation for how thoughtful he was.

He gave a small laugh, eyes twinkling.

“Not as gorgeous as you.” His words made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Pablo was always so attentive, and there was something incredibly genuine about him.

As we walked toward his car, I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he carried himself.

He opened the door of a Mercedes AMG for me, a sleek, expensive car that screamed wealth.

It was clear that this man was not just well-off; he was successful.

I knew a thing or two about cars.

Lando, my best friend, was obsessed with them, and wouldn't shut up about them.

He had so many that his garage looked like a car dealership.

The moment I saw the car, I immediately recognized the luxury, and I couldn’t help but feel impressed.

“Wow, this is gorgeous.” I couldn’t help but comment as I got in, still absorbing the interior.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s a little over the top, but sometimes, you just have to enjoy the finer things.”

He chuckled, settling into the driver’s seat. “But tonight’s about you, not the car.”

The ride to the restaurant was filled with pleasant conversation.

We talked about everything, his work, my passions, the places we wanted to visit.

He was thoughtful, but also funny and charming in a way that made me feel completely at ease.

The smooth hum of the engine only added to the calming atmosphere, and before I knew it, we had arrived at a stunning restaurant.

As we entered, the ambiance was just as sophisticated as the car.

Dim lighting, soft music playing in the background, it was the kind of place you came for an unforgettable night.

We were escorted to a private table, and as we sat down, I felt the weight of the evening's beauty surrounding us.

Everything about the night felt magical.

Over dinner, we continued to share stories and laughs.

I learned more about Pablo, his roots in Spain, his work as a CEO, and how he’d built his empire from the ground up.

It was a little ironic, hearing his story.

A Spanish man, an international success, yet here he was, sitting across from me, making me feel like the most important person in the world.

“You know, I can’t believe you’re a CEO,” I laughed, a little taken aback by how humble and down-to-earth he was.

“It’s almost too perfect, don’t you think? Spanish, successful, charming…”

He smiled, a hint of pride in his expression.

“It’s been a journey, but I love what I do.”

Then, his smile softened. “But I’m happier that I get to spend this time with you.”

I blushed, looking down at my plate for a moment, feeling a sense of warmth wash over me.

Pablo wasn’t just charming, he was genuine, and that made him stand out even more.

It felt like I was finally being seen for who I truly was, not just the exterior.

Months passed, and my relationship with Pablo deepened. We spent time together, growing closer with each passing day.

It was clear that he was everything Carlos had never been: supportive, caring, and loving in a way that made me feel truly special.

One evening, after a romantic dinner, as we strolled through the park, he stopped and turned to face me, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Y/N, I like you a lot,” he said, his voice soft and serious.

“I want to be with you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

My heart swelled with happiness, and without hesitation, I responded,

“Yes, Pablo. I’d love that.”

It was a moment that felt like the beginning of something incredible, and over the months that followed, Pablo continued to prove that he was a man who meant every word he said.

He made me feel loved, respected, and cherished every single day.

Now, it was Friday again. This time, Lando had invited both Pablo and me to his race.

I was excited, Lando had always been a great friend, and it was nice that he and Pablo got along so well.

It made me happy to see the two important men in my life getting along.

Pablo and I were getting ready at the hotel, and I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

I wore a simple but elegant outfit, jeans and a fitted blouse, comfortable yet stylish.

As we walked hand-in-hand to the paddock, my heart was full.

The sound of the crowd, the engines revving, the electric energy in the air, it all felt so alive.

We met up with Lando, and he gave us both a big hug, making us feel welcome in his world.

“Hey, you two! Glad you could make it.” Lando’s smile was infectious.

He and Pablo exchanged pleasantries, and I could see the camaraderie between them.

It made my heart swell, seeing how well they got along.

After chatting with Lando for a while, he had to leave to prepare for the race.

Pablo and I stayed behind, walking around the paddock, taking in the excitement.

But then, Pablo excused himself to use the restroom.

As I stood alone for a moment, I caught a glimpse of Carlos out of the corner of my eye.

My stomach twisted, but it was too late to run.

He spotted me immediately and started walking in my direction.

When he finally reached me, he greeted me with an awkward smile, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

“Y/N, it’s been a while.”

I raised an eyebrow, my voice cool as I responded, “Has it?”

Carlos could sense the tension.

Carlos’ voice faltered slightly as he spoke, the words tumbling out quickly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should’ve reached out to you sooner.” His eyes met mine, genuine regret flickering in them.

“I miss you. I’ve missed you so much.”

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure.

“Carlos, it’s not that simple.” I kept my tone cool, almost distant.

“You didn’t reach out because you didn’t care. You chose not to.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening.

“I know… I messed up. I get it now, Y/N. I broke up with Sofia. I’ve realized that you’re the one I love. I was just too stubborn to see it before.”

I couldn’t help but let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Carlos, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have been with her in the first place. You wouldn't have used me for your own pleasure.”

My voice was steady, but the pain was evident. “You don’t get to come back just because you made a mistake.”

His expression hardened, but I could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I was confused, and I didn’t know what I wanted. But now, I know. I want you.”

He stepped closer, his voice soft and pleading.

“Please, just give me one more chance.”

The words stung, a mixture of old feelings and fresh wounds reopening.

I shook my head, pushing my emotions down.

“Carlos, I’m not that person anymore. You don’t get to rewrite history.”

My voice remained firm, the hurt too deep to ignore.

“You had your chance, and you chose someone else. I can’t just forget that.”

Carlos didn't expect that he was probably used to me always giving in.

“I didn’t want you anyways,” Carlos sneered, his words biting.

“I would’ve just used you like I did in the past, all the times you were too naive to even acknowledge that. Did you really think I wanted you in the first place?”

My heart stung at his words, but I refused to let him see that.

I could feel the old ache in my chest, the hurt from everything he had put me through, but I wasn’t going to let him win with his manipulation.

I stood tall, my gaze unwavering as I faced him.

“You’re pathetic, Carlos,” I said coldly, my voice steady.

“You never wanted me. You wanted control. And I’m done being your puppet.”

His eyes widened at my comeback, as if he hadn't expected me to stand up for myself.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore, the one who let him play with my emotions, the one who waited for him to change.

“So no, Carlos, I didn’t think you wanted me. Not then, and certainly not now.”

Before he could respond, I felt a familiar hand on my waist, and Pablo appeared, towering above me, his presence protective.

“There was a long line at the bathroom,” Pablo said smoothly, his voice calm but firm.

“Sorry it took so long, mi amor.” He leaned in, kissing my cheek before turning back to Carlos.

Carlos was frozen, staring at Pablo in disbelief.

“Mi amor?” He repeated, clearly stunned by the affection between us.

Pablo didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m Pablo Lopez. Nice to meet you, Carlos Sainz right? Best of luck with the race.”

His tone was polite, but there was an edge to it, one that made it clear he knew exactly who Carlos was and what had happened between us.

Carlos was speechless, clearly thrown off.

As I turned to walk away with Pablo, I heard Carlos’ voice call out to me, and I couldn’t ignore the familiar tug in my chest.

I stopped and turned slightly, reluctantly facing him again.

He walked toward us with a hesitant expression, clearly unsure of how to approach the situation.

"Y/N..." he began, his voice softer than before.

"Would you... would you want to watch the race from my garage? Like old times? I could really use your support today."

For a moment, I felt the weight of those words.

Old times. The days when I thought we’d always be in each other’s lives. But that wasn’t who I was anymore.

I didn’t owe him anything.

Before I could say anything, I felt Pablo’s arm tighten around me, his presence a strong shield by my side.

He didn’t hesitate for a second as he stepped forward, his tone calm but unwavering.

“No,” Pablo said firmly, his voice carrying the kind of authority that made it clear there was no room for negotiation.

"We’re with Lando today. We’re supporting him from his garage."

His words were a stark contrast to Carlos’ hopeful tone, and I could see Carlos' face falter at the certainty in Pablo’s voice.

Carlos blinked, taken aback by the decisiveness in Pablo’s response. He seemed to pause, trying to process what had just happened.

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. His eyes flickered between Pablo and me, and I could see the understanding settle in.

He’d messed up, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“We’re going to Lando’s garage,” Pablo added smoothly, a subtle but deliberate edge to his words.

“We’ve already made plans. Best of luck with the race.”

Carlos opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was speechless.

The look on his face was a mixture of surprise and regret, as if he was finally starting to understand just how much he’d fumbled this entire situation.

I couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction at seeing him so flustered, but I reminded myself to stay composed.

This was his fault, and the reality of what he had lost was only just beginning to hit him.

“Let’s go, mi amor,”

Pablo said gently, placing his hand on my lower back as he led me away, giving Carlos one last glance that left no room for misunderstanding.

As we began to walk away from Carlos, I felt a surge of relief, but Pablo wasn’t quite finished yet.

He shot a glance back over his shoulder at Carlos, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The tension in the air was thick, and Pablo, always confident, was going to make sure Carlos knew just how badly he’d messed up.

With a sly tone, Pablo called over his shoulder,

“If you wouldn’t have fumbled this bad, you might’ve had the privilege of having this beauty with you... but guess not.”

Carlos froze, his expression going from shock to something like embarrassment in an instant.

He didn’t even have time to respond before we turned our backs, walking away with our hands firmly clasped together.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at Pablo’s words. He was never one to hold back, but the way he handled that moment made me feel even more secure in the choice I had made.

As we walked down the hallway, Pablo leaned closer to me, his arm brushing mine, his voice softening.

“I’m just stating facts, mi amor,” he whispered, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I smiled up at him, shaking my head slightly. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

And just like that, the past felt even more distant, as if it never even mattered anymore.

The farther we got from Carlos, the more I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.

I was with someone who truly valued me, someone who had proven time and time again that I was more than just an afterthought.

And as we made our way to Lando’s garage, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing I had made the right choice.

As we walked toward the garage, Pablo turned to me with a concerned look. “Are you okay, mi amor?”

I smiled, my heart full from the kindness he showed. “I’m more than okay, because of you.”

He smiled back, pulling me in for a gentle kiss.

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what."

"You deserve only the best."

"Te quiero, amor.”

Before I could respond, Lando’s voice echoed from behind us, shouting,

“Ewww, get a room!”

We laughed, but I could see the joy in Lando’s face.

He was happy for me, happy that I had finally found someone who made me feel truly loved and valued.

And as Pablo and I walked toward the rest of our evening, hand in hand, I knew without a doubt that I had found my happiness.

The past was behind me. My future was with Pablo.

The end

[auroras-void]

*I'm* one of those feminine women who's attracted to this sorta blue collar work.

Have recently been seriously considering making a 180 from CS to working to become a General Contractor. I'm good at desk work, sometimes very good, but the thing is, long term any variation of it just makes me miserable in a way that working with my hands just doesn't. I fucking love working all day on my family's project house.

But the main thing that's stopping me from stepping on up from there and turning it into a career is sexism.

Like CS has it's own problems with it, and there's some crazy shit there, but it's at least getting better. But like, with construction, I haven't even needed to so much as dip my toes in to experience it. 80% men sucks ass, but it's a hell of a lot better than 95%.

My family has a couple of contractors they work with, most of them are friends, but I still see it right away. Like, I'm by no means an expert, I only really know what my dad taught me and what I've taught myself. But I've had them immediately assume I have no experience and try to teach me like I've never held a saw in my life before despite knowing who I am, or I had an electrician ask about the existing wiring and he instantly assumed that my brother knows more than me*.

And those are just these small little things but they piss me off so fucking much, and I can tell how indicative they are of so much more. It's like people see a woman and their eyes just glaze over me. Which on the one hand is very gender affirming but in the other makes my blood fucking boil.

So like if it's that bad just from the briefest of encounters. Being fully immersed in that kinda culture regularly, experiencing the *real* shit out there there, that just sounds like fucking hell.

Particularly given that I'm trans. I would sooner die than tone down my feminity for someone else. And I can pass stealth, even on a worksite, but I *know* there's still gonna be fuckers out there who will just see me as a man who needs to be bullied into conformity, or who think that working in construction somehow invalidates my transition. And, just I swear to god I'ma fucking murder someone if I have to work in that environment.

So... like ... ig... rotting at a desk it is then.

Like, I think I might still take some classes for my own sake and chip away at it. But I don't think I'm going to be looking at any apprenticeships or anything.. I'm.. not ready for that yet...

---

** (I literally got into this shit and got good at it *after* I transitioned ffs, I didn't enjoy it until I realized I could do it for it's own sake, until I didn't feel pressured into liking it to "toughen up" or "act more manly". I am a woman above all else, and no one has the power to overrule me on that.)

*(he's fucking clueless here, he's a poli sci dude who shows up maybe once a month in a fuckin dress shirt, he's your guy for election coverage and statistics, not construction. Meanwhile, I'm literally wearing my toolbelt and a roofing helmet with knee pads and my work outfit. I was literally the person who *did* the little bit of functional wiring repairs in that house).

There was a time when women did these jobs.

Some of them really liked the work and were keen to continue doing it. But society basically told them to collectively "get back in the kitchen" when the men returned home from war.

The tradition of conditioning women, from birth, to have a distaste for these jobs continued. Young girls are discouraged from even taking an interest in the toys representing these occupations. God forbid they put Barbie in the firetruck.

The truth is, most men do not want women doing these jobs. They complain about how dangerous this work is and use that as a metaphorical bludgeon in debates about equality. But when women actually try to be firefighters and combat infantry, they are told they *can't* do these jobs. They are inferior. Those who are hired have to work twice as hard to get half the respect. They are inundated with sexism and misogyny. And many end up quitting, not because they aren't qualified or they don't like the work, but because their male coworkers make the jobs intolerable.

And instead of fighting to make these occupations safer and valued properly, these men just complain that feminists don't know how hard it is and how they don't understand what it's like to risk their lives for no money or benefits. And then rich assholes like Elon stoke these flames because he doesn't want these men to realize this is a class struggle rather than a culture war. And that feminists and "woke activists" would actually be wonderful allies in helping them get better conditions.

Lastly, there are feminists talking about this. There are plenty of non-men interested in these jobs. But I doubt Elon keeps up with very much feminist discourse other than what he invents in his imagination.

Beyond that, feminists can't seem to prioritize stuff like this in the mainstream because they are too busy trying to regain control of their uteruses.

Did I miss anything?

Oh yeah, fuck Elon and fuck "End Wokeness".

[millersfinest]

untethered⁴ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 11.3k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: +18 CONTENT, lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, afab anatomy mentioned, vulgar language, some angst (not on ellie’s watch tho), fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink 2.0), r and ellie conspiring, more horndog ellie, porn w plot ig, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is still very jealous of cat, hella angst, ellie has a landing strip ;), emotional cheating (from ellie), maria doesn’t play w r, repressed emotions, SMUT (r and ellie fuck nasty), dryhumping (underrated af), fingering, tribbing/scissoring, oral (e! receiving), titty sucking, little bit of dirty talk (not much because i’m shit at it), sub!top!ellie (?), dom!bottom!reader (?), they flip flop you guys idk.

note: i swear i can’t write smut for the LIFE OF ME… but practice makes perfect, right? my brain stopped working halfway through writing the smut portion of this so… if you don’t think ellie is giving sub!top than… you might be onto something. anywayyy, i have sm fun writing the reader and ellie’s dynamic!!! hope you guys enjoy this lengthy freaky chapter <3 and to my new followers, i see you, i hear you, and i stalk your accounts. bisou babiessss x

After your father gently chewed you out for taking so long—must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed—him and Maria took Joel to see his surprise; little Sarah. They were gonna take care of the animal work this morning, while you showed Ellie how to manage the grocery shipments. The collection of the items produced on the farm: eggs, milk and fresh vegetables. All that good stuff.

“Please, be thorough because this is how we make our money, honey.” Maria said before she followed after the brother’s, out the back door.

You swipe the clipboard off the counter that they left for you, puffing air from your mouth. Ellie followed you out the door as you led her to a trailer that kept all the products that were packaged the night before. When you lived back home, you often did the morning chores, while they did the nightly chores—although, they helped you where they could in the mornings, because you had school.

They package the eggs, milk and vegetables, but it was your job to count everything—make sure nothing was broken or eaten by bugs or tainted by anything. It was a detail-oriented job. Then, you put everything in crates and prepare them to be taken to the local shops in town. Normally, your parents dealt with that part, but not this time.

The crisp air had smacked life into you once you stepped outside. And, it was a bit of journey from the house to the trailer. The first few minutes alone, walking toward your destination, was in silence. Partially, an awkward silence. Ellie dragged her feet behind you, feigning a level of coolness that didn’t exist for her. “So, what exactly are we doing?” She questioned, peeking over your shoulder.

You peered at her, raising an eyebrow. “We’re doing a count, and a quality check of the groceries we sell to the shops at the square…” You begin, handing her the clipboard. “So, basically, a bunch of boring shit. But, at least we get to ride downtown and deliver the stuff. It’s like a fun little field trip.” Shrugging your shoulders, you arrive at the temperature controlled trailer after several minutes of walking.

“Oh…”

“This is what you signed up for, Ellie… How does it feel?” You pulled the key from your hip, unlocking the door. Naturally, you hold the door open for her, letting her walk in before you, eyeing her slender frame hidden under her sweatshirt and jacket.

She sucked in a breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Freckled cheeks turning red from the cold temperature. “Shit,” Ellie looked to you, with her eyebrows bunched together.

“Gotta keep the groceries fresh. It’s even worse in the winter. Which is where we’re headed so… Good luck, I guess.” You place your hand on her shoulder, squeezing, gently. The other hand snatching the clipboard from her hand. Keeping your eyes trained on hers, teasingly.

Surprisingly, you composed yourself enough after what you pulled this morning. Touching yourself to the thought of your past lover—it was a filthy thing to do. But, it’s not like she knew anything; at least, you hoped she didn’t. If she did, she would’ve said something by now because she was a nuisance.

Ellie jutted her bushy eyebrows upwards, humming to herself.

“All right, so,” You began, rolling your tongue in your mouth as you read down the checklist. “We should have two hundred and fifty tomato’s, one hundred and seventy-five carrots, one hundred and ten Granny Smith apples and one hundred an’ forty honey-crisp apples—“

“Wait, I’m sorry… Are we hand counting all of these?” Ellie questioned, dumbfounded.

You chortled, placing a hand on your hip. “Uh, yeah, Ellie. This isn’t a factory.”

She scoffed, looking around at all the products around her. Cursing under her breath, pushing a piece hair behind her ear. “Continue…” Ellie sighed, squatting in front of one of the crates of tomato’s. Tossing one up in her hand, examining it. “These are some pretty sexy tomato’s.” She muttered, glancing up at you.

Rolling your eyes, you hummed, dragging your finger across the checklist. “Let’s just start countin’. After each, check the list to see if the numbers match up.”

You started counting the eggs and gallons of unprocessed milk, while Ellie counted the vegetables. Later joining her with the vegetables because she was, surely, taking her time. The apples is where she found herself confused—or feigning confusion. You weren’t entirely sure, but the way she blinked at you made you consider the idea.

Perhaps, it was poor thinking on your part; locked in the cold trailer, it was inevitable for the two of you to cling to each other… For warmth. The strictness of your parents had rubbed off on you, but around her you always loosened up. Ellie was like your other half—the yin to your yang. But it always began with a luring of sorts; on her part. That's what loved about her.

Her big, earthy eyes bored into yours—penetrating you, mercilessly.

“Did you forget how to count?” You snicker, glancing between her and the fruit.

“My minds a little busy at the moment…” She sing-songed, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. There was so much insinuation in her words—you knew immediately what she was referring to. Or you were projecting like all hell.

Truth was, in those moments from her knocking on your door, to walking out in the cold to the trailer; Ellie wondered why the fuck you haven’t said anything. About the kiss, that is. The borderline makeout session that happened in that bar bathroom. What if that woman never banged on the door? What would’ve happened next? She had so many questions and curiosities that she was intending to voice.

She wasn’t mad… Just overtly interested in your thoughts beyond nobody can know about this.

You weren’t projecting at all.

Carefully, you observed her, taking in a big, deep breath. “With…?” You inquired, blinking at her, fingering the round fruits in the crate.

Ellie turned her head, slowly. “Am I allowed to speak of it while the sun’s still out?” She lightly, teased. The corners of her plump lips rising.

“Don’t be a dick.” You chuckle, narrowing your eyes. “Nobody’s around… So— speak freely, please.” Your shoulders shrugging, faking a careless demeanor.

“If you promise not to hit me…”

“Seriously?” Your features pinched, leaning back on your hands in your crisscrossed position.

She chewed on her lip. “Too soon?”

Answering her with silence was enough for her to change the subject back to what was originally intended to be talked about: the kiss.

Quickly, she recovered. “I can’t stop thinking about you— the kiss. There! I said it.” Ellie admitted, eyes searching between yours for some sort of consolation. But, she was met with none other than silence. More silence. Sprinkled with a little bit of shock—it was written all over your precious face.

Your eyebrows were stuck in a raised position, lips parted as if you heard a stranger say a foul joke over the phone. “Uhm, it’s now your turn to say: Oh, my God, Ellie! I can’t stop thinking about you, too! Let’s run away together!” She furrowed her thick eyebrows, followed by a boyish chuckle. God, that made your heart swell, then shatter.

“Fuck, Ellie… Els…” Lips gaped like a fish trying to formulate your words. That was not how she was wanting to hear you repeat fuck, Ellie—wasn’t the plan at all. Her heart completely dropped to her ass. “I don’t… Break up relationships. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t wanna be seen as that kind of person.” You explained, looking directly into her shaking eyes. Pressing your lips together, gulping, you placed your hand on her knee. “Stop thinking about me… Stop thinking about that kiss— it’s never happening again. It was a mistake.” You gently told her, with a gaze that said the complete opposite.

A mistake. That struck her like an iron ton—or like one of those comical piano’s falling from the sky. Abrupt. Unexpected.

Her lips quivered and her shoulders shrunk at your direct words. “It didn’t feel like a mistake.” Ellie muttered, clenching her jaw. “Nor did it fucking sound like one…” She followed, throwing the apple in her hand into the crate, jumping to her feet.

“Okay, can you not bruise the apple—“

“Fuck the apple…” She spoke under her breath, shutting eyes in frustration. Ellie fought the pain in her chest, inhaling and exhaling, evenly.

You looked down, pitifully. “I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be.” Ellie interrupted, shaking her head with pursed lips. “Because I don’t believe a single word that you just said.” She added, shrugging her tense shoulders.

Making a bewildered face, you stand to you feet, pushing back one of the crates you were counting from. “Well, you don’t have to believe me. Just listen to me.” You face your palms toward her, leaning forward, slightly. “I’m trying to help you, Ellie.”

She sized you up. “You think your help is what I want from you?”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, because that’s all you’re getting from me.” You told, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am not a homewrecker.”

“There isn’t a home to wreck!”

“To you, Ellie! To you there isn’t a home to wreck!” You finally raise your tired voice, ending your rushed our words with your hand over your eyes. “She worries about you, she gets two bottles of champagne because I ask for it— I’m wrecking her home, and I can’t do that. Not with a clean conscience."

A beat of silence moves through the both of you, like an elegant ribbon dancing around your stiff bodies. Trying to pull the two of you together. Ellie was standing with so much distance between you, holding herself for comfort. Cold air whistled behind your ears as you waited for some kind of response. You watched her earthy eyes search around, lip moving as she gnawed the inside of her cheek in thought. “Ellie—“ You took a step forward, reaching a hand out to comfort her.

“Did you think about that… Touching yourself to the thought of me this morning?” Ellie let the words come from her slow and full of poison, taking her time to look you in the eye. Her feet began to move, meeting you in the middle. Face to face. Chest to chest.

Words got caught in your throat as embarrassment clouded your vision and mind. “W-- What?” You stammered, frozen in your place. She was the last person you wanted to hear that; it was an accident. It just happened. Similar to that kiss you shared together. It was in her character to bring it up--you fucking knew that much, but you didn't anticipate her bringing it up so harshly.

“How would Cat feel if she found out you were fucking yourself to the idea of her girlfriend—“

“It wasn’t like that.” You tried, averting your eyes. Eyebrows pushing together, swallowing the anger building in your throat.

“Wasn’t it?” A sickening smirk spread on her lips. Chest grazing yours as she stood tall. “I heard you… Whining for me— what we did couldn’t have meant nothing.” Her voice grew gentle, hand reaching toward a warm place on your neck. Still, internally writhing with embarrassment, you let her. Leaning into her cold hand, bracing yours at the divot of her elbow.

A sigh fell from your lips, meeting her intense irises. “I never said it meant nothing.” You mumbled, breath hitching. “It just shouldn’t happen, again. We have to think of the people—“

“Can you just think about yourself for once?” Her hand slipped closer to the nape of your neck, pulling you close like you did to her. Ellie peered down at your parted lips, nearly pressing her forehead to yours. She still noticed that hesitance in your demeanor—you were talking yourself off the damn ledge. Fighting the temptation that was Ellie Williams caressing your skin. Feeling you. Tethering to you for connection.

Perhaps, there was another way she could get you to stop restraining. In order for her to give in, she needed you to decide on your own accord. Your heavy breathing wasn’t enough for her. Nor was the stressed massaging of her forearm by your desperate fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone—“

“Say the word, and I’ll do as you say. Say the word... And the kiss didn’t happen…” She whispered near your lips, breathing in the air you released—which couldn’t have been healthy. Even in the face of situational rejection, she breathed you in like fresh air.

Your hand found a way to cling to her sweatshirt, bunching the material hanging around her waist. Her lips pecked the corner of your lips, moving toward your cheek, then your jaw. You leaned into her touch, whining lowly. She was suffocating in the best way. For a moment, you believed you would actually go through with it. Unable to resist her, until you spoke. “I can’t…” You mutter, with your eyes fluttered shut. But as quickly as you said it, she pulled away from you. Arms, lips—fucking everything.

There was so much hurt in her eyes, but she swallowed it down. “Please, understand.” You pleaded, automatically feeling uncomfortably cold now that her touch was gone.

“Oh, I understand, all right.” Ellie bit, dryly chuckling. She was wilting before your eyes. Just like Dina had mentioned. This is what happens to her when you’re around, and you wanted to everything to make it better. However, your morals were clouding you. The moral being: Not appearing like something you weren’t. Not even, being a homewrecker—it was worse to be seen as one, than actually being one.

Your mind was occupied by the image of her in your dreams and while you were awake—you just fought harder against it. Ellie was the exact opposite of you. She fell into you the minute she knew that she could; it was worthy of your respect in some degree. But she wasn't yours anymore. “I’m gonna go pull Tommy’s truck around…”

She swiftly left the trailer, leaving you in your abrasive thoughts. The door shut behind her and you just blinked at it. Muttering curses under your breath, tears welling up in your eyes. Your memories flashing back to what it felt like to be kissed by her. It set your skin on fire—you’ve never been more in tune with someone in your life! It scared you to take a risk as grand as succumbing to someone who was spoken for.

The one thing Ellie told you about Cat was that she didn’t inspire her. And, from her first night on the farm, the artist was back engaging in her work again. Was it conceited to assume it was because of you? Clearly, something was off between the two of them. Enough for her to be looking to you for consolation. You were her muse; there were rights that you did have pertaining to Ellie. Plus, she was yours first...

Look at you, talking yourself up to resuming the treachery that was your blooming relationship with Ellie. That burning feeling you felt seeing her features drop at your rejection was like fire up the ass; a call to action. Ellie stole that level of control from you—the idea that you could succumb or pull away whenever you wanted to.

All of a sudden, you needed her more than breath itself.

Instead of waiting by the door for her like a mannequin, you finished up the counting with quickness. Checking off the list as you finished—all the products being accurately numbered.

Ellie had pulled the freight truck around, and quicker than you thought. It was as large as the smallest UHaul truck, and packing all the crates inside wasn’t much of a hassle. The auburn-haired woman stood inside the back, taking the crates from your hands to load the products inside. Fingers grazing every other crate, but Ellie made sure not to physically pay it any mind. She was playing a game that was only entertaining to herself.

She was a warm-blooded manipulator and a very good one. Ellie believed she was using her powers for good this time, though. For true love, she believes. Her gut told her that you felt just as insatiable for her as she did for you—she fucking knows it! It makes her sick that you can’t be forthright about how you feel without worrying so much. Yeah, she should probably break-up with Cat—and, mentally, she’s been planning to for months—but right now that wasn’t the priority.

She could only set her sights on two things at a time, and that was her art and you--two things that easily coincides with one another. Like mentioned before, she’ll handle the situation between her and Cat at some point. Whenever that will be.

Ellie could feel you chipping away with every chance of connection she took from you. Finger grazes. Intentional eye contact. She would flinch every time you tried to touch her, just like you did in that bathroom. Giving you a taste of your own medicine. It felt good, although, that pouty look on your face didn't let her fully revel in it.

You drove the truck downtown to drop off the goods—trading products for checks and money-orders. The drive being the worst fifteen minutes of your life. Stuck in a stuffy truck with a woman who was pissed at you. You kept glancing over at the freckled artist, hoping she’d meet your eyes just once. But her chin was rested on her fist as she looked out the window, keeping her eyes trained on the passing landmarks.

When all of the products were delivered, you started the engine with a loud huff. Disgruntled, well within your rights. But she didn’t pay you an ounce of attention until you released an exasperated sigh, halfway down the road.

“Fine, fuck, I take it back, Ellie!” You tap your thumbs around the wheel, trying to keep your eyes on the road.

She raises an eyebrow. “You take what back?” She wanted to hear you say it; a slight smirk spreading on her lips. It worked quicker than she thought it would—you must’ve wanted her bad.

You pull the truck to the side of the road, shifting in your seat to lay your eyes on her, safely. “I can’t stop thinking about you, either…” The confession pushed from your throat, leaking with solemnity. “Or the kiss— that fucking kiss.” You shut your eyes, re-living it in your mind before her.

“Well, I already knew that… I just needed to hear you say it.” She rolled her eyes, nonchalantly, leaning forward on her knees.

“Don’t get too excited… I have a proposition.” You hold your head up high, lifting your chin. Grasping for any semblance of control that you could muster. Ellie motioned her hand for you to continue, and you did. It was difficult to say, because that meant that it was real. Your sappy, horny and sickeningly romantic feelings for her were real. “I want you, and clearly, you want me, too. So… Why don’t we just get it over with?”

A grin cracked onto her face, followed by a giggle. Freckled cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. “Get it over with? Yeah, that’s totally something a woman wants to hear—“

“Ellie, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” She raised a scarred eyebrow. The woman leaned back in her seat, sliding down, spreading her legs apart. Ellie was thinking with a subtle smile that couldn’t leave her face. She was excited and beyond. “You wanna fuck me, y/n?” The auburn-haired woman looked over at you, tapping her hand against the passenger seats handles. “Or… Do you want me to fuck you—? I’m down for either, really…”

You scoff at her words, shaking your head. “I wanna make sure that… We’re not acting like this because of the thrill of it all… Old flings, and shit. Get this out of our system.”

“So, this is a one and done type’a thing?”

“Depends. We’ll find out, I guess. I’m willing to find out.” You shrug, flickering your eyes across her stunning face. If only you could start now…Instead of harping, you turn back toward the wheel.

Ellie releases a joyful laugh under her hand; excited beyond measure. There was a thrill to sneaking around, but she didn’t need that to be with you. “Wait… You consider this,” She gestures between the two of you. “An old fling? We were together for two years.”

“Semantics, Ellie.” You chuckled, starting to move the truck back onto the road.

She sucked her teeth. “Semantics my tits— there’s nothing old flingy about us. I’m literally in love with you.” Ellie scoffs, glancing out the window before realizing what she said aloud. Pausing with her fist covering her mouth.

Warmth gathered in your face, gripping the steering wheel to keep a restraint. “Y— You… You don’t have to say it back, but… Yeah, it’s true. I am in love with you…” Her voice trembled as she spoke, eyeing the side of your face. “This isn’t a thrill for me. But if you need to make sure this isn’t a thrill for you… I’m okay with that.”

Your heart bloomed, beating rapidly in your chest. If you could attack her with your lips while manning the wheel, you would. Choosing to be selfish was hard, especially, in a situation as taut as this one. Nobody could ever understand—you had be okay with homewrecking; you needed to figure this out. You wanted to figure this out.

It was easy to know that you were doing this for more than the thrill. But, you just had to make sure this was worth the backlash that would come of this. From your parents, from Cat, from your friends, from Ellie’s friends. It all had to be worth something.

“So… What’s the plan for this thing we’re doing? Is it, like, a date?”

You snickered, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t count hookups as dates. We’re gonna treat this like a one night stand… For now, at least.” You take in a breath before continuing. “My parents should be in their rooms by ten-thirty, Joel by nine— correct me if I’m wrong…”

“You’re right.” Ellie agrees, nodding her head. Peering over at you with glimmering irises.

“I’ll come get you from the back porch at eleven-forty-five— no earlier, no later.”

“This sounds like we’re about make the greatest heist known to man.” She joked, chuckling to herself.

You hummed, glancing at her, briefly. “I mean, I am stealin’ you for a night, aren’t I?”

Her cheeks immediately blushed at your words, but she looked off to the door window to hide. Pupils dilating with excitement, chewing on her bottom lip. Planning to have sex was such a juvenile thing to do—something that you used to do when you were horny teenagers. Orchestrating around your parents, sneaking around, quickies left and right. It was silly, but it had to be done; according to you, at least. And who was Ellie to object? She would do anything to feel you again.

Pulling up to your house, you parked the truck in its usual place. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to get around Cat?” You question, loosely. Somehow without that guilt that’s been creeping up your bones, imbedding into your veins.

She ran a hand through her hair, nodding with pursed lips. “Oh, she’ll be easy.” Ellie shrugged, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Your lips pull into a tight, slightly stressed smile. The artist across from you narrowed her earthy eyes, taking your hand from where she sat, leaning forward. Ellie was prepared to say some uplifting words, but she forfeited that idea as soon as her lips prepped to speak. Instead, she stood up, pulling you to the back of the truck. Where the clear windows couldn’t expose the absolute crime that the two of you were—walking moral felonies.

Her hand clenched yours, coming to stop in the dark. Your hand creeped up her forearm, pressing yourself close enough to her to be irresistible. Ellie reached for your jaw, not wasting any time to press her lips against yours. Her lips were soft and longing; as if she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. Your hands braced at her hips, pushing hers against yours—but, she still tried to take the lead. Tongue grazing your bottom lip as an ask to intrude your mouth.

Ellie wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to change your mind. She must've not have known you as well as you thought, because you most definitely weren’t.

The feeling of her fingers creeping around your throat made you pull away. Looking at her in the dimly lit darkness of the back of the truck. Pupils dilated, completely under her spell. And she thought you were the compelling one. “Do you have any resolve?” A smile spread onto your wet, shiny lips.

“Nope!” She grinned, leaning into you for more.

Turning your face, you laughed. “Save some for later, you freak.” Ellie kissed your cheek, then kissed it again; holding your face in her hands like a delicate object. “Ellie!” You giggled, holding onto her wrists. “We can’t camp out in this truck… They’ll start asking questions.”

“Ugh, I know…” Ellie finally pulled back, but she held onto your hand because she had to be tethered to you in some way. “Do you think we’ll have any time together before later?” She was such a romantic to her core.

“Probably, not. I have to help my mom prep some food for tomorrow… I promised.” You massaged her palm with your thumb, kissing her knuckles like it was something you did all the time. It was certainly something you wouldn't mind doing all the time. “Be patient for me, yeah?”

“I can try…” Ellie pouted, rolling her eyes.

“Eleven-forty-five… You’re all mine, and I’m all yours. Just a few hours. You can make it.” You finalized before walking back to the front of the truck to exit. But not without winking in her direction, leaving her in the dark. Stuck in a paralyzed trance: You’re all mine, and I’m all yours. Was this some sort of dream?

This was really happening.

The rest of the day was spent getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. You helped Maria prep her biscuit dough, and marinade for the ham. As well as cutting fruit for the pie Ellie and Joel were planning on making tomorrow. It felt domestic preparing things for her and Joel--just like you used to do. Sometime during that period, Tommy and Ellie took off to the butcher shop to grab some steak—because what was a Miller’s Thanksgiving without options?

And, weirdly enough, Cat joined you and your mother in the food prep. Which totally messed up your domestic fantasy of family cooking.

She snacked on the apple’s you chopped, leaning against the corner. “Have you ever tried her apple pie?” Cat asked, taking one of the other slices that you placed on a napkin in front of her. You were trying to be nice here. “Ellie is such a great cook.” She mused, dusting her hands on the fabric of her pajama pants.

You chuckled, rinsing off the bulk of the apple slices in the deep sink. “A long time ago… It’s pretty good.”

Maria chuckled, mixing spices and seasoning into her honey ham marinade. “Bug’s a harsh critic, too. So if she says it’s good, then it’s good.”

“She does the whole sugar crumble thing. It really sets it off.” You add, dropping the sliced apples into plastic tupperware to put in the fridge.

Cat hummed, pushing a piece of her slick black hair behind her ear. “Good to know. I guess I have something to look forward to— as well as your cooking Mrs. Miller.” She complimented, sharing a friendly smile. With your head still facing the fridge, you couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder. She was so sweet it made you sick. Champagne bottles mocking you as you emotionally rejected the girl in your kitchen.

“Is there anything I could help out with?”

“No, I don’t think—“

“Of course, hon. Would you mind taking that cornbread out of the oven?” Maria interrupted you, casting you a glare that only you could notice. Jutting your eyebrows up, you scoff under your breath. She hands her mittens from a drawer to aid in the removal of the glass pan.

Sighing, you watch her remove the cornbread—the one you were going to use for stuffing. “I’m gonna go take a smoke break…” You mutter, already pushing through the front screen door.

Soon after you pulled out your pack of yellow American Spirits, placing a stick between your teeth, your mother had followed you out. With her veiny hands on her hips, staring at you like you committed some sort of crime. Upon seeing her face, you lit the end of your cigarette, jutting your eyebrows up.

“What is going on with you?” She asserted, glancing at the cigarette between your lips with disgust. Maria never liked that you smoked; she knew how bad they were for you, but you didn’t have much of a reason to care. You didn’t care when you were young, and you surely didn’t now. For a brief moment, when you and Ellie were together, you smoked less. But, after that, you picked up like you never stopped.

You puffed the smoke away from her, holding the cigarette between your index and middle finger. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Uh, you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? You think I didn’t hear all that heavy breathin’ in there?” Maria raised an eyebrow.

“Maria,”

“Don’t Maria me.” She inhaled, pointing an authoritative finger at you. “I can’t control who you like, but that girl in there is a guest in our home— and she will be treated with respect.” The blonde woman told as you leaned your head to the side like a rebellious teen. “All that sighin’ is for the birds.”

You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Heard. Yes, ma’am.”

Her bright eyes softened, watching you take puffs from the stick between your fingers. “I know it’s hard to see. I understand that. But we’re not always gonna like everything— I’m sure you know that, though.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, peering at your mother.

“Why don’t you invite that Abby girl to dinner tomorrow? Ellie told us she took you home the other night.” She offered, nudging you, playfully. Record fucking scratch.

Why on earth would Ellie mention Abby to her parents? Where would she even find the time to do that? A deep sigh fell from your lips, but you covered it with a smile. “You know, what? That’s a great idea, mom. I’ll text her. See if she has any plans…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “This generation and their texting— give her a call, honey. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Maria squeezed your shoulder before dipping back into the house. You leaned your elbows on the bannister, hinging at your hips. Ellie telling your parents about Abby wasn’t going to put a damper on the plans tonight—however, she was going to pay for that. Stubbing out your cigarette, you snatched your cell from your hip. Decorative chain dangling from the headphone port.

Your thumb flicked open the screen, and you began to search through your contacts looking for Abs. Perhaps, you should call her—to really make the sentiment stick. After all, she was the one asking when she was going to see you again.

You clicked the call button on your keyboard, placing it on your ear. The line trilled and trilled, until a muffled sound signaled that she had picked up. “Abigail Anderson,” She greeted, as if she didn’t know it was you. But you could hear the smile in her voice.

“How formal, Abs.” She chuckled on the other end. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“You mean on Thanksgiving? Yeah, I wouldn’t be in this middle-of-nowhere town if I didn’t.” She paused, shuffling on the other end of the line. Like she was shifting in her bed or something. “Why? You wanna do somethin’?” Her voice leaked with innuendo, and it actually made your stomach churn; like you were doing something wrong.

Sighing, you turned your back against the bannister. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow… My family and I aren’t gonna eat all this food ourselves— we could use a helping hand.”

“Meeting the parents? I don’t know…”

You chortled. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

“I said I’ll help Owen’s family with food prep… But, I should have some time to stop by.”

Yes!

“Okay, just keep me updated if anything changes.”

“I’d never leave you hangin’.”

“Right… Buh bye.” You shut the phone before she has the chance to respond. Releasing a sigh of relief. Oh, and just in time for Tommy and Ellie to pull into the gravel driveway.

You peered over your shoulder, coolly. With your bare arms wrapped around your body for warm. You watch as Tommy and Ellie hop out the truck with paper bags in his hands and two packs of beer in Ellie’s—they don’t need that much beer. But, it was a nice sight to see them laughing together. “Where’s Joel?” You question, deepening your eyebrows.

“He’s picking up a new guitar for tomorrow!” Your father responded, approaching the porch. Ellie following close behind him, looking through her lashes at you as she stepped up the wooden steps.

“Hey, Ellie.” You greeted, pressing your lips into a smile. A no strings attached smile.

“Hey, y/n.” She dragged the hey a bit longer than she should have, passing you. Tommy pulling open the screen door, holding it with his foot. But, you didn’t let her pass. Stepping in front of her with a playful smirk on your lips.

Eyeing the packs of canned and glass-bottled beer in her hands. “I hope there’s some wine or coolers in that truck a’ yours…”

She nervously chuckled, causing the blond man to raise an eyebrow. Cheeks raising and blushing. “I only have two hands. There’s two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc in there. Door’s unlocked.”

You smiled, unintentionally ogling her as she stepped passed Tommy to go inside. By the time your eyes ascended, you caught his skeptical blue ones. “I’ll go get the wine…” You mutter, trotting off the porch.

And that’s what you did. Trotted off to get the wine from Ellie’s truck. She was right, there were two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc waiting for you, and a rack of wine coolers. They spoiled you. Shutting the door with your hip, you walked back inside the house to place the items on the counter.

You didn’t notice the sight of Ellie clinging onto Cat—or it could’ve been the other way around—until you gave the room a once over. Tommy was giving Maria a chaste kiss on the forehead, chuckling against her skin. And, Ellie had her arms wrapped around Cat’s neck, pushing her into her chest. Her tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, laughing into her. That should've been you holding her like that.

It burned like all hell. And, frankly, it pissed you off on the lowest degree.

Catching a glimpse of Cat’s dark, almond eyes, you flinched. They weren’t sweet anymore, they reflected a level of competitiveness you have yet to see from her. It was completely and utterly random. Has she caught on? Did Ellie say something? Worry bunched in your eyebrows, but you averted your eyes.

Suddenly, you felt the need to write. Work on that chapter you started the other day.

“Hey, I’ll be upstairs… Gotta get some words outta my head.” You tapped your father’s arm as you passed him to head upstairs to your bedroom. “Call me if you need anything.” The words rush out of your mouth, before jog up the slippery wooden stairs.

When you shut yourself in your room, you fell onto your unmade bed, screaming into your pillow. Clutching the feather-filled sack with so much vigor, it could've popped in your grasp. That one glance had made the actions you were planning to do make a lot more sense, and you didn't feel as bad. You didn’t care if you were perceiving it wrong. There was always an inkling that Cat wasn’t as perfect and sweet as she let on. Why would she ever add her girlfriend’s ex on MySpace, anyway? Was she crazy? Most definitely.

You pulled out your computer to do as you said, opening your developing documents. Instead of focusing on the possessive eyes of Ellie’s girlfriend, you focused on your work—because, above all else, that was most important.

Eventually, Ellie went back to the guesthouse. Leaving Cat behind, since she was having so much fun around Maria and Tommy. It felt weird leaving her behind in a house that wasn’t familiar to her—mainly because the house was yours. Ellie knew you didn’t like her, but she wanted to finish the portrait she was working on. And she could only do that when her girlfriend was either occupied with work, sleep or pure mindlessness.

She tied a oil paint-stained apron around her neck and waist, before sitting down before her easel. She flipped over the breathable sheet she hung over it to protect the identity of the model. Then, she began painting—filling in the deep colors of the shed, then adding highlights to your painted frame. You were the first silhouette she added color to on the piece.

Time didn’t wait for either you—slipping by like it didn’t even exist. It was around eleven when you began searching for something cute to wear for Ellie. For Ellie—that was such weird thing to think about. There was old lacy nightgown that you used to wear, but the hems showed that you wore it to the ground. After a lot of shifting through drawers, you decided on a lacy pair of cheeky underwear and no bra—you could never go wrong with that. And, of course, a pair of boxer shorts and a large gray t-shirt. It was no sexy set from Victoria Secret, but it would do.

Ellie had always been a simple girl, just as much as you. She preferred nakedness over anything, anyway.

For the next twenty minutes, you pulled your legs up by your reading nook, scanning the pages of a hardcover book. It was a classic—something you were obligated to read in high school. You always loved books like that. Victorian. Regency. It was all so romantic.

The next time you glanced at the alarm clock on your beside table, it was eleven-forty-one. Meaning it was time to make your way down the stairs, checking for any lingering presences on your way.

Just like you thought, Joel and your parents were in their bedrooms. The kitchen was completely down for the night. The only light that was on was above the clean, silver gas stove. Shuffling toward the back porch, you cut the light on to check if Ellie was out there—and she was. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants, hoodie over her head to keep her ears warm. They were matching tones of a light gray.

Opening the wooden door, you pushed open the screen door, eyeing her slender frame hidden under all that cotton. “Is this your incognito costume or…?” A smile pulling onto your lips. She narrowed her eyes at you, walking in with a slight sway in her shoulders. Ellie was illuminating with the confidence of someone who was about to get laid. The skip in her step didn't go unnoticed.

“Everyone’s asleep?” She questioned, swinging her arms at her side, waiting for you to shut the doors behind you.

Shutting off the porch light, you turn back to her, nodding. “Yeah. Just like I anticipated.” You watched her pull off the hoodie, mussing up her damp auburn hair. Olive eyes looking for you in the dark, expectantly. You take her hand with both of yours, walking backwards toward the stairs. “Come on,” You whispered, sweetly. Voice honeyed with anticipation and excitement. Fucking hell! Neither of you could believe that you were doing this.

“Be careful. The old wood creaks.”

“I know…”

Ellie followed behind your steps exactly, as you were trying to evade all the extra cracking from the staircase. It wasn’t a perfect journey from the first floor to the second, as some creaks couldn’t be evaded. But, nonetheless, you pulled her to your bedroom. Her hand growing clammy in yours, but you didn’t care.

As you shut the door behind you, Ellie began to look around your room. Noticing how it hadn’t changed much since the last time she was in there. The posters may have been different, but they were still there, barely peeling from the dull pink walls. And, hell, the catwoman figurines on your dresser were still in place. Collecting dust just like the sum of her own collectables at Joel’s place.

When she noticed you staring at her, the heart in her chest began to wildly beat in her ears. Her cheeks flushing a bright red, eyeing your frame.

You harbored a level of nervousness, but you were ready. Thinking in a happy medium of logic and emotion, you wanted to feel her. It was borderline nostalgic to the first time you were with her so intimately.

“This feels so formal.” Ellie walks up to you, placing her hands at your hips. Feeling the ridges of the waistline of your boxers over your long t-shirt. “Worse than a one night stand…” She chuckles, inspecting your features with anxiety. The moment she’s been wholly desiring was within her fingers, but her nervosa was getting the best of her.

You pressed your lips into a smile, placing one hand over hers on your hip, and the other on her cheek. She nuzzled into your touch, searching for comfort. It wasn’t hard to find, either. Since your thumb caressed her freckled skin—palm exuding nothing but warmth. “It doesn’t have to…” You began, voice purring. “This can be whatever you want it to be.”

Finding the softness of her throat to be alluring, you waste no time pressing your lips against her jaw. “Whatever you want it to be, Els.” You repeat against her skin, trailing down to her neck. Slowly plotting your lips against her throat, pushing soft breaths from her. Fingers squeezing at your hips, pressing them against hers. It was natural for you to take the lead with her—she was so bashful at times.

She’d spend the day tempting you with big eyes and deep kisses, only to turn to absolute putty in your hands when you took it to the next level.

Her body trembled under your touch, but the more she leaned into you the more relaxed she became. Your hand began to imbed itself into her hair, tips of your fingers grazing her scalp. A shaky sigh, borderline moan, came from her parted lips, legs wobbling to keep her standing on her feet. Did Cat ever make her feel this way? You were barely touching her and she was already making so much noise.

Tugging at her sweatshirt, you eyed her. “Take this off.” You breathily commented, sliding your hands under it. Quickly, she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in a tight tank top, shaggy bangs spreading over her face. You push the strands from her eyes, glancing at her lips. Ellie dropped the sweatshirt at her feet, locked in a trance.

Your eyes glaze over in awe at her flushed features and expanded pupils. Drifting your middle finger over the beauty mark under left eye, drinking her in. “You’re so beautiful, Ellie.” Your voice wasn’t any higher than whisper, analyzing her twitching features. Her hand reached for your wrist, pulling it to plant her lips up your forearm.

“Says… You…” She speaks between each kiss, looking at you through her thick eye lashes.

A giggle sounds from you, watching her worship your skin, leading all the way back to your lips. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders, you get as close to her as you can. Her tongue timidly entered your mouth, causing you to release a moan of approval and affirmation.

She walks you toward your bed. The end of the mattress catching the back of your knees, causing you to fall. Keeping your eyes locked with hers, you scoot back into the middle of the bed. Ellie dropping her knees onto the mattress, crawling up to meet you. She pushed your shoulders down, collapsing atop of you to meet your lips again. Slotting her thigh between your legs, pulling up your shirt.

Her cool hand grazing over your ribs, just under your breast that hadn’t yet been exposed. Hips rolling against your thigh, sweats bunching in her crotch. “Fuck,” She groaning in your mouth, clenching the material of your shirt in her hands. Her sexual frustration beginning to take over. “I need you so bad, baby.” She whines, lips trailing to your jaw, nipping at you skin with her teeth.

One hand latched onto her hip, the other bracing on the mattress as you flipped her over. Positioning yourself on top of her, straddling her boney hips. Her wide earthy eyes peering up at you, full of desire. Boldly, you crossed your arms to pull the loose top from your body, throwing it across the room. “You have me...”

Slender fingers gripped your hips as you began to grind yourself on her. Breasts moving with every roll of your waist. Ellie reached a hand up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple with her thumb and the side of her finger. Abruptly, she sat up to plot her lips across your warm collarbones. Leading to where she could wrap her lips around the same sensitive nipple she was playing with.

A low gasp fell from your lips, falling into her, gripping the roots of her hair. “Ellie…” You sigh, rolling your eyes back—finding yourself overcome by her touch. You were trying to tease her, rubbing yourself against her like an animal in heat. But, you were just as greedy as her.

“Keep going…” She muttered against your skin, gripping the front of your boxer shorts and underwear. “Please. You look so fuckin' hot like this."

Her words shot right to your pussy, urging you to grind yourself against her harder. “Fuck… Ellie.” You cursed with your face in her hair, smelling the sweetness you craved. Her lips spread into a smile, hearing the words she's been waiting to hear. She nips your nipple with her teeth, before laying back down onto her back.

Bracing your hands on her stomach, you increase in speed, whimpering from the lack of skin to skin contact. The both of you restrained yourself when it came to noise—this was still forbidden. Something nobody other than yourselves could bare to witness and experience. But the squeak of your old bed frame knocking against the wall gave it away to peeving ears.

The brushing of you against her clothed clit, made her pant for you. Holding onto your hips, making you go as fast as you possibly could—gripping the fat of your ass through your shorts. Watching you shut your eyes in concentration, using her; trying to reach a high that she wanted to be the reason for.

She flipped you over, causing you to let out some combination of a gasp and giggle. Sprawling your arms beside your head, laying over your pillows and stuffed animals. Her earthy eyes glanced at them, picking one up. “You sure you want ‘im here for this?” Her long fingers squeezed the stuffed teddy bear.

You narrowed your eyes, wrapping your legs around her hips. “Nothin’ he hasn’t already seen.” Taking the bear from her hands, you toss him over the bed, pulling her down with insatiable desire. “C’mere,” You purr, bringing her down to your lips. Sloppily, you merge your lips together. One of your hands pulling up the white tank top that clung to her toned abdomen.

She obliged to your movements, briefly separating from your lips to remove her top. Freeing her small perky breasts. Connecting her lips back to yours, she groaned at the contact of your skin. Finding herself more intoxicated by you the more to she felt you, touched you, tasted you.

Trailing her lips down your jaw, to your soft throat—nibbling and sucking—then, to your heated chest; her hand was her guide. Slipping down your body before her lips did, tugging at the shorts and underwear that clung to you. They had to go! Her determined irises looked up at you while she licked her tongue around your areola before sucking your erect nipple into her mouth. Ellie was really making a show of it.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” Her voice was silken, moving to your other breast to give her some attention. “Prove to you… How real this is?” Instead of continuing to tug on your shorts, she slipped her hand inside. Her soft touch making you jump at the feeling of the pads of her fingers, spreading your folds.

Locking your eyes with hers, furrowing your brows, you nodded, feverishly. “Uh huh,” You breathed, rolling your hips against her touch. It was like you could feel the effects of her spreading through your muscles—as they tightened and loosened. Wilted flower, she was no more, playing with your dripping core. Marveling at how wet you were; it was surreal.

Ellie pulled back, sitting up on her knees. Her fingers hooked into your bottoms, yanking both your shorts and underwear down. You pouted, clamping your legs shut. She completely missed out on seeing the only cute lace number that you had. “I wanted you to see those.” You whined, peering up at her with a pair of eyes that just screamed: fuck me!

She kissed both of your knees before spreading them open, chewing on her lips at the sight of your glistening cunt. “I’ll see ‘em later.” You were so appetizing to look at—naked as the day you were born, clenching and trembling for her. She couldn't care less about the lacy number that was separating you from her. Ellie faltered for a moment, unsure where to start. That confidence that shot through her like a syringe of adrenaline was already fading.

When it came to sex, she always knew what to do—it was simple. At least with Cat it was. But, this was you she was working with. Her first love who was managing to give her a second chance after fucking everything up—she couldn’t mess this up. “Tell me what you want from me, baby.” She told, voice, slightly shaking. “Please.”

You furrowed you eyebrows, finding her nervousness endearing. Taking her hand, while keeping her eyes embraced by yours, you place her hand over your throbbing pussy. “I want you here…” You release a breath that comes from your diaphragm. Adding fuel to fire, you began rolling against her palm. “I wanna feel you…” Taking your other hand, you pull her down to speak in her ear. “Inside of me.” You moaned, airily, getting lost in the touch that you orchestrating. Pushing your head back into the fluffy pillows lining your headboard.

Her arms weakened, falling atop of you. She situated herself, straddling one of your legs to keep them open. Scissoring your clit with her middle and ring finger, warming you up before she inserted a finger into your weeping slit. Exhaling, shakily, at the feeling of your tight walls gripping her middle finger—you basically sucked her in.

Plotting your lips along her jaw, you couldn’t suppress expressions of pleasure that trickled from your mouth. Moaning against her pale, freckled skin as she curled her fingers inside you at a sickeningly slow pace. “Fast— ah… Faster, Els.”

She locked her eyes with yours, ingesting that blissed look on your features. “I wanna take my time with you…” Ellie kissed your lips, savoringly. “Wanna remember every sound, every look on that pretty face…” She kissed you, again. Deeper and full of unbridled passion. You could’ve came right there, looping your arm around her neck, trying to find something to hold onto.

Her touch lit your body on fire, and still, tried to restrain the sounds you made because of it. Sweat beaded in the crevices of you body, but she licked it up like sweet saccharine fruit juice. Truly, you believed she’d be at your mercy, writhing underneath you—first, at that! But, the minute you guided her, letting her know that you really wanted her; she completely gave in. Making you the one to writhe and call out for her.

Her firm ministrations felt like hours, adding another finger, brushing that spongey place inside of you enough to cause endless shaking and trembling. Borderline convulsing. There was such love in her eyes, watching you yelp and whine for her. Not even her sloppy, filthy kisses could completely hide the sounds you were making.

Clenching her hair in your hands, you felt your walls clenching around her fingers. “Fuck, Ellie… Just like that.” You whisper, proceeding it with guttural moan against her skin. The sound of your wetness filling your ears, pushing you closer to that edge. “Jus— ah f-fuck.” You cursed, rolling your hips against her.

Focusing her olive eyes on your face, she rolled your clit with her thumb. Making you grip the pillow behind your head with one hand, while your other gripped her hair hard enough to cause her a bit of pain. She whined at your touch, unable to look away from you. Freezing the frame of your mouth parted, making an ‘O’ shape, as she made love to you.

When that knot snapped in the pit of your stomach, she jumped to swallow your loud moans. Still, fucking her fingers into you to ride out your high. Your free leg snapping shut, clamping her fingers between the strength of your thighs. She pulled her fingers from your cunt, leaning back from your lips to eye the slick surrounding her fingers. Licking from the base of them, she sucked them into her mouth.

You watched her in awe, rubbing your legs together, still throbbing for her. Ellie was an absolute pervert when it came do you—could you get anymore turned on? She had no resolve, just like she said. You smash your lips against hers, growling at the taste of yourself. Your fingers begin to yank at her sweats, with the remaining amount of strength you have. “Why are these still on?”

“Because you didn’t take ‘em off.” She panted against your skin, falling back onto her back.

You chortled, pulling the pants from her hips. Musing at the striped boyshorts that clung to her, ogling the wet spot that seeped through the cloth. Your fingers lightly rubbed over the spot, grazing her erect clit on purpose accident. Her hips bucked up at you, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips. “These are cute.” You say before pulling them down her legs, flicking them off the side of the bed. “That’s me acknowledging your effort. See how easy that was?"

“I did acknowledge your effort…” Ellie whined, feeling your soft lips against her chest leading to her breasts. When you sucked her nipple into you mouth, pinching the other, she gasped. You hummed against her, slotting your leg between hers. She couldn’t help but grind herself against your thigh, groping your ass in the process.

Switching to the other lonesome breast, popping the right from your lips, you spoke. “No worries, baby, I forgive you.”

Impatiently, she humped your leg, panting under you as you suckled on her. Slowly, moving down her toned abdomen—licking and nibbling on her freckled skin. As if she were some sweet dessert on a silver platter all for you; taking your time. Popping your lips from her, you pressed her hips into the mattress. Ceasing her needy thrusts. “It’s my turn now, Els. Gotta be patient f’me. Can you do that?” You look up at her through your lashes, grinding against her glistening cunt.

Similar to how one would dangle a treat before a puppy—to get them to do what you want.

Her scarred eyebrow furrowed, nodding her head, feverishly. “Uh huh... Yeah,” Ellie’s breath hitched in her throat, watching you trail your lips closer to where she really wanted you.

She spread her legs for you, as you kissed around her mauve pussy. Gripping her firm thighs, prolonging that feeling of anticipation. Ellie threw her head back into the pillows, groaning in frustration. But she knew she couldn’t rush you—you never liked to be rushed.

Leaning your head on the inside of her thigh, you ran a finger through her wet folds, snickering to yourself. Did Cat ever make you this wet? You thought, sliding her slick over her clit.

“Never…” Ellie responded, leaning on her elbows looking down at you between her legs. You paused, not realizing that you said your thoughts aloud. Her swollen lips pulled into a shit-eating smirk; she was egging you on. It was villainous, nefarious even, to bring up her girlfriend during this moment. That may have not been your intention, but Ellie couldn’t have cared less.

All she cared about was how your fingers played with her, dredging moans from the lowest parts of her stomach. Making her have to cover her mouth with her tattooed forearm--Cat never made her do that. Not often, anyway.

You slung one of her legs over your shoulder, pushing the other against the mattress—diving into her cunt with your tongue. She was just as sweet as your remembered, like tree sap, and you sucked her up as such. Switching between thrusting your tongue into her hole, and suckling her clit; popping it from your mouth like it was candy.

She writhed because of your touch, lifting her hips off the bed as if she wanted to get away from you—but both of you knew that wasn’t true. You just pressed harder into her, making out with her pussy. Time was nothing but a construct to you between her legs; you had all the time in the world to make her feel good. Fingers grazing the strip of auburn hair leading to where your lips met—a landing strip.

You couldn’t have been happier, pleasing her so!

Sweet, pitchy moans came from her, the ones that slipped from around the forearm she bit—trying to be mindful. But, when you slipped two fingers into her, keeping your lips wrapped around her throbbing bud, a high-pitched shriek released. You moaned into her pussy, fluttering your eyes shut at the sounds she was making. It was music to your ears.

Feeling her eyes on you, half-lidded and dark than usual, you look up. “S— So fucking g— good… Uh!” She stammered, breathing heavily as she neared her climax. Collecting spit in your mouth, you dribbled it from your mouth. A glob of saliva mixed with her cum falling onto her blushing bud. Ellie moaned your name in a way that sent chills down your spine. Curling your hips into the mattress.

Her inner walls tighten around your curling fingers, letting you know that she was close. But that’s when you pulled away, massaging her tense thigh. Ellie sobbed, banging her fist against the bed. “You’re being such an asshole, baby. Nothing's every straight forward with you." She complained, rolling her hips against nothing as you switched positions.

Baby, baby, baby… You loved when she called you that. Even when you were the one calling the shots.

“Am I really…?” You breath, crawling up her body. Intertwining your legs, your pulsating buds meeting at the center of you.

“Ngh…” She whined at the contact, looking between the middle of your glistening bodies. “You're fuck-- fucking insane... Uh...” Ellie pleaded, words breaking up as you began rutting against her. Her wide eyes looking up at you as a grin stretched onto your lips; riding her into next fucking week.

Gripping onto her thigh, juices mixing at the center of you. You lifted her leg over your shoulder, surprising yourself with how flexible she was. Sloppily, you dragged your lips against her calf, unable to hold the sounds of pleasure coming from your throat.

“F— Fuck, yeah… Yeah!” Her orgasm hit her like a ton, causing her to shake under your quick rutting. Ellie’s eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling of her climax, sucking in a taut breath—not realizing that you weren’t stopping.

She began to squirm under you, gripping your thigh, trying to push you off. Whining and sobbing, but when you leaned down, hooking her leg under your arm—pressing your chest against hers, delicately kissing her flushed freckled skin; Ellie held onto you. One hand supporting your rutting hips, the other gripping your hair; moaning and breathing into your ear as a personal boost.

Although, she was overstimulated, she begged you to kiss her. “Please, kiss me— I wanna kiss you, baby…” Ellie babbled, wanting that intimacy of skin to skin—she wanted nothing but your lips as you came undone; just like the first time.

The rhythm of your hips began to falter, hinting at your release. Inhaling, sharply, you whined against her lips. Finally slowing your hips down to a sensual roll. You released her leg, settling comfortably between her thighs—lazily making out with her. Her hands cradled your back, holding you with a sort of gentleness only she could harbor.

She began to pepper kissing at the corner of your lips, toward your cheek. It was innocent and full of… Love.

This wasn’t for the thrill of anything but reuniting with a first love again.

Your eyes were shut, melting into her sweet touch. “Ellie,” You chanted, furrowing your brows. Uh oh. “Ellie,” You repeated, trying to get her attention.

“Mhm.” She answered, finding your eyes with her round ones. Looking up at you like you were the only woman in the world. Despite all of what you just did, there was so much innocence in her deep, evergreen eyes.

Your features grew hot under her gaze, eyes welling up with hearty tears. Lips quivering, working a sob up in your throat. Crawling off of her, you stuff your face into your pillows—trying to cover up the embarrassment that was crying after sex.

The only thrill that was apparent was your love for her. She made your heart jump and skip a beat—nobody else could do that. You thought that hooking up would’ve made things easier, but it was the total opposite; things just got so much harder because now there’s so much more to hide.

“Woah,” Ellie turned on her side, reaching for you as you hid from her. Her hands massages your shoulders and caressed your skin to soothe you. “Sex with me is so bad that I made you cry?” She rasped, chuckling under her breath, joking.

You peer over your shoulder, sniffling. “What? No. No, Ellie, you were perfect— more than perfect.” Gaining some courage, you turned on your side to face her. And, Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you, or her hands.

Lightly, she collided the palm of her hand with the side of your ass, squeezing your warm flesh. “Then, what’s the problem? You know I don’t like seeing you cry…” She spoke, wiping away the tears that were staining your cheeks.

Seeing how gentle she was with you only made you want to cry more—sob into her actually. “It’s just… When you leave my room tonight… You’re going back to her— to Cat.” You mutter, holding onto her wrist that connected to your face. “I’m being selfish, Els— just like you wanted. I don’t want you to go back to her.”

She scooted closer to you, looping her arms around your neck. “I thought you were going to reject me, again.” Ellie chortled, placing a chaste kiss on your nose. You rolled your eyes, leaning into her arm. “You know, for your appearance and shit—“

“Ellie, shut up. I’m trying to be serious.”

That lovely boyish laugh came from her as she tucked her head into your neck. Clinging to you like a bear holding onto a stiff tree. Ellie had always been a bit of a cuddle bug. “I’m being serious, too. But… Go on, babe.”

You dragged your fingers along her back, causing her to shift a little bit. She was awfully ticklish. “I thought we were done for good after your seventeenth— I thought I stopped loving you because of it… I guess that isn’t true, like, at all.” You scoffed at yourself, nuzzling more into your touch. Squeezing your eyes shut as if she were going to slip from you. However, Ellie wasn’t planning on going anywhere—whether you were on top of her, beside her; hell, across the fucking room! She wasn’t going anywhere.

Tears began to well into your eyes again as you clutched her. “I’m so sorry for hitting you, Ellie. I’m so sorry.” You weeped into her shoulder, allowing her warmth to nurse you. “I shouldn’t have done it… I wish I could take it back." You couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if that never happened. Would the two of you still be together?

“It’s okay… I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. Listen, hey,” She pulled back to meet your trembling eyes, still finding ways to wipe your tears. “I know you like the back of my fucking hand. You would’ve never done that if I didn’t say what I said— I should be the one saying I’m sorry. And, I am very sorry.” She spoke from the heart, as your hearts held each other—chest to chest you were; skin to skin. It was all so intimate.

A smile spread on your swollen lips, pushing pieces of her hair behind her ear. “If it makes you feel any better… Joel adopting me is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” She leaned in toward your lips, peering at them, entranced. “The other was meeting you.” Her lips met yours, kissing them languidly. You opened up for her, allowing her to explore your mouth with the utmost of trust. Running your hands along her scalp, tugging.

She was such a charmer. The truest of charmers—full of nothing but endearment.

“Are you gonna break up with Cat—?” You pulled back, only a few inches from her face. “That’s not a question, actually… I need you to break up with her.” The truth was, after this spontaneous little hook up, you’ve come to the conclusion of a fundamental truth: Ellie was yours, and you didn’t want to share. First dibs, right?

“I mean, now wouldn’t be the best time. But, I do plan on breaking up with her— how else could I spend more time with you?” She attempted to smooth her words over.

You stiffen, scooting back a bit more to see her. “Okay, so… Can I get a timeline, Ellie?”

The artist sighed, averting her eyes. “I don’t know a timeline, right now— after Thanksgiving? I don’t know.” A wrinkle formed between her thick eyebrows, responding to your charged words. Her tone leaked with defense and it pinched a nerve within you.

“You don’t know?” You questioned, weakly. Quickly, you parted completely from her, swinging your legs over your bed. This wasn’t going to be a mistress situation—you refused for it to be that.

She called your name, sitting up on her elbow and forearm. “Baby, don’t be like that—“

“I’m not being like anything, baby.” You mock her, standing up to walk over to the shirt you threw to the side. Ellie couldn’t help but ogle your naked frame, sitting up the bed. She even watched you slide on those lace panties she barely noticed before.

“Hey! I was gonna keep those!”

“You snooze, you lose—“ You pick up her clothes, tossing them in her direction. “Get dressed, Ellie.”

Your demeanor had completely changed; it hardened because of her uncertainty. Ellie had been planning to break up with Cat for a long time, but now the pressure was on. Believe it or not, she didn’t want to drop a bomb on her partner during the holiday’s—and they still lived together. Certain arrangements had to be made before she could just break it off. She wanted to be with you, only you, but there was still a lot to think about.

You stand with your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. “Get dressed, please. We have a long day tomorrow-- actually, today.” You gestured you hand: Hurry up, after correcting yourself, glancing at the alamr clock. It was one-something in the morning. Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. She slid on her sweatpants, purposely leaving her boxer shorts behind—slyly tucking them under your pillow. Maintaining eye contact, she pulled her tank top on, attempting to do that thing she always did—lure.

“You can’t seriously be mad at me, y/n…” She pouted, meandering toward you. Placing her hands on your hips, pulling you flush against her. “You can’t possibly want me to break up with her on Thanksgiving.”

“I didn’t say to break up with her today, but an estimated time would suffice.” You assert. “I’m not some side chick, or— or some mistress, whore, or whatever.”

She nodded, pursing her lips, squeezing your hips as an affirmation of want. “You’re right. You’re not any of those things. But Cat and I live together and a good portion of my stuff is under her care— I can’t just break up with her all willy nilly."

“Wow, so now you’re being super thoughtful.” You roll your eyes, scoffing.

Ellie chortled. “I guess you could say… I got some things out of my system.” She leaned toward you, glancing at your lips. But you didn’t press forward, at all. You just stared at her with a raised eyebrow and a subtle smirk on your lips.

“Ha ha. You’re so funny— I’m dying of laughter.” You intone, pulling her hands from your hips. “I’ll walk you down. You have a girlfriend to get back to.”

She rolled her eyes, sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. Opening your door, you led her out of your bedroom, taking the same path down the stairs you made going up. Hoping that the creaking would cease for a moment. “This was supposed to help us, not hurt us…” Ellie whispered, slightly saddened, holding onto your hand.

You sighed, looking over your shoulder. “It didn’t hurt us. I’m just irritated, okay?” When you appeared in front of the back door, you turned on the light. Unable to leave her completely, you walked out onto the porch with her—hand still in yours.

“Don’t be mad at me.” Ellie tugged you close, placing her hands on your shoulders. Sliding up the softness of your neck and jaw. You responded with a shrug, reaching up to hold her wrists. Thumb caressing the soft thin skin, feeling the lumps of her pulsing veins.

The freckled artist leaned forward to plot her lips on yours again, but you spoke before she could do so. “Abby’s comin’ to dinner tonight…”

She paused, dropping her hands from you, immediately. “What the fuck?”

You ran your tongue over your lips. “Consider that me getting you back for; one, bringing her up to my parents, and two, not giving me a timeframe for your stupid breakup with Cat— you’re on thin ice, Ellie Williams. Thin. Ice.”

The auburn-haired woman scoffed, peering off into the dark. “What? You think I care about her? I don’t even know who she is.” She was too stubborn to admit the amount of irritation that boiled inside of her at the sight of that blonde bit--

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at her at the Tipsy Bison…” You told, crossing your arms. “The quicker you get rid of Cat, the quicker I get rid of Abby— simple.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You’re so childish.”

“I prefer to call it… Whimsy.” You sneer, sizing her up. “Goodnight, Picasso.” You turn to walk back into your house, but her hand reaches for your wrist.

“I love you… Okay?” It was spoken with an airiness that made your knees weak. Ellie was trying to words on her tongue, feigning confidence. Even though, she was still so unsure about how you felt. The slight, twitching furrow in her brow tugged at your swelling heart.

Your other hand grazed hers, comfortingly. “I love you.” The words came from you with certainty, caressing the exposed skin of her hand. “See you later, I guess. Since it’s morning.”

“Yeah, see you later.” She kissed your hand before hopping off the porch.

You watched her jog back toward the guesthouse for a few minutes before entering the house. Shutting the doors behind you, your body filled with giddiness the moment that you were alone, not realizing there was another presence in the dark kitchen.

On cue, he cut the lights on, standing with his strong arms crossed over his chest. Your breath hitched in your throat, freezing in your bare-footed steps. “I don’t wanna assume nothin'… So, I suggest you start explainin’ what in the hell’s bell’s is goin’ on here.”

Fuck.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher , @maiaska , @culuvr , @0phantom0 , @onlinelesbo , @bbnbhm , @lovelaymedown , @lamorenita , @scatapple (some of these weren't showing up but i hope i got everyone who asked)

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yunho ( centric ) x reader warning(s) -> smut, mdni. 18+ words -> 2.4k

abstract -> collateral damage is inevitable for lifetime karma...

y/n’s perspective

Mingi fit in perfectly… but he missed his lifelong friend.

He admits he does and often has his mind wander with a sad look of reminiscence when reminded of Yunho… but he acknowledged that he wouldn’t change anything as long as he was here again.

“You’re doing quite well with the book right?” Chenle asked, taking me away from my thoughts while I nodded. 

“I'm halfway done, but I’m thinking of adding one more character to the main six,” I said. They nodded as Jising read my outline and Chenle skimmed through it.

“I still can’t believe how many hybrids you have now,” Chenle said and I smiled softly.

“But at the same time it makes sense,” Jisung said and we laughed. “To think you have Eunchae to thank for that,” Chenle said and he was right.

She pushed me into going to an adoption center where I met San and that was history. 

“I say we’re gonna have to start putting a cap on how many hybrids you have” Chenle released and I laughed. “Hmm… eight?” Jisung suggested and I rolled my eyes. 

“y/n, he’s all good to go!” I heard as I saw Kun and Mingi. 

“The sweet life changed him a lot you know,” Chenle said and I was confused and so was Mingi. “He looks way happier and healthier than when he came. Besides, he looks good in designer” Chenle and Jisung teased. 

“Her hybrids have a better life than me and Haechan,” Jisung said and I sighed. I turned to Mingi who seemed to be happy by their comments. His tail wagging behind him as he grinned at me. 

“Ready to go?” I asked and he nodded as we left the pair outside of the kennel. “You seem happy after your session,” I said and he nodded. “The doctor said I've improved so much I might be finishing my sessions soon!” he grinned and did the same. 

“We should celebrate!” I said and he looped his arm with mine as we walked to the cafe. I always took him too. As we made it there we waited for a bit to get seated like normal but noticed Mingi tensed up. “Mingi!” I heard as I saw two little kids run up to us. He seemed scared…

“What did I tell you two about running off!” I heard and I sighed… she-devil. “Oh, you… I see you actually adopted the mutt” she said and I rolled my eyes. I noticed behind her carrying leftovers, coats, and her purse was Yunho. 

He seemed wide-eyed seeing Mingi again… I even saw a soft smile appear on his face. 

“You’re quite the hybrid collector, aren't you… runts darling aren’t valuable to anyone though” she said and I scoffed. “Am I supposed to take advice from you?” I asked and she glared. 

“You’re such an immature brat” she muttered and I smirked. “I guess… hey how’s bankr–” “Shut up!” she yelled and left with Yunho sighing and bowing to me before leaving. 

“Are you okay?” I asked and Mingi nodded sadly… “What’s wrong?” I asked and he sighed. “It's strange… seeing Yunho on the opposite side of things. I bet she treats him with the bare minimum unlike how she treated me but… I also never thought I was worthy of being treated better” he confessed and I smiled and held his hand. 

“You're with me now,” I said and he smiled and nodded. “Yeah… thank you,” he said and I chuckled. “You never have to thank me for that. And Mingi? This is the bare minimum… not what she does” I said and he nodded. 

“It’s fine… I was thinking we could order something different today?”

mingi’s perspective

Seeing Yunho confused me… it was a mix of emotions. 

I finally accepted that y/n wanted me. Me of all hybrids. Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and even San wanted me there. Not Yunho… not him. Never have they ever asked about him either. 

Never have I had something that was solely mine away from Yunho and I was happy. 

I missed him… I did. But when I think about how much I missed him, I realize I would have to share this with him. Share them with him. Share her with him. 

It made me feel sick otherwise. 

Sure she has five other hybrids. I shared her with them… more like they shared her with me. But… the thought of Yunho stepping in would destroy me… even makes me feel bitter feelings towards him. 

“You’ve been stuck staring at the ceiling since you came back… do I need to tell y/n you’re acting up again?” Hongjoong asked and I shook my head. “I’m fine…” I said and he huffed as if he didn’t believe me. 

“I am… honest. We saw Yunho at the cafe we go to after my sessions, I just have mixed feelings” I said and he looked at me as if he was analyzing me. “You’ve talked less about Mingi recently… you’ve been here for two months and I haven’t heard you talk about Yunho since… probably a few weeks ago,” he said and I nodded. 

“He’s my best friend… there will never be anything to doubt that but, im content with the life I have now without him” 

y/n’s perspective

For some reason… She requested that our hybrids not be present at all, which worried me. I felt like she was planning something and I didn’t know what.

It was also strange cause Hongjoong was the one who always came with me and now to be alone was worrisome. “You’re here early” I heard as I saw Jaehyun. “Want this over with,” I said and he chuckled.

“I get what you mean, sorry by the way about no hybrids today,” he said and I shook my head. It’s not his fault…

I was just anxious about what she had planned. 

She was an unprofessional woman!

I was currently sitting on a bench trying to cool down and not cry over her comments. She had her kids run around and even spilled water on me several times… not even just once and the girl kept on grabbing my bag plus even put spilled juice on it so now it was sticky. 

The boy also tried to put gum in my hair… I wasn’t having a good day... 

“I’m sorry!” I heard as I saw… Yunho? “I remember you! You’re the hybrid who stole from people! You stole five hundred dollars from me!” a man yelled at the hybrid. Why was he… out and without a collar? 

Yunho couldn’t do anything but let the man scold him. I sighed and took out five bills and tapped the man’s shoulder. “Huh? Who are you?” he asked and I saw Yunho look at me shocked… “Just take it and stop yelling” I said and he seemed embarrassed but took the money and ran away. 

“You didn’t have to do that… I deserved it” he said and I sighed. “Come on Yunho,” I said and he looked confused… but besides that still followed me. We walked in silence until we made it to the hybrid center.

“y/n! What brings… why are you wet?” Haechan asked and I sighed.

“Long story… is Kun or Doyoung busy?” I asked and he shook his head before leading me to Kun’s office while Yunho followed me closely. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you a mess?” he asked and Yunho came inside with me. “Yunho?” he said, confused. “He was on the street alone, with no collar,” I said and he nodded while telling me he’ll be a minute. “Why are you helping me?” he asked and I gave him a soft smile.

“Cause you don’t seem like a bad hybrid… and you’re also important to Mingi,” I said and he nodded. “Is he here then? Last time I saw him, he said you were only fostering him for a week” he said and he looked desperate to see his friend. 

“I actually ended up adopting him,” I said and he grinned. He seemed happy at the sudden news.

“Is he okay then? Happier?” he said and I saw how his tail wagged at the thought of his friend being happy. I smiled and nodded. “He fits in well with everyone,” I said and I saw how his eyes lit up. 

“I’m glad…” he smiled to himself. 

“I’m sorry by the way what she did… she was getting the twins ready to misbehave today and I'm assuming they did,” he said and I sighed. “You can say that,” I said and he looked apologetic. “But it shouldn’t be you apologizing, you did nothing wrong,g” I said and he shook his head. 

“I did… I robbed you and I caused you trouble, so much trouble, and I–" "Yunho, I forgive you. Mingi explained it… you did it cause you needed to. I understand” I say and he sighs. 

“Yunho?!” I heard as I saw the she-devil herself. “How dare you! I’ll sue for stealing my hybrid!” she yelled and I sighed. Was this her plan? “Yunho, can you explain why you were alone in the street?” Kun asked and he looked at me nervously. Was he also in on this? 

“She left me alone in the middle of Seoul… she told me to find y/n and make sure I went with her but I didn’t want to, I promise! She was gonna lie and try to make this a civil affair, I'm sorry!” he apologized and she scoffed. “He’s lying… he must’ve learned that from the filthy wolf hybrid,” she said and I scoffed. 

“I’m sorry, miss but this is going to become a hybrid mistreatment case”

 I finally made it home where I was greeted by Wooyoung’s excited yell welcoming me back. He was rambling as he led me to the kitchen saying they already ate since it was late but how he was gonna prepare a plate for me. 

“Why are you… sticky?” I heard as I saw Yeosang as he touched the stain on my coat. “Little kids will be kids especially if their parents are as immature as them,” I said and he sighed, seeming to know what I meant. 

“Where’s Mingi?” I asked and he hummed. “Why… did something happen?” he asked, looking right through me and I sighed. “I found Yunho in the middle of the street being berated as the thief and… apparently she planned to sue me for stealing her hybrid but he confessed to her tricks,” I said and he looked surprised. 

“She’d go that far? What happened to the giant dog anyway?” he asked and I sighed… “Hybrid Mistreatment Case is now open… I doubt he’ll be under her care anymore but he’ll officially be up for adoption” I said and he nodded. 

“And you want to talk about it with Mingi,” he said and I nodded. “I just… I don't know. He seems to have mixed feelings about him especially when seeing him around with me” I muttered and he nodded. 

“He did say he always had to share things with Yunho… never felt superior to him so it makes sense” he muttered. “Still… I know he misses him. I want him to at least talk to his old friend” I said and he stared. 

“They're bonded aren’t they?” he asked and I nodded. 

“Wooyoung bonded himself to me while San and him are also bonded. The tigers to each other as well… separating a bonded pair can be damaging to the hybrid’s mental health” he explained. “If… you were to one day decide you didn’t want us or… me I’d feel lost too. Like nothing will be the same again” he confessed. 

“Are you bonded to me?” I asked and he smiled. “You’re my mate, angel. Of course, I'm bound to you… even though I could function… other hybrids of yours wouldn’t. Senghwa and I are probably the only ones…” he said and I knew what he meant. 

Like how Wooyoung’s depressive episodes can get and how San lost some of his memories due to the trauma… Hongjoong though as of recently put his life purpose to protect me.

“Don’t dwell on it too much” he said and I nodded. 

“Oh! I wanted to make sure that you didn’t want to go anywhere? I can still make reservations for you–" "And while I appreciate the offer, no thanks… I would rather not leave if I can avoid it and besides with Wooyoung cooking meat for Mingi these last two months I'd rather just order a bunch of fried chicken and eat it here with some cake” he said and I smiled. 

“Ok… but if you change your mind–” he smiled softly and shook his head while I talked “–the offer stands I'll make it work I promise!” I said and he chuckled. “Thank you, angel”

I can’t believe it sometimes…

It's been a fast year with San and Wooyoung but Yeosang as well… next month will mark a year. 

yunho’s perspective

Everything I did… was to make Mingi happy. It made his life a little easier but I think in the end I always did the opposite. I’m the reason he was so down… so bad with his own self-esteem. The reason he thinks he doesn’t deserve the world. 

And yet… I still hope that she changes that. Even if he hates me now.

Every time I’ve seen her with him… he’d look at me with a look of uncertainty… envy, or simply just annoyance…

I deserved what fate brought upon me. In a cage… with nothing else in here but my thoughts. They said I'd surely get adopted again… but it would never be the same. Mingi wouldn’t be with me.

“Yunho, in an hour you’ll be in touch with a social worker in charge of hybrid cases and a lawyer so we need to get you ready” I heard and I nodded. They were now putting on a collar and any procedures they needed for me to talk about her verbal abuse and neglect…

Everything… since I was a kid. And everything that I witnessed Mingi goes through… every punishment he had and the punishment I took in his place to lessen his pain. 

Every physical altercation… any humiliating thing she made us perform. 

Everything I… had to go through in this miserable lifetime… was just me paying for the collateral.

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[remykat80]

And then can we add the other side of this:

Literally falling for Vi right there.

And then the panic here that she might be about to completely ruin the Good Thing she knows she doesn't deserve.

And then there's the moment after she pulls her shirt off. The flicker of worry before the cute little hair thing and the joy at Vi's response.

I've seen people say that it - that brief flicker of worry and indecision - is because she isn't really a confident person under it all. But Caitlyn is supremely confident in her abilities and herself in the way a rich, well educated, successful and highly privileged first (only) child can be. Only when she doesn't have time to think or loses control does this confidence fail.

Caitlyn has probably had a *few* girls see her naked at this point, she knows she looks good, but none of them would have told her anything other than what they thought she wanted to hear because of the family she belongs to, so there's been no need to feel worried or nervous about their response.

But Vi doesn't care about Caitlyn's background in the same way, she's honest to a fault, and if she doesn't like what she sees, that will actually mean something to Caitlyn. Because Caitlyn is in love too, even if Vi shows it in a more obvious manner.

one of the things I love about Violet is how expressive her eyes are. you can't tell me she isn't in love with cait when THAT'S HOW SHE LOOKS AT HER. I would defend her from anyone who says she doesn't deserve her ending, give this girl a break for what she went through.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Full of Surprises

Author’s note: My first Joe request from a gorgeous anon! Hope you, my angel @emmyblues and all the other New Years babies had an amazing birthday!!!

Pancakes. Waffles. Is both too much? A little fruit on the side? Should he have bacon on the plate? What about eggs?

“Joe,” he snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a perturbed voice. “What should I make? I’d like to know today, please.”

The man continues walking around the kitchen, running through the plan in his head. It’s honestly causing him more effort than most of his pregame prep. Football was easy, it was x’s and o’s, utilizing his cadence and dissecting some of the best defenses the league has ever seen. Simple things. Planning the perfect birthday wasn’t exactly something he’d practiced his entire life but it was the first one he’d be spending with you living together so he was willing to try his best to make it unforgettable.

“Okay,” he places his hands on the counter, facing his chef. The first order of business for the day was to deliver you breakfast in bed but he loved you too much to make you sit through a meal he cooked. So he called in a professional to start the day off on the right foot. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Final answer.”

“Thank you,” his chef Morgan cracks a tiny smile, patting Joe on the back. “Relax man, she’s gonna love it. If anything, today might be a little over the top but hey—I’d go all out for my girl too.”

That did nothing to ease his worries. He made his way to the living room to touch up some of the decorations and make sure that the layout is how he pictured it in his mind. He thinks for a second, laughing to himself about how you’re still peacefully sleeping upstairs and he’s running around like a headless chicken. By the time he’s putting on the finishing touches, the food is ready and he needs to wake you up so you have time to eat and spend a little time together before he has to leave for practice.

You wake up to the most delicate kisses peppering your face, your neck, your collarbone. Trying to ignore it, you pull the covers over your face but your morning energy, or lack thereof, is no match for him. He easily takes the comforter away, pulling you in close enough to have his mouth back on your skin, kissing your shoulder. Each gentle touch enhances the beautiful wake-up call.

“Good morning sunshine,” he states calmly, “happy birthday.”

You hum tiredly, opening your eyes to ogle at him in all of his glory. His icy blue eyes peering into your soul, the way his arm muscles clench while holding onto the tray full of food that he sets in your lap. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this view, of being in his orbit…as long as you live. And he’s completely dedicated to making this entire day all about you. “Thank you baby,” you cover your mouth and back away when he leans in, “morning breath?”

Joe scoffs, “come here woman,” he grabs you by your legs, wrapping them around his waist and reaching over to present the most perfect platter of pancakes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to wake up extra early and do all this,” you give him a very quick peck, immediately digging in.

He takes a piece of fruit off of your plate and pops it into his mouth, “thank Morgan actually. I didn’t make any of it. But…I do have big plans for you today.”

“Oh you do?”

Joe nods, grabbing your fork so he can feed you. He sat there and helped you finish the plate, giving you a kiss after each bite. Once you were finished, he let you brush your teeth before pulling out a blindfold.

“This is a bit kinky…” you trail off as the light is replaced with complete and utter darkness. Joe gently ties the blindfold after wrapping it around your head and waving his hand in front of your face to make sure you can’t see.

“Maybe I’ll save it for later,” Joe growls into your ear, playfully smacking your butt before grabbing your hand slowly walking the two of you out of the room.

The gentle padding of his feet on the ground, leading you down the stairs is the one thing you can focus on. You knew he was only leading you to the living room but you really don’t mind trusting blindly to hold your hand through life and wherever it may take you.

Light comes back to your world when your boyfriend takes off the blindfold, his mischievous smile making an appearance.

“Joseph…what did you do?”

He puts his hands up, looking at you like he has no clue what you’re talking about. The entire living room is covered in balloons, two giant gold numbers depicting your age sit on the couch, surrounded by a array of lavish gift bags. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Joe rushes out, taking long strides toward the doorway and coming back with his hands behind his back. The birthday hat you made him wear a few weeks ago is suddenly now on your head and he takes a picture of you in the middle of the room and you feel like you’ve just won a spelling bee. “You can take it off now if you want, I promised my mom I’d get you back for making me wear the stupid hat. But you look good in the stupid hat so it’s not as funny.”

“Aw you’re so sweet,” you tell him with a laugh, kissing him on the cheek as he hands you the first gift.

The first three bags are Bvlgari. A complete matching set containing a ring, necklace and a bracelet. All gold. The next bag is Gucci, an ivory bucket hat.

“I have the same one in black. Figured we could match,” Joe shrugs, handing you the next one.

Calf length leather boots, with red bottoms. Then another pair of boots, which could be considered more casual since they’re Chelsea boots…except they’re Prada. And of course, he got you the Prada travel bag you mentioned in passing nearly a month ago. “Thank you. You really did not have to get me all this stuff. All of this is beautiful and so thoughtful.”

You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”

Most of your early relationship you tried to be firm in letting him know you weren’t with him for the stuff he can buy you. Over time as the trust and love continued to build between you two, you realized that it wasn’t the end of the world to be pampered and showered with gifts every now and then, internal cringing less at the thought of the prices at the end of his gift receipts. The man seemed satisfied with how his first two surprises had gone, letting you know that your friend Ryan was on her way to pick you up as soon as he was gone for practice. Every detail had been carefully planned out so you wouldn’t be alone and bored while he was gone.

As soon as he was out the door you took your time getting ready, putting your new items away in their respective places. Ryan texted you that she was on her way after you got out of the shower, not telling you where you were headed so you opted for minimal makeup and a casual but cute outfit and some sneakers in case there was walking involved.

The surprise ended up being an extensive spa treatment. A 75 minute deep tissue massage and a Vitamin C facial. Then there was the mani-pedi, hydrotherapy soak and exfoliating scrub included. You felt the most relaxed you’ve felt in years, all the tension was released literally from the top of your head and neck area to your feet.

Your home was eerily quiet when you and Ryan came back. The lights were off and Joe was nowhere to be found, even though the car he took when he left that morning was back in its usual spot in the garage.

“Babe? Are you home?” You called out, starting to search for him.

Ryan turned on the kitchen lights and suddenly the room was filled with people yelling “surprise!” Your mom and Joe’s mom were there, along with several of your friends, a few Bengals players and their significant others were also in attendance.

On the side table was a massive spread of food, mostly comprised of your favorites and you bravely held back the wave of emotion to greet everyone and thank them for coming. Having a birthday on a holiday has never been easy. Growing up it was a time where people were either out of town to celebrate with their families or it was just simply too much work to even want to plan anything concrete in case plans had to be moved around or cancelled. You sometimes felt like the day was completely overshadowed. Now that you were an adult it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world as long as you had a relaxing and relatively fun day but for Joe to gather some of your favorite people in the world all in one place to be with you on your birthday meant more than you could explain. Speaking of Joe, you hadn’t seen him yet.

You are in the middle of asking Chase Brown’s girlfriend Jazmyn if she has everything she needs from her baby registry when you spot him. In his hands is the most beautiful heart shaped gold birthday cake and he’s beaming as he starts the “happy birthday” song and everyone in the room joins in. Your eyes are closed when he sets the cake in front of you, telling you to make a wish. The first reaction is to ask him what more could you wish for when you have everything you could possibly want right in front of you, yet you indulge him and stand still to think for a little while before blowing out your candles and letting people try the cake.

Between the conversations about playoff scenarios and resolutions for the new year, the room is bustling with activity. Even Joe seems relaxed, a water bottle in hand and never really taking interest in being more than five feet away from you at all times. You catch his eyes a few times throughout the afternoon, a comforting smile here and there going a long way while the people in your home happily mingle and make significant dents in the amount of food available. Nobody really seems to notice that the two of you have snuck off other than your moms, who exchange knowing smiles.

“Alright, you have to stop.” You tell him once you’re finally alone.

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“Stop looking at me with that face. That I’ve seen you naked several times face, don’t give me that face. Not with my mom in the room. Because when you make that face and you’re staring at me with that—freaking stare I want to do something about it. And I can’t. Cause my mom is in the room. And so is yours. So stop it. That should’ve been my birthday wish.”

Joe rolls his eyes, closing the already short distance between you. “Well, when you say a wish out loud, it doesn’t come true.”

He’s looking at you again, less intense this time, more…soft. You’re the only person in the world that gets to see him like this, completely undone and void of his impenetrable exterior. This is the man you’ve continued to fall in love with the more you’ve gotten to know him. And when your lips meet his you can’t help but grin, brushing your finger along the side of his jaw with your thumb. The kiss is as soft as a feather, almost painfully slow as Joe teases you, letting you trace his top lip with your tongue until he opens his mouth and takes charge. Before the kiss goes any further he pulls away, sitting down in one of the oversized swivel chairs in the corner of the room and letting you settle on his thigh.

“When did you have time to do all this?” You ask him earnestly, “I mean with your schedule and the end of the season. How did you—”

He leans into your touch, kissing the tiny space behind your ear that he knows makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “No matter what’s going on in my life, I will always find time to celebrate my favorite person in the entire world. I really wanted you to feel special today.”

“You make me feel special everyday. But for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite person in the world too.”

Joe kissed you on the head, patting your leg so you can stand up first. He tells you to wait here, signaling there’s one more surprise in store. In his hand is a card for you to read…alone. “I’ll be out there making sure Sam hasn’t eaten all of your cake,” he jokes, giving your hand a squeeze on his way out.

Running your fingers across the front of the letter, you admire Joe’s handwriting, trying to think of what could possibly be inside the envelope. Your curiosity gets the best of you rather quickly and you’re tearing it open, holding a small piece of paper in your hand.

Happy birthday baby,

I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to close out the day. Then I thought about birthday sex and doing unspeakable things to each other and got a little distracted. So I took a break to regroup and come up with an actual plan. Today is about you and how amazing you are. How you’ve changed my life for the better. How you’ve been my rock every step of the way during this up and down season. One that I wouldn’t trade for the world because at the end of the day, I get to play football, which love and then I get to come home to you, which I’m starting to love more and more every day. You’re my dream come true and I’m so lucky to get to do life with you.

And if you ever tell anyone I wrote you a love letter on your birthday I’ll deny it. We are taking this to the grave.

I love you,

Joe

You were already in tears halfway through the letter, the waterworks in full effect when two tickets to Disneyland in Tokyo were taped to the bottom of the letter.

How was he ever going to outdo this birthday?

The Bengals should seriously consider signing you for a short term contract the way you wrap Joe up in your arms as soon as you spot him. If he hadn’t seen you coming and knew your reaction, you probably could’ve taken him to the ground. “I take it you liked the present?”

You shrug, “not a bad first offseason trip,” the facade quickly fades and you hug him again, “thank you Joey, for everything today…and everyday. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leans into you, resting his head on yours for a few seconds.

Tilting you head up, you look at him. “Wait…is this why you got us the bucket hats?”

“That’s exactly why I got us the bucket hats. We gotta fit the vibe babe. Blend in.”

You huff out a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

You once scoffed at an 8:30pm bedtime and now it was hard to keep your eyes open at 9:16pm, laying in bed next to Joe. And you swear you just heard him giggle, leaving you wide awake.

“Did you party too hard birthday girl?”

“It’s not funny! I’m getting too old for this,” you mumble into his side.

Sometimes you don’t even remember what life was like before him. And you definitely don’t want to know a life without him. Here he was Mr. Football fiend, in the middle of the season, going above and beyond to make you feel celebrated, special and loved beyond measure. And he’s always so warm, being in his arms is grounding you, slowly lulling you back to sleep.

The two of took a power nap so you could make it to the ball drop. At 11:59, he wished you happy birthday again and you kissed him at midnight wishing him a happy new year.

“Thank you for escaping the womb. I’m really glad you did that.” He pulls on your—well his—hoodie strings so you can’t see, kissing your nose.

“You’re a freaking idiot.”