#seeing friends to lovers on screen just hits different

[wileys-russo]

forget me not (2) II l.williamson

part one forget me not (2) II l.williamson

"mum i need to go."

"leah no-" but her mums words were cut off as the blonde clicked end call, fingers flying against her screen until she found your contact, call after call declined until it stopped ringing all together.

she then moved to texting, sending message after message until the 'do not disturb' notification popped up and her stomach heaved, you never put your phone on do not disturb.

her guilt peaked even higher noticing all of the messages above those she'd sent to you in a panic, clearly prior to your graduation and worrying about her whereabouts.

(8) iMessages from; lover girl 💐 hey baby i just arrived, you were dead to the world when i left (shock x) i'm kind of nervous! they just handed out our caps and gowns, its feeling really real now. what if i fall over when i'm walking up?? someone just put that thought in my head and now it won't go away 🥲🥲 i can't wait to just look out and see your pretty face, you can always ground me even without trying💘💘💘 *three missed calls* less just called me, she's leaving soon so i hope you're up and showering! i know you're not the best texter in the morning anyway grumpy 🫶🏻 we have to switch our phones off and leave them in our bags now babe but i'll see you in a little while. still so nervous ah! your support means everything, i love you leah 🩵

even though leah knew you were upset, the fact you hadn't made any attempts to call or message her after her no show only solidified it further for her, the blonde selfishly sort of wishing you had to ease her guilt even just a little.

"fuck!" the girl swore as she threw her phone on the passenger seat, burying her face in her hands with a deep and prolonged exhale. "okay think leah, think." she mumbled to herself, fists balling and rubbing against her eyes until she saw stars, head thumping back against the headrest.

grabbing her phone again she winced seeing the multitude of other missed calls, from alessia, your mum, your aunt, your best friend, all worrying that something had happened to her for her not to show up, the sweet messages from your mum checking in if she was okay hitting her in the stomach in a different sort of way.

"alessia!" she realized, quickly hitting call on the girls contact, feeling like an idiot for not even noticing her friends absence and putting two and two together, this was a brand new low.

"come on!" leah grunted, calling the younger girl easily six times and each one going right to voicemail, finger hovering over your mums contact before abandoning that idea with a shake of her head.

"shit." leah swore again checking your location and noticing you'd stopped sharing with her, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced and her fingers drummed against the wheel wracking her brain for anything.

"fuck me leah where did she say the celebration was afterwards?" the footballer mumbled to herself, eyes squeezing close as she tried to think back, unable to even remember you mentioning your graduation in the last few days, another nail in the coffin of realizing she had been an awful girlfriend to put it lightly.

a sudden spark of hope she grabbed her phone again, clicking into instagram and huffing when both you and alessia hadn't posted anything, searching up several of your friends and families accounts finding the same wall of silence in her way.

growing even more desperate leah clicked into an app she checked maybe once a year, only keeping her facebook active for the sake of her childhood friends.

"thank you aunty gillian, thank you!" leah whispered as a quick scroll of her feed showed your godmother had posted some pictures from the graduation and the post ceremony celebrations, a quick zoom confirming the restaurants name on a menu on the table.

without another seconds hesitation she was putting the address into maps, car roaring to life as she peeled out of the colney carpark at top speed, flying across town and swearing loudly as she seemed to hit every red light in all of london.

"williamson." she barked to the valet as she screamed to a halt in front of the hotel where the restaurant was, throwing the keys at the young boy who didn't even have time to say a word before she was pushing through the double doors and bursting inside.

"m'am im really sorry you can't-" the hostess tried to stop leah as she barreled past, ignoring her completely and hurrying into the restaurant. it didn't take her long to find your closest friends and family on a big table in the corner, alessia spotting her before anyone else did and eyes widening.

though as leah came to a screaming halt in front of them, the table falling quiet as they took her in, still clad in an arsenal tracksuit with wet hair and frantic eyes looking as you would have said had you been present, a hot mess.

"no auntie ava its alright, i'll handle it." alessia murmured to your mum as leah shrank under the scrutiny and harsh glares from your friends and family, nobody impressed with her no show even if they didn't know the full story.

"you need to leave, right now." alessia warned, grabbing the blonde by her bicep and pulling her away from the table, around the corner and out of view. "less please i can-" leah started as the younger girl held up a hand.

"i don't care leah. i've just gotten her to calm down after she's just spent twenty minutes crying in the bathroom after her big day!" alessia warned, leah taken aback by the venom in her teammates tone, the girl normally so sweet butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

but there was one thing your cousin didn't mess about with, and that was family.

"she cried?" leah deflated, voice barely above as whisper as the taller girl nodded. "yes leah she cried several times, she's heartbroken that her girlfriend didn't show up for her graduation. but rather chose to go to the same training we have four or five times a week, she saw on instagram." alessia growled, poking accusingly at leahs shoulder.

"nope." alessia held up a hand again as leah opened her mouth to pour out another excuse or hurried apology.

"i told you leah, i don't care. she deserves to enjoy the rest of her day, you've ruined enough and done more damage than you can apologize for in the two minutes you've got to leave before i let my brothers escort you outside." alessia warned seriously, jaw clenched and still gripping harshly onto leahs arm.

"but less-" "leah, go."

but right as your girlfriend was ready to get on her knees and beg alessia to get her even one minute of your attention, you came stumbling around the corner in search of your cousin.

"baby-" leah started, falling quiet with a hiss as alessia sharply pinched her and moved to put her body in between the two of you like your own personal security guard.

"you have some nerve!" you laughed, leah frowning at the slur in your voice and the way alessia hurried to catch your swaying body, shooting the older blonde a filthy glare over her shoulder as she steadied you and mumbled something in your ear.

"no i know. i'm done crying over her!" you responded, leah swallowing hard as her knees buckled with how much anger was ablaze in your eyes as your gaze moved back toward her.

"you're a little late." you mocked with a pout, voice dripping with sarcasm as your eyes burned holes in your girlfriends head, trained on her like lasers.

"bubba please if you just-" "don't leah, don't call me that." all the anger seemed to deflate out of your voice at that, the obvious hurt and betrayal in it wrapping around leahs heart and squeezing tight like a fist.

"i don't want to hear the excuses, or the apologies, i don't even want to look at you leah. i have never been so let down or dissapointed, hurt, angry, sad." you listed off every emotion which was wracking your body, pausing for a moment and swaying a little leaning into alessia more.

"i have been there for you, for everything leah. i was there by your side every day when you did your acl, through the rehab and recovery good times and bad. i didn't leave when you yelled, when you snapped, when you hurled insults just for helping because i knew you were hurting and you weren't lashing out at me." you shook your head as leah felt sick to her stomach.

"i was there for you during the world cup. i stayed in england to be there for you, watching my own cousin playing the tournament and living out her dream through a phone screen, not daring to mention the games because i knew you were devastated to miss it." you paused to swallow the tears which brimmed at your eyes.

"i have put up with a lot of shit leah, dismissed a lot of things because i love you. but this...this isn't something i can sweep under the rug and excuse because you're hurting and i want to support you. today i needed you, i needed you to support me and you couldn't even do that." you whispered, wishing you had another drink in hand for a spike of liquid courage which was bleeding rapidly out of the open wounds your girlfriends actions slashed you with.

clearing your throat you continued, tilting your chin up a little higher. "less already took me past our place and i grabbed a bag of stuff, i'm moving in with her for awhile. i don't want to see you, hear from you, nothing, until i am ready leah. i never thought you of all people were capable of hurting me like this, now please go." with that you turned around, stumbling slightly but catching yourself with a sharp inhale and marching back off to the table.

"no. leah you heard her, you need to leave." alessia's hands pressed against her chest as she tried to follow after you.

"like i said, you can go on your own terms leah, or i'll get my brothers." your cousin warned seriously, leahs mouth opening and closing before she gave in with a nod, turning and walking away.

~

"its another one for you!" you looked away from the football match your cousin was currently forcing you to watch, alessia appearing seconds after the bell had rung with another bunch of flowers as you got up with a sigh.

"she's consistent, you've gotta give her that." alessia shook her head as you took the flowers from her, perching herself on the arm of the lounge as your eyes scanned over the card.

"we look like we own a florist shop." your cousin commented, eyes roaming over the countless bunches of flowers littering the living and dining rooms.

"i've texted her telling her to stop!" you shook your head placing down the bunch with a deep seeded sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "what are you thinking?" your cousin asked knowingly as you wandered back toward the lounge, collapsing into it as she spun around on the arm to face you.

"i don't know." you exhaled honestly, face buried in your hands as alessia kicked you gently, looking down with a raised eyebrow. "its been two weeks and i miss her." you admitted honestly, sitting up with a slight grunt.

"but i'm also still really hurt and upset and there isn't an excuse under the sun she could make that would help that go away." you added on, grabbing a throw cushion and pushing your face into it with a scream.

"would you consider hearing her out anyway?" alessia asked, playing devils advocate as you looked back up with another sigh. "yes? no? maybe?" you groaned, laying back down on the lounge in a world of indecision.

"sounds like you want to. but you're a little scared of what that might mean? just hear her out, it doesn't mean you have to go running right back into her arms but it'll mean you're not sitting here wondering what it is she has to say." your cousin read you like a book with a small smile. "i hate that you're always right." you shook your head as alessia chuckled.

"just looking out for my little piccoli ravioli!" your cousin cooed, a grunt leaving your body as she dove on top of you, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head side to side before rolling off of you.

"you know i can very easily smother you in your sleep russo."

none the less you took her advice, reaching out to your girlfriend? ex girlfriend? you weren't even sure what the two of you were at this point given you'd had practically no contact for the last fortnight.

which is how you found yourself a few days later taking a deep breath, hand on the door to the coffee shop you'd agreed to meet up with her at, steadying yourself with a nod before you pushed it open.

you spotted her right away, her eyes trained on the door and hand raising to wave you over the very moment you stepped inside. "i got your usual, sorry the ice melted a little...i was early." leah started with a slight blush as you sat down, pushing the iced latte across the table.

"thanks." you gave her a small smile, taking a sip as an awkward silence settled between you two. "should i start? is that okay?" leah blurted out suddenly, knee bouncing nervously as you nodded and she exhaled shakily.

"i'm not going to waste your time making excuses or apologizing over and over or grovelling." leah started as you quirked an eyebrow and sipped at your drink, curious where she was going with this.

"i'm just going to be honest instead, get right to the point. baby i was a selfish blind asshole, to say the least. i took you for granted. i did not support you even a tenth as much as you did for me. i don't deserve you, i don't deserve a second chance." leah paused, meeting your eyes for a moment as you nodded for her to continue.

"i forgot about your graduation, i didn't care enough to remember despite all the little hints you left me that you shouldn't have even needed to. theres no nice way to say it, theres no excuses for it, no lies. i didn't prioritize you, i didn't respect you or your achievements or put your needs above my own when thats all you've ever done for me." leah sighed, fiddling nervously with her hands in her lap.

"i was so blinded by the joy of being back on the pitch, kicking a ball, being with the girls again. all i was focused on was making the roster for camp, returning back to glory and my captaincy and playing full games for arsenal again." leah admitted, neck and ears flushing hot with embarrassment.

"but nothing, not football not arsenal, not anything, should ever take priority over me being a good supportive life partner and girlfriend. you were right you have put up with so much from me, done so much for me, pushed aside your feelings and your problems to put mine first, and i couldn't even do that for a day when you've done it since the moment we got together." leah continued, shaking her head disappointed with herself.

"love there isn't enough apologies in the world that i can ever say to make up for it. obviously i am incredibly sorry, but you deserve better than words you deserve evidence and action and commitment." you were taken by surprise as leah suddenly stood.

"if you will please please please just come with me for a quick drive i have something for you." she hesitated for a moment before offering you her hand, a confused and skeptical frown on your face as you sized her up.

"its not more flowers, is it?" that caused a small smile to make its way onto the blondes face as she shook her head.

"no, no more flowers."

~

"seriously? leah this is all very weird." you shook your head as she pulled up outside your shared home, a place you'd not stepped foot in for just as long as you hadn't seen your girlfriend for, holding out a blindfold.

"i know i know i know. and i'm sure you don't right now which is completely valid, but i need you to just trust me and put this on." leah bit her bottom lip sheepishly as you sighed, giving her a hard look before snatching it out of her hand.

"no! i've got it." you smacked away her hand which tried to help, tying it up yourself as your heart rate sped up the moment your world was plunged into darkness.

"can i grab your hands? please?" you heard the car door open and flinched a little, nodding slowly as you felt leahs warm hands interlock with your own, pulling you up to your feet as the car door closed behind you.

"step, step, rock, puddle, another step, three more steps, gate." leah announced each reason for moving you, your frown deepening as you realised she was leading you around the side and toward the backyard, ears straining and senses heightened trying to work out what was going on.

"leah!" you huffed as you tripped and almost fell, strong hands steadying you as the blonde winced. "sorry...one more step."

"okay, i'm taking the blindfold off now." leah sighed shakily, and you felt her hands trembling slightly as they fumbled around clumsily with the knot on the back of the blindfold.

but persisting she finally got it, wincing as it slipped away and the sunlight struck you in the face. but that was nothing compared to how high you jumped at the large yell which sounded next, your hand coming to cover your mouth.

"happy graduation!"

"what? this is..." you trailed off, all of your friends and family and colleagues gathered around the backyard, fairy lights strung up in trees and a long table splitting the yard in half decked out with flowers and food and candles.

you tensed as leah grabbed your hands again, moving to stand in front of you with a smile. "i know i ruined your special day by not showing up for you. but you deserve to have your achievements celebrated in a way even half as big and special as you are, and everyone who knows you and loves you agrees, and they're here to show that to you." leah explained softly, another cheer ringing out from the crowd in your backyard as you both looked across with a laugh.

"you organised this?" you asked as leah nodded, letting go of your hands. "i'm not asking you to move back in tonight and forgive me right away. but i hope this is a step in the right direction to me showing you that you mean more to me than anything in the world, and i was such a fucking idiot to take that for granted." leah promised sincerely as your features softened.

"thank you." you caught her off guard by pulling her into a hug, admittedly melting into her taller form as you held one another tightly, your guests all turning back into their own conversations as music started up and chatter floated through the air.

"you're very very welcome. now go and be celebrated!" the blonde pulled away and gently pushed you toward the crowd, smile on her face as you nodded, turning and stepping toward your parents first who cheered and handed you a flute of champagne.

"did you know about all of this?" you tugged your cousin aside around an hour later once you'd made your rounds greeting and chatting with everyone, the sun setting as leah was busy setting up the catering she'd organised for dinner, lia by her side helping out as a fair few of the arsenal girls hung about, good friends with you through both leah and alessia.

"who do you think helped her grovel for forgiveness with the whole family?" alessia smiled knowingly, sipping at her drink. "the whole family?" you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as your cousin nodded.

"mhm, had me gather everyone at your mums place and she stood in front of them all delivering a speech about how much of an idiot she is and how much you mean to her, and how first and foremost she wanted to make up for ruining your day, even if it didn't mean you'd take her back." alessia explained as you glanced at leah over her shoulder, a small smile curling into your lips at the way she helped your nephew dish up his food, chattering away to him and pulling silly faces making him giggle.

"was it brutal?" you asked with a chuckle, alessia wincing. "horribly horribly awkward. nonna ripped into her, then your mum, then my mum, then your brother, then my brothers, then-" alessia recounted as you cut her off with a laugh.

"okay okay i get it, we have a very tight knit family who clearly have my back." you smiled with a shake of your head. "we do. but they all agreed to come, and that when she's not being an insensitive stupid idiot leah is crazy about you." alessia spoke a little more softly.

"go talk to her." your cousin kissed your cheek, slipping her drink into your hand and taking your empty one, pushing at your back encouragingly as you sighed and let your feet lead you over to her.

"hey, can we talk?" you asked, leah practically dropping the plate of food in her hand with a nod, hurrying after you as you made your way up the back steps and inside, wanting a little more privacy than your backyard full of friends and family provided.

"is this all okay? is it too much? did i do too much? less warned me not to go overboard and i know i said no more flowers but obviously theres flowers here and i got catering from your favorite restaurant and it took me days and days to get everyone to agree to come and then-" tired of her rambling you leaned in, pressing your lips against her own and effectively silencing her.

"i-okay." leah blinked in shock as you pulled away, a small smile of amusement on your face. "first of all, this is very very sweet leah, its perfect." you assured with a firm nod, leah visibly sagging in relief.

"second of all...i want to come home, tonight." you held up a hand as the blonde perked up and opened her mouth, snapping it right closed. "this doesn't fix everything leah, i'm still hurt and its going to take time for me to trust you properly again" you warned as the defender nodded eagerly.

"but we can't work on things unless we're together, and i have missed you." you admitted quietly, the words scary to confess but knowing you needed to be honest. "i've missed you so much, like...so so much." leah breathed out shakily making you smile.

"but promise me one thing?" your hands came to cup her face as she nodded.

"no more apology flowers leah for like...a long time." you grinned as leah let out a laugh of surprise, hands falling to your hips and drawing your body into hers, eyes searching you face as you nodded knowing what they were looking for, her lips sweetly pressing a few times against yours.

"i promise."

[impishjesters]

Touch starved Jax x Reader (SFW version)

warning(s): suggestive themes, nonsexual physical intimacy note(s): it's not mentioned but any physical contact is consensual, you'd immediately back off if he showed any real discomfort. A/N: I originally had a more NSFW version of this in mind.. but I decided to do a more SFW version for now with suggestive themes. I could be persuaded to do a more NSFW version though..

Jax has been stuck here for god knows how long, he’s met people who came and those who “left” and never got attached or close

until you showed up…

friendship has him confused and conflicted because it’s so much more handsy than he remembers offline

you’d been far more touchy than the others, holding his hand and pulling him along to wherever just to keep hanging on him

throwing your legs over his when the two of you were chilling, or even lying across his legs

climbing on him and then having the audacity to make him give you a piggyback ride??

Ragatha tried to warn you so many times in the beginning that testing him like that was a really bad idea

not that it stopped you, whether it was stupidity or bravery you kept touching him, and honestly? as much as it bugged him in the start, now he looks forward to it

no one says anything, but he kind of looks like a dejected puppy when you pull away from him after being glued to him for more than ten minutes

like to say the two of you were warm is a stretch, but it just feels warm ya know?

and the only other times he’s really touched someone or been touched was to shove someone, throw their arm around them, and yank them along. small stuff ya know?

so when you suddenly just drop into his lap one day and cuddle into him? he’s absolutely shook

if others are around when you do this be prepared to get chewed out later, but first, he’s gotta stop blue screening and actually remember the two of you aren’t alone

later though? oh, he’s gonna complain that you can’t just do that with others around, there might be a tiny argument but once it’s settled he’ll tell you to do it again…

if there’s this much touching and contact as friends..what about if the two of you were dating??

when that day does hit, Jax..is vastly unprepared

cuddling and hand-holding get cranked up from a 5 to a 12, even in front of the others (honestly half of them saw this coming? if anything they were grateful the two of you stopped beating around the bush already. except Kinger, he still seems confused every time he sees it)

the back and shoulder rides don’t change much except there’s definitely a hand or two sliding further up the leg (thumb stroking over your ankle or calf) or directly on the ass—what don’t blame him for enjoying the squish

the thing that really makes the difference from friends to lovers? kissing

(well okay there’s verbal change but this is about physical contact, that’s a whole other can of worms he’s unprepared for)

Jax has kissed before—just not while here…and sure his teeth might make things a lil tricky but the two of you are very quick to learn how to work around that wink wink

now Jax actually likes taking a break from following the idiots around to just laze in his or your bed with you laying on him or limbs tangled and just kissing. doesn’t even have to be on the lips, face, hands, arms, man has no limits (he's eating this shit up)

man is not ready for those little laze dates when they turn into any form of heavy petting… let’s just say he’s absolute putty in your hand..

[justmeinadaze]

Hi lovely!! I want to start off by saying how TALENTED YOU ARE, genuinely you are my favourite writer on this platform for Eddie and Steve LOL

I was hoping we could get some more of pornstar! steddie as it is my literal favourite ( Maybe something where the reader is innocent and hasn't had much or any sex and asks them to teach her stuff or something? ) I don't know, if you feel up to writing it you can add anything you want!!

Again, absolutely adore you and your writing, and I hope you are having a wonderful day!!

xo Cherry 💫

A/N: I changed this a bit. I hope that's ok. I didn't want it to be too close or similar to Corroded Corpses "Boys On Film" (Check it out! Its amazing!)

Thank you for your compliments <3. I love you!

Warnings: Pornstar Steddie/ Plus Size Fem Y/N, established relationship, best friends to lovers, SMUT (dirty talk, 'teaching', facesitting, 69, pretty lady on top). FLUFF. Mentions of reader never having been on top because of her size (brief), she does have some reservations but they squash that.

Word Count: 2786

Steddie Asks/ Donate to Me

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on a minute, little lady.”, Eddie practically shouts as you roll your eyes and Steve laughs through his teeth. “You’re telling me that you’ve never ridden a guy before?”

“Ok, this was a mistake. Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything and keep watching your dirty movie alright?”, you sigh completely flushed with embarrassment.

The three of you had been best friends for so many years and you were never once shy around each other. You had seen them naked and vice versa, openly told the other about any sexual experiences you had or were currently having, and they even opened up to you about signing up to be in a porn film, bringing it over a few months later to show you the finish product. 

But when it came to other aspects of your relationships, you kept things to yourself especially after they beat up one of your ex’s for calling you a “fat slut” when you two got into a fight. 

“No, no. Please, go on. I’d love to hear more because I don’t understand why any man wouldn’t want to watch you bouncing around on top of them.” Again, you tried to shy away but Steve grabbed your hands and moved them away from your face. “Come on, honey. I’m serious. No teasing.”

“I mean…look at her…”, you smile hoping your tone sounds playful as you gesture towards the screen. “I mean…”

“Yeah. That’s a person…Wait…are you an alien?!”

“Stop it, Ed. Yeah, Y/N. We see her…I don’t see a difference though.”

“Really, Steven? You don’t see ANY difference?”, you sass as you get to your feet and place yourself by the tv screen. “NOTHING at all?”

“Are you trying to tell me the reason you’ve never been on top is because you’re curvy?”

“That’s a nice way of putting it, Eddie, but let’s be blunt here. I’m a fat girl. I’m too heavy and add in the fact that no one wants to see my…everything…jiggle.”

“Speak for yourself.”, he mumbles under his breath. 

“Did someone tell you this or is this you?”, Steve asks a bit more forcefully than he meant to. “Because we’ll fucking kill anyone that fucking lied to you like that. If it’s you then we can just spank it out of you.”

Both men smile when you giggle.

“Do you know how? To ride a dick, I mean.”

Your eyes narrow Eddie’s way as he nonchalantly places the beer bottle in his hand on the table beside his bed. 

“I mean…there’s not much to it…I imagine. Why? Wanna teach me, porn star?”

“We can if you want us to.”

Your gaze shifts between theirs waiting for the punch line followed by their infectious laughs that make you feel warm inside and out. But it never comes as they continue to stare at you with their wide, expressive eyes waiting on you to decide. 

“Why?”

“It’s not like we’re making love or anything. We’re just…teaching…It will be like how we were on set except there’s no camera.”

“We know we’re not your type anyway.”, Steve jests as he reaches out to lightly hit your knee. 

“Who says?” That grabs their attention as their heads fully snap in your direction. “I mean, we’ve never really talked about it but I always thought I wasn’t your type. Personally, I think you’re both sweet, funny, attractive…I guess.”

They laugh gently at your joke as you smile their way. 

“Ok!”, Eddie claps his hands loudly together as he bounces off the mattress. “Harrington, you lay on the floor here and Y/N, go ahead and take off everything from the waist down.”

Your eyes widen in amusement as you watch Steve slide off the bed with zero hesitation as he does what his friend suggestions and removes his shirt before tossing it to the side. 

“Are you…are you sure? I don’t…”

“Hey.”, the metalhead coos in a much softer voice as he takes you hand and guides you onto your feet. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just say the word. We’ll still love you.”

“You promise? I don’t…I can’t lose you two.”

With a tender smile, Eddie cups your face in his hands and brings his lips to your own for a tender kiss. 

“We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die.”, Steve adds as his fingers comfortingly caress your thigh.

“Well, let’s not go that far.”, you tease, trying to keep the mood light as you remove your shorts and panties. “Now what, Mr. Munson.”

“Oooo I like that.”, he jokes as he guides you to your knees, watching as the other man falls flat on his back and runs his fingers through his hair to push it way from his face. “Ok, now, whenever you’re ready, I want you to place both knees on either side of his head and—”

“You want me to sit on his face?” Eddie’s grin grows as he nods. “I’ve…I’ve never done that either—”

“I figured.”

Smirking, you lightly punch his chest causing both boys to chuckle before suddenly feeling soft kisses trailing up your thigh as Steve sits up on one of his elbows. 

“It’s ok, honey, trust me. I can handle it and if something’s not right I’ll tap your leg three times.”

His beautiful amber eyes watch you carefully as you exhale, allowing you all the time you need before you gradually crane your neck to kiss his lips. 

“Good girl. Come on.”, the former jock praises as you allow them to maneuver you till your lower half was hovering just above him with your hands balancing on his chest and his cling to your thighs. 

“Can, um, can I have a bit more vulnerability?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at your question till you gesture with your head at what you want, laughing as he leans over to unbutton Steve’s jeans to pull them down his ankles. 

“Ay! Be careful down there. I’m not a rag doll.”

You smile as he scolds the metalhead but you can’t help it when a shaky breath leaves you as his admittedly large cock tries to push through the hole in his boxers. 

“Is she turning you on, bud?”

“Fuck off, Munson. It’s just… Y/N, your pussy smells good.” Lifting his head, he presses his nose between your folds and your eyes roll back as his wide tongue follows. 

“God, you look so fucking sexy, sweetheart. N-Now, go ahead and roll your hips a-against his tongue. You can use his chest for balance if you need to.”

Doing as he instructed, you rolled your hips forward, whimpering when he grazed your clit down to your entrance, just barely dipping in before pulling back. You tried again with a bit more confidence causing Steve to groan underneath you as his mouth closed around your little bud.

“D-Did…did I hurt you?”

When he shook his head, he let go of your bundle of nerves with an obscene slurping pop that had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“No, baby. Fuck, you taste like heaven. You can push down harder if you need to. I’m ok.”

Baby

They’d never called you that before. Hearing it now drove you crazy as your nails dug into his chest and grinded your body against him. 

“Atta girl. You like that? You like hearing him compliment you like that?”, Eddie murmured as he pressed his nose into your cheek and left feathery light kisses along your skin. 

One of Steve’s palms released you and you both watched as he dug into his boxers to free his cock, collecting the copious amount of precum leaking from the tip to use as he stroked himself looking for a much-needed release. 

“O-Ok, fuck, now, I want you to bounce on his tongue, babe. Use your knees to lift yourself up a-and come back down till you feel him deep in that tight little pussy.”

You tried to do what he commanded but there was some self-conscious part of your brain that was terrified of hurting the boy beneath you. Eddie noticed your trepidation, hastily gripping your jaw and turning your eyes to meet his. 

“Don’t. Don’t think about your size or what those other fuckers told you. He said he’d tell you if he needed to stop. Do you not trust him?”

“N-No, I do. I do.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

“I’m sorry.”, you pant as you push yourself up straighter and utilize your knees to do what he instructed. As your body came back down, Steve’s thick, large tongue filled you so completely that you felt like you wanted to cry from pleasure. “Fuck, Steve. N-No one’s ever…been this deep…”

“You haven’t had me yet, sweetheart. Now, make yourself cum.”

After licking his fingers, Eddie reached between you and matched your rhythm as he messaged your clit. You were suddenly overwhelmed with euphoria as the coil snapped and Steve arms quickly wrapped around your middle, holding you in place as you rode out your high. 

“Good…good girl. Let him lick you clean, pretty girl.”

Your body twitched as you fell against him, his tongue still devouring you but now at a much slower pace. Your heavy eyes glanced towards his length that was now firey red and you couldn’t stop yourself when you carefully circled your fingers around him. 

“Ah, fuck.”, he whined at the sensitivity, seemingly on the edge of a release. Raising your head, you spit over his tip causing his head to hit the floor with a little thunk as he absorbed the feeling of your palm stroking his length. “Fuck, her hand feels good. Her pussy t-tastes amazing, Ed. It’s everything we…”

You couldn’t hear what he mumbled to Eddie as your lips fully enveloped him and all you good manage to absorb was the throbbing of his length on your own tongue. Steve’s fingers tangled in your hair as his hips thrust upwards and you allowed him to use your throat as he chased his high. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck…fuck! M’gonna cum.”

His seed spurted its warmth as he grunted in pleasure above you. After swallowing everything he had to give, you kissed his tip and he lazily man-handled you around till your face was level with his so he could passionately kiss your lips. 

“Are you ready for your second lesson, Y/N?”

At the sound of his strained tone, your gaze shifted towards Eddie who had his cock in his hand that now look just as red and angry as Steve’s had.

“Yes, Mr. Munson. I’m ready.”

Smirking at your answer, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms and climbed back on to his mattress with you on top of him straddling his waist. As he reached for the pack of condoms on his bed side table, your hand extended out to stop him. 

“I’m, um, I’m on the pill. I mean if you want to.”

Blinking, you noticed his confident demeanor faulter slightly. 

“Are you sure? With everything we do…on set and…”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, yeah, princess, I’m clean. I…we just understand that…you may have a viewpoint of us…”

Placing your palms under his ears, you softly kiss his lips as your thumbs caress his cheeks. 

“Did someone tell you this or is this you?”, you echo their words from earlier. “Because I’ll kick anyone’s ass who—”

“Yeah, yeah, ya dork.”, he jests as he playfully smacks your behind. “Ok, I’ve, um, I’ve never done it raw so…if your pussy is as good as Steve says it is…I may ruin this particular lesson by busting too soon.”

Giggling at his now nervous demeanor, you lift off your shirt and toss it towards the other boy who catches it midair before throwing it on the floor near your pants so he can climb in beside you both. 

“I like this bra. It’s cute.”, Steve compliments as his fingers trace the black lace while Eddie’s own hands rub up and down your sides.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby, just slide down onto my dick. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Nodding, Eddie holds his shaft as your entrance hovers just above him. Just the warmth alone that’s radiating from your cunt has his cock twitching before you slowly begin to descend onto him. 

“Shit.”

“What? Did I do s-something? Am I—”

His ringed hand clasps over your mouth as his other keeps you in place. 

“No. You’re not too heavy. Stop thinking about all that bullshit. Fuck, I really am going to fucking cum before she even moves.”

Steve grins at the man’s words as he winks at you reassuringly. Knowing that he’s alright, you continue to lower your body, taking him in inch by inch till you feel him fully sheathed inside you. 

“Eddie.”

“How does it feel, baby?”

“So…deep. Feels different…better…”

“Go—Go ahead and roll your hips.” You do as he says, repeating your movements you had done with the other boy causing an electricity to shoot through you as his cock grazes something inside you that you weren’t even sure was there. 

“Oh my god.”

“There’s the spot.”, he whispered. “Take over, Y/N. Balance on my chest and hit that spot, baby girl. Fuck, your pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

While you ride his length, you don’t notice the way your tummy jiggles or that from his angle you may not look flattering. All you can focus on is him and how he feels inside you. With every press of that button, you whimper and mewl his name causing you to clench tighter to him as he groans at the sound of you moaning. When you’re finally able to open your eyes to look at him, you notice his chocolate ones are zeroed in on where you two connected as his hands absently guide your movements on your waist. 

Occasionally, his gaze shifts to your breasts as he licks his lips at the sight and desperate to please him, you reach behind you to undo the clasp, throwing it to the ground. Leaning up towards your chest, Eddie wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and your fingers thread through his hair as you grind your hips against his. 

“So fucking beautiful. Cum for me, baby.”

Pushing at his chest, you chase your high and he bites his bottom lip at the sight as you finally truly take over. Your body shudders as your rhythm stutters and your pussy quivers as you come undone. It’s more than Eddie can handle and his grip becomes almost bruising as he guides your sloppy movements till you feel him empty deep inside you. 

“F-Fuck…oh, careful, pretty girl.”, he coos as you wince when you try to lift your body off his. “Can, um, is it ok if I hold you like this?”

Smiling, you nod as lay your head under his chin and he circles his arms around you so he can play with your hair. 

“In a minute we can take a shower and get you clean.”, he whispered as they both listened to you steadily breathe.

“Am I your type?” Confusion paints both their features and you push up on your knees so you could see them both. “You said you weren’t my type but I said that you were. Am I yours?”

Their gaze shifts to each other before Steve chuckles under his breath. 

“You didn’t hear what I said, did you? I said that your pussy was everything we ever talked about it being. That’s not all we talk about though. You’re kind and strong—”

“Sarcastic as fuck.”, Eddie cuts in making you laugh. 

“You’re so gorgeous, honey. When we were shooting our scenes we, uh, we pretended she was you.”

Both men sit up with the metalhead holding your body to keep you against him. 

“If you want this to be a onetime thing we understand but if not…”

“We’d like to take you on a date.”

“Maybe give you some more lessons.”

“Hey now. I’m sure I can teach you both a thing or two.”, you giggle as they beam up at you with nothing but care. “Ok, as long as you can promise me that no matter what I won’t lose you. You’ve been my best friends for so long and I love you so much.”

Placing his hand on the back of your neck, Eddie guides your lips to his. 

“What did I say, babe? We’ll always be here, no matter what. Cross my heart.”, he grins as he does the gesture over his chest and Steve follows, finishing it by grabbing your cheeks in both his massive palms to kiss you. 

[lilmisssona]

*ੈ✩Sorry Bestie, I love you *ੈ✩

*ੈ✩Pairing - Han Jisung × Fem Reader

*ੈ✩Plot - After being stood up for the fifth time this year, you've had enough of serial date ghosting. Just when you were about to leave, your best friend Han, whom you vented to , texts back saying to wait because he's coming to meet you. But Han left for another city eight years ago and when he shows up, you're shocked to see your quirky best has turned into someone undeniably hot!

*ੈ✩Genre - Angst, comedy, fluff

*ੈ✩Warnings - Dramatic comedic duo, non idol au, best friends to lovers au, angst, hurt to comfort

*ੈ✩Word Count - 10.7 K *ੈ✩Screenshot Count - 4

*ੈ✩A/N - Episode 5 of Staymas is here! This best friends-to-lovers tale will have you laughing, crying, and dreaming. Dive into this heartwarming and classic tale, albeit a little cliché! you won’t want to miss it! ( This is just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️ )

*ੈ✩ SKZ Masterlist *ੈ✩ STAYMAS Masterlist

The candle flickers, the breeze teasing its flame. You try not to look at the empty chair across from you, but it’s impossible to ignore. Five times this year. A record, really. Maybe it’s time to quit dating altogether.

You grab your bag to leave, but your phone buzzes on the table. Glancing at the screen, you see his name....

You frown at the screen. Typical Jisung...cryptic, over-the-top, dramatic. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, debating whether to humor him. But something about his insistence makes you hesitate.

After waiting 20 minutes you were about to respond when the café door swings open. The sound barely registers...it’s a busy place, after all...but then you see him.

And for a moment, your brain stalls.

There he is: Han Jisung.

But not the Jisung you remember - the nerdy kid with mismatched socks and perpetually broken earbuds. No, this version of Jisung looks… different. Sharper. His jawline catches the soft glow of the café lights, and his tailored jacket makes him look almost regal.

When his eyes meet yours, he grins, the same mischievous spark lighting his face. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Jisung,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here? You live miles away in Busan!”

“I moved back to Seoul months ago,” he says casually, leaning back. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No!”

“Oops,” he says unapologetically. “Anyway, I couldn’t let you sit here alone. You deserve better than some no-show loser.”

You stare at him, still trying to process. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know. That’s why you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze warm.

“Why, Ji? You didn’t teleport just to crash my pity party.”

Jisung leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “When my best friend texts saying their night sucks, I can’t not show up. Besides,” he adds with a mock whisper, “it’s been too long since I’ve played knight in shining armor.”

You snort, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at his words. “If you’re the knight, I’m doomed. What’s your grand plan? Order dessert and roast my date?”

“First, dessert is mandatory. Second, roasting is a given. But I was thinking bigger.”

You arch a brow. “Bigger? Like what?”

He rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Storm their workplace and give them a lecture on human decency? Or better yet, I’ll write a diss track. Something like, ‘Ghosted Five Times, but I’m Still Fine.’”

You burst out laughing. “Please don’t. The world doesn’t need a breakup anthem about my tragic love life.”

“Too late,” he says, pretending to take notes. “Verse one: ‘Left her at the rooftop café, but she’s too hot for your games anyway.’ Instant hit.”

“Ridiculous,” you say, still laughing.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he points out, grinning wider.

You shake your head, but the heaviness you felt earlier is fading, replaced by Jisung’s familiar warmth.

“Okay, fine,” you say, gesturing to the menu. “If you’re the hero, you’re buying dessert.”

“Done,” he says, scanning the menu. “But we’re sharing.”

“Deal. But I’m ordering the biggest slice.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d expect less.”

As the waiter approaches, you realize something...this moment, sitting here with Jisung, feels better than any date you’ve had in years.

And that thought terrifies you.

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

The waiter sets down the slice of tiramisu, its rich layers of cream and coffee-soaked cake practically glowing under the café lights. Jisung doesn’t even wait for the plate to settle before scooping up a massive bite.

“Hey!” you protest, swatting at his hand with your fork. “We agreed to share, not for you to inhale the whole thing!”

“Sharing is caring,” he says through a mouthful, utterly unrepentant. “Besides, you said you wanted the biggest slice, not the biggest bite. Details matter.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the laugh that escapes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’ve kept me around all these years.” He winks, his cheek now smudged with a bit of whipped cream.

“You’ve got something on your face, genius,” you say, pointing vaguely at his cheek.

“Here?” He swipes at the wrong side.

“No, the other side.”

“Here?” He misses again, managing to smear the whipped cream further.

“Give me that.” You grab a napkin and lean across the table to clean his cheek.

Jisung freezes, his playful grin fading as you get closer. Your hand pauses, and for a brief moment, you’re hyper-aware of how near you are. His gaze locks with yours, the teasing light in his eyes softening. The sounds of the café blur into a quiet hum, leaving only the weight of the moment.

Then, just as suddenly, it’s gone.

“There,” you say, sitting back and tossing the napkin onto the table. “Crisis averted.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he teases, but his voice is gentler now, his smile smaller yet no less warm.

You look away, focusing on your fork as you take a bite of the tiramisu. The sweetness melts on your tongue, but the lingering heat of his gaze lingers heavier than the dessert.

“So,” you say, eager to steer the conversation back to safer ground, “are you going to tell me why you didn’t mention moving back to Seoul? Or were you planning to keep it a secret forever?”

He shrugs, casually taking another bite. “I wanted it to be a surprise. You know me...I live for dramatic entrances.”

“Mission accomplished,” you mutter. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe it,” he says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

His words hang in the air, heavier than you expect. You glance at him, and for a moment, you see the boy he used to be...the one who chased you through the hallways, who promised nothing would ever come between you....

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

It was a rainy Monday morning. The kind that begged you to stay under the covers and forget the world existed. But skipping class wasn’t an option when you were already on the brink of being dropped for "excessive tardiness." So, there you were, sprinting through the maze of your university’s sprawling campus, clutching your bag to your chest and praying you’d slip into the lecture hall unnoticed.

As you rounded a corner, moving far too quickly for the slippery tile floor, disaster struck. You slammed straight into something— or someone. The impact sent you staggering, and before you could process what had happened, books, papers, and color-coded notes exploded into the air, raining down like confetti in a very unfortunate parade.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” you blurted, dropping to your knees to gather the mess. Your heart was pounding from the sprint...and now from the mortification. So much for keeping a low profile.

“It’s fine,” came a calm, slightly irritated voice.

Looking up, you froze. Of all people, it had to be Han Jisung, the department’s golden boy. His reputation as a straight-A student was almost mythical, the kind of person who turned in assignments early and still managed to ace everything. Even now, in the chaos, he looked annoyingly put together. His navy sweater was pristine, his hair somehow immune to the rain outside, and his expression was a mix of disbelief and mild exasperation.

“Maybe,” he said, crouching down to gather his notes, “you should slow down next time.”

“Right. Slow down. Got it,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you handed him a stack of papers. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry again.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze flicking to yours. “Thanks. Wait… do I know you?”

“You should,” you said before you could stop yourself. “I’m the one who almost blew up the chemistry lab during first-year practicals.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by amusement. “Oh. You’re that person.”

You grinned sheepishly. “The one and only. In my defense, the safety instructions were... vague.”

“That’s a generous interpretation,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he resumed organizing his notes with practiced precision.

“And you’re Han Jisung,” you added, as though it wasn’t obvious. “Everyone knows you. You’re basically the poster child for academic perfection.”

“And you’re the one who thought shaking the vending machine would make it dispense two drinks at once,” he countered, his tone dry but laced with humor.

“That worked,” you retorted, smiling. “It just wasn’t worth the bruises.”

To your surprise, he laughed, an unguarded, genuine laugh that softened his polished exterior. For a moment, the intimidating image of Han Jisung melted away, replaced by someone far more approachable.

“Here,” he said, standing and offering you his hand. His grip was steady as he pulled you to your feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just my pride’s a little bruised,” you admitted, brushing off your jeans.

“Well,” he said, smirking, “maybe next time, your pride should walk a little slower.”

You laughed, the last of your embarrassment fading. “Duly noted, Han Jisung.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand, which he shook with a small, genuine smile.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped, grinning as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

He shook his head, an amused glint in his eye as he collected his books and turned to leave. “See you around,” he said over his shoulder.

And as you watched him walk away - posture perfect, demeanor unshaken despite the chaos...you couldn’t help but smile. Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You had no idea then just how much he’d come to mean to you...or how much trouble the two of you would get into together.

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

The first time Han Jisung saved you, you were knee-deep in a mess entirely of your own making. It had started innocently enough - just another one of your “brilliant” ideas. You’d overheard someone mention that the campus auditorium boasted the best sound system in the city, and naturally, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. The only hitch? You decided to “borrow” a key from the janitor’s office to test the claim.

Your plan seemed foolproof: sneak in, connect your playlist, and revel in the sheer glory of bass that could rattle the walls. What could possibly go wrong? Well, as it turned out, everything.

Barely ten minutes into your impromptu concert, the auditorium doors swung open, revealing a very unimpressed campus security officer.

“Who gave you permission to be here?” the officer demanded, his glare sharp enough to slice through steel.

Panic flooded your chest as you fumbled for an explanation. “I, uh… I was just...”

“Just what? Trespassing and breaking into campus property?”

The scolding was bad enough, but the real horror was the thought of being reported. With your already shaky academic record, one more misstep could mean suspension, or worse. As your mind raced for an excuse, a calm, steady voice cut through the tension.

“Actually, it was my fault,” said Han Jisung, striding into the room with a confidence you didn’t know he possessed.

You blinked at him in shock. Jisung, of all people? What was he doing here?

“And who are you?” the officer asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Han Jisung,” he said smoothly, as if his name alone carried authority. “I’m a student council representative. I was supposed to meet Y/N here to help set up the sound system for a presentation.”

Your jaw practically hit the floor. Presentation? Meeting? What on earth was Jisung talking about?

The officer frowned, unconvinced. “This doesn’t look like a presentation.”

“We were testing the system before the meeting,” Jisung explained with unnerving ease. His tone was so measured, so convincing, that even you almost believed him. “I take full responsibility for not getting prior approval from the administration. It won’t happen again.”

The officer eyed him for a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine. But if I catch either of you here without permission again, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” Jisung said, bowing slightly as the officer turned and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you turned to him, still reeling. “What the hell was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jisung retorted, arms crossed. “Breaking into the auditorium? Really?”

“I wasn’t breaking in! I just… borrowed the key,” you mumbled defensively.

“And you thought no one would notice?” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine. It was stupid. But why’d you cover for me?”

Jisung let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Again. Do you have any idea how close you are to being put on academic probation?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait! you keep track of my academic record?”

“It’s hard not to when you’re constantly finding new ways to get into trouble,” he muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. “Seriously, Y/N, you need to be more careful.”

A strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment settled in your chest. “Thanks,” you said softly, looking at him with newfound appreciation.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his expression softening. “Just… maybe think things through next time?”

You grinned despite yourself. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”

Jisung groaned, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “But admit it...you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He didn’t answer right away, but the faint smile tugging at his lips said more than words ever could.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was like an unpredictable storm meeting a steady anchor. Where you brought chaos, wild and unapologetic, he brought calm and quiet resilience. Yet somehow, the two of you balanced each other, your mismatched escapades weaving an unlikely but unshakable bond.

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

Take the time you convinced Han Jisung to sneak into the art department’s studio with you. Rumor had it that the seniors had painted a massive mural on the back wall, and you just had to see it before the official unveiling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Jisung muttered, trailing behind you through the dimly lit hallway.

“You say that every time,” you whispered back, stifling a grin as you jiggled the door handle. “And yet, here you are.”

“Only because someone has to make sure you don’t get caught,” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“Relax, it’s just a mural. No one’s going to....”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, cutting off your reassurance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you instinctively grabbed Jisung’s arm and dragged him behind a stack of easels. The two of you crouched low, pressed shoulder to shoulder, holding your breath.

“I hate this,” he hissed, his voice barely audible.

“You love this,” you whispered, unable to suppress the mischievous smile spreading across your face.

When the footsteps finally receded, leaving the hallway silent once more, you turned toward Jisung, your faces just inches apart. For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his eyes searched yours, as if questioning what on earth he was doing here with you.

“Let’s just go,” he muttered, breaking the spell as he stood up and dusted himself off.

The mural, when you finally laid eyes on it, was breathtaking: a kaleidoscope of colors and intricate details that left you momentarily speechless. But the real highlight of the night wasn’t the art. It was Jisung’s deadpan commentary as he gestured toward the wall with exaggerated disbelief.

“You risked getting us expelled for this?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock indignation.

“It’s called appreciating art,” you replied, snapping a photo with your phone. “You should try it sometime.”

“Next time, let’s just visit a museum like normal people,” he said, shaking his head. But the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was a rollercoaster of shenanigans and shared moments that made life vibrant and unpredictable. The two of you were a duo nobody quite understood — him, the straight-laced, diligent student with his color-coded notes and perfectly maintained schedule, and you, the chaotic whirlwind who somehow managed to stumble your way through life with charm and luck.

Whether it was sneaking into the art department to see hidden murals or convincing him to ditch a study session for a midnight run to the nearest convenience store, you were always dragging Jisung into your world of playful mayhem.

And the most surprising part? He let you. He’d complain endlessly...“Y/N, this is the last time I’m letting you drag me into one of your dumb plans...,” But he’d always follow.

But your fun and games came to a crashing halt one fateful afternoon when reality smacked you in the face.

It started innocently enough. You and Jisung were sitting on the grass in the quad, eating snacks after one of your shared classes. He had a notebook balanced on his knee, going over notes while you dramatically recounted your latest “battle” with your statistics professor.

“Y/N, you can’t keep ignoring deadlines,” Jisung said, laughing as he stole one of your chips. “At some point, it’s going to catch up with you.”

“It’s fine,” you said breezily, leaning back and looking at the sky. “I always figure it out in the end.”

But you didn’t.

The next week, the results of your midterm exams came out, and the sinking feeling in your stomach as you saw your grades was undeniable. You were failing. And not just in one class;several.

You didn’t want to tell Jisung. Admitting it felt like admitting defeat, like proving to him that you were the chaotic mess everyone thought you were. But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things slide.

When he saw you sitting alone in the library, looking dejected, he plopped down across from you with his usual confident grin. “Alright, what’s up? And don’t even think about saying ‘nothing.’”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. “I’m failing, Jisung.”

He blinked, momentarily surprised. “Failing what?”

“Exams,” you mumbled.

“Right, you're failing. I know."

"You know?" you asked, shocked.

"You bombed the last three quizzes, skipped half the study sessions, and I saw you playing games on your laptop during class last week,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you keep this up, you’re not going to pass the finals.”

You scoffed, running a hand through your hair. “Rubbing salt in the wound, much? Okay, I get it. I'm a horrible person… I don’t know how to fix it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, his expression softening. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

And just like that, he took charge. Over the next few months, Jisung practically became your shadow. He made you a study schedule, sat with you during every session, and patiently explained concepts you didn’t understand.

“Focus, Y/N,” he’d say when he caught you doodling in the margins of your notes.

“You’re like an annoying older brother,” you grumbled one evening as he forced you to redo a particularly difficult essay for the fifth time.

“Older?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally younger than you.”

“Then stop acting like my dad,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“You’re lucky I don’t charge for all this,” he’d mutter, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Despite the grueling sessions, you couldn’t deny that it was working. And as the exams approached, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

The day the results were posted, you practically sprinted to the bulletin board, your heart pounding in your chest. Jisung followed behind, a calm presence as always.

When you saw your grades, you let out a gasp. “I passed!”

Jisung grinned, clapping you on the back. “See? I told you you could do it.”

You turned to him, your eyes shining. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Jisung. Seriously, thank you.”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face was genuine. “What are best friends for?”

And that was the moment you realized, once again, just how much he meant to you. He wasn’t just your partner in crime or your study buddy. He was your anchor, your constant, your safe place in the chaos of life.

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

Next semester arrived before you knew it, sweeping you into a whirlwind of assignments, deadlines, and late-night cramming sessions. Somewhere amid the chaos of library study marathons and the steady comfort of early-morning pep talks, it hit you...you were falling for Han Jisung. It wasn’t the kind of love that blindsided you in a single moment, the way romance novels and movies often describe. No, this was different. It was a quiet realization, like the way dawn gradually paints the sky with soft, golden hues. Subtle, unassuming, but impossible to ignore once you noticed it.

You found yourself searching for his laugh in crowded rooms, a sound so infectious it felt like sunlight breaking through the darkest clouds. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled became something you looked forward to, a little beacon of joy in your long, exhausting days. Then there was the way he pushed his hair back when he was concentrating, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. It was such a small thing, but it made your heart skip every time.

And it wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way he cared for you, in a way no one else ever had. He had this way of noticing things about you...things you didn’t even realize you were doing. Like how he’d remind you to eat when you got too caught up in your work or how he’d send you a text late at night, a simple “You’ve got this” that somehow made everything feel a little more manageable. His care wasn’t loud or overbearing; it was steady and unshakable, like a constant undercurrent that you could always count on.

You didn’t know exactly when it started...when his presence began to mean more than just friendship. Maybe it was during one of those late-night library sessions when he stayed up with you until dawn, helping you with a paper even though he didn’t have to. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name. Or maybe it was simply everything...every moment, every laugh, every small, thoughtful gesture adding up until your heart couldn’t hold it all anymore.

But falling for him was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Because as much as you wanted to believe there was something more between you, you couldn’t ignore the fear—the fear that acknowledging your feelings would change everything, that crossing that line might mean losing him entirely. So you kept it to yourself, letting your feelings grow quietly in the corners of your heart, where they were safe but painfully unspoken.

Instead of confessing, you did what you thought would save you from heartbreak: burying your feelings and making a choice that felt like the only escape at the time. You started dating someone else.

At first, it seemed like a solution, a distraction from the ache that tightened your chest every time Jisung’s warm smile was directed at you. Your new relationship kept you busy, giving you something else to focus on. But it didn’t take long for cracks to appear, tiny fractures that grew wider with every passing day. Your partner turned out to be toxic: controlling, dismissive, and quick to belittle you for things you couldn’t control. Every disagreement became a battle, every moment together felt like walking on eggshells.

And, of course, Jisung noticed. He always noticed.

“Y/N,” he said softly one evening, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence of your apartment. He was sitting beside you on the couch after you’d had yet another argument with your partner, your eyes red and tired from holding back tears. “You don’t have to put up with this.”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

His hand reached out, brushing against yours as his voice took on a firmness that was rare for him. “It is that bad. You deserve better than this. So much better.”

You looked up at him then, his expression both gentle and resolute, and something in your chest cracked open. His words felt like a lifeline, a reminder of the person you used to be....the person you wanted to be again. Still, you didn’t act immediately. Breaking up was messy, painful, and terrifying. But Jisung’s unwavering support gave you strength.

When the breakup finally happened, it unraveled everything. The aftermath was raw, leaving you emotionally drained and questioning everything. You called Jisung in the middle of the night, your voice shaking as you choked out his name. And, like always, he showed up. No questions, no hesitation. He simply came.

He didn’t try to fix you or tell you to move on. He just sat with you, his arms wrapped around you as you cried, his presence grounding you in a way no one else’s could. His quiet reassurances weren’t grand declarations, but they were exactly what you needed: I’m here. You’re not alone.

And that was when you knew. You couldn’t keep pretending anymore. You couldn’t keep denying that he wasn’t just your best friend. That every time he laughed, your heart skipped. That he wasn’t the person you wanted beside you...not just in moments of crisis, but always.

It was terrifying to think about confessing. But the thought of losing him? That was even worse. So you made up your mind. You would tell him how you felt, even if it risked everything.

But reality always has other plans....

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

“Earth to Y/N,” Jisung’s voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. His hand waved in front of your face, his tone laced with gentle teasing. “Are you okay?”

You blinked, your surroundings coming back into focus. His face was mere inches from yours, his brows furrowed with concern. He looked at you the way he always did, as though he could see every unspoken thought you were too afraid to share.

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice coming out shaky. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” His curiosity was genuine, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup, your heart hammering in your chest. What could you say? That you were thinking about how much you missed him? About how every moment with him only made it harder to keep your feelings hidden? About how terrifying it was to sit across from him, knowing your heart was an open wound he couldn’t see?

“Just... reminiscing,” you said finally, forcing a smile that you hoped hid the turmoil inside. “About how you’ve always had my back. You’ve saved me more times than I can count.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that never failed to make your stomach flip. “What can I say? Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

You laughed, but it felt hollow, the weight of your unsaid confession pressing down on you. You couldn’t help but notice the way the evening light softened his features, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say what you really wanted to.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, you found yourself stealing glances at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every inflection of his voice. The thought that you might never be brave enough to tell him how you felt was unbearable.

And when he walked you home that night, his presence warm and steady beside you, you almost stopped him. Almost turned to him and let the words tumble out. But fear held you back...the fear of ruining what you already had, the fear that he didn’t feel the same.

As you stood outside your apartment building, Jisung smiled softly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching him walk away.

You stayed there long after he was gone, the city’s lights blurring in your vision as tears pricked your eyes. Because no matter how much you told yourself it was better this way, your heart knew the truth.

You closed the door behind you, the sound of it slamming shut echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. Leaning against the door, you let out a breath, one you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. Your chest still felt tight, and your heart raced uncontrollably,not from the cold night air that still clung to you, but from everything that had just transpired.

Best friends

That’s all you were to him, and that’s all you’d ever be. The bitter thought made your stomach twist as you dropped your bag carelessly onto the floor.

With each step that led you to your bedroom, the weight of it all pressed down on you. You peeled off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, not bothering to hang it up. The soft glow from the city lights filtered through your curtains, casting delicate, fleeting patterns on the walls. You climbed into bed, the comforter enveloping you like a fragile shield. But no amount of warmth could ease the ache that gnawed at your heart.

Your mind, however, had other plans. It dragged you back, back to that cold Valentine’s Day years ago, when you’d finally decided to take the plunge, to confess, to reveal the feelings you’d kept hidden for far too long.

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It had been one of those early February mornings, the kind where your breath hung in the air in little clouds of mist, and the campus pathways were slick from the melting frost. You’d spent weeks wrestling with the idea, turning it over in your mind like a stone you couldn’t get rid of. Every shared laugh, every teasing nudge from Jisung, every late-night text that made your heart flutter, each small moment had added weight to the growing realization that you couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

Today’s the day, you told yourself. The words echoed in your mind like a mantra, but they didn’t feel as comforting as they should have. You couldn’t keep pretending to be his best friend, not when your heart longed for something more.

You had prepared for this moment, rehearsing your confession in front of the mirror over and over. It wasn’t going to be grand or dramatic, just honest, just the truth of how much he meant to you. It was going to be simple: "Jisung, I need to tell you something. I think I’m in love with you."

But just as you’d gathered the courage to leave your dorm, your phone buzzed. A call from Nari, a friend of yours since freshman year.

"Hey, can we talk? Meet me at the campus café around noon. It’s important."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could Nari possibly want to talk about? You didn’t think much of it at first. Nari was the kind of person who always seemed to know when something was off, and she had a way of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t. Maybe she’d guessed how you felt about Jisung and wanted to give you some advice—something to help ease the burden you’d carried for so long.

You agreed to meet her, nervous energy coursing through you. You picked out a small rose for Jisung, the perfect shade of red, and made your way to the café. When you arrived, Nari was already there, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea. She looked up when she saw you, offering a smile, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice light but hesitant. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "What’s up?"

Nari hesitated, her gaze flickering to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. She took a deep breath, and you could tell something was weighing heavily on her.

"I wanted to talk to you about something... something important," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious.

Your stomach tightened with unease. "Okay?"

She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, taking a moment before continuing. "I know how close you and Jisung are. And... I’ve noticed how you look at him."

Your cheeks flushed with heat, a wave of panic crashing over you. "W-What do you mean?" you stammered, unsure of what she was getting at.

"You like him, don’t you?" she asked gently, her voice almost apologetic, as if she already knew the answer.

You froze. There was no point denying it. Not when she’d already seen straight through you. The truth hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You nodded slowly, the grip on the rose tightening as you spoke. "Yeah. I do."

Nari bit her lip, her expression softening with sympathy. "I figured. That’s why I thought I should tell you before you... before you do anything." She trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "What about you and Jisung?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Nari shifted in her seat, her eyes avoiding yours for a moment. Then, slowly, she met your gaze again, her expression filled with something that looked like guilt.

"We’ve been seeing each other," she said, her voice small but resolute. "For a little while now."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of you. You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. This couldn’t be real. Jisung hadn’t said anything...nothing about her, nothing about being with anyone.

"You’re... together?" you asked, barely able to form the words.

Nari nodded, her face etched with a kind of remorse. "It’s still new," she said quietly, "but I thought it was better to tell you now. I didn’t want you to find out in a way that would hurt more."

Hurt. The irony of her words felt like salt in the wound. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The rose in your hand suddenly felt like a cruel joke, its vibrant petals mocking you. The confession you’d been building up for so long, the one you’d been so certain of, had just become meaningless.

"I’m sorry," Nari said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. But... I really care about him."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to smile, even though it felt like it would tear you apart. "It’s fine," you said, though the words felt hollow. "Really."

But it wasn’t fine. Not at all.

The rest of the conversation blurred as she went on about how happy Jisung made her, about how she never expected this to happen, but how she had to be honest with you. Every word felt like a knife twisting deeper, but you held it together, nodding at the right times, forcing yourself to listen.

When you finally left the café, you didn’t even look back. The rose you’d clutched in your hand found its way into the nearest trash can, the delicate petals crushed under your trembling fingers, a symbol of everything you could never have.

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

A few weeks after Valentine’s Day, life had settled into an uneasy rhythm. You buried your feelings deeper than ever, convincing yourself that it was better this way. You were still Jisung’s best friend, the one he turned to when he needed to laugh, vent, or just be himself. But each moment spent with him was a bittersweet reminder of what you could never have, an ache that lingered, stubborn and relentless.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed with a call from him, Jisung.

“Hey, can we talk? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped, unease settling over you like a heavy weight. His tone was more serious than usual, sending a chill through your body. Was he about to bring up what you had been trying so hard to bury? You hesitated, but finally replied, your heart pounding.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Let’s meet on the rooftop of campus. I’ll be there in 20.”

A knot tightened in your stomach as you agreed.

The rooftop -yours and his safe place. It was the space where you had shared confessions, secrets, things that shouldn’t be seen by the world. You both had always come here to escape, to be yourselves away from prying eyes.

You arrived early, anxiety crawling up your spine with every step. The campus was eerily quiet at night, and you slipped through the building’s doors, heading up to the rooftop. The familiar view of the city lights was comforting, but tonight, it couldn’t settle your nerves.

When Jisung arrived, he was different. His playful grin was absent, replaced by a serious expression. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, held a weight you hadn’t seen before. Your chest tightened at the sight.

“Hey,” you greeted, forcing a smile that felt like a mask, as you turned to face him.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice unusually soft. He didn’t meet your gaze immediately, instead fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie sleeves...a habit you knew well.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart felt like it was going to explode.

He took a deep breath before lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were steady, but there was something burdened in them, something he hadn’t said yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and... I didn’t know how to tell you. But I have to.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words sinking in before you could even process them. What was ge about to tell you ? That he and Nari were becoming serious? That he didn’t want to stay friends anymore?

“I’m leaving Seoul,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. “What?”

“I got accepted into a music program in Busan,” he explained, his hands clenching into fists. “It’s an incredible opportunity, like a dream come true. But it means... I have to leave.”

Your mind went blank, your body feeling like it was trapped in quicksand. Jisung had always talked about his passion for music, about creating something that meant something. You were proud of him, truly, but the thought of him leaving, of him being so far away, was unbearable.

“When?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“In a week,” he said, his eyes searching yours, looking for understanding. “I didn’t want to tell you until everything was finalized. I just... I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Your chest tightened as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You looked away, staring blankly at the city below. “A week? That’s... so soon.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But it’s something I have to do. You understand that, right?”

You nodded, forcing the lump in your throat down, even though your heart was breaking. “Yeah, of course. It’s your dream. You’d be crazy not to go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Jisung talked about the program, his excitement and nervousness spilling over as he shared every detail. You listened, offered words of encouragement, even joked with him to lighten the mood. But as soon as you were alone, everything you had been holding back came crashing down.

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

The week passed in a blur, each day bringing you closer to the inevitable. And then, it was the day of his departure.

You met him at the train station, your chest heavy with the weight of goodbye. He was standing there, his suitcases at his feet, hoodie pulled up against the chill of the early morning. The finality of the moment was suffocating, the space between you growing with each passing second.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low as you approached.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter any second.

Neither of you spoke right away, the sound of the bustling station drowning out the silence that hung between you. Neither of you could find the words that needed to be said.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he said finally, his voice resolute, though there was a tremor of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ll text you every day. I’ll call. We’ll stay in touch, okay?”

You nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaping. “Yeah. We will.”

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm, steady, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget everything else. You breathed in deeply, memorizing the way he felt, the way his heartbeat synced with yours.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “I promise.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply clung to him, unwilling to let go, as though by holding on just a little longer, you could freeze this moment in time.

When the announcement for his train came over the speakers, he pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He gave you one last smile: a small, sincere smile, before grabbing his bags and heading toward the platform. You watched him walk away, your heart breaking with every step, every inch between you and him.

As the train began to pull away, you told yourself it wasn’t the end. That you’d see him again. That things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you knew better. Something had changed, something unspoken, something that couldn’t be undone. And though you didn’t know what the future held, you knew one thing for sure,it could never be the same again....

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The sunlight poured through your window, bright and uninvited, cutting through the darkness of the room. You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow, desperate to escape the sharp ring of the alarm that sliced through the silence. The day ahead already felt heavy, as if the weight of the world had settled on your shoulders before it even began. The memories that had resurfaced the night before, memories you had buried for years...still clung to your mind, unrelenting and vivid. Jisung was back in your life, but the gap of eight years between you was an insurmountable distance...those unanswered questions, the unspoken truths, and the silent wishes hung between you like an invisible wall that neither of you could breach.

You dragged yourself out of bed, the grogginess still clinging to you like a second skin, your body protesting against the demands of the day. The kitchen greeted you with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the scent wrapping around you like a brief respite from the chaos swirling inside your mind. You leaned against the counter, staring blankly out the window, watching the familiar morning rush of Seoul. People hurried past, weaving in and out of the crowded streets with practiced precision, their steps as frantic as your thoughts. The city felt different now, with Jisung back in it. Or maybe it was you who felt different...changed by the weight of the years that had passed and the memories that refused to stay buried.

It had been weeks since that fateful café meeting....the first time you had seen him again after so many years of silence. Since then, you and Jisung had slipped into an almost familiar rhythm, as though time had somehow softened the sharp edges of the past. Late-night texts, spontaneous meetups, shared laughter, it all seemed to flow with ease, as though no time had passed at all. But beneath the surface of every smile, every joke, every touch, there was something deeper—a shadow of the past, a lingering ache, a question that neither of you dared to ask. The years apart, the buried feelings, and the uncertainty of where you stood now,all of it hovered between you, a constant presence neither of you could escape.

You had resolved, at least for the time being, to keep things light. To avoid venturing into territory that might reopen old wounds. After all, wasn't it better to just be his friend than risk losing him altogether? The logic made sense, the choice seemed rational. But your heart, stubborn as always, refused to follow any kind of logic. It ached for him in ways you couldn’t control, pulling you in directions you weren’t ready to go. No matter how hard you tried to push the feelings down, to suppress the memories that wanted to flood back to the surface, they remained, relentless, unyielding, impossible to ignore.

And so, you stood there, staring out at the city that felt both familiar and foreign, wondering if the past was something you could ever truly outrun...

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That afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the same café where everything had started—where you’d seen Jisung for the first time in eight long years. But today, it wasn’t a chance encounter. This meeting had a purpose, planned and initiated by him.

Jisung’s call from the morning had been simple and vague, yet it had thrown you off balance:

“Let’s grab lunch? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

A surprise. With Jisung, that could mean anything...something small and silly, or something that could shift the ground beneath your feet. Either way, your heart had been racing ever since.

Pushing open the door to the café, the familiar chime of the bell above welcomed you. Your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. He was already at your usual table by the window, waving at you with that familiar boyish grin. His hair was slightly messy, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up casually, and he looked so at ease, so natural, that it was almost enough to lull you into believing nothing had changed.

“Hey, you’re early,” you said as you slid into the seat across from him, feigning nonchalance to hide the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

“Rare moment of responsibility,” he quipped, setting his phone down on the table. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t planning to.”

As the waitress came to take your order, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, trying to read the mood. There was a sparkle in his eyes, an almost childlike excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel curious and maybe a little nervous.

“So,” you started once the waitress left, “are you going to tell me what this surprise is, or are you just going to keep me guessing?”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Patience. Let’s eat first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but played along. Lunch passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. He told you about his time in Busan, the struggles of chasing his dreams, the doubts that crept in on sleepless nights, and the small moments of triumph that kept him going. You shared stories of Seoul, talking about everything from the daily grind to the little changes in the city he used to know so well.

There was something comforting about it all, like slipping into a well-worn rhythm. But beneath the surface of your laughter and casual conversation was the unspoken truth, the questions, the what-ifs, the emotions that threatened to rise to the surface with every shared glance.

As the meal drew to a close, your patience finally snapped.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, leaning forward, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What’s the big surprise?”

Jisung’s grin turned sheepish as he reached into his bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. He held it out to you with an almost nervous energy.

“It’s nothing huge,” he said, his voice softening. “But I saw this and thought of you.”

You blinked, staring at the package in his hands. “You didn’t have to....”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his eyes alight with anticipation.

You hesitated only for a moment before carefully peeling away the wrapping. What you revealed made your breath catch. It was a leather-bound notebook, beautifully embossed with intricate designs. But it wasn’t just the notebook that made your heart stumble.

As you opened it, the first few pages revealed doodles, small, playful sketches that were unmistakably his. Interspersed with the doodles were notes, scribbled in his familiar handwriting, filled with inside jokes and tiny fragments of your shared past. Flipping further, you found photos tucked between pages, memories you had long forgotten brought back to life in vivid detail.

“Is this…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off as your fingers skimmed over the pages, taking in every detail.

“It’s kind of like a scrapbook,” Jisung explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I found some of our old stuff while unpacking and thought... I don’t know, you might like it. I started putting it together, and… yeah.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you traced the edge of a photo - a candid shot of the two of you from college, your younger selves caught mid-laughter.

“Jisung, this is…” You looked up at him, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

He smiled, the shyness in his expression softening into something warmer. “I figured it’s about time we started filling in the gaps, you know? From all those years apart.”

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

But as you stared down at the notebook again, a bittersweet ache filled your chest. Every page, every sketch, every photo spoke of a connection you cherished. Yet they also served as a reminder of everything you couldn’t have. For all the love and care that had gone into this gift, for all the memories it brought back, there was one truth that hung in the air, unspoken and unchangeable.

Jisung didn’t feel the same way about you.

And no amount of shared nostalgia could rewrite that fact...

Later, as he walked you home, the air between you was filled with the kind of easy conversation that came naturally with him, light-hearted jokes, shared laughter, and fleeting glances that felt like secrets. It was almost as if the years apart hadn’t happened, as if the weight of the past had somehow dissolved in the rhythm of your steps. For a fleeting moment, it felt like old times.

His presence beside you was a quiet comfort, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you’d missed. The sound of his sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, the soft hum of the city around you, it all felt familiar, like slipping into a favorite old sweater that had been tucked away for too long.

“Thanks again for the notebook,” you said as you reached your building, clutching the gift tightly against your chest. “Seriously, it’s the best thing I’ve gotten in… well, years.”

He turned to you, his grin widening as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

There was something about the way he looked at you just then, a flicker in his eyes, warm and unguarded, that made your pulse stutter. The city lights reflected faintly in his gaze, and for one impossible second, you thought you saw something there. Something deeper. Something more.

But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual boyish charm. He smiled and took a playful step backward, rocking on his heels. “Goodnight, bestie.”

Your laugh came out soft and a little strained, the word bestie stinging in a way you hadn’t expected. It was a reminder of the line he had drawn between you, one he didn’t seem to realize you were desperate to cross.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You stood there, watching as he walked away, his figure growing smaller with each step until he was just a shadow against the glow of the streetlights. Your chest felt heavy, the ache of unspoken words pressing against your ribs.

For a moment, the urge to stop him surged within you, stronger than ever. To call out his name, to tell him everything...

But you stopped yourself. And for the first time in years, you let yourself wonder: maybe it wasn’t about what you said or didn’t say. Maybe it was about what he felt or didn’t feel in return ?

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

The days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, Jisung’s return to your life had started to take its toll. Spending time with him felt like walking a tightrope, balanced precariously between joy and heartache. Every laugh you shared, every inside joke that came rushing back, every moment spent together,it was everything you’d ever wanted. But it was also a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

The little things were the hardest to bear. The way his laughter still made your heart skip, the way he instinctively remembered your favorite snacks or noticed the smallest changes in your mood. The way his voice softened when he said your name, as if it was a word meant to be spoken with care. Every interaction felt like it was pulling you deeper into an emotional quicksand. No matter how much you told yourself to keep things casual, to not overthink, the feelings you’d buried years ago rose to the surface, stronger and more relentless than ever.

It was exhausting. The constant battle within yourself...the longing to be close to him and the fear of being hurt again. The more time you spent with Jisung, the clearer it became: your heart wasn’t built to endure this. Not again.

So, you did the only thing you thought might save you. You started to pull away.

At first, it was subtle. A missed text here, a vague excuse there.

When he asked to hang out, you’d claim you were busy with work or that you weren’t feeling well. You convinced yourself it was temporary, that a little distance would give you the time and space you needed to get your emotions under control.

He didn’t question it at first. When you started skipping out on coffee dates or responding to his texts hours late with apologetic emojis and half-hearted excuses, Jisung didn’t push. He let it slide, brushing it off as you being busy or caught up with work. “It happens,” he’d say with a grin, his tone light and understanding. That was just who he was, always patient, always willing to give you the space you needed.

But as the days stretched into weeks, the excuses piled up, and the distance between you became impossible to ignore. Every invitation was met with, “Maybe next time,” or, “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” You stopped lingering over late-night texts, stopped sharing the small details of your day that you used to send him without a second thought.

And every time you turned him down, every time you chose silence over connection, you felt the guilt clawing at you. It was suffocating, that constant push and pull between wanting to protect yourself and not wanting to hurt him. But in your mind, this was the only way. Keeping your heart intact meant keeping your distance.

Except, it wasn’t working.

Avoiding Jisung didn’t dull your feelings, it only made them sharper. Every time you ignored his text, you’d find yourself staring at your phone minutes later, wondering if he was thinking of you. Every time you saw something that reminded you of him.... a song you both loved, a stupid meme he’d laugh at, you had to fight the urge to send it to him. The more you tried to pull away, the more you missed him.

And it didn’t take long for Jisung to notice.

At first, it was subtle, small, hesitant comments when you did see him. “You’ve been really busy lately, huh?” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes searching. You’d nod and mumble something about work, trying to avoid the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he was trying to read between the lines.

But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things go for long. One day, after you’d bailed on plans for the third time that week, he called and said something that stopped you in your tracks....

“Did I do something wrong?”

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you’d been trying to avoid.

“If I messed up, just tell me. I don’t want things to get weird between us.”

Weird. That’s what he thought this was, a misunderstanding, a bump in the road. He didn’t know how hard you were trying to keep your feelings buried, how every moment with him felt like walking a tightrope between happiness and heartbreak.

Your fingers hovered over the mute button, a dozen responses swirling in your mind. You wanted to tell him the truth, to spill everything you’d been holding back. But the thought of losing him, of ruining what you still had, froze you in place.

Finally, you answered back “It’s not you. I’ve just been overwhelmed with work. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

He replied almost instantly.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’m here.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but the relief was short-lived. Because as much as you wanted to believe that he’d buy your excuse, you could feel the doubt in his words.

And you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t keep this up forever....

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

It had been over a month since you’d last seen him when Jisung finally confronted you. The day had been long, and you were heading home, headphones on, the city noise muffled by a soothing playlist. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and pink, and you were thankful for the solitude. That was until your name cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“Y/N!”

You froze, your heart sinking as you recognized his voice. Turning, you saw Jisung jogging toward you, his expression a mix of determination and something you couldn’t quite place,anger, maybe? Concern?

“Jisung,” you said, pulling out your headphones, your voice tinged with guilt.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone firm but not unkind.

“What do you mean?” you replied, feigning confusion as you shifted your weight nervously.

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. For weeks. And I want to know why."

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied weakly, looking anywhere but at him.

“Really?” he said, crossing his arms. “Because it feels like I’ve been chasing a ghost. You barely respond to my texts, you cancel plans left and right and when I try to call, it goes straight to voicemail. So, tell me....what’s really going on?”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel your carefully constructed walls cracking. “I’ve been busy,” you mumbled, knowing how hollow the excuse sounded.

“Busy?” he repeated, his frustration evident. “Too busy to even say hi? Too busy to talk to someone you called your best friend?”

The word “best friend” stung, and you flinched visibly.

Jisung noticed. “What is it?” he asked, his tone softening. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quickly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s not you. It’s...”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t say it’s you, because we both know that’s not true.”

You sighed deeply, your shoulders slumping. “Can we not do this here?”

He hesitated, then gestured toward a nearby bench under a line of cherry blossom trees that had already begun to bloom, their petals swirling gently in the breeze. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

The walk to the bench felt like an eternity, and when you finally sat down, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said at last, your voice trembling.

“Do what?” he asked, leaning closer, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Pretend,” you whispered. “Pretend like I’m okay just being your friend when I’m not.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “I’m saying I’ve been in love with you for years, Jisung. Since college. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But then Nari...”

“Nari?” he interrupted, his confusion stark.

“Yeah, Nari,” you said, bitterness creeping into your voice. “The girl you were dating. The one who told me you weren’t interested in me, that you only saw me as a friend.”

His face shifted from confusion to disbelief. “Y/N, I don’t know who Nari is.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean you don’t know her? She told me...”

“I don’t care what she told you,” he said, his voice firm. “It wasn’t true. I never said that. And for the record, I’ve never dated anyone named Nari.”

You stared at him, the ground beneath you seeming to shift. “But she…”

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but resolute, “if you’re talking about that random girl who used to hang out at our college meetups, she wasn’t even my type. She was just… there.”

Your mind reeled, the memory of Nari’s smug smile flashing in your mind. “She lied?”

“Looks like it,” he said, his tone laced with frustration. “But that’s not what matters right now.”

“What does?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“You,” he said simply. “And the fact that I’ve been in love with you since college, too.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart stop. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning closer. “I thought I was being obvious back then. I always made excuses to be around you, to make you laugh, to sit next to you in every class. But you never seemed interested, so I… I let it go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of years of misunderstandings crashing down on you. “I thought you didn’t care,” you said, your voice breaking.

And I thought you didn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “But I’m done assuming.”

He leaned closer, his gaze searching yours. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not too late.”

His smile was soft, tentative, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. And then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours.

The world seemed to still, the noise of the city fading into nothing. His kiss was gentle but sure, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him like he might disappear if you let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Maybe I do.”

A loud meow broke the moment, and both of you turned to see a stray cat sitting by Jisung’s feet, its wide eyes fixed on him as if demanding attention.

Jisung groaned, though his smile never wavered. “Even the cats can’t leave me alone.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?” he asked, his grin turning playful.

“That you’re stuck with me now,” you teased, squeezing his hand.

“Good,” he said, his voice warm and certain. “Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As the two of you walked home hand in hand, the stray cat trailing behind like a self-appointed chaperone companion, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right....

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we exit the “enemies” phase, think of the enemies to friends as the match being lit and think of the friends to lovers as the candle taking thousands of words to burn. Chapter title from Homemade Dynamite by Lorde

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Things start to change in the safe house. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Somehow, after the mission, you slept. Not well, but you did. You didn’t see Soldier Boy for almost fourteen hours after that odd moment in your room, only for him to suddenly drop on the couch next to you, watching the newly-fixed TV, holding a bowl and spoon.

“What the fuck is this,” he gestured to show playing on the screen, his mouth half-full with cereal. Crumbs fell into his beard, and he looked at the TV as if it had personally offended him.

You answered slowly, glancing between his loud, sloppy chews and the milk in his bowl, sloshing up to the sides as he settled into his seat. “Netflix.”

“That’s a stupid name for a show,” he snorted. “What does that even fucking mean?”

You shook your head. “No, the show is called Santa Clarita Diet. I’m watching it on Netflix.” He gave you a glance with a frown but remained silent, raising his eyebrows as you stared blankly.

His voice was clipped when he spoke. “What the fuck is Netflix?”

“Oh, um, it’s like a network. Like a modern TV station. It has a bunch of movies and shows, but you don’t have to wait for a certain time to watch them.”

“Huh,” he looked back to the TV. “Cocksucker mentioned something like that. I thought he was making shit up.”

“No, on demand is a pretty common thing now.” You shrugged.

“So all TV is on Newflux?”

“Netflix,” you corrected, growing more and more bemused by the conversation. “And no. We kind of just reinvented cable in a different format. There’s like a million of these websites, Vought even has their own. From what I can tell, the CIA gave us Netflix, Max, Disney, and Prime.”

“They’ll do that, but they won’t buy me weed,” he grumbled. “Fucking uptight pussies.”

“Yeah, well. They didn’t get us ad-free Disney or Prime, so I wouldn’t hold your breath about them giving you drug money.”

Soldier Boy only grunted, attention fixated on the TV. The silence between you stretched as you tried to figure out a perfect, organic way to bring up the whole “I told you what Homelander did to me and you put away groceries without me asking, what the fuck is happening” thing. Just as you were about to say something, hoping that the words would find you in the moment, you were cut off.

“What the fuck is this even about?” Soldier Boy asked with a sullen voice, still not looking away from the show.

“Uh, suburban zombies. I can change it if you want.” Anything, you thought, to keep this lack of antagonistic conversation going.

“No.” You waited for more elaboration but realized he wasn’t going to offer any, having fully turned away from you. You both remained on the couch, his eyes locked to screen as you remained in your seat, afraid to move and ruin whatever was happening.

The episode ended without any outbursts from either you or Soldier Boy, and you reached for the remote, only to be hit in the head by a soggy cheerio.

“What the hell?” You picked the cereal from your hair, turning to see Soldier Boy’s frustratingly casual expression. “What was that?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, nodding his head to where your hand had been on the remote.

“Why did you throw cereal at me?!” You snapped, holding the now mushy projectile to his face.

“To get your attention,” he answered, giving you an odd look. “You always get all bitchy when I touch you.”

“Oh.” You hesitated, your confusion only growing. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I can’t read your fucking mind. If it’s because of the Homelander thing, though, then you should remember-“

“No,” you rubbed your face in frustration. “Why did you need my attention?”

He rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to keep watching this shit. It’s the least stupid thing I’ve seen so far. But you should fucking remember-“

“You could’ve just said that instead of throwing shit at me-“

“Would you fucking listen?” His familiar angry glare was beginning to form, so you closed your mouth. “If the touch thing is because of that Star-spangled pussyfuck Homelander, I meant what I fucking said last night.”

Your body tensed, trying to recall what he might be referencing. Last night, along with the previous twenty-four hours, had been replayed so much in your head it had become a simple blur of bad. "What you said?”

“I’m no rapist. I’m not an ugly pussy asshat who needs to.”

You look at him with an incredulous gape. “Needs to?”

“No part of sex is fun if she doesn’t want it. I like my woman begging me to keep going, and I only bite if they ask.” He gave you a brash grin. “I’ll show you whenever you want, Sunshine.”

“Charming,” you said under your breath, employing your now expert skills at ignoring his advances. “Would you like a trophy for the bare minimum?”

“I’m fucking serious.” He hissed, smile dropping, catching you off guard with the intensity and firmness of his expression. “If that’s why you’re so fucking annoying about me touching you, get over it.”

“Get over it?” You give a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? First off, it has nothing to do with Homelander. Second off, if it did, I’m not going to just ‘get over it’ because this is 'annoying' for you.”

“Well then, what will make you get over it?” His question, though impatient, was said with a face of biting sincerity. At least, the closest thing to sincerity you deemed him capable of.

You tilted your head at him. “It’s not something I can get over.” Before he could respond, his mouth opening with a frown and squinted eyes, you continued. “It’s one of my powers. I can feel people’s emotions when I touch them, even if I don’t want to. I can’t turn it off, or ‘get over it’.”

His mouth remained open for another second, and you could almost see his brain slowly turning in his head. You waited, your own mind spinning with possible reactions he might meet you with. Wrathful shouting, angered distrust, cold disgust, forceful words and distance.

“Do you not like what you feel from me?” He asked, no twisted fury on his face, eyes filled with that analytical, intrusive look.

“No, that doesn’t matter to me. It's intrusive, and usually people don’t like when I do it, so I just avoid touching anyone.”

“But you can’t fucking control it.” His words didn’t seem to be directed at you, but his glare made it feel like they were. “It’s not your fucking fault all those pussies have so many fucking secrets.”

You give him a passive shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still against their will.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he mutters. “For fucks sake.”

You tilt your head at him, unable to place where his disbelief and frustration was coming from, even more unsure who was facing the brunt end of it. “I mean, it can’t be that insane that people don’t like it. It’s not like you’d want someone poking around inside your feelings.”

“Sunshine, of all the things to care about, that is one of the most fucking stupid things I’ve ever fucking heard. No, I don’t care about you ‘poking around inside my feelings’, because I’m not a fucking pussy with something to hide.” He gives you another odd look, accompanied by a pause before he spoke again. “Is that where your name comes from?”

“My, my name?” You feel yourself pale, still trying to fully grasp his previous declaration.

He watches you through narrowed eyes. “Your supe name. The Anomaly.”

Your blood might have evaporated, a petrifying cold running through you. “Don’t call me that.”

“I heard MM and the French Prick using it.” He looked slightly thrown by your response, but didn’t stop pushing. “Is it a fucking secret?”

“No,” you answer, trying to keep your voice level, your words acquiring a rambling quality. “It’s completely accurate. I couldn’t think of better one if I tried. Having fou-“ you cut off your slip. “Three completely unique powers on top of the usual supe-sauce is… anomalous. But I fucking hate it. I- I really hate it.” You trailed off, rubbing your arms uneasily.

“Why? It’s just a fucking name.” His voice was casual, almost bored, but he’d leaned forward with feet firmly on the ground, waiting for your answer with an impatient frown.

You’d frozen though, as white walls and straps, cold needles and cuts, and expressionless, masked people above you flashed in your head. Ghosts of fear the first time, devastation the second, emptiness the third, and fury the fourth echoed through your body. Moments of violating change and feelings of uncontrollable, off-balance infestation in your body that would haunt you for the rest of your life. You turned to Soldier Boy, who was still watching with a deep crease in his brow as the TV show played in white noise, and forced words from your chest, to your throat, and out of your mouth.

“If the Russians gave you a name, would you want people to use it?” You said carefully, and watched his first clench at your question, the bowl almost cracking under his grip.

He kept your gaze as he responded, a cool, rough brutality in his words. “I would fucking kill the pussy who was stupid enough to mention it.” You give him a pointed look, and watch the understanding slowly fall into place in his head. All that left him was a grunt, and he turned his body and focused back on the TV, the conversation abruptly over.

The afternoon slipped into evening, the evening into night, and hardly any more words were exchanged. You said good night as you stood to retreat to your room, and he gave a muttered acknowledgment in response. Your sleep was poor but long, and when you walked out into the hall the following morning, you found Soldier Boy standing right outside your door. His arms were crossed, one hand holding the TV remote, and he spoke the moment he saw you.

“Where the fuck is the rest of it?” His intense, demanding tone was far too firm for how early it was.

You gave him a droopy blink, noticing the same shirt and jeans from the day before. “Did you go to bed at all?”

“No. Where is it?” You try to move past him, but he moves to block your path. “Where?”

You rubbed your face, trying to squeeze out the lingering and puffy sleep. “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“The show,” he spoke as if it were obvious, continuing to glower down at you as he waved the remote in your face. “You left, and then it was suddenly over and some weird fucking shit started playing. Fix it.”

You squint at him. “That show was canceled in, like, 2018. There isn’t any more.”

His expression was remarkably distressed. “Why the fuck would they do that?!”

“Netflix isn’t great at understanding popular demand,” you rub your eyes again as the dry of your mouth starts to fade. “But there’s like, an insane amount of shows out there. We can find something else.”

“Nothing else is good,” he grumbled. “All that played after was some stupid dating show. I had to watch a group of fucking idiots sit in rooms and whine about love all night.”

“You had to?” You roll your eyes with a snort. “What, did Butcher arrive with a gas mask and threaten to knock you out if you didn’t? If it’s so painful for you, just change it, or turn it off.”

He glares at your mockery, rubbing his neck as he mutters, “I don’t know how.”

"Huh?" His words had passed right through your ears as you tried and failed to keep your slugglish attention from drifting.

"I don't fucking know how," he practically barked, his face red as he refused to look at you. "It's my fucking fault technology is so fucking stupid now."

“Oh,” You feel a small amount of guilt as you realize that his scowl is one of embarrassment, his annoyed tone most likely rooted in frustration. “Wait, how have you been using it for two weeks?”

“I’d just hit buttons until something happened. It worked fine until you started that stupid Netflix shit.”

With a deep breath and sigh, you extend your hand for the remote. When he doesn’t move, you grab it from him with a tug and duck around him. “Follow me.”

Soldier Boy trails after you as you descend the stairs, stopping at your side as you reach the TV. You raise your arm to turn it off, but glance at his still-scrunched face, his bothered expression, and hand the remote back to him instead.

He stares down at his hands before looking back at the TV, then to you, his scowl only more confused. “Nothing fucking happened.”

“You’re going to do it.” You explain, pointing from the remote to the illuminated screen. “I’ll walk you through it, but you’re going to do it yourself.” “Fuck no,” he tries to return the remote to you. “You do it.”

You hold your hands behind your back. “If you want to live any sort of life in the 21st century after this, you’re going to want to know how to use a TV.”

“I can use a fucking TV.”

“Yeah,” you snort. “A shitty, twenty-year-old motel TV. Unless you want us to put you in a memory unit, gramps, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Bitch,” he grunts, but he stops trying to pawn off the remote.

“Cunt.”

His knuckles are white around the remote as he gives you an impatient, expectant look.

“Raise your hand like this, with that side,” you tap the head of the remote. “Facing the TV.”

He mimics your movements, and you give a nod of approval.

“Good, now hit that button.” When he doesn’t, you grab his finger and adjust to sit where you had pointed. “Ok, now that one.”

“Why are all these fucking buttons hidden and not labeled. Buttons used to be fucking labeled.”

You shrug. “For most people it’s intuitive, I guess.” You point to another button. “Now hit that one, and I’ll teach you how to search.”

This continues for another painstakingly drawn-out ten minutes. Once you’re absolutely sure he can passably navigate, raise and lower volume, and turn off the TV altogether, you step back.

“That’s it,” you offer him a grin. “Easy as breathing.”

He makes a grumbling, incoherent sound, dropping back on the couch. After a moment of staring at the menu on the screen, he looks up at you from his seat with an irritable frown. “You just going to fucking stand there?”

You blink at him, catch that his curt words are meant to be an offer, and move around the couch and to take the same spot you occupied yesterday. He offers you the remote back, and when you don’t take it he throws it onto your lap.

You give him a tired sigh. “The whole point of this-“

“I’ve never seen any of this shit. You said you’d find something else I’d like, Sunshine. Prove it.”

You raise your brows, but your protests die on your tongue, and you start scrolling through the display.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he grunts over your focus.

“What?” Half your attention still on the TV, you watch him shift forward in your periphery.

“I’m not that fucking old,” he repeats. “I’m not your fucking gramps.”

You glance at him, a hum of amusement leaving you. “You’re over a hundred. It’s not like you’re forty and I’m calling you ancient. Besides,” you give yourself a small smile. “Hughie told me about your little trysts with mature women. Mature woman, forty years your junior.” You stick out your tongue at him. “Cradle robber.”

“I don’t discriminate.” He says, leaning back to lounge on the couch. “And it’s not robbing the cradle if there’s no one that’s-“ he cuts himself off as he almost slips and admits your point. He gives you a glower, daring you to say something. “I’m not old.”

“Someone’s sensitive,” you mumble with a small, genuine smile, and before he can jab back, you hit play on a comedy special, turn the volume to max, and recline into the cushions.

The next set of days pass in similar fashion, and though Soldier Boy doesn’t stop grumbling insults and annoyances, picking small fights, or calling you a bitch, your childish psychological warfare has come to a halt, there’s no more throwing of chairs or explosions, and the word “bitch” off his tongue lacks the malice it did before. You quickly discover that Soldier Boy is a lot more like a toddler than anyone could have possibly guessed. You start leaving out snacks of cheese and fruit on the counter and rarely return to find it still in its spot. If you sit with him, he’ll stay shockingly still, but will make little snipes at the television. Sometimes you catch him after a comment, watching to see if you’re entertained by his words, and learn that even a vaguely amused smile makes him take on an overtly smug grin himself. At one point you start writing down a list of his less than progressive phrases, labeling it “Soldier Boy Racist Grampa Highlights," until he catches you, grabbing the list from next to you when he notices his name.

“The fucks this?” He’d asked as he scanned the page.

“I got bored,” you shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.

“This one’s not even that bad,” he pointed to a more recent addition, and you leaned over to read it.

“You called Hughie a cocksucking queer piss-boy. He’s not even here to defend himself.”

“So?”

You just gave him a flat look and returned your attention to the book you’d been skimming. You noticed him pocket the list, though, and over the next few days he started to pull it out whenever the apparently vital urge to insult someone showed its face. While the vulgarity didn’t decrease, the use of language you could only describe as tasteless and bigoted, did. Hughie even received a demotion to a “cocksucking pussy.”

He still rarely slept, instead locking himself in his room late at night and only emerging once you wake up. Once you pass his room on a 3am trip to the bathroom, walking in soft, toed steps to avoid disturbing him, only for the light leaking under his door to flood the hallway as he opens it.

“It’s not morning,” he watches you, leaning against his doorframe. “You should be asleep.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” is what you try to say. But between your clouded brain, restless need for the bathroom, and energy-drained body, what comes out is a string of sounds in a whiny tone.

“What was that?” His voice is taunting, but lacks any real edge.

“Cunt.” You mumble, trying to look at least a little menacing and, based off of what you think is a grin on Soldier Boy’s face, not succeeding.

“Bitch. You know, if you’re not tired, I’d be willing to help get you there.” He’s probably giving you a cocky, suggestive eyebrow wriggle, but between the sleepy squint of your eyes and light casting him in a silhouette, you really can’t tell. When you just make another mumble in response, he chuckles “Go back to bed, Sunshine, you’re going to collapse.”

“Nu-uh,” is all you can manage, and start to shuffle down the hall once more. When you emerge from the bathroom, your vision filled with spots after trying to turn on the lights only to be blinded, his door is closed once more, and you return to your room, collapsing back into useless, terror-fraught sleep.

When you walk into the kitchen that morning, the coffee pot is full.

———-

“What’s the third?”

You look up from your trudge through a CIA-provided, untranslated copy of Beowulf to find Soldier Boy staring at you from the door of your room.

“Third what?”

Taking that as an invitation, he stepped fully through the door to stand at the edge of your bed. “Third power. You’ve got your fireworks and feelings shit, what the fuck’s the third?”

You mark your page and meet his insistent face. “I told you that what, like ten days ago? Did you only now think to ask?”

“Nine days,” he says with an eye roll. “Don’t be fucking dramatic. And you got all pissy about your supe name. Not my fault I tried to respect your stupid fucking woman emotions and dropped it.”

You laugh. “First off, add ‘woman emotions’ to the list. And you totally forgot. I can see right through you, you just didn’t want me to make more old man jokes.”

“You’re fucking doing it anyway." He mutters, taking out the crumpled paper and a pencil from his pocket, using the wall to scratch the addition. “Would’ve been a stupid fucking plan, and I’m not a sensitive pussy who cares about jokes.” He shoves the list back into his jeans, and gives you a scowl as your grin spreads further across your face.

“Literally two days ago you threw a tantrum because I asked you what dinosaurs were your friends.”

“Are you going to answer my fucking question?”

“Fine, you baby,” you snort. “I can heal people by touching them. Technically, I transfer their injuries onto me, and then I heal so quickly it doesn’t matter. That’s mostly what I was doing for the Boys before this.”

“You were playing nurse?” He frowned. “When you can withstand a nuclear blast and are a fucking human molotov? That’s fucking stupid.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I don’t really have any control over the fire. And I wasn’t just ‘playing nurse’, I helped with missions in other ways.”

“Really?” His tone was sarcastic as he gave you a doubtful look. “What, you were a human shield too?”

“Well, yeah.” You mutter sheepishly. “But it was helpful."

“Sure, Sunshine. They must be torn up without you.”

You give him a scowl. “You know, I’m not going to tell you stuff if you’re going to be a fucking dick about it.”

He blinks, mouth curving down. “I was fucking joking.”

“Wasn’t funny,” you shrug, opening up your book. “Get out of my room.”

He doesn’t move. “Why are you being a fucking bitch again?”

You sigh, staring blankly at the pages. You’d admit, even from inside your own head, your anger had blossomed quite suddenly. But his accusations of your team being absolutely unaffected by your absence stabbed you somewhere in your chest, fueling that voice in the back of your head. It was getting louder, reminding you of all that damage in your wake—how your team walked on eggshells when they spoke to you and flinched when you touched them. “Human shield” was the best description of your place within the group. “Nurse” was too generous a term for a person they let touch and heal them only if the hospital was too far away and it couldn’t wait. On rare occasions you’d convince them to forgo their protests and just let you fix their wounds, but it took promises and pleas from you and exhausted caving from them. You look back up at Soldier Boy, who has remained in his place, eyes boring into you as you’d calmed yourself.

“I don’t like being useless.” You say softly. You know the admission could return to bite you in the ass should the peace you and Soldier Boy maintained the past week crumble, but he’d surprised you once. Maybe he’d do it again. “I don’t need you to remind me that I am.”

You watch his reaction, frown growing but fuming annoyance fading. His eyes were overtaken by a surly look you couldn’t figure out. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard.”

Your jaw drops, and that thing under your skin starts to claw against your skull. “Get out.” When he doesn’t move, your voice raises. “Get out!”

“Would you just-“

“Out!” You’re at a full scream now, chucking Beowulf at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Just fucking listen to me!” He’d stumbled back as the book hit, most likely out of shock more than anything else, but remained in your room. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice smoke starting to curl around you, but you’re too angry to try to calm it. He must notice it as well, because his face pinches slightly, no longer trying to move back to you. “I wasn’t done-“

“What, you got more stupid, cruel shit to say? About how I’m not just useless, I’m a stupid fucking bitch? A useless whore who can’t even cook? An uptight fucking prude?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!” He’s yelling too now, and suddenly you can’t move. It’s not like he’s never raised his voice before, having frequent appearances in your previous daily shouting matches, but this is different. This seeps through the air into your blood and head, shutting everything in you down until all that’s left is fear. Breathing is hard, your heart can’t seem to keep up with your lungs, and your anger is quickly turning into a light-headed, frantic need to go, go, go and hide, or to start clawing and clawing at whatever comes close until this feeling leaves. All of a sudden he’s right there, he’s in front of you and grabbing your arms, shaking you and saying something you can’t hear. Slowly, the tightness around you starts changing, becoming something solid, something firm. You’re annoyed and frustrated, but under it rests an urge to cover your hands in blood over something. Your fragile terror is washed over by a vigilant alarm, and everything suddenly feels sharper. As you emerge from your own brain, you notice Soldier Boy still there, his face level with yours.

“You’re fine.” It’s not a question. He’s telling you, and suddenly you realize that you are. And as you nod, you feel the distress in you fade into something like relief. Your head drops, and you tense once more as your eyes see his hands on your biceps.

“Um,” you look between his grip on your body and his face, drawn with a confusion you can feel in yourself. You gesture your head back down, his own attention following yours, and he lets out a grunt when he sees what you’re glancing at, dropping himself from you.

He draws himself up and turns, and part of you thinks he’s going to walk out the door and leave the rest of your fight for the morning. But he stops when he opens the door, and speaks without turning.

“You’re not useless. That’s what I was trying to fucking tell you. You’re certainly worth more than any of those preachy hypocrites.” Before you can ever open your mouth, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him.

You don’t sleep that night, laying in bed with the sheets feeling too warm and itchy, your thrashing only just slower than your restless thoughts. You stare and stare at the ceiling, trying to comb through the conversation and pick apart every second so you’d know just what to say when the dawn broke. You wanted to, needed to, make sure things didn’t go back to the way they’d been before. That had been exhausting, every part of your waking moments wondering who would blow up first, listing out hypotheticals to ensure that you would win any fight he offered you. You’d take the blame, a scratch in the back of your head told you it was yours anyway, to keep this truce. As the night moves, time becomes uncertain, hours, minutes, and seconds all feeling the same. Your dread turns to shame, to doubt, to a hot, righteous anger.

This won’t wait for morning, you decide. He doesn’t get to do this, make you sink down like this. It might have been your fault, but he doesn’t get to make you sit in it. You’re going to fix this or blow it up, and you’re going to do it now.

He must be up. He’s always up. You’d seen him “sleep” twice, both times in a frighteningly controlled manner, waking himself up the moment his breathing became soft. He’s certainly up, the light in his room is escaping into the hall, and you can hear him shuffling around, but, still, you knock on his door. When it doesn’t open, you knock again, then once more after another minute of inaction.

After the fifth knock, your patience a thin thread, you shout. “I know you’re in there, Soldier Boy! The light’s on, and I can fucking hear you! We need to talk!” The sounds pick up, but still the door is shut. “Let me fucking in, you ass!”

Nothing.

The thread snaps, and you push open the door. The harsh of the light blinds you for only a second, and when your eyes adjust, you're met with the sight of Soldier Boy, asleep, with his face in crumpled in a pained grimace. Sheet askew across the bed as he grunts unintelligibly, his body looks braced against something you can’t see. You’re frozen in your place near the door, agitation forgotten. You want to wake him up, because you know far better than anyone how real these things can seem, how the pain being your head doesn’t stop the echo of it in your body. You want to leave and never speak of this again, because there’s no way he receive you seeing him like this well. But what makes you decision for you, springing you from your rooted place, is the light in his chest starting to brighten as the room starts to hum.

It’s more instinct than anything—you know that the safe house and everything in it has been built to withstand this very thing, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you—as you run to the bed and shake Soldier Boy by his shoulders. When your skin meets his a rush of fear, pure and unbridled fear as strong as it had been from you hours ago, overtakes you. Fear and anger. You don’t think you ever felt this bloodthirsty, savage anger in you before. Your anger had always been cold and zealous, calculating tributes for your sorrow. This anger didn’t care. Somebody just had to hurt, and hopefully that someone would break.

If it’d been any other circumstance, you’d have been terrified by it. But you’re not, focused entirely on waking Soldier Boy up. Later, when several hours were between you and this moment, you’d deal with this. Maybe you’d even acknowledge how, despite the distance, you still may not be afraid of it. But now, with the light only growing, you let his feelings wash through you, and you do something drastic.

You pull back and slap Soldier Boy in the face.

He roars, eyes shooting open and glazed with a feral haze, his body jerking upright and grabbing you by the throat. Even as it happens, hindsight tells you that there probably were other ways to wake him up, but this was the stupid path you’d taken, and you unfortunately could not go back.

Before your vision could grow spotty, before your own fear and images of a flickering light above you could overtake your head, he let go with another shout. You scrambled back, realizing the fever in you had crept out of your spine, trading bruises on your neck for burns on his hands.

You watch him slowly regain control, his face dropping into exhaustion and his eyes searching the room—for what exactly, you’re not sure—and finding you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” The words are low and rough, and though they don’t sound like a question, you answer him anyway.

“I- I just wanted to talk, and you weren’t answering the door…” You trail off lamely, your words sounding hollow even to you.

He doesn’t yell at your though, or push you out. He just stares at you, as if you’re meant to continue, to try and justify your presence. But you just stare back, unsure if you want him to kick you out, talk to you, or just pass out and forget the whole thing.

Instead of those options, leaving you at yet another loss, he sits back and scoots over to the far side of the mattress. When you don’t react besides another prolonged stare, he gives a half-hearted eye roll and pats the space next to him. Slowly, slightly fearful of misunderstanding his gesture, you walk over and drop on the bed at his side.

He’s looking ahead, unreadable from only his side profile, when he speaks.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

You don’t stop watching him as you respond. “Does that happen every time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have anything else to say—any reassurance you can think of sounding stupid even in your head. So you wait, still watching him, and sit in the silence.

“Do you not have any?” His voice is strangely soft, though no tension has left his body.

You give a small sigh. “I do. But I’m good at hiding them. Stuff like that,” you wave a hand to his chest. “Only happens on bad days.”

“Bad days?” You can see his frown forming as his lips turn down, his voice growing deeper.

“On a few missions, I saw Homelander,” you whisper, now staring ahead yourself. “From afar. Really afar. I know he didn’t ever even see me, because I’m not back… there, but whenever I see him, apparently it’s enough.” You turn back to Soldier Boy, and are met with him watching you.

“Is that what yours are about?”

You give a small nod. “Different things happen, but it’s always him. Always there.”

“Hm,” his eyes don’t leave you as he speaks. “How do you stop them?”

You don’t have to ask what he means. “I don’t stop them, I just keep them in here.” You tap your head. “And I think of before. About how it was.”

“That helps?”

“As long as I don’t let myself remember that it will never be like that again.” You can’t hide the pain the words give you.

“What was it like?”

“Before? It’s was normal,” you shrug. “Boring.”

He tilts his head at you. “Normal?”

“Normal,” you repeat, watching his face as you speak.

He frowns, and looks away. You notice him swallow heavily, glaring at the wall. “Like,” he swallows again. “Like what?”

“Well, I had parents. Siblings. I had friends, I worked, I went to school-“

“School?” He turns back to you. “You're an adult, did they make school fucking longer?”

You feel a small smile quirk your lip. “No, I was doing a postgraduate. I’d actually just finished. Technically, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Of Anthropology, yeah. I know less about human medicine than WebMD.” You pause. "That’s like, a website that’s famous for giving bad medical advice. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“And you think you know less than it?”

“Oh, I know I know less than it.”

He snorted, returning to watch the wall. “That’s fuckin ironic.”

You nod in amusement. “Yep.”

When you don’t continue, he looks back once more. “What else?”

“I lived alone. Small, shitty studio on the Upper West Side. I visited my dad in Boston once a month-“

“Just your dad?”

“Yeah, my mom wasn’t dead, she’s just a bitch.” You hear Soldier Boy cough what might have been a laugh, but you ignore it. “She and my dad divorced when I was like, ten. They had joint custody, but I stopped talking to her when I was fifteen.”

“Harsh,” he mutters. “What, she ground you one too many times?”

You decided that holding back about thing like this was a need long gone. “She tried to send me to a medical boarding school in the Berkshires.”

“What the fuck is a ‘medical boarding school’”

“Like a psych ward where they teach you math.”

“Huh,” he raises his brows at you. “You need one?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I already knew math.”

He stares at you blankly, a smile having crept onto your face. “You’re… making a joke.” He said slowly.

“Yep,” you nudge his shoulder with your own. “That’s what a good one sounds like.”

He lets out a low laugh. “That wasn’t that fucking good.”

“You laughed.”

“You can’t fucking prove it.”

You’re grinning fully now. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, gramps.”

He rolls his eyes. “So your mom’s a bitch, you lived alone, and you can’t even cook. That’s just fucking sad.”

“New York is famous for its food,” you mutter. “And I can heat stuff up, as you very well know.”

“You can’t coast on box macaroni forever, Sunshine.”

“Been working fine for both of us so far.”

He gives you an amused look. “You’re not trying to seduce me.”

“What the fuck does that have to do-“

“You don’t have to impress me,” he continues, unfazed. “Your cooking doesn’t matter. What’d you do when you were hungry for dick?”

You stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.” He only returns your glare with a cocky grin.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sunshine.” He winks, and you roll your eyes.

“Men aren’t big pussies about that stuff anymore,” you smile as his face drops at your claim. “And I never spent a lot of time being ‘hungry for dick’, anyways.”

“What, you have a loyal boyfriend?” he taunts.

“Nope,” you give him a grin. “But I had a sweet old lady in the apartment across the hall who brought me food every weekend. You’d have liked her, she was just your type.”

He grunts, but not with annoyance. “All I hear is no boyfriend, no friends, and can’t cook. Like I said, just fucking sad.”

“I had friends!” You protest. “We’d do karaoke every Friday!”

“You can sing?”

“Nobody who does karaoke can sing,” you dodge with ease. “But we had fun.”

He lets out a labored breath, and when he turns to you this time, you notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Would you go back?” He asked. He was watching you so carefully, and you once again are left confused by the look in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could.” You answer, your voice sounding far away, a memory of a gravestone flashing in your head. “I don’t think it would be fair to them.”

“Fair to them?” He gives a doubtful huff. “That’s fucking stupid.”

“Really?” You challenge. “I don’t think it’s stupid to not want to pull the people you love into this shitshow. I got a chance to keep them out of this life. Most people aren’t that lucky.”

Soldier Boy only shrugs. “Bad things will still fucking happen to them.”

“Bad things happen to everyone.” Your words are firm. “I’m making sure they don’t fucking die.”

“Well,” he turns back to the wall. “Aren’t they fucking lucky they have you.”

You know his words are meant to be cold and sarcastic, his face has even dropped into a scowl. But there was no sharpness behind them, and the rest of his face just looks… so tired. You hate it, it’s leaking into you and you’re not even touching him. You really, really want it to stop. So, you say the only thing that you can think of.

“Nobody taught me,” you say softly.

“What?” His red eyes give you a confused glance.

“I can’t cook because nobody taught me how. My mom didn’t care to, I don’t think it ever occurred to my dad, and eventually everyone just assumed that I could and I didn’t want to correct them. I turned into some sort of rage against the patriarchy shit in my head, but it’s a just life skill that I can’t do because nobody wanted to teach me.” You give him a sad smile. “I don’t think they felt as lucky to have me as you think.”

“So why’re you protecting them?” He asks, a puzzled frown on his face. “If those pussies didn’t fucking care about you, then they don't fucking deserve it.”

You shrug. “I know. But I’m going to keep doing it anyway.”

His eyes on yours have that look of dissection again, but it’s no longer violating, only prying carefully. You’re not sure how long passes before he speaks.

“It’s late,” he mutters. “You should sleep.”

You hesitate, but nod and stand. You move to the door, glancing back to see his still watching, alone on the bed. From here, he somehow looks more tired, the light making the circles around his eyes more prominent and the color on his face more washed out. You think it’s the most human you’ve ever seen him.

“Good night, Soldier Boy,” you say gently, and turn to leave.

You almost don’t hear his response.

“You don’t have to call me Soldier Boy,” the words are said under his breath, and when you turn, he has a soft frown. “Ben’s fine.”

You blink, and a small, unforced smile crosses your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, Ben.”

[jeanbie]

IF I LAY HERE (WOULD YOU LIE WITH ME?) ★ masterlist.

pairing: eren x reader

genre: best friends-to-lovers-au, actor au, fluff mostly | warnings: fem!reader | wc: 2.6k

note: hey. i still love u guys and i am still pining over aot. will never stop probably. anyway, this was an older fic i wrote but i'm handing it down to eren! title is taken/inspired from chasing cars by snow patrol (my fav song)

⏤ Eren has had enough - it's been four months since he's last seen you, and he's not going to let his fame status keep him from seeing you any longer. He just hopes that you feel the same way when you see him again.

Eren was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that.

It was risky taking any step out of his apartment at any moment; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the bushes in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame. 

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse now that he'd booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Eren takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face.

For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the actor from Attack on Titan who didn’t give a damn about the people who essentially made him and his friends famous.

But Eren thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in a different country, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures.

You were at university now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally saw every day months before. It had been four months since Eren had seen his best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.”

Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses resting on the end of his roundish nose. He led Eren out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Eren smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Eren. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road waiting to cross, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Eren's still playing that sentence on a loop in his head. She's gonna freak out when she sees you.

He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. He’s missed it here, and how unbelievably, shockingly awful it all looks when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of it online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Eren says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only really became a super fan three months ago. I'm more into Levi, you know how it goes. And yeah, I figured it out eventually. Finally, I understood why so many people at this uni wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Eren frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy online when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Eren as the words die out in his mouth.

“Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours…it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Eren feels his stomach flip, butterflies going haywire. These butterflies are bitter and relentlessly fast, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Eren is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister.

You’ve never been his sister, even when you became part of his family growing up on special occasions, or even just on a daily basis when you came to visit. There were times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different than that; you both knew it but never dared acknowledge it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice and tall, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Eren remembers looks a lot like your dad’s back in the day. Might be the same kind, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Eren, but then the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here - he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.”

He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were seventeen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep a secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left whereas Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the market, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Eren manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down.

As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person - white walls and a bed set that’s white and covered with little peonies. Above your desk, Eren recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at university who Eren always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his head against the wall your bed is attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the song playing in the bathroom ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Eren hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race.

Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and… And, then what?

Maybe you wouldn't even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Eren was travelling the world with his other friends and film crew while you were still here, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Eren was burdensome to you. Worse - maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Eren's always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Eren feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be able to give you, even with all the money and the fame.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Jesus, Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Eren teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause, and Eren cocks his head, his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him.

Suddenly, he hears small but quick thuds across the carpet and Eren feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling when you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Eren's eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape at his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Eren absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Eren feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Eren rises up to a more comfortable position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when Eren wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck.

Eren smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow body wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds him of Cabbage Patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jet lag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jet lag, Eren realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming. 

Eren kisses behind your earlobe, and then just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Eren was always a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this.

You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Eren feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8.

Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop - it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid’s bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the dazed confusion on your face as he moves the hair from across your face to around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but… Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean…the guys know I’m here. Jean drove me to the airport with Armin.”

“That’s not what I mean, though.”

Eren sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. It's only a few. Most are really nice!”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by--”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. You frown and try to change the subject, “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“I've been growing it out,” Eren replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Eren dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Eren's underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle.

The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Eren even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you, half as a joke, half not. That could be why Eren feels the way that he does, why the confusion wraps around his body and traps him.

Eren knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Eren knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. EREN YEAGER GOES TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND…BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT A.O.T EREN IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s why he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Eren might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, if all those years of confused relations and flirtations meant anything, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant being able to spend one more day with you.

Eren's got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to filming with more regrets than he came here with, and so for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth.

Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be said on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Eren doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. You hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease, then you didn’t mention it. He almost wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy being here.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it 'til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and until then, he’ll just have to be patient, even if it breaks his heart more by pretending.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Daily Dose of Solas-Posting Time/just a love of what love can achieve I guess?

I think a lot of people in this fan space struggle to distinguish the apparently very blurred line between "oh look, this poster likes Solas and must therefore condone murder to achieve one's goals", and "rad, she understands that this is a game in which characters do things she would never approve of in real life but given the fact that these are all tiny people on a screen she enjoys extrapolating larger themes"

And for those of you in that second camp how freaking beautiful is it that we get to see one of the oldest saddest elves go on an absolute bender and still get the chance to make things right because he has a friend/lover who knows his heart and refuses to let him hide from it any longer.

Varric disapproves of trying to save him at the end of Trespasser and clearly at some point within the next eight years goes "you know what? This sassy nerdy passionate guy was my friend once and I believe in what he could be if he gives up on the self-destructive path he's chosen"

Harding struggles to fathom what the Inquisitor sees in a disingenuous clefted egg but knows that if nothing else she trusts her friends and for all my critiques of Veilguard I do think Bellara gets a baller of a line with the "trust your heart, it is a good one" banger. Harding may not know exactly how she feels about Solas (and yeah that is so fair) but she knows the Inquisitor's heart is a good one, and if they're trying to save him, she trusts it. She chooses to believe that in an ever-darkening world there is power in restoring a little bit of light.

Your Inquisitor has the option to be like "wow this guy was my friend, occasional confidante (and potentially the most brutal love of my life), fought alongside me and guarded my life as I guarded his, and spoke so wistfully of things I did not understand at the time but now realize came from a place of deep grief. The way he's acting now stems from hurt and trauma and I know it'd be easier to just stab him with his own dagger but what if what if what if..."

And if you're able to look at his story at its simplest (if you're able to see past the broken man and into the spirit of wisdom he once was, if you will) it's really just the grandest version of pre-EA Bioware's bread and butter theme for at least a few companions per game: even the most broken people are capable of changing themselves and ultimately the world for the better if those who can reach out a hand do. And the Inquisitor only has the one hand to reach out, in fact they only have that one hand because of the very man they're hunting down, but if they can find it in themselves to extend it, damn. It brings a broken man back to his feet after an absolutely brutal confrontation of his past and helps him stand tall and face what's coming next in a way he wouldn't have been capable of otherwise. It lets Solas, who is at his absolute lowest, know that someone he strongly admires, who can relate to the challenges he once faced as the young leader of a massive movement, sees the parts of him that just want to do what's right but can't quite remember how anymore.

And to someone who hasn't fought in a war or forged the tools that wrecked entire civilizations, sure maybe that wouldn't hit as hard. But who amongst us hasn't betrayed the core of who we are to make others happy and regretted it? Who hasn't charged down a path that sent thorns digging into their skin with every step because to stop and turn back means facing everything they've done to get there? Means admitting they were wrong? Who hasn't hit a low and crawled their way back to themselves again because that hand came down and refused to let go?

To someone like that, like me, it can make all the difference in the world to see it go down on that tiny little screen.

Mmmmm there's just so much power in having even one person who sees you self-destructing at your worst and goes "not on my watch" and I love that most of these games have brought us such beautifully simple yet meaningful ideas in so many different ways.

[resident-idiot-simp]

X-Men Logan Reacting to The Worst Wolverine

Inspired by this beautiful idea by the legend @twilightkitkat

Logan being in a room watching himself isn't what he expected but here he is. He is here watching as an older version of himself is being dragged along by a maniac who calls himself Deadpool and who sounds like an old friend.

Deadpool was everything he should hate but he doesn't can't even. He even through the screen has a magnetic pull to him that he and is older self can't fight. He sees it in his older selves eyes the reluctant amusement and joy the need for more.

The others are watching him confused unable to conflate the two as the older Logan goes along with the insanity embraces it even. Logan understands however he gets it he too wants more.

He hears the undertones of something his other self regrets and wonders what he will do what he fucks up. He isn't sure he wants to know honestly not with him the other him seems so broken.

It takes until the Haunda Odyssey for reality to hit again. The rant his counterpart goes on hurts he sees the truth to it. It isn't only directed to Deadpool but to himself, but he sees how Deadpool seems to break and he wants to stab the other him for it. He can't hold back the growl that slips from him and the other X-Men are so very confused.

He does this all the time why is this different why is he upset. They assume he's mad at Deadpool but no no he's not.

The fight is...everything he's ever wanted. He wishes it was him he wants that thrill he knows what happened after the camera cut. The others seem to as well they look at him weird he couldn't care. Even just the idea of someone who can keep up with him like that is Everything he didn't know he needed.

Then seeing Laura. His daughter a young lady who he loves more then life already and he doesn't even know her. The others are stunned but all he can think is he wants to meet her to care for her. Lover her like he wishes he was all to decades ago.

He is enraptured by the fight to get them back to the main timeline and he wants to kill them for leaving Laura. He watches amused as the fight the other Deadpool's and can't care what the others think as he smiles.

When his other self try to sacrifice himself he understands. He too doesn't think he could live in a world without the red clad maniac. When Deadpool ends up locking the other him out he shouts the same NOO as the other him.

Deadpool isn't allowed to die he's too perfect and kind to good for such a fate. When they both manage to blow up the time ripper he decides that's not too bad of a way to go.

The others are watching but he just smiles

When they both end up surviving he shreds a tear because fuck maybe he will get a happy ending.

"You are not supposed to be in this timeline"

He feels his heart drop this wasn't his future. This was another variant living a life he would never have. He can't help the way he gets up and punches the nearest wall. He can't help the enraged cry that leaves him at the unjustice of it all.

He would never get to be happy he would never get to meet this maniac perfect match if his. He would never get to have a happy ending.

The others watch in stunned and confused they don't understand his world is crumbling around him.

He watches from outside his body as the other him almost leaves the best thing we've ever had. He watches as this version of him gets a family. Gets his daughter. Gets everything.

He knows he will never get this and he wonders why it can't be him.

(x)

[sserajeans]

just for a moment

hanni pham x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your co-star are tasked to make a song for your web drama's soundtrack. your co-star happens to be a childhood friend whom you've had history with.

genre + others: lsrfm! reader, idol au, childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff, second chance ish?

notes: not requested, PLS READ THE LYRICS IT'LL MATTER!!!!, how i look delaying yail update 😂😂, also yes another hsmtmts inspired oneshot, pics from @/wiotas

"what do we even fucking write about?"

"y/n..."

"sorry..."

how did you get here? glad you asked!

it's the year 2025, and a team of producers at hybe are on the works for a minor project: a web drama promoting support for the lgbtq+.

you've talked about how odd it was to your best friend, and groupmate, yunjin.

"probably good for publicity, girl. like 'make everyone know we're not homophobic!' kinda thing." was all she had to say about it, which was likely true anyways.

you were convinced the casting was done at random honestly, but it was obvious they wanted a mix of groups to garner more attention. and that landed you the lead role with, you guessed it, ms. hanni pham!

why you two when you each had members who fit the actress role better? well, that's where you thought the random part came to play.

filming wasn't much of an issue. you were comfortable with hanni, and you two worked well on and off screen, just as expected considering your history. the director even pointed out your "remarkable chemistry", but she didn't have to know why it was that way.

as a matter of fact, you guys were about to wrap up in a few days. it was a wild past couple of weeks, but it was nice to get to spend more time with hanni again.

i mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like you two cut each other off when you moved to korea, but the talking definitely decreased, and the filming made up for lost time!

now, on one of the last days of filming, your respective managers sat you two in a conference room together, and dropped the news that you'd have to compose a new song just for the web drama's soundtrack.

the task in itself didn't bother you at all, and you were sure it didn't bother hanni too. you two were experienced in songwriting and composing, your names on a couple of song credits to count, so this was actually much easier than acting.

the issue was that you had enough going on for certain... feelings to resurface.

you see, the plot of the web drama hit a little too close to home for you. i mean seriously, childhood friends with feelings for each other, but couldn't take things further due to complications, then having to work together acting in some play.

it sounded a lot like your story.

hell, they even had your character do swimming! the same sport you excelled in back in australia.

the only reason nothing has gotten too awkward on that note yet, was because of your other labelmates being there like boynextdoor's leehan, minji and danielle, even your fellow members kazuha and yunjin.

with them around, you got to reconnect with hanni, but with a couple safe boundaries! now that you two were tasked to work on something alone though? you were scared things were going to be different.

so that's what brought you two here, together, in the music room. hanni seated facing the table with a pen and paper, you on the floor with your guitar in hand.

you were strumming to any chord shape that could come to mind in hopes of finding a melody that you could build off of, and hanni was tapping the end of her pencil on her forehead for any word, lyric, or rhyme that could work.

nothing came.

so engrossed in your respective tasks, the two of you didn't notice a shadow behind the translucent door, so when a knock came, you levitated off the floor for a millisecond, and hanni let out a soft yelp.

"hey you two~"

huh yunjin.

"how are my besties doing!" she came in doing a little dance, first walking over to check on what hanni was writing before landing on the floor beside you.

"we're stuck." you muttered, head against the wall behind you.

"oh... i see." yunjin shrugged her eyebrows in confusion, because she had just came from peeking over at hanni's notebook and was 100% sure she had lines written down.

"well, let's see... you got the genre down that suits the two of you so there's that. romance obviously sells, so there's that too. maybe you guys should try... writing while in character?" yunjin did her best to help the two of you, as the mutual best friend and seasoned singer-songwriter. "or if there's an experience you guys have had before, that would definitely help. real raw emotion ya know?"

"anyways," the eldest huffed and got up from the floor, messing up your hair and hanni's before heading for the door to leave the room. "i gotta get going. you two don't come home too late okay?"

you and hanni nodded before resuming. after a couple minutes, you realized that maybe you two will have to be communicating more if it meant writing a song together.

"hey han, do you have anything written?" hanni froze for a second before turning around on her chair.

truth was she did. she wrote them down specifically as yunjin started telling you two to write based on experiences.

"i... uh... kind of? just a couple lines, i don't know how i feel about them though."

"can i take a look? might help a bit."

"oh yeah... sure..."

there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, but it'd look awfully suspicious if she scratched out lines right before you'd check.

"ah..." the initial reaction was surprise for you, and a million thoughts came racing through your head.

"yeah! it's nothing much... but i figured it was better than nothing...."

"no yeah! for sure! i'm kinda getting the vibe, wait here." you turned around and picked up your guitar from the floor and took a seat beside hanni. "uhm... okay let's try... this?"

you freestyled a riff on your guitar, allowing your fingers to move on its own to play what felt right. it resulted in one of the most simple yet enchanting melodies that seemed perfect for your song's intro.

"hey that sounds perfect! i love it!" hanni cheered and gave you a thumbs up. "okay so... since you're doing your little guitar intro, perhaps we have the first line written in your character's point of view?"

"sure... okay... uhm..." it took you a couple seconds to think of something, or to get in character on the spot. but then you remembered yunjin's advice.

an experience you guys have had before.

"uh... how's this..." you fiddled with your hands as hanni nodded along, telling you to go on with your suggestion. after about half a minute, you had a two-liner with some sort of melody that matched your guitar intro. "i fell in love with the only girl who knows what i'm about."

hanni froze for a second, which didn't go unnoticed by you, but continued nodding along as she wrote down the lines. "i like your voice in this genre."

"oh..." you looked up from your guitar and faced her side profile as she was still facing her notebook. you felt your face warm a little, but not too much for it to gain color. "that's a lot coming from you. i have your lee mujin service episode on loop."

hanni smiled, a sight you'd never get tired of seeing. "a fan, huh? which part's your favorite?" she turned to look at you, a smirk on her face to mask the flustered and proud version of herself having received praise for her work from you of all people.

she continued writing a line underneath yours, a sudden burst of inspiration coming over her.

"probably lucky."

of course it's the song about being in love with your best friend.

she chuckled at your answer. hanni wasn't dense, and she knew you weren't either.

okay maybe you were, just slightly, but you pick up on context clues.

but point is, she knew what that implied, and what everything that came between the two of you the past few weeks could've felt like for you.

but just as she was getting somewhere, her train of thought was interrupted by your "burst of epiphany", as one would call it.

"oh hey, hear this out. i think it sounds like chorus material." you tapped her shoulder and positioned your hands across the frets of your guitar. you sounded a lot happier, more energy than you did earlier in the day as you finally got a feel of what to write and play.

when we're underneath the lights, my heart's no longer broken, for a moment, just for a moment

in that moment, hanni's mind rushed with too many emotions. objectively, the melody was beautiful. your voice made it better, the guitar felt like it had a voice of its own, and the lyrics. god, the lyrics.

she knew for sure you felt what she felt.

the two of you stayed in that music room a couple more hours, discovering a new type of comfort in a person the other has always known. like reading a book you've had forever, and feeling a newfound joy in a character that has always been there.

by the end of the day, you and hanni seemed to have switched roles, your guitar in her hands, and her notebook in yours.

you were finishing up a final copy of the first half of the song along with chords in case you'd forget the sound. there was also a copy of the both of you singing on your respective voice note apps. (which, unbeknownst to you, would be on repeat for hanni later that night.)

"here we go." you sighed, it took a lot of effort trying to make handwriting like yours legible. you've always hated it. teachers back in elementary all throughout high school would always mark your papers low despite almost flawless answers, just for your handwriting.

"i've always liked your handwriting..." hanni muttered as she admired your written work, unknowingly smiling to herself.

"oh.. thanks. i've always hated it."

"i know." hanni looked up at you, observing the sheepish smile on your face. she knew all about why you hated it, and she understood, but to her, it was an art. a part of you. she thought, "that's why i like it."

there was partial truth into that. besides it being a funny add-on to hanni's compliment, it's always been her thing to love stuff about you that you hated, even if it was something as small as handwriting.

back when you two were together (or whatever that was you had back in australia before you left, neither of you stuck a label on it), she'd always talk long speeches about how your handwriting was an art. something so significantly you that you shouldn't change, and that even if you hated it, she'd love it twice as much in place of you.

as you two shared a couple more laughs, a notification popped up on both of your phones. yours first, then hanni's a second later.

a snort accidentally escaped your system as you read the texts. "sorry.. is it yunjin?"

hanni let out the loudest laugh before nodding and exchanging phones with you to read what the older sent to the other. it was the same message in different forms, panicking to get you home before chaewon freaked out and took it out on yunjin, then proceeding to fear minji and her "wrath".

despite laughing at your member's worry, the two of you stood up to pack up, which really didn't take much anyways. you slid your guitar in its case, hanni hid her notebook in her bag.

walking out of the room to the lobby together side by side was probably the most stomach-churning activity of the day. and you literally had to write a love song about each other with each other. but there was something in the way it felt when your hands touched.

as you reached the part of the building where you finally had to part ways, the two of you faced each other. both expecting something, but not quite sure with what they were expecting.

"i.. uh... it was nice to reconnect today." she started off, awfully awkward at it too.

"yeah... it was..." you smiled, hand reaching for the back of your neck to scratch. a nervous habit. "i'll let you know if i think of anything tonight."

"yeah, same here." hanni nodded back, though a pinch of disappointment evident on her face. maybe she was expecting more, or maybe it was too soon. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah... see ya." you slowly turned around, head racing.

should you say something? should you save it for another time? would it make things awkward tomorrow?

screw it. live in the present, right?

"han... for the record, my heart does still stop when i see you."

[kagu-une]

you and mingi have been friends since childhood; you thought that you knew everything there was to know about him. there is just one secret: he's in love with you, and the feelings may be reciprocated.

pairing. song mingi x fem!reader

genre. smut mature themes ahead. minors do not interact.

content warnings. another friends-to-lovers trope (i'm not sorry). non-idol!au. dom!mingi. sub!reader. desperate sex? idk how to put it, you'll see. possible jealousy? possessive!mingi. fingering (f receiving). use of pet names such as 'baby'', 'good girl'. gentle degradation?? praise. big pp!mingi...... unprotected sex (use protection or Else). a little teenie weenie bit of plot. ahem. anyways

a/n. it seems that i write best at the ass crack of dawn, or in a (nonexistent) time crunch. anyways this is a drabble that's been living in my fully furnished frontal lobe for a while, hope it lives up to your expectations @lissiesykes :p this has not been proofread btw

smut beneath the drop down!

it was the same saturday ritual that has carried on for years since you started college and moved into your own apartment: your best friend, mingi, would come over and the two of you would waste the evening away by rotting on your couch, and forcing him to watch whatever series was your newest hyperfixation.

this saturday was no different. you had long since showered and changed into a pair of dilapidated sweatpants, and a shirt that you were sure was mingi's, but figured it shrunk in the dryer. you had just finished the usual routine of microwaving a bag of popcorn when you heard a familiar knock at your door. setting the bag of popcorn on the counter to cool off, you padded across the living room to answer the door. behind it stood mingi, his large stature easy filling up the doorframe. though you watched him hit his growth spurts as a kid, his height always caught you by surprise.

"hey!" you greeted him with a soft smile, stepping off to the side to allow him to enter your apartment.

"hey," replied he as he entered, kicking his shoes off by the door. he shrugged off the hoodie that he wore as he made his way into the living room and tossed it over the back of the sofa. "it smells good in here."

you chuckle to yourself as you close the door and lock the deadbolt; mingi said the same thing every time he stepped foot into your home, even though you made the same snacks nearly every time.

"i'd hope so... it's popcorn." you had returned to the kitchen to grab a bowl from a cabinet, and proceeded to dump the popcorn into it now that it was cool enough to handle. "we're almost done with ratched, is it cool if we finish it tonight?"

mingi had since made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching his legs out to rest against the coffee table. he turned to face you from his seat as you spoke. "of course, i was looking forward to the finale, anyways."

he took it upon himself to turn the television on, knowing you'd be joining him on the couch soon enough. he launched netflix and clicked your profile, scrolling until he found the 'recently watched' section. mingi selected the show and got comfortable in his seat. you hurried to your spot next to him, snacks in hand as the introduction to the show began to play on the tv screen.

the show had long since ended, and the two of you weren't quite ready to call it quits just yet; so, you were both facing each other, having a rather lively conversation about something that had transpired in your younger years.

"dude," mingi let out an exasperated laugh as he carded a hand through his hair. "you totally froze when you tried to ask that guy out for prom. what was his name again? hongjoong?"

you groan out in residual embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands to conceal the blush that rose on your cheeks. "do you have to remind me? god, i bet he was just as embarrassed," your voice came out muffled as you spoke into your palms.

mingi's fingers curled around your wrists and pulled your hands away, laughs still bubbling past his lips. "c'mon, y/n, it isn't that bad. when is your date with him anyways?"

your ears picked up on the jealousy that tinged his voice when he brought up the fact that, yes, you did have a date with hongjoong coming up. you had reconnected with him after seeing him on a dating app. curiosity got the best of you and you swiped right — it was a match! you brought it up to mingi last saturday, and you swore that you saw his shoulders deflate just a little when you told him. you decided not to bring it up, but you couldn't help but to think that mingi looked dejected when he left that night. maybe you were thinking too much into it.

"on wednesday, i think– why does it matter to you?"

"awe," whatever hint of jealousy that you think you heard was now drowned in a playful tone. "are you getting shy?"

mingi leaned over to poke you and tickle your side, which earned a shriek from you as you launched yourself backwards to get out of his arm's reach. you batted his hand away once your back was pressed into the opposing arm of the couch. it didn't take much for mingi to close that gap, reaching for your sides once more. somehow you both got into some sort of one-upping-wrestling-match — you trying to get away from mingi, who was dead set on trying to tickle you — that landed you both on the floor.

mingi took the upper hand as he straddled your waist, and pinning your wrists to the rug beneath you. a triumphant smile was plastered on the cheeky bastard's face — he knew he had won. the two of you mirrored each other's labored breathing as you looked up at the man above you, eventually locking eyes.

the same man that got to watch you grow up, and you, him.

the same man who, when your first boyfriend broke your heart, mingi broke his nose.

mingi, who would schedule his weekends to make time for you.

mingi, with that same lazy smile that he's always had. the same smile that caused your heart to skip a beat in your chest.

the realization that you were in love with your best friend hit you like a freight train. as your eyes dipped to his plump lips, you wondered what this meant for your friendship. the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend.

you sucked in a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding, and that soft noise is what set things into motion. mingi lowered himself on top of you, closing the gap between your bodies. his lips crashed onto yours with a ferocity that you've never seen from mingi before.

you whimper softly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking it on it. mingi understood what was being asked and pulled away to remove it. this allowed you to catch your breath... and for reality to come crashing down on you.

"mingi," you breathed out, your meek plea too quiet for him to hear over the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears.

he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side, before leaning forward to hover over you again, each of his hands posted on either side of your head. you did your best to keep your gaze off of his newly exposed skin.

you repeated, "mingi." it caught his attention now, mingi's eyebrow raising. "we can't do this." you didn't mean a word that came out of your mouth, but the disquietudes that swirled in your head told you to believe otherwise.

"goddamn it, y/n." he almost sounded defeated.

him cursing caught you off guard. it wasn't that you had never heard mingi cuss, because you had and did; but, never at you.

"don't you get it?" his voice was small, almost a whisper. "i love you. i've been in love with you for so long, y/n."

the confession caused your stomach to flip. whether it be out of excitement or fear was to be determined.

"i watch as you choose other people knowing that i can treat you right. i know you, y/n. everything about you. i was made for you."

mingi's face closed in on yours, and the fact that you weren't protesting only encouraged him to continue.

"no one understands you like i do. no one can make me feel so alive like you can. i don't want to live with the regret of knowing that i never tried. i need this for me." his breath fanned your face as he spoke.

his lips were brushing yours by this point. there was no denying the emotions that buzzed between you both. your hands snaked around his shoulders and pulled him forward, officially sealing your fate.

there was no time wasted from here. mingi's mouth connects with yours fiercely. his kiss instantly becomes intense as he lowers himself onto his elbows, allowing him to cradle your head in one of his hands. his fingers grip at your hair, anchoring your head back. when a soft moan slips out of you is when he plunges his tongue into your mouth. mingi moves with passion, and hope; yet, is far more calculated in his movements than you expected.

you lift your legs up to remind him that he is still sitting on you. one of his chuckles falls against your lips as he shifts his weight, using his knees to push your thighs apart and slots himself in the space between them.

when he pulls away, a string of saliva beads between your bottom lips. you break it with your finger as mingi moves to tug at your sweatpants. from your position, you could see that a tent of arousal began to form in the crotch of mingi's jeans. with the joggers out of the way, mingi could see how your panties clung to your core, your arousal blooming on the gusset.

"you have no idea how often i've thought of you like this." admitted mingi, that shit eating grin returning to his plump lips. he trailed a finger over your clothed slit, eyes flicking up to your face to watch your reactions to his touch. noting how you arched your back to chase the feeling, he tugged your panties to the side.

a shiver raced through you once your cunt was exposed, though you blushed feverishly underneath mingi's scrutiny. he continued to toy with you, leisurely and with no hurry. he dipped a finger to your entrance, only to collect your juices on his fingertips and repeat the process.

"don't be a tease, mingi," you whined out in protest, reaching down to lead his hand where you needed them most. you couldn't help but to be impatient. mingi's hands were always nice, and they had recently occupied your mind when you touched yourself.

"oh?" he asked, rhetorically. to pacify your whines, he pushed a finger into you, but held it there at the second knuckle. his thumb took position over your clit and applied enough pressure to make you shudder. "how bad do you want it, then?"

you were in no position to beg to begin with, and mingi knew it. the lack of friction was driving you crazy, but when you decided to gyrate your hips to seek out the pleasure, mingi pinned your hips down to the ground. his hand pressed into your belly, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken dare.

"tell me how bad, baby."

then he began to move his finger inside of you. at first, they were short strokes with him curling it every so often. his thumb had resorted to gentle circles against your clit.

though, when you hadn't spoken to oblige his request, another finger was added. you moaned softly as you were stretched out. usually, two fingers weren't enough to make you feel full. with mingi, however, it was just right.

he began to pull his fingers out of you, stopping just before he left you completely empty — only to thrust them back into you, bottoming out to his knuckles.

you let out a strangled cry, trying to press your knees together from the stimulation but the way mingi had you pinned made it impossible to achieve. he leaned into his hand, beginning to open you up with his fingers.

"please- fuck- mingi!" you managed, throwing your head back at the pleasure.

"there you go, y/n, i knew you could beg for it." mingi's eyes were trained on his hand, watching as your pussy swallowed his fingers up. "i make you feel so good, don't i? look at how wet you are."

you nod fervently, clinging onto every word that left his mouth. "please, mingi... i-... i need you so bad. so bad." you weren't meaning to babble so mindlessly. everything about this situation had your head reeling.

"good fucking girl." he punctuated every one of his words with deep thrusts of his fingers into you. you knew that if he kept it up at this pace, you wouldn't last much longer; even more so when he used his free hand to massage your clit.

the familiar heat began to pool in your stomach. every nerve was alive, your skin crawling with electricity. "m... mingi, i'm so close..." your eyes screwed shut as you tried your best to postpone the impending orgasm.

mingi was a man on a mission as he began to mouth at your breasts through your shirt. you pulled it up and out of the way, pushing your bra down so that your breasts were bare. his eyes drank in the sight of you as more of your body was exposed. he was a starving man sat before a feast. his plush lips closed around one of your nipples, sucking it between his teeth and rolling it between them. you cried out, your hands finding their way into mingi's hair and tugging at it.

the heat licked at your belly and spread down to your thighs as your climax closed in on you. you tried to warn him, but you were only left with your jaw slack as your orgasm rocked your body. stars studded the corners of your vision as your muscles tensed.

mingi fingered you through your orgasm, cooing sweetly into your ear as you rode your high. "you're so beautiful, all for me. all mine. you belong to me."

he didn't give you much time to recuperate from your previous orgasm before he was doffing his pants and sliding his own boxers down his thighs. with how hard he was, you could only imagine the restraint he was using before.

nothing could have prepared you to see that mingi was well endowed. you were grateful for him opening you up earlier, as you were unsure if he'd fit at all. you weren't clueless when it came to sex, but none of your previous partners were quite as big as be was.

he turned to grab a throw pillow off of the couch, motioning for you to bridge your hips. once you did, he slid the pillow beneath you. "there you go." he squeezes your bare thigh in reassurance.

your skin was warm and damp from the exertion from your previous orgasm. your pussy ached to be filled again, and you could only press your legs farther apart as mingi grasped the base of his cock and dragged his tip between your drenched folds. you shiver under his touch, especially when the head of his cock teased your hole.

mingi knew he was on borrowed time. he wanted to get inside of you before he went off like a shotgun, seeing how turned on he was from watching you come undone all over his fingers; yet, he wanted to savor the moment as long as he could. he wasn't quite convinced that this wasn't another wet dream of his. to wake up now would be so unbelievably cruel.

he eased himself into you, eyes oscillating between your pussy and your face. above all else, your safety was his main priority. every cry and whimper was a sign for him to stop, and wait until you gave a signal that you had acclimated to him stretching you out. eventually, he hit the hilt of his cock. his hips pressed against yours as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it and watching as it snapped back into place. from here, you realized how beautiful that mingi truly was. his bone structure and perfectly pouty lips, and eyes that could pierce right through you.

those pouty lips were drawn into a soft smirk when you pulled away from the kiss. you nodded and shifted your hips, giving mingi the go-head to start moving.

his movements were slow and careful. his honeyed gaze boring a hole straight through you as he watched you take every inch of him. you sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, but soon the pain dissolved into wanton pleasure and need. you wrapped your legs around him as his tempo began to increase, motivating mingi to speed up.

soon, the only sounds that filled the apartment was skin against skin, and how when he angled his hips just right, turned your individual moans into high pitched whines.

mingi straightened his posture, only to grab your hips and pull you into each thrust that he delivered to you. he was desperate to feel you, desperate to get your walls to remember the shape of him. his eyebrows were knitted together with focus. a bead of sweat trailed from his forehead to his jaw.

"gonna split you in half if i have to," he muttered between heavy pants. "you're mine, y/n."

you had clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle the cries and moans that tumbled from your lips. you were sure that you'd get a noise complaint from the apartment complex tomorrow. the way mingi had you positioned made it so that with every stroke of his dick, he was ramming right into your g-spot. you blinked away tears that threatened to spill as you took what he gave you.

"do you hear me? mine." he was starting to get sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. he pressed your thighs up against your chest as he drilled into you, chasing his own orgasm. "fuck- mine. mine, mine, mine." he chanted the word like it was a mantra.

your core was tightening in another climax.

"mingi... please- i'm yours—.." you mumbled between whines and hiccups. "'m gonna cum,"

mingi's hand returned to your belly, pressing into it and earning a yelp from you. feeling his cock as it fucked you open was overstimulating. all you could manage to do was whimper and writhe beneath him.

"are you going to cum all over– fuck..– this dick? cum for me, pretty girl."

as soon as you tipped over the edge with your own orgasm, mingi's followed suit. his whole body stiffened as he came, a shiver wracking his spine as a pinched moan escaped him. your head was still swimming with pleasure as mingi stuffed you full of his seed.

you both sat still for a few moments following, the two of you catching your breaths. mingi eventually slides out of you, leaving you feeling oddly void inside. he stood, and your gaze followed him as he disappeared into the back of your apartment. once he came back, he had fixed his clothes to cover himself once again. he was carrying a warm washcloth that he used to help you wipe yourself clean.

he joined you in the floor again, laying on his side so that his torso was pressed against your side. he peppered gentle kisses along the side of your face, carefully brushing strands of hair back into place. your body was heavy, and your eyes were half lidded from physical expenditure that took place. you turned to snuggle into mingi's chest, draping an arm over his side.

"mingi." you decided to break the silence, not yet leaving the cover of his chest to meet his eyes.

"yes, y/n?"

"i love you, too. so much. forever." the confession felt natural on your tongue. only then did you decide to tilt your head back to look at him. he wore a goofy smile on his face, now wearing his own flush on his cheeks at your revelation.

"forever." mingi echoed, drawing you into his embrace once more. you welcomed his warmth. when you nuzzled your face into him, his scent wrapped around you.

you could get used to this.

[marveliciousfanace]

I've said for the better part of two years, well before it was even announced, that a Misfits and Magic season 2 might kill me, and in fact it tried (in only the best ways)! And not only did it give me the gift of a new all-time favorite D20 episode (sorry, Neverafter's "Once Upon A Time," there's a new dealing-with-PC-death-in-the-most-perfect way episode, and it's "A Place of Knowing"), it also gave me something I've been waiting years for: little lineart symbols that perfectly match my usual tattoo aesthetic, so I can finally get the D20 tattoo I've been dreaming of, for my favorite campaign, no less.

Just one problem: I'm not much for social media, and having consumed all the MisMag season 2 content I can find, I still can't find anything that confirms what all six of the little creature symbols should be. So I figured I'd farm the question out to the internet, and see if anyone saw/heard something I missed. So: the index cards.

The warm half of our color wheel, as depicted by the Gowcentric Orrery, is straightforward. The symbols appear on Tabby in direct coordination with their names when the Pilot Program visits Galamanis, the Qohlye, and Weugan in episodes 2, 3, and 6. They also all look reasonably recognizable as their animals (I'd say the Qohlye the least, and Weugan the most, but there's still a winged goat, a lizard, and a dog in the shapes). So that was easy. The problem is, unless I missed something, we're not shown the other three island/creatures in as straightforward a way.

Across different episodes, we do see symbols that clearly represent Tabby, the knotted symbol for magic's rules, and, of course, Tabby's enemies to lovers best friends relationship with Jammer, but because they're recognizable, I discounted them from my research. But, in episode 4 (on Seegenpelater) we do see three other symbols, which are never formally explained on the show, appearing when the Pilot Program are conversing with text-Tabby. Without finding anything to confirm or deny it, I've assumed that these three other symbols are in fact the cool side of our color wheel, breaking Tabby's pictogram language into the six basic magic principals he was made to coordinate. Which leaves the problem of working out which symbol is which of our favorite little magic guys.

With limited understanding, the only clues I really could think to go off of were the general shape of the symbol, and the word they appear before on Tabby's tablet when he's doing his magic-eight-ball routine. I'm almost 100% certain the above symbol is Seegenpelater's. I'd say this looks about as close to a two-headed camel as the warm side of the wheel looks to their animals. It also was accompanied by the word "doubtful" on Tabby's screen, which I do think corresponds reasonably to Seegenpelater being the basis of illusory/enchantment magic (ie, magic that casts reality in doubt). That would make it the blue wedge, opposite Galamanis, and leaves us with purple (Miskoro) and green (Tadershecourt).

This is where I hit the snag. I don't think either of these especially resembles our boy Tad. I could honestly see an argument for either depicting an antlered creature. My best guess is that the one on the left is Miskoro and the one on the right is Tad: I'd say the left looks to me like a winged guy with a tail, and the right does have a vague skull shape to it. We also see both of these symbols used twice. The left symbol accompanies the phrase "likely," while the right is joined with "ask later." I don't find that particularly helpful, since both phrases to me could be associated with Miskoro's transformation magic, but given that Tad's is a magic of curtailing/lessening, I'd be more inclined to give him the latter (also, I think it looks like a power button, and it's fun to think about Tad's symbol literally being a kind of off switch).

Assuming I'm correct, and that these symbols do all correspond to the orrery (as opposed to us just not seeing some symbols because it didn't come up during gameplay), that would make our full, official Gowcentric Orrery look something like this (apologies for the quick, shitty sketch):

Does anyone know a confirmation one way or the other if this is right? If @quiddie or the Dimension 20 art team has released an official version? I've literally been thinking about this for the past two months, so if anyone else has an answer, or even just a theory, I'd really love to hear it!

[yougotthatbilly]

if you’d let me (m)

→ member: lee donghyuck  → genre: friends to lovers!au | fluff | smut → playlist: eyes off you x prettymuch, attention x shinee, curiosity x nao →word count: 6.8k → warnings: pining, praise, teasing, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (discussed), hand holding aka soft sex ↳summary: your curiosity reaches its peak when it comes to your best friend, who you happen to be in love with

Summer is right around the corner and the weather shows it, the sun high and bright in the sky with temperatures hitting the low eighties when just last week it was in the mid sixties. The light breeze feels good on your skin, ruffling the skirt of your dress, but it does nothing to bring you back into the moment. 

Cheek in hand, you’ve spaced out, gaze caught on the side profile of your best friend’s face. It’s only been a week, but the sun has already kissed his skin, his golden tone coming back from being washed out by the winter. Your eyes trace the slope of his nose to the plumpness of his pretty lips, which are moving quickly as he recalls a conversation he had with Jaemin that you guess is relevant to the one he and Chaeryeong are having. 

Brown eyes drift over to you, and when Donghyuck catches your gaze, he winks cheekily at you, the conversation going uninterrupted. He’s gotten used to being a focal point when you zone out, and there’s a fifty-fifty chance that if it weren’t for the fact he was so deep into what he’s talking about, he would’ve teased you about it. But Chaeryeong calls you out for him when they get to a stopping point. 

“Honey.” She snaps her fingers inches away from your face, laughing when you blink a few times and tune back into reality. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a long sip of your milk tea. “Just tired.”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t binge that stupid show instead of getting some sleep,” Donghyuck mumbles. He flinches dramatically when you pretend to throw your phone at his head. “Just saying.”

“I had to know if the baby was his or not before going to sleep.”

“And now you have luggage under your eyes,” he responds flatly, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the look of offense he receives. Leaning over to pinch your cheek gently, he backpacks his statement, “Still the prettiest girl I know, though.”

Chaeryeong frowns. “You never compliment me like that.” 

“Pretty sure I’d get my ass beat if I even look at you too long.” Donghyuck laughs, leaning back into his metal chair, but not before swiping your drink from your hand. His own beverage is only halfway gone, but he always wants to try whatever you’re having because it’s typically very different from his order. “But you’re alright, I guess.”

“I mean, I would be possessive over me, too.” She exhales in amusement, ignoring the latter part of his words. Gesturing herself from head to toe, she says, “Do you see me?”

You hum, nodding. “I’d hit.”

She smirks, wiggling her brows before her eyes light up like she just remembered something.

“Speaking of,” she sing-songs. “Are you still talking to that one guy?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, babe.”

Rolling her eyes, she slouches into her seat, conjuring up the details for you to know who she’s talking about. “The one that sent you a selfie and said ‘your throne awaits you.’”

Donghyuck scoffs, unimpressed.

“I entertained him for like a day before I unmatched. I thought I told you that.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head before pouting. “He was cute.”

You snort. “He was a horny weirdo. I thought Hinge was supposed to be better than Tinder.”

“All dating apps are the same,” Donghyuck says disinterestedly, biting the tip of your straw with his front teeth as he looks down at whatever is on his phone screen. 

“Chaeryeong got lucky.”

As if her boyfriend sensed your words, Chaeryeong’s phone rings. The scrape of the metal chair against concrete is sharp and quick as she stands before she gathers her bag and boba. Holding a finger up to the two of you, she answers the call and scurries off in the direction of her car. 

You snatch your drink from Donghyuck mid-sip, blowing a kiss in response to his glare. Finishing your milk tea, you glance at your watch, seeing it’s half an hour away from the time you planned on going to the library to get some work done undisturbed. 

“Are you going to your seven o’clock tonight?” you ask.

“Yeah, I ran out of absences,” he grumbles. “Why?”

You shake your head. “I’ll just ask Jaemin to get me.”

“Or you can just wait until I get out?” he almost questions, tone as if his solution is the only logical one. “You going to the library?” 

“Yeah, but I doubt I’ll need to be there past nine.”

-

The scent of books collecting dust is comforting, as well as the silence around you, which are the main reasons you don’t mind the fact that you’ve been in the library longer than necessary, your laptop shut, untouched for the past half hour as you scroll on your phone aimlessly. You sigh, switching from Instagram to Twitter, adjusting your folded legs to take some of your weight off of them and lean more onto the arm on the one seater lounge chair. Nothing is entertaining on social media right now, so you go to Hinge to check your messages.

“Ready?” Your favorite voice asks in your ear, startling you. Your best friend grins down mischievously at you when you whip your head over your shoulder, his handsome face close enough for your nose to almost brush his own. You drop your phone in your lap to raise your hand, but he catches it before the impact comes to press a kiss to your knuckles, and your heart flutters in your chest. “Come on, the weather is dropping.”

Donghyuck walks around you to pack your bag up, getting the task done in the time it takes you to stand and slide into your shoes. Bag slipped over his shoulder, he gives the area a brief inspection before walking in the direction of the exit.

“Could’ve been in bed by now,” you sigh, falling in step with him. It’s known you could’ve easily called Jaemin like you initially said you would, but Donghyuck’s company is always welcomed, always appreciated, even when you have to wait after your responsibilities are taken care of just because of his night class. 

Donghyuck throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, smiling a smile that shows he knows you’re just complaining for the sake of it. “You can be in my bed now.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpan, groaning in faux anguish at the way he squeezes you in retaliation. “You’ll make it up to me with some food and cuddles though, right?”

“I dunno if I like you enough for all that.”

With an unbelieving hum, you return his half embrace with an arm around his waist, listening as he tells you about the deer he saw walking across the street on his way to come get you. Five minutes later, you’re kicking your shoes off by his front door before you make yourself comfortable on his kitchen counter, sure to stay out of the way while Donghyuck whips something quick up for the pair of you.

“I matched with a cute guy earlier,” you tell him to fill in the silence, feet swinging gently. Long periods of quiet time are comfortable with him, but you’re feeling chatty and also don’t know how to go about said guy. A noncommittal hum is your response, his attention on chopping up some vegetables. “He’s kinda boring, though. Feels like I’m carrying the conversation on my back.”

“Then stop talking to him?” Donghyuck so helpfully supplies. 

“Haven’t replied since this afternoon.” You watch as your best friend slides the chopped veggies into the hot pan on the stove, the oil and produce making a hissing sound that fills in the gap of silence. “He seems like a cool guy, so I wanna give him a fair shot.”

“If that’s what you wanna do.”

You squint at the back of his head. 

“You’re judging,” you accuse. The disinterested tone, the lack of eye contact. His responses aren’t authentic at all. At your call out, he turns to you, brow lifted. 

“I’m not,” he responds unconvincingly before shrugging. “I told you it’s a waste of time and you just keep proving me right.”

He avoids your foot that aims for his thigh and catches it while it’s still mid-air, just barely tugging you forward in retaliation but with enough force to scare you. Your panic makes him laugh deeply as he steps into the space between your legs with a mocking pout that mirrors the one you’re sporting. Hands on either side of your body, flat against the granite countertop, Donghyuck puts his weight on his arms, leaning into your bubble even more. 

“Just try talking to him on the phone or FaceTime,” he suggests softly, back to his serious self, head tilted to the side. He knows you weren’t just bringing the situation up in passing. He’s one of the main people you go to when you can’t decide what next step to take on your own. “For all you know, the love of your life could just be a bad texter.”

Your fingers find their way up to absentmindedly play with the chain that dangles from his neck as you take a deep, but subtle inhale, breathing in his warm scent. Matching his soft tone, you say, “Him being the love of my life is a bit much, don’t you think?”

It’s really more of a pastime and entertainment thing being on a dating app. He knows this, but he doesn’t quite understand the extent of why, and the less he knows right now, the better. You’re okay with waiting a while longer before telling him. Even when small, intimate moments like these are so bittersweet. 

“You’re right.” He hums, nodding. Brown eyes bounce between both of yours before they quickly dip down to your mouth. “That spot’s reserved for me.” 

And with a parting wink, he pushes himself up and spins to tend to the dinner sizzling away, your hand dropping pathetically back down to your lap. 

You stare at Donghyuck’s back, watching his shoulder blades move as he cooks before you take a long blink, taking your mind out of the previous moment. You grab your phone and message Jeno, ignoring what he said last in favor of asking if he wants to talk on the phone and for his number. It allows you to distract yourself from the thoughts that try to arise. 

–

The verdict is that Jeno is not only a bad texter, but an incredibly bad conversationalist in general. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt (again), seeing that it was the first time being on a call, but the second attempt was just as bad. His responses to your questions were very straight forward, no detail when describing his job or major, or hobbies. No banter, no jokes, nothing. You assume he doesn’t have to put in much effort when it comes to pulling women because he’s attractive and most people like a laid back guy. 

As soon as you hang up, you go into the dating app and unmatch with Jeno. 

And of course, when you were just going to take the loss and sweep it under the rug, your best friend asks about it a couple days later.

“So how did the phone call with the love of your life go?” Initially, you pretend to not hear him, choosing to give all of your attention to placing herbs into the bowl that was just set in front of you. You then squeeze some sauce on top, humming a quiet tune under your breath. “That bad, huh?”

You glance up at him finally, Donghyuck sporting a knowing grin, and roll your eyes.

“Tell me about it,” he presses, slouching back in his seat, all of his attention being given to you. 

“He’s like a donut you thought was filled with cream or jam only to bite into nothing but dough.”

He snorts, biting the inside of his lips to keep the laughter in. You’ll never understand the joy he feels when meeting someone new is a failure for you. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, huh.”

“Don’t start,” you warn non-threateningly. But of course he doesn’t listen.

“You probably have the worst taste in men. No one is beating your ex, though.” He winces theatrically. “Yikes.”

You scoff, knowing he’s absolutely correct about your track record, but choose to deflect. “You would’ve found a way to disapprove even if he was perfect.” 

“I mean, if a guy can’t do more for you or treat you better than I do, I’m not going to approve,” Donghyck says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just wasting your time.”

“You don’t even give me everything I need.”

Now he’s offended and you’re confused at why.

“What don’t I give you?” 

Extending a finger with each example you give him, you list, “Sensual love, romance, sex.”

Friendship and genuine love that you want from relationships, platonic or romantic, are covered for sure, but that’s it (okay, and maybe you two teeter on the line of sensual love, according to Chaeryeong). You don’t expect your best friend to give you those things, but you surely wouldn’t mind. That’s neither here nor there, though.

“I would if you’d let me.”

Head tilted, you squint, masking the fact your stomach dips. Sometimes he can be a little too convincing. 

“Can you be serious for once?”

“I’m deadass.” 

There’s a silent staring contest that takes place for at least a minute before he looks like he’s going to laugh, then the noise comes from his chest because you pout. 

“You’re an idiot.” you deadpan.

“Yet you considered it,” Donghyuck lilts, attention back on the pho steaming in front of him. He twists some noodles into his spoon, puts some meat and bean sprouts on top then slurps the food into his mouth. 

“I mean, if you eat pussy like that I might actually consider–”

His chews come to a slow stop. “You can find out if you’re curious.”

“My place or yours?” you ask in a lower octave, leaning forward. His gaze drops from your teeth teasingly biting your lower lip to the cleavage you purposefully put on display, just for him, before his face goes straight. He pushes you out of his face and continues to eat, trying not to join in on your laughter, if the quiver of his lips as he assembles the perfect bite says anything. 

“No but really,” you say once your giggles die out, finally getting to your own bowl. Curiosity killed the cat. You’d rather stop while you’re ahead. “I am coming over later. Got some comp sci work to finish then I’ll head over.”

“What if I had plans?”

“Then you’re going to reschedule them?” You laugh, not taking him seriously. “I shouldn’t be there until around nine, ten the latest. So do whatever you have planned before then.”

“Just let me know when you need me to get you.”

You shake your head, chewing and swallowing your mouthful. “I’m working with Jaemin. He’ll drop me off.”

He squints but chooses to say nothing in return, instead giving a nod of his head.

Your study session lasts a lot longer than you planned. One, because it’s been a while since you’ve seen Jaemin, so there was a good amount of time in between questions talking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with the material that will be on your exam in a couple of days. Two, because your mind keeps drifting to a conversation you had earlier in the day, specific words repeating in your mind. 

“What’s up with you?” Jaemin asks after catching you zoned out for the nth time tonight. The first couple of times, he simply poked you to get you out of your head and focus on the work ahead, now, he wants to know what’s actually going on up there. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

You shake your head, smiling gently. “Nothing. I’m good.”

His eyes narrow. “Who are you thinking about?”

There’s no way it’s that obvious. 

“No one,” you grumble, shifting in your seat with the intention to focus back on your screen. But then your phone vibrates against the wooden table, and the man of your thoughts is who just texted you. 

[11:01] hyuckie: are you still coming over

You hadn’t even realized the time until just now. 

There’s a moment of hesitation after you pick the phone up to reply to his message, your teeth worrying at your bottom lip as you ponder if you should still go over tonight with where your mind has been drifting for the last several hours. You don’t usually let them get this far, but the words I would if you’d let me have made you spiral essentially. Yes, the two of you are constantly going back and forth and since the very beginning there’s always been flirtation, but something about the way he said that statement, something about those very simple words, have you wondering. 

You feel Jaemin lean into your side to nosily look down at your phone. Not only is the man beside you book smart, he also has great common sense and puts things together pretty quickly. Something you love and despise depending on the moment. And after his next question, your feelings lean towards the latter. 

“Something finally happened between you two?”

There’s also confusion that follows.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He gives you a look that makes you feel like you’re supposed to know what he’s talking about. And you suppose you do, but you’re not quite sure where he’s coming from. Jaemin rewords his question to, “Is he the reason you’re more spaced out than usual tonight?”

You could lie. You’ve kept how you feel to yourself, not confiding in anyone, especially not mutual friends, but it’s Jaemin. And the look on your face snitches on you, anyway.

“What exactly do you know?” You deflect.

Your response from him is a snort of disbelief before he realizes your question was genuine. “Oh, honey.” There’s a bit of fondness in his tone that makes you feel weird. “I know that you two are ridiculous but it’s entertaining to see you both be so blind to what’s so obvious. I promised to keep my mouth shut, though. I’ve said enough.”

You guess your silence wasn’t enough to hide how you’ve been feeling. You don’t know how to feel about that. A little embarrassed because now you’re just imagining an outsider’s perspective on seeing you be lovesick. But if he’s calling you and Donghyuck blind, your best friend hasn’t a clue. 

Wait. 

Another vibration, this time directly in your hand. 

[11:04] hyuckie: ???

“You promised him that?”

Another look that lets you know that you already know the answer to your question is sent your way. “Let’s get you over there and pick back up tomorrow, hm?”

“But—”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to concentrate better after you situate this with him.”

You squint, but still follow his lead as he packs his book bag, clearing the table.

-

Jaemin waits until you’ve unlocked Donghyuck’s front door and disappeared inside before he heads home, but not before telling you to go for it, vague as ever. He’s told you absolutely nothing, yet somehow really did tell you just enough.

The stove light is the only one on inside, and a quick glance around shows that your best friend has already retired to his room for the night. You make your way to his room, the blue light of his tv flickers from under his door with the volume low. With a deep breath, you open the door and step inside. 

Sat up against the headboard, Donghyuck glances at you from over his specs. He’s shirtless, just lounging in his plaid pajamas and your thoughts only continue to spiral. You rip your gaze away after it lingers for a silent moment.

“Something wrong with your phone?” Is the first thing he says and you shake your head as you set your purse and keys on his desk. “Then why didn’t you let me know you were gonna be late?”

You open the drawer in his dresser designated for you, ready to get out of your clothes and get comfortable. But at the last second, you decide against changing into your own clothes and instead go through the drawer above. You slip out of your dress and into one of Donghyuck’s bigger t-shirts, wanting (needing) the extra comfort, before moving to his desk to put your clothes with the rest of your stuff. 

“Lost track of time.” You shrug, turning to face him and catch his gaze that lingers on the outline of your breasts, sliding down to your bare legs before his eyes lift back to meet yours. “There’s been a lot on my mind today.”

“You okay?” 

He makes a move to scoot to his usual side of the mattress when you approach the bed, but pauses to look at you in confusion when you rest a gentle hand on his thigh to stop his movement. His face shows he doesn’t believe the affirmative hum you give in response to his question, especially since you’ve decided to crawl in between his legs and lay down on top of him with the side of your face resting atop his chest. You can’t say what’s on your mind while looking at him. The words won’t come out. 

His arms reflexively wrap around you, giving you that comfort you needed, making you remember he’s a safe space for you, no matter what. 

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” he asks. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Positive.” Here goes. “I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about something you said.”

The hum Donghyuck lets out to urge you to continue talking vibrates the side of your face in a soothing way. You reach behind you to grab one of his hands and slip your fingers in between his own, lightly pressing your palms together, looking at how perfectly they fit together. Without thought, Donghyuck squeezes your hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a quick kiss on your knuckles that prevents your next words from coming out. You’re left to watch your joint hands fall beside you atop the mattress.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” He asks when you don’t keep talking. You’re not typically this affectionate unless something is bothering you or you’re drunk, so it’s no surprise that’s his initial thought. “Did I take something too far?”

This time he gets a head shake from you. “I’ve been thinking about what you said at the restaurant earlier…”

“Which part? About your ex? Should I not have brought him up?”

“About my curiosity.”

You may not know the extent of what he’s told your mutual friend, but you can guess that Donghyuck is physically attracted to you at the very least, and even if he doesn’t have romantic feelings, you’re almost positive now that there was truth behind his words from earlier. So, you’ll take what you can get.

It goes silent once again as he thinks about what you’re referring to. Once a few long moments pass, you glance up at him through your lashes, catching the unsure expression he sports. He doesn’t know how to process that, doesn’t know what your vague ass is getting at. 

Your anxiety has dragged this out too far. 

“I’m curious, Hyuck.” When it’s clear he still doesn’t fully believe your words, you sit up and leisurely shuffle your way up his legs until your knees cage his hips in and gently sit down on his lap. An inquiring brow lifts at your new position, yet his free hand slides up from your knee to the middle of your thigh like it belongs there. “You said you’ll give me what I need if I’d let you, right?”

“Right…” He trails off when you guide his hand under his shirt on you in between your legs, giving him an ample amount of time to snatch it away from you, but he doesn’t. His attention goes back and forth between your face and the hand you’re controlling until you cup his hand so he can feel how serious you are, the tips of his fingers lightly pressing against your covered entrance. Both of your breaths hitch, Donghyuck’s nostrils flare, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, and his fingers tighten around your own. You guess he understands now. “So you want me to eat you out?” 

You nod. Just hearing him ask you so directly makes your hips involuntarily grind down. 

His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, putting more pressure behind his fingertips. The beginning of a smile threatens to lift the corner of his mouth at the heavy exhale you release. 

He laughs incredulously, sitting up with his grip now on both of your hips. When you’re lifted off of his lap, you internally panic for a millisecond, thinking you may have misinterpreted where this was going, but then you’re on your back and he’s in between your legs, kneeling before you. 

“And this isn’t a joke?” 

You shake your head.

He crawls back until he lies on his stomach, now at eye level with the wet spot that’s turned the seat of your panties dark. You whimper under your breath at the sight of his face peeking up from between your legs. It’s been a thought more times than you can count, but none of the short lived fantasies that you always forced out of the front of your mind come close to right now, especially the look on his face when he pulls the cotton to the side.

Your best friend groans to himself. “Knew you had a pretty pussy.”

“Please stop talking,” you say around a laugh of embarrassment, though the compliment makes you clench around nothing.

Even though Donghyuck chuckles under his breath, he doesn’t say another word like you expect him to. Instead, he presses open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs before he gives your clit a long, sweet one. His tongue laps long stripes up your slit, coating the wet muscle in your slick before the tip slowly flicks against your nub, up and down in a way that brings a whimper out your chest. He groans again, and then your panties are pulled down your legs quickly before his hands hook behind your knees and open you up for him even more, giving him the space to fully indulge himself. 

Donghyuck eats your pussy in a calculatedly messy way. With the audible moans that slip in between his loud slurps, you realize just how much he’s enjoying himself, that this for his pleasure just as much as it is for yours. Your head falls back and you moan pathetically at the realization and at how he sucks on your clit with the perfect amount of suction, unable to put energy into straining your neck anymore, so you rest against the pillows to continue watching him in awe. 

“Fuck,” you moan, threading your fingers into his hair, needing something to hold onto when a finger breaches your entrance and slowly slides in. One turns into two after a minute, slipping in easily thanks to your arousal and his saliva, his fingertips just barely kissing the sweet spot within you to have you feeling good but craving more. They pump into you at a lazy pace, your best friend’s focus leaning more towards sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking the tip of his tongue up and down the nub in a way that has you pulling his face even closer and canting your lower half up. 

Hips roll in fluid movements to ride his tongue and fingers, fingers gripping his honey colored locks tightly to not only keep him still, but to keep yourself grounded as well. You don’t want to come too soon, but your hips move on their own accord to chase the orgasm that you can already taste. 

But with one last harsh suckle on your clit, Donghyuck comes off of you, a loud smack echoing throughout his room. You let go of his hair begrudgingly, allowing him to come back up and lift your left leg up, hand still hooked under the bend of your knee as he rises up to face you again. He’s looking down at you with so much desire with the bottom half of his face glistening. The change in angle has his fingertips pushing against the spongy spot inside of you rhythmically and your jaw drops, dry pants escaping your mouth in a gradually increasing pace, face scrunched up.

“Right here?”

“Yes,” you repeat like a mantra. orgasm building up faster now, the pleasure and pressure heightening until your walls clamp down on his skilled fingers as he urges you to come for him, voice pitching before it’s just whispers and gasps of the same affirmation and his name. 

“That’s it,” Donghyuck praises, mindfully pressing the tips of his fingers against that spot a bit harder to help you ride out your climax. He wipes his mouth against the fabric covering his shoulder then kisses are pressed to your opened mouth, licks delivered to your lip that hangs low in pleasure. 

Hand gripping the wrist between your thighs, you halt his movements, but tilt your chin up to fully return his kisses, experimental pecks merging into sensual slides before your tongues are acquainted, the taste of you transferring to your mouth. You groan deeply, sucking on his tongue. 

Your free hand firmly grabs his bulge over his pants and you let out an impressed, needy moan at the discovery of how big and heavy he feels in your palm. He laughs, rolling his hips into your hand. 

“You want that, too?”

“Mhm.” Tongues circle around one another leisurely, allowing you to divide your focus on the wet kiss and tugging his pajama pants off, only getting them right under his ass before going back to his hard dick that bobs in anticipation. “Want you inside me.”

You brush your hand across his tip to gather precum then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, dragging your fist up and down. He lets you do this for a while, his breath getting heavier, the harsh breaths fanning against the wetness left on your neck in the wake of his opened-mouthed kisses. Legs wrap around his hips in an attempt to pull his lower body down flush against yours so you can guide him to your entrance and finally feel him inside of you, but your plans are put to a halt just when his tip rubs against your wet slit. 

“Wait a second.”

The complaint on the tip of your tongue is silenced by the peck Donghyuck gives your lips before he pushes himself up and off the bed. Your eyes drink up the sight of him pushing his bottoms all the way down and kicking them aside. 

“Condom?”

You shake your head. He’s sat through your complaints about the effects of the birth control you’re on and the two of you share practically everything with one another, down to test results. You just want him back on top of you and in you with no more barriers, and the message is conveyed by the grabby hands you do, rushing him to come back to you. Chuckling at your antics, Donghyuck complies, bed dipping under his weight. Sat back on his haunches, he spreads your legs back open then pulls you down the bed closer to him, caging his hips in with your legs.

“Grab it.” Eagerly, you reach down in between both of you, licking your dry lips once you feel his weight again. You get to go through with your plan from before he got up, bringing his tip to your fluttering, awaiting hole. Your arousal coats him as you slide the head of his dick up and down your slit, unintentionally teasing yourself and him in the midst of coating him enough for an easy slip in, and he gets a bit impatient, telling you, “go ahead, put it in.”

You do as told, biting your lip at the sensation of him breaching your entrance. 

It’s hard for either of you to look away from where your bodies connect as he gently pushes his hips forward. His thrusts start shallow, only dipping in as far as his tip goes before his hips retract then repeat a few times. 

“Such a pretty, tight pussy,” your best friend praises in a hiss, gradually sinking deeper. “Wanted to feel you for so long.”

Even if you could find the words to say in the midst of pleasure, you can’t really say much because you’ve wanted him like this and more for probably even longer. It doesn’t matter, though, because here you are, underneath him, being looked at like you hung the stars yourself as the expression gets mirrored right back to him. His hands find yours and bring them above your head, fingers interlocking as he presses your joint hands into the pillow, his body leaning down to hover over you in the process. Eyes flicker over your face to find nothing but bliss written over your features.

With a fluid roll of his hips, he’s completely sheathed. You gasp as he curses under his breath, his girth stretching you out so good while your walls suck him in even more. 

“Good?” he asks, already sounding out of breath.

You nod, swallowing thickly, “Mhm.”

“Yeah?” His pace gradually builds, his attention dropping down to how your teeth dig into your bottom lip then further to your breasts that bounce in sync with his thrusts. “Talk to me. Let me know how you feel.”

“Feels good, Hyuck.” you abide easily, the flutter of your eyes and the pinch of the front of your brows only emphasizing your words. “Didn’t know you were this–mm– this big.”

“Want your eyes on me,” he tells you gently, hips slowing down a bit so it’s not as difficult for you to listen and open your eyes for him. You’re sure you could get convinced to do anything he wants when he talks to you in such a tone that makes your heart flutter and stomach knot. ”There you go. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay?”

Another wave of arousal courses through you, keening in response. Your grip on his hands tighten gradually as Donghyuck rolls his hips harder into yours.

There’s not a single thought behind your glazed over eyes. You’re honestly not even looking at him anymore, more so spaced out because it’s hard to focus on his handsome face with the amount of pleasure he’s making your body feel. The soundtrack of the smacks of skin against skin as well as the slick noises of his dick continuously dipping in and out of you are background noise to both of your bated breaths and moans that slip out shamelessly. His tip kisses just the right places and the longer his intentional aim is accurate, the tighter the coil in your stomach gets. The wetter your cunt gets.

“Baby.” He groans at the feeling of your walls beginning to flutter around him. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long,” he admits around a laugh, the sound getting cut off by his own moan when you clench even harder. He calls you babe in passing all the time but to be called his baby? 

“Me either,” you confess with a whine. “‘m close.”

Donghyuck buries his face into your neck, hardly concealing his louder sounds of pleasure. His hips pick up pace, his body hunching over your own the closer he gets to reaching his climax. You wiggle one hand out of his grip to reach down and grab his ass, attempting to pull him into you even more. 

“Want you to come in me,” you moan in his ear. His grip on your hand tightens at your words, his thrusts getting harder. “Fill me up. Please.”

“Need you to come with me,” he manages to grunt out, sneaking his now free hand in between your bodies. A few swipes to your clit does it and the tight, rapid clamping of your walls triggers his climax, Donghyuck completely sheathing himself inside of you as your legs shake from the all-encompassing pleasure. His warm cum releases in spurts as his deep groan vibrates your chest and neck. 

-

It takes a while for the pair of you to catch your breaths, yet it feels like he pulls away and out of you too soon. Your hole clenches around nothing as he climbs off the bed, Donghyuck momentarily looking around the floor to find his pajama pants that he quickly slips back on.

Without a word, he’s off to his bathroom and you hear the sound of running water start and stop before he’s back in the room with a rag in hand. The cloth is warm when it makes contact with your sensitive cunt, but it’s soft and comforting as it collects his cum, the pressure behind his swipes so gentle you can’t help but look at him like a lovesick fool. 

The kiss on your forehead you receive once he’s cleaned you to his liking doesn’t help one bit. 

“Come on, gonna start the shower for you.” He holds a hand out for you to take, steadying you on your feet before leading you to his ensuite bathroom. 

The image the mirror presents to you makes your skin heat up even more than it already was. Both of your lips are red and a little puffier than usual, both half naked with skewed clothing and messy hair, looking exactly what finally crossing the line of your friendship is expected to look like. Donghyuck notices the shy expression that slowly takes over your face. 

“Hush,” you say non-threateningly. 

He laughs again, lifting his free hand in defense. “Didn’t say anything.”

You watch as he twists the knobs in his shower to get the right temperature, as he grabs a couple of towels and wash clothes out of the linen closet and sets them down on the sink. And when his back is facing you when he’s headed out of the bathroom, your heart sinks pathetically. You aren’t ready for the moment to end yet.

“Join me?” you ask, stripping out of his shirt. His eyes lock onto your chest, head absentmindedly nodding as steps out of his pants and into the shower behind you. Even with the sensitivity and pulsing between your legs and the fact that you’re showering with him for the first time ever, everything feels surreal. He just devoured you. He just came in you. He just made you come multiple times. 

Your name being called softly takes you out of your head. 

“Is that all you needed?”

You hum in question, not sure what he’s referring to.

“Did you just want to satisfy your curiosity then go back to normal?”

You pause in squeezing body wash onto your wash cloth. Yes, you knew the conversation would be had, but now’s not the time you thought it would come. 

Talking about this in the morning after a good night’s sleep would’ve been preferred.

“Not exactly.” You reply lamely after trying and failing to find the right words. “Did you want to go back to normal?”

“No.” He replies a lot more straightforwardly. 

You let out a silent breath of relief. “No?”

Hands on your waist gently turn your body so that you’re facing Donghyuck. You guess he got tired of talking to the back of your head. The water is somehow a lot hotter on your back but it’s hard to pay attention to the heat when his next words come out. 

“I want you,” your best friend confesses and it’s music to your ears. “But we can do this casual sex thing if you want.”

“I don’t want that.” You slide your hands up his chest, the water helping the slip along the way, to loosely wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your soft chest into his firm torso, fulfilling the urge to be as close to him as possible after hearing your attraction and feelings are reciprocated. “I want you, too.”

“Good,” he hums, his arms encircling your waist to pull you flush against him. “I was gonna slowly wither away if I couldn’t make you mine after tonight.”

Lip caught between your teeth, you fight the goofy smile that wants to take up half of your face at his dramatics. God, you’ve imagined this moment so many times but the reality is so different, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Make me yours, huh?”

He cranes his neck down, nose brushing against yours. 

“Will you be mine?” He mirrors the huge smile that wins the battle and lights your face up, nose scrunching. “Yeah?”

“I’m yours, Hyuck.”

first time writing for hyuck so i feel like i’m going to throw up posting this :D feel free to send feedback <3

[norwegiankafka]

Hiii can I request Owen ( windbreaker) childhood friends to lovers fic please??? 🥹

Little Things [Owen Knight, Fluff]

Synopsis: What if he actually fell for the person that has been there, all along?

a/n 𖦹 finally! I never write for the childhood best friend to lovers prompt, but I'm trying my best. I hope you liked it. Not beta-ed (too long lmfao). Hope anon like it! :3

tw & cw ✰ cursing.

It's so Owen, calling late at night. Like he didn't give a fuck whether you are sleeping or not. A habit of his, exists since you and him were a teenager.

"What the fuck do you want in the fucking middle of the night, Mr. Knight?" You snapped right when you hit the accept button.

"Whoa, chill. I just arrived today and the first thing you did is to curse me? Poor me,"

"Ugh, fine. Tell me what happened," You sigh exasperatedly. Just, please.

"Shelly and Jay kissed in front of me. Like- I don't even know what to say. I'm shocked. Did Shelly really love that guy? I don't know what she sees in him, for real."

"And I don't know what's worth in you for Shelly to see. Oi, get over her. Why bother winning her heart back when you already know who has her heart? You just love hurting your own feelings, just say it at this point, you know that?"

"Your words burns like hell. I always tell you I have a promise with Shelly when I was a kid-"

"This promise, that promise," You cut his words. "That thing happened when you were a kid. It's nothing serious. Get over it. I'm tired of you venting about a girl who doesn't even think about you. I had class in 6. You're free to vent after that."

Just like that, you hang up your call.

—

He, started to wait for your reply. Normally, he checks his phone ever so slightly when he's bored or Shelly isn't around to bug. He often forgots where he puts the phone. Without him realizing things, he checks his phone more often. Waits for that messaging app icon to appear on his phone. Waiting for your name to pop up on his screen. He pulls his phone under his desk when he's in class, turned them on to check whether you replied or not. Will 100% turn them off again when there is no reply or chat from you, or will 100% reply at the same second you sent the text. An Exhibit.

A lot of things reminds him of you. In a lot of occasion, but he always tries to brush it off. He saw an ice cream that you said you wanna try, but never had the time. He tried the ice cream, just to taste whether it tastes good or not. So he can tell you later. (Or maybe ask you for an ice cream date, but best friends didn't do that.) Hey. At least if back in England they didn't have this exact flavor so you (and him) can try it out too, he had a reason to text you later. Two exhibits.

A lot of things reminds him of you. When both of you were kids, you eat ice creams a lot. Cold and flu were no stranger to you and Owen. But among all ice creams that you ever tried, Chocomint. It's a weird flavor, however. Tastes cool and minty but also sweet at the same time. He genuinely thought you're weird and your tastebuds is broken. Who the hell thought this was a delicious flavor? An atrocity made of different shit put together. All that thought end once he walked around stores in Seoul.

There's varieties of chocomint flavored food. Hey, it's not gonna hurt to try few, right? (Cue: He tried all of them. He didn't like it. He had the reason to annoy you by saying chocomint tastes like shit.)

He hates reading. It bore him a whole lot when teachers tell students to read. He hates reading in english, so do Korean. (He barely understands everything). One day, he walked past a bookstore, with a book on sale that day. He feels oddly familiar with the cover, even if he hates reading. He remembers that it's the book that you literally worshipped and said that it's so good he should consider read it too. Without any second thoughts, the book is on the counter and ready to be taken home. He finished the book in a week (pretty fast for a person who hates reading, lol), and silently weeping for the main character. He admits, it's a good book. Three exhibits.

He bikes a lot by himself. It's usually in the afternoon, around the time sun is starting to set. He likes that time a lot, the wind is warm but not too hot, and still feels breezy. After going around for an hour, he sat by the nearest river. Doing nothing, just watching until the sun fully set and it's time for him to go home.

When Owen and you were a kid, you liked to play outside. Doing lots of things. Biking, hide and seek, things. When the sun starts to set, you will sit wherever, as long as you can watch the sunset. A familiar feeling and habit, with him. Four exhibits.

Without him realizing, he's falling in love. All of the things you did together. All the time you were together as kids. All the time you grew up together, going to the same school. He fell in love with the you that has been there all along while he chase for Shelly.

—

Knock knock.

Someone knocked on the door. What kinds of people come so fuckin late at night? You opened the door.

Owen is standing. His eyes bore to the hallways, as if he avoids your gaze. He clears his throat awkwardly.

"Promise you're not gonna be awkward with me?" is the first sentence out of his mouth. He avoids your gaze, looking somewhere else. He took a deep breath before starting the next sentence. "It's you. It has always been you," He stares deeply into your eyes. He felt nervous, but he, for sure, is sure about his feelings. Right now. Is he scared? Maybe yes. He is. But he never felt so certain in life.

"Huh?" You hum confusedly. Who the hell isn't when your best friend come to your doorway and saying weird shit at late nights.

"I.. like you. Like, a lot,"

Your gaze softens after you're realizing he's trying to confess. Fuck. So all these years were not in vain? All of these years you watched him falling for Shelly, but it turned out he fell for you? Really? God must be joking.

"Me too," You break the silence between the two of you. "I like you, too. Since a long time ago," your breath hitched.

Owen loves you. He always do.

You're the reason he kept a random rock in his bedroom because it looks like a heart (and you're the one who gave it). The reason he wears a particular color because you told him it emphasizes his eye color. The reason he listens to a particular indie band, because you told him their lyrics is poetic as hell. (He hates bands, but who cares).

You're the reason for so many little things in his life, that he didn't think about much, but makes his life worth living. You.

"C-can we.. kiss?" For the first time in your life, you see Owen stuttered. His cheeks and ears heat up, painting the pale skin with faint tint of pink.

You chuckled softly, "Sure."

His long, pale hands cradled your head softly. As if it was the most frail thing. Without any rush, without any urge, he pulls himself closer to you. He tilts his head to the side slightly, adjusting his position before putting his lips on yours.

He settles his lips on yours, slowly and softly sucking on your lower lips. Owen tastes like the americano he drank before biking. Bitter and slightly sweet from the candy he finished before knocking on your door. You, on the other hand, tastes like mint. Tastes like the toothpaste you used before opening the door. The cool and minty scent lingers in your mouth.

The kiss is not good. It isn't like how people potrayed them in movies or novels—but it's perfect and special. Because you shared them with Owen.

Both of you pulled back after few seconds, looking at each other in love and adoration while the moon shines through. You smiled softly, patting his shoulder. "It's late. Go home, okay?"

Owen nods. "Sure do," He gives a light peck in your right cheek. "I'll text you when I got home. Good night." Owen ruffles your hair softly, as he puts on his helmet.

Owen smiles to himself all the way home. He is sure and certain about his own feelings this time, and he's right.

[rightpastnowhere]

TLOVM season 3 episode 3 thoughts from someone who's slowly losing her mind

PART ONE: campaign vex and perc'ahlia VS tlovm vex and perc'ahlia

(yeah. yeah it's part one. i have so many thoughts gang)

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

okay. so. i feel like i've made it clear how much i ADORE the perc'ahlia relationship timeline in campaign 1. and it remains to this day one of my absolute favorites, and i was very afraid of it being changed in tlovm. BUT. i'm actually kind of fucking obsessed with these changes.

because, really, campaign!vex and tlovm!vex are two entirely separate characters. they're still the same vex at their core, but the changes to the narrative in tlovm have changed the show version of vex in ways that i think are perfectly suited to the "i'm going to turn this into a fling even though we're both fooling ourselves" plotline. tlovm!vex seems overall more committed to the facade she puts out. she's a bit colder in the beginning, and has slowly thawed over the past two seasons, but not in the same way campaign!vex has by this point in the c1 plot, and like. on the one hand, it might just be a personality shift for the adaptation! something to make more clear-cut character archetypes. on the other hand, i keep remembering that vox machina haven't been a party for as long in tlovm. she's still questioning whether or not to stay with the party in season one. she doesn't have as strong of a foundation with these people, less trust and less comfort. she's got so many more walls built up.

and that, of course, includes her relationship with percy. campaign!perc'ahlia, in my eyes, is a friends to lovers slowburn. it's been mentioned that they hit it off well from the beginning, and while they both were attracted to each other to some degree, they both dismissed it as a bad idea and moved on. over the year of in-game time they spent together (maybe more? i get confused with the timeline) before we even see them on screen, they build up a steady and solid friendship. one filled with flirting and teasing, but still a friendship. and it's clear that they both value this connection they have, especially in the briarwood arc, with the mask and all of that loveliness. and sure, some of that could be read as romantic, but it's love all the same. vex loved percy before she was in love with him, and that dynamic is one she's terrified to lose! "wouldn't it be so awkward, though?" she says, as if she's already decided that all that confessing would do would be adding tension, that there's no chance of reciprocity.

in tlovm, though? it's barely been any time at all. she's fallen in love with percy in the same time it's taken to really be his friend, to find that she can trust him and rely on him. the weight of their history isn't nearly as bulky, here. sure, she won't dare risk any revelations of her feelings or any attempts at a serious relationship, but sex doesn't have to mean anything. if it makes things awkward then, well, they're still settling into their dynamic as friends anyway - things can be shuffled around and fall into different places. there's nothing solid yet to risk, if that makes sense. they're still building a foundation, she can build around the cracks.

and another significant point of divergence: syldor. i have a lot of thoughts on the feywild arc and the changes made, but i'm going to disregard all of that now because they're, same as vex, basically different characters. to put it simply: tlovm!syldor is harsh and gives bad attention, whereas campaign!syldor is neglectful and doesn't give enough attention. as a result, we see that tlovm!vex seeks out good attention, whereas campaign!vex avoids getting close enough to anyone for them to pull the rug out from underneath her. tlovm!vex initiates a fling, a dynamic of gratification and positive attention without emotional weight, because actually being in a relationship can result in that trust being used against you. she trusted in her father, and he used being her father as a way to beat her down. campaign!vex doesn't even try to initiate anything, because she fears the silence, the lack of reciprocity and care, the fear of being turned down. she tried to build a connection with her father, and was met with silence and quiet disapproval and barely even a second glance. i don't know if this makes any sense, and i'm bad at words, but these feel like different fears of rejection to me? and yet they're both fears of rejection, something that is at the core of vex's actions and personality in both adaptations.

two different stories of a person driven by fear, and i love them for their differences!! they both feel more fitting for their versions of canon!!! and both make me insane!!!!!!!!

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Sexting, Cregan Stark, teasing, f masturbation.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello angels! Thanks for waiting for the next chapter so patiently hehe, it is a long chapter because I refuse to cut it down or split it lmao. Also, the cafe story happened to me LOL, bastards owe me so much money... Anyway, I hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 3: Cregan Stark

Things with Cregan Stark started off with a casual one night stand.

It was raw, it was heated, and exactly what you needed. You had fully expected for you to never see him again, going back to your daily routine without a thought spared. But when you had gotten another text from Cregan a few days later, the two of you hit it off. 

Things were easy.

Casual. 

Simple. 

You liked the simplicity of it all. You needed something that had no strings attached after your previous ex; an absolute nightmare of a man who whored himself out and would then try to flip the blame you. You don’t even know what you saw in that man. The tipping point was finding him in bed with his now girlfriend, Johanna. And even then, he tried to blame you for coming home early.

But Cregan was different. 

He was great at communicating, and a complete change to Jason Lannister. Where Jason was blonde, Cregan was a dark brunette. Where Jason had deep blue eyes, Cregan’s were grey, like a winter storm.

Cregan treated you like a human being, with autonomy and respect, and let you take the lead on what you wanted.

When you needed to feel someone between your legs, he would be at your house faster than you could Winterfell. And as much as you would have wanted him to come over, you couldn’t do that to Aemond on his first night in. 

You texted Cregan back, telling him that he couldn’t come around that night, and explained  the situation. 

You laughed softly at his response, deciding to tease him. 

Panic began to settle in your chest as you read those three fateful words.

Cregan couldn’t come here.

Not with Aemond only just settling in. You texted him back, with no response coming in on his end. You held your phone in your fist looking down at the chat, frantically texting him three more times, desperate for a response. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you waited for him to respond.

What would Aemond say?

What would he think?

You couldn’t just bring over a man on the first night of him staying there. Especially with him already being so uptight. You knew that Alicent was a devout follower of the Seven, what if Aemond was the same?

You stared down at your phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you were about to fire off another frantic text. 

Soon, three little grey dots appeared on your screen, and your breath held in your throat. 

You blushed, warmth settling in your core.

Cregan, whilst he was kind and gentle, wasn’t always soft in bed, and had a way of making you putty in his hands. He had this air of dominance that surrounded him, most likely helped by his towering frame. 

Sometimes you would push your luck, prodding him to react, and at those times he would swiftly bend you over his knee and land his hand across the sensitive flesh of your cheeks, bringing you to your peak until you couldn’t anymore. And then after, the sweetness that you had come to know of Cregan would come back. 

But for the majority of the time, Cregan was a more attentive, sweet lover. He only became rough when you truly pushed him to it, otherwise he was content to fuck you slowly, sensually and watch you come undone beneath him.

Looking back down at your phone, you sent off a cheeky response.

You loved that the two of you could have such an arrangement. No strings attached, casual, and comfortable enough for the two of you to simply spend time in each others company without the need of anything sexual. 

Helaena had tried to say that it was a situationship, but that implied that there were feelings involved, and as far as you were concerned, there was none on either end.

You watched as three grey dots appeared on the screen. 

Your cheeks felt hot as you stared at your phone.

Cregan really knew you all too well, and although it had taken a while for the two of you to adjust and get to know each other, it was well worth it for this.

You jumped up from your spot on the couch, core tingling and went to bed, your heart fluttering in anticipation as you settled into your sheets. This wasn’t the first time Cregan had told you or guided you through some play when he wasn’t there. 

A phone call here or there, voice notes on occasion, and more frequently, little text commands that seemingly came out of nowhere.

You loved it.

Reaching into your side table you pulled out your favourite vibrator, a small pink bunny shaped vibe that you could insert as well. Stripping your shirt over your head, you pulled down your shorts and underwear, kicking them away from the bed. 

Texting Cregan back, you asked what you should do, acting dumb and coy to rile him up, but all he sent was a one worded response.

 

Pressing the vibrator against you, you let the vibrations pass up through your body, the sudden spark causing your back to jolt up off of the mattress. You breathed heavily as pleasure began to whirl its way through your body. 

You panted as you thought of Cregan above you, large hands pushing their way inside of you, touching you, grabbing you. Pleasure wound its way up through your gut, winding it tightly, a coil ready to snap.

A small moan flitted out of your lips and you clamped a hand tightly to your mouth. Aemond was just across the hall. Fuck. You needed to be quiet.

Your teeth bit down on the back of your hand to muffle any sounds that you would make, but the idea of him hearing you sparked a sudden burst of pleasure through you, triggering your orgasm. 

Your back arched off of the bed as you whined quietly into the room, eyes scrunched shut as warm spread through your limbs.

Soon the vibrations became too much and you tossed the vibe on the opposite side of the bed as you came down from your high, chest rising and falling lazily.

Reaching for your phone, you texted Cregan that you had done what he had told you to do, smiling lazily at your phone as you waited for him to respond. 

He sent a quick, 'Good girl' response which was shortly followed by a 'Go to sleep xx'.

The text made your core clench and a small moan escaped from your lips, grinning at the praise. You texted him goodnight before setting your alarms for the morning. You rolled over in bed, the nervous energy having slipped away from your body and the warm buzz of your orgasm pull you down into a gentle sleep.

-

The loud beeping of your alarm jerked you from your sleep.

You groaned, turning to hit the snooze button on your phone as you rolled onto your back, staring up at the roof as you sighed. You blinked sluggishly at the ceiling medallion until the snoozed alarm blared loudly at you again. 

You dragged yourself from your sheets, pulling on your clothes for work, limbs feeling heavy as you worked them into some high waisted suit pants that made your ass look great.

Slowly but surely, you made your way out of your room and to the bathroom to put some makeup on and do your hair.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, hair atop your head in a rats nest, sleep in your eyes and fatigue in your features. You sighed and got to work, quickly making yourself presentable before getting ready to leave. 

When you exited the bathroom, you noted that Aemond’s door was open, and when you peaked inside, Helaena’s bed was already made. You looked down the hall as you began to make your way to the kitchen, hoping that he was just an early riser, and that the alarm hadn’t jerked him from his sleep.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you entered the lounge room and kitchen, with Aemond nowhere to be found. You put the kettle on to make yourself a cup of tea to help you wake up, leaning against the cabinets lazily. 

You really didn’t want to go to work today.

You almost dreaded it every time.

Whilst the pay was good, amazing even, and the work was not too stressful, Larys was a certified pain in yours and everyone else’s ass. You didn’t know what Alicent saw in him, or why she had made him COO over Rhaenyra.

Though you supposed that’s why the company had split apart.

Daemon and Rhaenyra took their best lawyers with them, the firm being flipped upside down by the sudden and brutal change. The pair were a force to be reckoned with, a true power couple, and if you were being honest, you were in awe of them.

The odds were against them when they split from Viserys’ legacy, but were quick to gather their support from loyal coworkers, starting from the ground up.

Making quick work of it, ‘Perzys Ānogār Legal’ (Blood and Fire) became rivals with ‘Red Keep Law’.

You drained your cup of tea, putting the mug in the washer before grabbing your bag and getting ready to leave. Helaena’s keys gone from the bowl, an even bigger confirmation of Aemond’s absence. You wondered where he went.

The gym maybe? A walk? Coffee? The possibilities were endless.

You had walked to the nearby train station and made your train by a mere second before the door closed shut. And by the time you had gotten to the office, you had made it on time, if not five minutes early to begin your eight hour shift. 

Working at a law firm had its perks.

Everything was done by the books, which ensured that you were being paid a fair, and if you were being honest, decent wage, unlike the cafe you had worked at for years, who turned out was not paying any of the staff the correct wages, and refused to disclose the payslips, stating their accountants had lost them.

The payslips never existed. 

You typed away at your desk, grabbing a cup of tea from the break room and a piece of fruit as you sorted through Gwayne Hightower’s schedule for the day, answering any emails that he received and forwarding them onto him. The next was Larys Strong’s, until the day flew by as you slogged away behind your desk doing menial tasks. 

The clock ticked loudly on the wall as you watched it finally click over to 5:00pm. As soon as the hand hit the five, you exited all of the windows you had open, and shut down your computer, moving to stand. 

You felt the presence of someone behind you and breathed in a sigh, as you immediately knew who it was.

“Running off?” Larys Strong mused, looking at the turned off monitor and bag you had slung over your shoulder. 

“You don’t pay me for off the clock hours, and as of now, I am off the clock.” You smiled sweetly.

Your boss smiled back in a way a shark would to its prey, “We love a staffer dedicated to their work.”

“That’s why I joined the union. I am dedicated to fairness and upholding our rights as workers in this firm. See you tomorrow, Larys.” You turned away from him, walking to the elevators. 

When you turned around, the thin, brunette man was still standing at your desk watching you, and as the doors closed, you could have sworn his eyes flitted down your legs to your feet again. 

Ew.

When you had gotten on the train, you checked your phone, sending a quick text to Helaena to see how she was doing. She responded almost immediately, saying she was fine and hungry, but that she was going out for dinner with Daeron tonight before they would both depart together to Kings Landing in the morning. You asked for pictures of the food and talked pointlessly until you got home. 

Arriving back at the flat, you found it quiet and empty, a definite change to the apartment bursting with life when you came home to Helaena. She was always either playing music, had a show on, or was talking or singing to herself. There was never not noise in the flat, and without it, it seemed to drain the life from the walls.

Though you supposed that it would be quiet, what with Aemond’s lack of conversational skills. 

Come to think of it, was it lack of skills, or lack of want? Maybe he didn’t wish to speak to you. Maybe, he was rude. You would find out soon enough, but in the present moment, it felt like the latter.

You called out to your best friends brother, wondering if the silver haired Targaryen was somewhere, hiding in the shadows, and when no reply came back, you dropped the thought all together. 

Kicking your shoes off you dropped your keys into the little dish by the door and made your way inside, dumping your bag on the dining room table. You stretched up on your tiptoes, letting a small groan fall from your lips as you trudged to your room.

Digging through your cupboard you grabbed a pair of pyjamas and made your way to the bathroom to shower. You had turned the water on when you realised you didn’t have the speaker with you, so running from the bathroom you went to the kitchen where it last was. 

Grabbing it, you ran back to the shower and put your phone on shuffle, music pouring out of the speakers as you finally delved beneath the steaming spray. You let the water wash away the stress of the day and sighed, cracking your neck as you tilted your head backwards, letting the water wet your face so that you could wash it. 

The shower was large, and the faucets were the original brass that they would have been when the flat was made. And whilst at times the water could take some time to heat up, there was no denying that the water pressure was perfect. 

You stayed in there for a while before turning off the shower, singing until your heart was content as you moisturised, steam filling the room. After getting dressed, you made your way to go back to your room, grabbing your phone and speaker along with your dirty clothes. 

The sun had now set, and the blanket of night settled across Kings Landing.

Usually Helaena would be in your room on your bed, laying on her back or stomach whilst on her phone, watching videos or documentaries and waiting to ask you about your day. It was disappointment to not see her where she usually was.

Despite the music coming out of your speakers, and the soft whispering of the words from your lips, the apartment still felt quiet, empty. Desolate.

You left your room, deciding it was time to make some dinner. The lights in the apartment were off, and so you flicked on the various lamps and lights that were scattered in the apartment, staying true to the ‘No Big Light’ rule that you and Helaena had set, insisting upon the warm glow of multiple light sources instead. 

Grabbing the sauce from the fridge, you wondered where Aemond was again.

Would he be gone all night? Should you be expecting him?

Opening the Tupperware you realised there was only enough for one more serving of pasta, and deciding that you didn’t know where her brother was, or when he would be back, you claimed first dibs and began to boil some water to cook the pasta.

Grabbing your phone, you flicked off a text to Aemond, asking if he would be home for dinner, before setting your phone back down and deciding to call Helaena. You put the phone on loudspeaker as you moved around the kitchen, listening to the ringing before her chirpy voice flitted through the speaker.

“Dōna Y/n.” Sweet, Her voice sang, Valyrian accent on her tongue.

You grinned down at the phone as you stirred the pasta, “Hey Baby Bug. I miss you!”

“Aw, I miss you too! I’m here with Daeron. Say hi.”

Daeron’s smooth voice popped over Helaena’s, “Hey girl.”

“How are you?” You leant against the cabinets, phone up to your face.

“I’m good, it’s been a while.” Daeron replied, you could hear Helaena whining in the background for the phone, “Heard my brother is there with you.”

You laughed, “He’s not here right now, so I can’t give him the phone to say hey.” You explained, looking into the bare apartment.

Daeron chuckled, and it reminded you of Helaena’s soft laugh, “Wouldn’t get much but a grunt out of him anyway.”

“Where is he?” Helaena asked, the speaker of the phone muffling as she grabbed it out of her youngest brothers hand.

You checked your phone for any notifications of his reply. 

None.

“Dunno. He was gone this morning and hasn’t come back yet.” You sighed, stirring the pasta.

“Are you being nice?”

“Hel, I'm not being not nice. We shared I think maybe twenty words to each other last night.”

“20?" Daeron chirped, "That’s a new record.”

“Fuck off, Daer.” His sister griped, “That’s good,” She spoke into the speaker towards you, “He will warm up to you soon, and you can talk History, and Politics, and Poetry until your hearts content.”

You frowned at your phone, “Poetry? Hel, I didn’t say anything about that. Did he talk to you?” Suspicion in your voice. 

“You’re in trouble.” Daeron sang, and you heard a loud smacking sound, followed by an ‘ouch’.

“I called him this morning to make sure he was playing nice.” Helaena explained, though her tone sounded sheepish, “I don’t need to come home to a dead brother and roommate.”

You snorted into the phone, “No murder in the house if one member isn’t present. Unless he’s hiding around in the shadows.” Your eyes lifted to the apartment, scanning the lounge/dining room.

“Hows Cregan going?” The youngest Targaryen asked, intrigue in his tone.

“Hel, you snitch.”

“I did nothing!”

You put the phone on the counter and stirred the pasta roughly with a fork, “He’s good. Strictly casual, though. Sex is great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Details, details!” Daeron chanted excitedly, Helaena squealing in the back even though she already knew the details, and had actually heard the action on one or more occasion, much to your embarrassment, and her delight to tease you.

“Great sex. Great dick. Great body. Treats me like a human being.”

“Bare minimum.” Daeron and Helaena chanted at the same time.

“He actually texted me last night.”

“What did he say?” Helaena grabbed the phone, Daeron cursing his sister in the background.

“Wanted to come over.”

“Did you let him?”

“Hel, no. Aemond has only just got here. I can’t just bring Cregan over on his first night in.”

“Scandalous.” Daeron snickered.

“Shut up, you. Like you can talk.” Helaena argued, “What about when mum caught you with Kermit Tully?”

A gasp came from the other end of the phone, and you screamed. 

“Kermit Tully?” You said in disbelief, “You fucked Kermy?! Sweet baby Kermy? Red headed, soft natured, Kermy?”

“He wasn’t soft, I can tell you that much.” Daeron smirked.

You and Helaena both squealed.

“Oh my god. Now I want details!” You giggled, straining the pasta.

“Come to the Keep with us and I will give you all the juicy story of my long, hard, rough, night with the Kermit Tully.”

Putting your pasta in a bowl, you poured the sauce over the top, “Okay, well now I might have to come join you. But I don’t want to intrude with your fam.”

“Nonsense, you are family!” Helaena said lovingly.

“Naw, you lil cutie.” You grinned at your phone, carrying it over to the couch, “Don’t speak too soon though, I'm going to have to love you and leave you, I gotta eat my dinner.”

Daeron huffed, “Oh, so you just wanted the tea and now you’re going to leave us.”

“Yep!” You smirked, “I love you both, and bloody hell Helaena, FaceTime me this week. I’m having Targaryen withdrawals.”

“Just look at my brother and you’ll be fine.”

“Fuck off.”

“Love you!"

“Love you. Bye!"

“Bye, scuttle bug.”

The line ended and you put your phone down, turning the tv on with a flick and settling into the cushions with your bowl in your lap. Dance Moms played as you ate the pasta, with still no sign of Aemond. You checked your phone again.

He had left you on read. 

Dick.

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[kismetlotts]

-`♡´-Johnny mummy issues Mactavish x afab femreader

cw: mummy issues, “good boy”, reader praises johnny, marriage, control kink?, “mama”, blow job, male thigh humping, accidental boners, male masturbation, blow job, mentions of food and diet

Johnny mummy issues Mactavish who’s mother kicked him out when he was just a teenager. Johnny mummy issues Mactavish who was used to sleeping on his mates sofas and wearing mucky clothes until his shitty part time job could give him enough money to buy anything else. Johnny mummy issues Mactavish who lived off of junk food, and unhealthy leftovers friends had in their fridges until he was old enough to join the military.

They took him, gave him a room with his own bed and supplied him with basic necessities. Providing him with a home to live in for however long he needed. Until you walked into his life.

Your stunning body which wasn’t stereotypically perfect in any way shape or form, the natural curves of your hip dips and the small hairs on your arms. Your hair slicked back or out of the way, greasy some days and cleanly washed others, always with minimal makeup on. You were his kind of beautiful.

He approached you quickly and over time the two of you fell in love, getting married after a few years surrounded by friends and relatives. Johnny had mentioned to you before about his childhood and his mother kicking him out and you offered nothing but your support him.

He’d explained to you how he didn’t know how to care for himself and that his mother was never strict with her rules when she did care, to which you had great sympathy for. However nothing prepared you for what marriage life was like living with Johnny, and maybe that was your fault for believing the military might’ve changed how he can care for himself.

He’d lounge on your double bed for most the day, playing his video games on your shared bedroom tv, despite you asking nicely if he could help with chores. You decided to wait it out and see if he would eventually get up and help out but after about three days you lost your shit, bursting into the bedroom with a laundry basket on your hip.

“Off.” Was all you said and Johnny nodded in your direction mumbling something along the lines of ‘in a minute’ and ‘one second’. You closed your eyes for a moment attempting to calm your annoyance and think of a different approach but was left with none. After a few seconds you were already walking over to his console and running your finger along the edge before pressing in the power button. His controller hit the duvet on the bed as he exclaimed, baffled by your actions.

“What was tha’ for?” He raged, his hand pointing at the screen, your eyebrows raised as you shook your head. Nearly throwing the laundry basket infront of him, crossing your arms and looking down. Johnny couldn’t help but notice your nipples pointing through the baggy grey t-shirt you’d thrown on. You inhaled, walking over to the curtains and pulling them open, the sunlight shining in and you turned around again to face him.

“Pick up all your clothes and take it through to the washing machine, then you can play your games.” Johnny looked up catching you ass swaying as you walked out the door, shutting it and getting on with the day. He reflexively sat up in surprise but instead of anger, he felt his dick swell and throb.

Something changed in the way he saw you that day, he didn’t just see you as a wife, a lover whom he can own a home with and help tidy and care for it when he was needed. You were more of a motherly figure. He would do what you asked him to do, to the best of his ability and wait for you to notice, your praises sending him crazy with lust.

He’d wash, dry and fold the dishes up for you, patiently waiting until you notice. Your eyes widening in surprise with a loving and contagious smile spreading across your lips.

“Awh Johnny! Did you wash the dishes for me? What a good boy you are.” You’d coo into his ear as he pushed you against the counter. His pulsating cock, leaking precum all over your thigh as he rutted against you, whimpering in your ear.

“Really mama? Am I really?”

On days where he worked at home, looking into files or information on his computer, you’d walk into your little home office as quiet as you can. Placing down a glass of water and a plate of pastries to help him focus. Giving him a soft kiss on his forehead before turning and heading for the door, pretending not to hear the little grunts and rustling of his clothes as he began to stroke himself shamelessly.

It wasn’t only chores you’d help either, you’d help him with his diet. Being so used to awful junk food made him start to neglect the good dietary items which he needed. He ate a lot of carbs and protein which was good for keeping fit and energy at work, however when it came to foods such as vegetables and fruits, he was lacking in them. When you served him them he’d always save them last, groaning snd whining as he moved his food around on his plate.

“Do I have too, mama? I just don’t like veg!” He’d ask. His eyes looking down at you, on your knees underneath the table, lips only centimetres from his cock while your hand fisted it tightly. You’d nod and watch as he picked up a few pieces of broccoli, a grin spreading onto your face as you watched him place them in his mouth. Mimicking him by sucking his tip until his hands grab hold of the table. Innocent eyes looking up as I lick along his chubby veins.

“Come on big boy, just a few more for me and i’ll let you cum anywhere you want.”