#so I didn’t know if they would but…yeah they went there

[girl-lostconnection]

A little addition to this. Shout out to @sundaescreamcheese because they’ve guessed right.

Warnings: Banished knight!Ghost x Witch!Reader x Bloodhound knight Soap, Elden Ring AU, Johnny is a bit of a dog, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, smut at the end, biting

“Hail, witch”, gruff low voice would have startled you if your wards didn’t tense the moment he stepped onto your territory.

You don’t know what he’s doing here, this deep in the woods, this far from his usual duties and this far from Stormveil Castle.

But you aren’t going to be rude to the man in full armour, with a sword taller than you.

If whatever he seeks can be found without much hassle and he could get off your territory that would be great.

“Hail, knight”, you muse back, careful distance from him. Your wards won’t let him step much closer to the cottage, not unless you specifically grant him entrance and for now…for now you aren’t sure you should.

The man looks at you — someone’s skull now adoring the front of his helmet, his horse a menacing thing that huffs out cold air in agitation. Yeah, it’s no easy journey to get here.

That’s why you live here.

The man in front of you is tall and absolutely huge, more monster than a knight. Makes you wonder what happened for someone like him to become Banished.

What brought him to your doorstep.

You sigh, a little grateful that Johnny is too busy fussing over chickens in the backyard because gods know he can’t stand strangers. Even more than you so.

“You seek refuge or favour?”, you tilt your head to the side, eager to get rid of him faster. Johnny may not be able to run like he did before but he’s still one very good Bloodhound. You don’t have much time until he will stalk outside to see what’s going on in front of your house.

(The previous visitor that had a gall to grab your hand before leaving was hunted down by Johnny. Hunted down and brought back, the hand that gripped you resting on the first step of your porch)

Banished knight looks at you for a few very long moments but if sensing your agitation, gets off his horse — landing on his feet with grace, that sends shivers down your spine.

He’s not just big.

He’s in a very good control of his body and he’s very aware of his size.

He’s dangerous.

Your wards tense up, not letting him through when he steps forward and he freezes as if he forgot about them. Though who knows, maybe he did forget.

Knights did have tendency to feel like they are owed entrance wherever they go, perhaps this one is no different.

“I need to find another knight. Bloodhound”, his voice is low, muffled by the helmet he doesn’t take off — dark eyes boring into you, staring you down from the high of his height.

Your brows furrow at the strange request, heart thumping faster. There’s only one knight who has been around these parts of the woods.

And he’s no longer Bloodhound. You are not giving him back. You are not going to let anyone take him away and rip him off everything you and time out here have been slowly restoring.

“I can’t help you”, you voice sharp, unusually so and Banished knight tilts his whole body forward as if trying to press himself through the wards, his fingers curling and uncurling — leather of his glove creaking.

“I don’t need much, witch. Just tell me where he went. And I will leave”, Banished presses further, shoulders tense and voice curling around your throat like a grip.

He takes a breathe before stepping back, raising his hands in half-hearted placating gesture.

“I mean no harm. I can pay if you need. Just tell me if you saw him”, he sounds almost gentle, head tilting down so he can look in your eyes without you having to crane your neck at him. “I’m…a friend”, he adds reluctantly, like he needs to physically tear the words out of himself.

Your brows furrow further and coincidentally Johnny couldn’t find a moment to show up better than now, sound of his walking uneven — still a limp to his step.

He rolls out of the house, picture of faux nonchalance, despite the sharp edge to his eyes.

“Hen, you alright? I heard-“, words die on his tongue when he sees the Banished knight, eyes widening. There is a strange kind of hunger in his gaze.

You don’t like it.

Because Banished knight sees Johnny and almost lunges himself in his direction, the only thing stopping him are the tethers of your wards, curling around his throat, forcing him back, forcing him out.

Air smells like ozone, air cracks with pressure, your fingers quickly warming up with a spell because you were right.

This man is dangerous. He saw Johnny.

You can’t let him leave now. He will need to disappear.

But Johnny grips your shoulders and shakes his head, eyes mad and desperate, an anguish to his face that you don’t quite understand.

“Nae, hen. It’s Simon. Don’t”, he breathes out, fingers digging into your skin, eyes boring into yours.

You glance back at Banished knight and he’s sitting on his knees now, tethers forcing him down, still tightly wrapped around his throat.

He’s dangerous. You don’t know him.

But Johnny’s nose presses to your cheek, breathing shuddering and he doesn’t let go of you. He doesn’t pull away until you give him a slow tentative nod.

Your fingers flick, soft popping of tethers letting go audible in the air and Johnny actually lunges himself at the Banished knight, sending them both tumbling in the snow.

Knight holds onto him with such hunger something in you churns uncomfortably. What if he will take Johnny away?

Your fingers warm up with the subconscious desire to push the strange man (Simon, his name is Simon) out. Out of your territory, out of your woods, out of your life.

But Johnny looks genuinely happy to see him so you let it go, just sitting yourself down nearby. You’ll be damned if he gets injured just because you looked away for a second.

But Simon grips Johnny like he’s the lifeline and answer to his prayers. Simon’s palms slide all over Johnny’s body, stroking sides, checking for wounds or tethers (your lips practically curl in snarl when you notice. Who the fuck does he think you are?).

He pauses at Johnny’s bad knee, touch getting more careful, eyes expectant and suddenly on you.

“Old injury”, you tell him for some reason. Not like you actually have to. You don’t owe this man anything, he’s unwelcome guest in your home. “I did what I could. If I found him later, he’d probably be without leg by now. Infection practically ate him alive”

Banished knight holds your eyes for a very long moment and then melts back into Johnny, murmuring something under his breath — too far for you to hear.

Doesn’t matter. The man isn’t staying in your home. He’s dangerous.

You tell that yourself and finally go back into the house to put kettle on. It’s too cold to stay mad out in the open. He’s not staying here anyway, so there’s no need to get too riled up.

He’s not staying but Johnny still shifts his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, Simon looming over his shoulder. They both look like a pair of big, wet from snow dogs.

You look at Johnny unimpressed but he tilts his head to the side, grown out strands of hair falling over his forehead. It should be illegal to be that bloody handsome.

You sigh and gesture for them to get in.

Okay, tea never harmed anyone. You’ll let this man warm up and he’ll be on his way before the sundown.

With or without Johnny.

The thought makes bile rise in your throat but you force it down focusing on the task at hand.

You can’t keep him if he’d want to go and you won’t humiliate yourself with begging him to stay.

But Johnny, so attuned to your moods by now, so used to having you chat for both of you steps closer — hands wrapping around your waist, part of his weight leaning on you to give a break his healthy leg.

“Yer not happy”, he notes, nose pressing to your ear, huffing out air and you can’t help but relax, letting him lean on you. He’s warm, heat rolling off him in waves, seeping through the sweater you made for him. Your head tilts back on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your neck.

“He’s dangerous”, you muse quietly and ignore the chuckle Simon lets out. Banished knight is now sitting in front of your fireplace, cloak taken off and hanged on the chair to dry out.

Johnny just nods, calloused fingers rubbing idle circles on your solar plexus. It’s a long moment before he speaks again.

“I’m dangerous”, it’s said almost causally, his breath ghosting over your neck and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s different”, you snap back immediately.

Simon huffs behind your back and if Johnny wasn’t leaning on you, you’d have probably thrown something in the man. He’s not going to laugh at you in your own bloody house.

“Simon’s not bad, hen”, Johnny breathes out, tone softer, teeth grazing over sweet spot behind your ear, heat dripping down to your abdomen. Bastard. He knows what he’s doing.

“And Simon is not staying here”, you grumble, pouring herbal blend in three mugs, suppressing the urge to shiver when Johnny bites your neck.

“Hen”, he starts and you already know where it leads, you head shaking quickly.

“No”, you cut him off and nudge him with a shoulder to step back so you can move. “Move, I need to give this Banished his bloody tea”

Johnny grumbles but peels himself off you, less than happy to lose the comfort and warmth your body provides. Less than happy to let you slip out of his grasp.

“He can stay in the barn”, Johnny offers and just grins when you send him a glare. His teeth itch to sink into the nape of your neck, press you into the bed, lick the fight and agitation out of you, make you soft and pliant.

“I said no”

“Hen”

“He’s dangerous”

“Hen, have mercy”

Simon watches the way you two bicker, enjoying that none of you even noticed he took the helmet off to drink the tea you placed on the table with more force than necessary, some of it trickling down the rims of the mug.

Simon huffs out a dry chuckle when Johnny tries to pull you back into his hands and you sidestep, smacking his hands away. Leaving Bloodhound almost pouting.

“Cruel”, he complains to Simon, hands crossing over his chest. But despite everything…Johnny looks good. Better than Simon remembers him.

He’s wider now, there is bulk to him that Bloodhound Knight Johnny didn’t have. His eyes are brighter.

He is talking.

Simon didn’t even know Johnny could fucking talk, thought all Bloodhounds are mute. Courtesy of the profession.

“I understand you want to sleep with your Banished in the barn today?”, the witch arches their brow at Johnny and groans when his eyes light up.

Like a bloody dog catching the whiff of blood on the hunt. Old habits die hard, evidently.

“You can stay”, Johnny announces to Simon like it’s his personal victory, like he brought his master a good game after the hunt and is waiting to get his ear scratched.

His grin so wide it’s a miracle his face doesn’t crack. Witch rolls their eyes but Simon sees the way their lips twitch.

Seems not only he has a soft spot for Johnny.

Maybe it should’ve made him feel uneasy but if anything he feels satisfied, like something finally clicked in place. Puzzle finally unlocking in his hands, showing him the reward.

Simon tilts his head to the side, scar crossing his lips stretching when he smiles down at you.

Yeah, he’s staying.

A day turns into a couple days and then into two whole weeks because of the blizzard, Simon pushing further and further.

Eyes heavy and dark when he’d catch a glimpse of your throat or Johnny’s bites — purple bruises on your neck, soft creaking of the bed upstairs whenever it happened.

Simon doesn’t tell you that he moved from barn to the cot in the kitchen and you pretend that you don’t know he’s been sleeping there for the last week.

Simon pretends in return that he doesn’t strain his ears, catching the smallest sounds Johnny tears out of you. That he doesn’t lean on the cold wall of the kitchen, thighs spread wide, his eyes closed. That his hand doesn’t find its way to touch himself, stroking at almost lazy pace.

After all, Johnny is not starving Simon of little love here and there, eyes electric blue, mouth slick on the inner side of Simon’s thighs — your taste still on his lips.

Simon worms himself into your life and starts moving bloody furniture so he can position himself more comfortably, clicking his tongue when you hiss at him — tilting his head at you the same way a heavyweight horse would at the farm’s cat.

His fingers catch your jaw when you grumble that he rearranges your kitchen again, his lips pressing to yours.

You take a step back just to feel Johnny’s warm chest pressing into you, breathing heavier than usually, hands wrapping around you.

Simon angles your face so he can slip his tongue in your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you let him in. When you tilt your head up, allowing his fingers to curl over your neck.

Here we go. Finally.

Simon licks your lower lip, finally pulling away and reaches for Johnny just to give him a kiss just as wet, now grinning like a well-fed creature. Satisfaction dripping out his every pore.

Johnny nuzzles into your hair, breathing out a low “think Simon can sleep with us now, hen?” and you just nod. Your legs jelly that don’t hold you properly, head stuffed with cotton, skin tingling from the heat of their stares.

That’s…an unexpected turn. You were ready for Simon to leave. You were ready for Johnny to leave with him.

But this…this is a surprise.

Simon presses a short kiss to your forehead and walks away to feed the livestock. There’s a new spring to his step, as if something just depressurised his spine, letting him grow a few inches up.

The issue arises only when it’s time to actually sleep because Johnny is insatiable and he refuses to move anywhere from between your thighs, not reacting to anything.

Especially not to Simon walking in.

You feel hot, Johnny’s tongue sending white hot sparkles down your spine, your eyes meeting Simon’s whose pupils blow wide and god, he’s more monster than a knight.

He’s the solide presence when he crawl in bed to pull you into his lap, big palms holding you open for Johnny, fingers sinking in the meat of your thighs.

“Eager today, aren’t we, sweet’eart?”, Simon sucks his own mark in your skin, teeth grazing your throat, his grip on your thighs getting stronger when you make the prettiest needy sound.

Music for his ears.

“It’s okay. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna take care of both of you”, he practically purrs, sliding his fingers down your body to find the fluttering hole, dipping in it just to marvel at your body swallowing his first knuckle.

Johnny whines, his tongue circling lower, curling around Simon’s fingers, making you choke on your own breathing because too much-too hot-too wet.

Simon presses a kiss to your jaw, grin wicked and dark, stubble on his cheek scratching your skin.

“Be good, luv”, he murmurs, eyes heavy and hungry when Johnny sucks his fingers in, practically gagging on thick digits. “Open up for us”

Johnny bites on the fingers in his mouth before pulling away, dropping back down between your legs, sinking his teeth in the meat of your thigh.

Marking.

Simon smiles wider and adds a second finger, pushing in deeper, cooing in your neck when your hips buckle.

There’s no rush, love. They aren’t going anywhere.

After all, you already let them in. They might as well make themselves at home.

Johnny‘s tongue traces the bite mark on your thigh, his eyes fixed on another one he left on Simon’s knuckles that are currently sinking inside of you. Wet squelching sound sending a heatwave through Johnny’s whole body.

So welcoming to them. So sweet, hen. It would be their pleasure.

[beloveds-embrace]

AND ALSO POLY!141

joking around and calling them your brothers and they go deathly silent because what do you mean tou don’t see them romantically? doesn’t matter if they’re already involved with each other they want you to be just as involved too.

also this is toxic but threatening your various dates, stalking them and taking them out (not in the romantic way) so they have an excuse to hold you close. you get comforted, and they get to embrace your warmth #win-win

Friendzoned? Nah, it’s bro-zoned now 😭

The one good thing about grueling and long missions- were the post-missions.

Without fail, each time, you’d be invited to their house where Price would grill up something delicious and juicy on the barbecue, and everyone would be able to unwind. You enjoyed that time, spending it and relaxing with them.

The dynamic you all shared was easy, comfortable, and fun- at least for you.

You rolled your eyes and tossed a fry at Johnny, who caught it in his mouth with a proud grin and wagged his eyebrows, daring you to try again. “You’re like an annoying big brother, you know that?” you huffed at last, a matching grin on your face.

Johnny froze mid-chew, but you didn’t notice, too busy thinking. “Actually… all of you are like annoying big brothers, now that I think about it.”

You chuckles at your own thought, grabbing another fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth without once realizing the shift in the atmosphere. You didn’t catch the way Soap’s grin had vanished completely or how Price’s hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. Gaz’s usual easy smile was gone, replaced with a cold, unreadable expression, and Ghost… well, Ghost’s dark stare had become a touch more menacing.

The silence hung heavy, but you were blissfully unaware, waving your hand dismissively when no one responded. Your focus was on your phone, scrolling through your social medias. “What? You all went quiet on me.”

Soap cleared his throat, but it came out strained, his voice low. “Brother, huh?”

You hummed absently. “Yeah, you know- family. You guys are my family. Like brothers, watching each other’s backs and all that.”

Price exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair and running a hand over his beard. “Family.” He repeated, almost under his breath, his voice calm but tight.

Gaz tapped his fingers against the table once, then twice, before stopping abruptly. “Is that all we are to you?” he asked casually enough, though his tone carried an edge you didn’t catch.

“Of course,” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to look up from your food and phone. “I mean, it’d be weird to think of you any other way. You’re my team, my brothers-in-arms.”

You missed the way Ghost’s hands curled into fists on the table, his knuckles white, or the way Soap’s jaw clenched, demeanor replaced with something far darker. Price exchanged a look with Gaz, silent communication passing between them while you obliviously chewed on your steak, still oblivious to the storm brewing around you.

If you’d glanced up, even for a second, you might’ve noticed the way their gazes lingered on you- too intense, too sharp. But you didn’t. And they weren’t about to correct you.

Not yet, anyways.

The first time it happened, you didn’t connect the dots.

Your date, some charming guy you met at a café off base, canceled on you last minute, claiming he “didn’t feel safe” after someone left a threatening note on his car windshield. You shrugged it off as a weird coincidence- maybe it was the universe looking out for you, even. You didn’t want to be dragged into whatever that guy was stuck in.

The second time, a woman from the gym you’d been chatting with stopped replying to your texts entirely after she mentioned being followed home one night. You’d honestly tried to call and check on her, but she just… blocked you. Weird.

By the third time, when a guy you’d met on a dating app ghosted you entirely after his apartment was mysteriously broken into, you started to suspect something was up.

You mentioned it offhandedly to the team one evening, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what’s going on, but every time I try to date someone, something weird happens. It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to find someone!”

Soap hummed, a little too casually, but you simply discarded that thought. “Maybe the universe knows what’s best for you, bonnie.”

Gaz leaned back in his chair, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Or maybe these people weren’t good enough for you anyway.”

“You’ve got us to look after you. Don’t need anyone else mucking things up.” Even Price added in his own two cents, making you pause.

You laughed, thinking they were joking, but Ghost’s silence was unsettling- actually, none of them were laughing. He just stared at you, his eyes glinting in a way that made your stomach twist. But that was normal for your L.T… even if it’s been quite a long while since he’s made you feel like that.

The fourth time, it wasn’t just a weird incident. It was a full-on assault.

You were on another date- though even you had to admit this one was just… not going well. He was too dismissive, too loud, and the first thing he’d said before you even sat down was that you’d split the bill, and then he made a comment about you eating too much.

You’d sent a simple text to the team groupchat, telling them you really weren’t enjoying this one, and they’d left you on read. Bastards.

But then you date had been walking you to your car when someone stepped out of the shadows- a big, familiar hulking figure in a balaclava. Your date didn’t even have time to react before they were on the ground, unconscious.

“Come on,” Simon said, gently but firmly clasping his hand around yours. You were too shocked to even say anything- what the fuck? “Let’s get you home.”

You didn’t argue. Your heart was pounding too hard, and Simon took advantage of that to guide you to his car.

“Simon-“

“No.”

And thus the silence continued.

When you got back to their house, the others were waiting for you. Price immediately pulled you into a hug before you could demand answers, his hands firm but gentle on your lower back. “You’re safe now.” He murmured, as if soothing an angry kitten lashing out at him from fear. Despite your confusion and the flurry of emotions swirling in your chest, the tension in your body began to melt anyways, always so trusting of your Captain.

Gaz’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a steaming cup of tea immediately once Price let go of you. His smile was kind, but his eyes seemed… off. Too sharp. “Drink this, yeah? It’ll help.” He said, his fingers lingering a second too long before retreating.

Before you could question the strange atmosphere, Soap tugged you down to sit beside him on the couch. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close as though you were on the verge of breaking. “You’ll be alright,” he murmured, tone light yet firm. “We’ve got you.”

Simon remained silent, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. His presence loomed heavy in the room, his gaze never straying from you. It wasn’t comforting exactly- more like being caught in the sights of a predator lying in wait. Is this what the enemy soldiers thought and felt? You pitied them- but more than that you pitied yourself.

Your hands tightened around the warm mug, your confusion bubbling up like a shaken-up fizzy drink. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” You glanced between them, searching for answers. “Simon knocked out my date! What if he presses charges? And what’s with all this- this hovering?”

“Hovering?” Soap echoed, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “We’re making sure you’re alright, bonnie. That’s all. You said your date wasn’t good, no?”

Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke calmly, like he was explaining something obvious to a stubborn recruit. “That man wasn’t worth your time. None of your dates have been. They can’t protect you- not the way we can.”

“What are you even talking about?” you demanded, finally pulling away from Soap’s hold. Yet the feeling of being a bleeding sheep surrounded by wolves didn’t abate. “You’ve been acting so weird lately- ever since I mentioned dating. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just spit it out!”

Gaz sighed, his tone carrying a note of exasperation as he leaned against the couch. “We’re trying to keep you safe, love. Every time you step out with someone, you’re putting yourself at risk. You don’t know these people like we do.”

Your stomach churned. “What do you mean-?”

Gaz chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it, and you did not laugh. “Do you think we’d let you go out with someone without knowing everything about them first? Their names, their jobs, their pasts…” His voice dropped, a edge bleeding into his words. “How to get rid of them.”

Your blood ran cold, and you stared between them. They were dead serious, you realized. “That’s… You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

No one answered.

Simon pushed off the wall, his massive frame closing the distance between you in just a few steps. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You were essentially boxed in from all sides. “We’re not joking. You don’t need anyone else. You’ve got us.”

“…This isn’t normal.” You whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what you were hearing. “This- I don’t-“

“It is normal,” Price’s voice was steady and calm, eyes dark. “For us. For the people who care about you most.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the implications of their words sank in. They weren’t just being overprotective or overbearing. They were sabotaging your dates, controlling who could get close to you, and now- God, had they hurt people? How many had they hurt? All those people- you-

Your hands trembled, though you braved on even if bravery was the last thing you felt. “You can’t just decide this for me. I’m not some possession you can keep to yourselves.”

“We’re not keeping you from anything you need,” Gaz spoke so softly, you could trick yourself into believing he was saying you could leave and this was all just a mean prank. “We’re protecting you from what you don’t.”

“You should be thanking us,” Proce sighed, pulling out a cigar to smoke. Yet his eyes did not leave you even once, not even for a single second. “We’re the reason you’ve been safe so far.”

Simon’s gloved hands rested on your knees, pinning you down to the couch. “We’ll take care of you,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. “Always.”

You wanted to argue, to push them away, but the realization- the full weight of what they had done hit you like a freight train. You stood abruptly, pushing past Simon and cutting through the tense silence in the room. Their eyes followed your every move, like predators watching prey.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you stammered, stepping back toward the door. “This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. You can’t just- control my life like this!”

“Sit down, love.” Price said, his voice calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

“No, no,” you shot back, shaking your head as you took another step toward the door. “I’m leaving. I need some space. This- this is insane.”

Gaz rose from his chair, moving to block your path to the exit. His expression was so deceptively soft, but his stance was firm, unyielding. “You’re not thinking clearly, love.” He said, low. “Just sit down. We’ll talk it through.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, your voice rising with panic. “You’ve been stalking me- sabotaging my life! That’s not protection. That’s obsession!”

Soap stood then, and his expression made you flinch. He stepped closer, effectively boxing you in again as he joined Gaz. “We’re not letting you walk out that door.” He said simply, but his words were anything but.

You turned toward the only other way out, but Simon was already there, his massive frame looming in the doorway to the hall. He didn’t say a word, just stared, his presence alone enough to make your stomach twist.

Your breathing quickened as you turned back to Price, the only one still seated, though his gaze was sharp and calculating. “You can’t keep me here, Price,” you said, your voice trembling but still clinging to the traces of defiance. “You don’t have the right-“

“We do have the right,” Price interrupted, standing slowly. The sheer authority- the sheer finality in his voice made your knees weak. “Because we’re the only ones who care about you the way we do. The only ones who’ll keep you safe. Your team, remember, darling?”

“This isn’t safety,” you hissed, backing toward the wall. “This is prison.”

Price mouthed the word, then huffed a humorless laugh. “We’re not locking you up. But we will stop you from running into danger. Even if you don’t understand it now, you’ll thank us later.”

“You can’t just-“

“Enough,” Simon cut in, sharp and blunt, his voice cutting through your protests like a knife. “You’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

Your back hit the wall, your escape routes blocked on all sides. Your chest heaved as you looked at each of them, searching for even a sliver of remorse. But all you saw was determination, faces set in stone…

Much like your fate.

[dollracha]

𐙚 i want it ⋆ h.js x fem! reader pt. 2

part one ⋆ part two

pairing: han jisung x inexperienced! reader genre: smut, smau warnings: swearing ⋆ spit kink⋆ virginity ⋆ needy han ⋆ slight perv!han ⋆ reader is called “baby” and “pretty girl” ⋆ no use of “y/n” ⋆ reader is referred to by she/her pronouns ⋆ piv ⋆ munch jisung ⋆ oral sex (fem recieving) ⋆ fingering ⋆ light cum play ⋆ lots of praise ⋆ dialogue heavy wc: 3.2k synopsis: a week after jisung eats you out, he takes your virginity at your eager request. author's note: i feel like this is a safe enough space to say that i kinda didn’t wanna write this pt 2. i struggled a lot, but it’s finally finished!! didn’t wanna leave you guys hanging so i pushed through and delivered! if you like it feel free to reblog or comment bc those make my day <3

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

a pit of guilt grows in jisung’s gut. he promised you months ago that he’d take it slow. he broke that promise the moment it got too difficult to keep his dick in his pants. months ago, you would barely make out with him. you were so shy when it came to being intimate. but slowly, you got more used to it. slowly. 

he promised you that your first time together would be at the right moment. and he begged to get your pussy in his mouth before you were ready. he was such an awful boyfriend.

at least, that’s what he thought. 

jisung was oblivious to the lust that clouded your mind the following days. the way you’d wake up in the morning, only to feel slick between your thighs from the wet dreams the night before. the way you’d be going about your day, and suddenly the image of your boyfriend rubbing his dick on your pussy flashes in your mind. or the way you fantasize at night about how it’d feel to experience it all over again–his tongue, his fingers. how you'd fall asleep to the thought of his cock inside you.

he started a fire inside you without even knowing, and he needed to quell it before you lost your mind.

he’s barely even went further than kissing you since he ate you out. you know that jisung is scared to force you. but you also know that you’re ready. 

instead of asking him to fuck you, like any rational person would do, you decide the best way to what you want is to seduce him into it. it isn’t hard. really, it’s stupid easy. even a virgin can do it. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

when jisung gets into your apartment, all he wants to do is cuddle you while you stroke his hair. it’s one of the tamer things he’s been dreaming of all day. 

“baby?” he says, and shuts your apartment door. it’s silent. “baby?”

“bedroom.” is all you reply. when he opens the door, he pauses. he definitely had something to say with the way his mouth hangs open, but as soon as he sees you it’s thrown out the window. you see his adams apple bob as he swallows, and takes in the sight of you: naked except for a thin, cropped camisole and panties, your sweatshirt barely covering your arms before it falls to the floor.

“jisung.” you try your best to keep the amusement out of your voice. 

“shit! sorry, baby.” he snaps out of it quickly, adverting his gaze to the wall behind you. half of his thoughts for the past week come back to him all at once. seeing you barely covered makes the blood rush to his face, and his dick. it’s an instant reminder of how he had you just a week ago. he doesn’t look back to you, he might be strong enough mentally, but his dick sure isn’t. traitor.

“how was your day?” you're so casual about it, sauntering up to him and hugging him like you're not practically naked in front of him. like your tits don't press up against his chest when you hug him tightly.

“good. it was good. i missed you.” he's trying to stay calm. keep his dick from flying out of his pants like some deranged, horny adolescent who just discovered porn.

“yeah? still wanna cuddle like you wanted to earlier?” you ask, referencing a text he sent you a few hours ago.

screw his dick, his heart needed you more.

jisung sits on your bed, his back resting against the headboard. he watches as you climb into his lap, bare thighs against his sweats. you're so warm, and you smell so good… you're gonna kill him one day.

the moment your hands are in his hair, he's taking a deep, grounding breath. he loves when you play with his hair, it's the perfect stress relief for him. his girl, all pretty in his lap, running her fingers through his hair. dream come fucking true.

jisung can't help the low groan that escapes his lips as he adjusts his position. his arms wrap around you, shifting you in his lap so you're not sitting on his dick.

“fuck, baby.” he mutters. his eyes are shut, teeth biting at his lip to keep himself quiet.

it's cute, really. how worked up your boyfriend gets over you. you can't help but kiss the corner of his mouth, your hands cupping his cheeks as you try to push things further.

“kiss me, jisung?” the way you ask him is so sweet, so innocent sounding. like you don’t have a plan (you do) and all the pieces aren’t falling into place (they are). he can't resist, leaning up to kiss you short, sweet, and chaste. 

it's not enough. you take charge, kissing him and shifting in his lap to get a better angle. he gets the message, and lets you lead the kiss. in no time you're deepening it, your tongue in his mouth, and jisung's quick to pull back, your unusual boldness finally catching him off guard. 

“you good, baby?”

“mhm.”

“really?”

“you haven't kissed me in forever.” you're quick to defend yourself with a pout. forever, a week… same thing.

“c'mon, baby. you know i don't wanna rush you… i wanna take it slow with you, you asked me that and i'm doing my best…” he's looking at you like you’re too good for him, or he’s too bad for you. “you really don't know how hard that is for me, sometimes.” he mutters, eyes averting away from you. his hands come to rest on your hips, and it illustrates his point: he can't keep his hands off you.

“you're so gorgeous… prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. and you've got no idea how badly i just wanna push you down on the bed and fuck you sometimes.” jisung takes his hands off you, like they'll betray him. his hands ball up into fists at his sides. “you deserve someone who's able to wait for you, patiently.”

you don't like the implication of jisung's words. that you might ‘deserve’ someone better than him. your hands reach for his wrists, and guide his hands back to your body where they currently belong.

“i don't want anyone else, jisung, only you. it felt good when you ate me out. i liked it. i want more.” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “fuck me. please?” you ask, thumbing over his cheeks. your eyes are so warm, so full of love for your just slightly perverted boyfriend.

“i don't wanna make you wait anymore. i'm ready now. please? i want it.”

jisung can't resist you: his dick is throbbing in his sweats, his mind clouded because you look so damn good on his lap. you're begging him to take your virginity. you’re clearing up the doubt and guilt in his mind. who is he to deny you any further? 

“i love you.” he grins, shaking his head. his hands travel up from your hips to your waist, and he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “lie down, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re quick to push yourself off his lap, and lie down beside his sitting form. there’s an air of excitement bouncing between you two as he kneels between your legs. he sits back to admire you beneath him. 

the way your hair lies behind you, the eager look in your eyes, the gloss of your lips from the messy kiss you shared. the way your top scrunches up beneath your tits, the strap barely falling off your shoulder. It’s the little nuances of your appearance that have him feeling like the wind’s been knocked from his lungs, and he wants to commit that beauty to memory, write about it like he’ll ever find the right words to describe you.

debauched. hot. perfect. ‘mine’. 

he can’t control himself, hands wandering your body to brush up your thighs. they reach your ribs and begin pushing up your top, freeing your tits for him to grope and tease. he takes in the way your breath catches, notes the things he does what makes you react. you’re so reactive and all he’s done is feel you up.

“shh… baby, i know…” he whispers as he takes your nipple between his thumb and index finger to give it a rough pinch. “want it so bad, right? want me to just put it in?” 

you nod. he’s worked you up quickly. “not yet. my girl deserves a special first time. i can’t just put it in. what kind of boyfriend would i be?”

“but, ji–” jisung’s hands trailing down your ribcage to your hips. his thumbs soothe over the skin, but his grip is firm, and keeps you in your place. 

“don’t be a brat.” the sudden sternness in his voice has you shutting up immediately. you don’t think he’s ever spoken to you with such strictness… it turns you on. with that, he stands, and pulls you to the edge of the bed. 

“let me take care of you.” his voice is softer as he speaks and drops to his knees on the floor. he ends all your thoughts of impatience the moment he begins kissing up your inner thighs. “gotta prep my girl first, okay?”

there’s a gentleness in his touch, as he spreads your thighs a little wider, taking in the sight of you. as if he didn’t make you cum on his tongue with no regards for your virgin status just a week ago. “relax f’me.”

he spreads your pussy open with two fingers, and in seconds there’s a slow, wet trail of his spit dripping down your clit. jisung starts with slow, gentle licks that have you melting into his touch. he works up a fire inside you that spreads with every deep shallow breath, every barely audible whine from your lips. when your wetness and his saliva are all glistening across his chin, he pulls away. “how’s it feel, pretty girl?”

“good.” you breathe out, and suck in a deep breath. “want more.” you roll your hips, desperate to get his mouth back on you. 

"yeah? more what?” jisung rubs your thighs, giving you a break whether you like it or not. it’s a form of self control for himself as well, he can’t get lost in eating you out if he stops. “what do you want more of, baby? tell me.”

honestly, you don’t know. you just want more of the feeling he’s giving you, the fire that builds slowly and threatens to take your breath away. luckily, jisung is more than happy to give you options. “want more of my mouth? or do you want to try my fingers?”

“just wanna feel good.” you decide, and jisung smiles. you’re cute, and you trust him with to make you feel good, even if you don’t know what you want. he’s eager now, your plea spurring him on. jisung teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly inserts it as he begins to suck on your clit. it’s not enough, not for jisung. as soon as he feels you relaxing around one finger, he’s quick to insert anther. it’s not a hard stretch. not when your pussy’s being so greedy, sucking in his fingers as he sucks on your clit. 

all the while you’re moaning his name so sweetly, rutting your hips up into his mouth like he’s just a pillow for you to hump. “fuck, baby…” he’s moaning into your pussy, reaching his arms beneath your thighs to pull you closer.

“ji…” the way you moan his name is obscene. he wants to hear it again.

“cum on my tongue.” it’s somewhere between a command and a plea. however he asks, he needs to see it again, feel it again–fuck, he needs to taste it again. “cum on my tongue and you can have my dick, baby. ‘s all yours.” 

it’s not lost on him that you’re close when your hands reach for his hair, tugging in a way that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. he knows before you do, and he’s doing all he can to make you tip over the edge. 

“please–” 

the fire he coaxes within you builds and builds. until you’re warm to the touch and can’t speak anything but his name in broken moans. he holds you down when you cum, your hips fighting against his strength as his fingers fuck you through it.

“good girl… that’s my good girl…” he praises. his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every frame of you as you come undone on his fingers. once your breathing calms, and you lie still on the bed, his eyes trail down to your pussy. his fingers gather the wetness of your cunt and pull out in tandem with your whine of “too much!”

“look at you, baby…” he coos as he stands. “that’s my good girl, cumming on my tongue so pretty for me.” his clean hand trails up your body, and rests against your throat. his hand is warm, almost weightless as it rests above your throat. it’s oddly grounding for you.

“made such a mess, though…” an idea pops into his head.  “you ever taste yourself, baby?” you shake your head no. jisung brings two fingers up to your lips. “go ahead.” he brushes the slick pads of his fingers against your bottom lip.

“clean up the mess you made.”

jisung groans as you take his fingers into your mouth. He can’t recall seeing a sweeter sight in his life. the way you look up at him, eyes wide and glossy as his fingers hit the back of your throat. you don’t stop though. you keep sucking, even beginning to bob your head a little and it goes straight to his dick.

he’s enjoying this too much.

jisung slides his fingers out of your mouth, and runs the same hand through his hair. “feel good?” he takes note of the look on your face, so fucked out already. you nod. it’s not a good enough response for him. “talk to me.” he’s gentle as he speaks, and brushes your hair out of your face. 

“feels good, ji.” you sigh, and shut your eyes. 

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“want more? or are you done for the night?” jisung’s thumb caresses your cheek, the other hand sits softly at your waist.

“more, please?” 

“of course, baby. you did so good for me. i promised you i’d give you my cock, didn’t i? gotta give my pretty girl what she wants.” it makes him impatient, to know that he has you prepped and eager for him. but he has to start slowly. 

he pushes his sweats down beneath his thighs, too impatient to fully take them off. he fists his heavy cock in his hands as the tip prods at your entrance. 

“gonna put it in now, okay?” he doesn't give you much time to think about it and before you can reply, he's pushing in. 

“jisung…” your eyes shut as you moan his name, and jisung watches the way your pussy welcomes him. you watch jisung: the hungry look in his eyes, the messiness of his hair, the way he breathes deep and slow as he takes you. half his cock is nestled inside you when he finally breaks the silence.

“you're doing so good, baby…” he mutters, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “taking me so well…” 

it's then that he starts to thrust. calculated and slow strokes that have you gasping as clenching around him. jisung is captivated. his eyes are glued onto the way you suck him in. he's barely able to keep himself from fucking into you deeper. 

your eyes wander down from taking in jisung's expressions, to the way his hips fuck into you with all the restraint he has. it makes you want more, want to feel him completely.

“more,” it's not an ask or a plea. it's a demand. you keen into his touch, and your eyes lock. “i want it all.” 

jisung laughs. he can't help it, you're cute. “more, baby? you want all my cock?” he teases and slowly begins to pull out.

“yes!” you whine, “jisung, please?”

it's cute. you're so desperate for him. it's hypocritical almost. he's using all his self control trying not to fuck you like he's a fucking rabbit in heat.

without any warning, he's grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. he slides into you, slowly. he groans as he bottoms out. you reach out to grip the sheets, but he's quick to grasp your hand instead.

“good job, baby. fuck, pussy's made for me–hold my hand, pretty girl…”

jisung pulls back and he swears he sees stars. “fuck…” he doesn't know how much longer he can control himself. his thrusts are deep and slow, falling into the familiar routine he fucked you with earlier. 

it's not enough for you. not enough pleasure to satiate the fire hes stoking inside of you. “more.” you demand. “more, ji.” something snaps in him. he’s quick to fulfill your request, fucking into you faster. 

“so dirty, baby. never been fucked before and already can’t get enough.” you can’t deny his words, or respond. all you do is moan his name again and arch into his touch.

“close?” you mutter, almost unsure of when your own orgasm is coming. with that, jisung spreads your pussy open with his fingers, and spits right on your clit. the high pitched whine that leaves your lips makes him smirk. 

“i know, baby.” his fingers work fast circles against your clit, and he feels the way you tense and squirm against his touch. “too much!” and it’s not. jisung knows it’s not. it’s just enough.

 “cum for me, baby.” and you do: with little whines and moans of his name, with little rolls of your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. you’re clenching around him like a vice, each flutter of your pussy brings him closer to cumming, and he’s already trying his best to hold off.

he can’t take it anymore. jisung pulls out quickly and fists himself as he cums on your tummy. “that’s my girl… did so well.” he praises, his free hand soothing over your hip. 

jisung watches as you come down from your high. you're so pretty. his pretty girl. all ruined. your hair's a mess. the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. his cum all over your tummy.

“how are you feeling, baby?” he asks with a soft smile on his face. 

“good,” you nod, a barely there smile on your face as you reach for his hand. “more than good.” 

you tug his hand, trying to pull him down to cuddle you. it's a signal that jisung responds to immediately. he's pulling you to the side to spoon you. 

one hand rests against your tummy, and he rests your head against his other arm. he kisses your nape, then your shoulder, then rests his head against you. it’s peaceful. 

“i love you, jisung.”

“i love you, baby.”

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Just Ask Me

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fe!Reader -> Hangman is used to getting what he wants, so what happens when he doesn't get you?

Disclaimer: Softer moments, Dagger Squad being a family, Hangman being taught a lesson or two though, Reader is Phoenix's best friend, Jake and Reader find common ground, getting lost in the store. Mentions of bullying and shitty friends but Jake helps out. Light swearing. Kinda a strangers/unlikely friends to lovers situation.

It was no secret Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin always got what he wanted. 

He was the best of the best in the air force, he had enough charm to fill an entire mythical city and he wasn’t too bad on the eyes, either. 

So, when you rejected him it was safe to say he didn’t know what to do. 

Of course, he’d been rejected before. But that was mostly in moments where he wasn’t actually trying. Maybe a quick ‘hey’ and a smile at a bar and there was a chance the girl would walk away. But leading you into a conversation, giving you his best smile and receiving one in return…

He’d never been rejected at that point. 

“No, thank you.”

Jake faltered for a moment. 

Nobody had ever been that polite in rejecting him, either. 

“But can I help you with anything else?”

Jake shook his head. “N-No, ma’am. Have a nice night.”

You smiled. “You, too.”

Jake kept looking back at you as he walked back to the rest of the Dagger Squad. 

“What’s the matter, Bagman? Crash and burn?” Phoenix asked. 

Jake didn’t say anything. Just walked back and sat on the edge of the pool table, his eyes still on you. Then he felt himself laugh; mostly because he was confused. 

“Yeah.”

Phoenix smiled, holding out her hand to Rooster. “Hand it over.”

Reluctantly, Rooster slapped a twenty dollar bill into her hand. “How do I keep losing to you?”

Phoenix examined the crisp bill. “Because I’m just better.”

Rooster rolled his eyes but Jake’s eyes remained on you. What had he done wrong? 

He’d seen you looking over at the Dagger Squad. You’d even looked in his direction a few times. So, after he went and got his drink, he walked over and struck up a conversation with you. You talked with him. He smiled. You smiled. It was going well. And then…no thank you. 

What had he done wrong?

Pocketing the twenty dollar bill, Phoenix reached for her jacket and handed the pool cue over to Jake. He took it, his eyes still on you. 

What had he done wrong?

“Well, this has been fun, boys, but I’ve got a go.”

Rooster turned to her, Jake finally peeling his eyes away from you. “Where?”

“Meeting a friend.”

“You have friends?” Jake asked her. 

“Funny.” 

However, as Phoenix stepped down and onto the bar floor, she didn’t turn towards the doors. Instead, she walked straight over to you. 

“What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe thanking her.”

Jake just rolled his eyes, his entire body suddenly on high alert. But as both Jake and Rooster watched Phoenix with you, they realised rather quickly that this wasn’t your first meeting. 

Then they watched as you packed up your things, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You, and Phoenix, looked directly over at both of them and waved. 

Jake felt a shocked smirk grow on his face as he watched you and Phoenix leave, but Bradley was the first to laugh. 

“Oh, my god.” Bradley clapped him on the back. “She’s never going to let you live it down.”

“Come on, let’s just play.” Jake said as he stood up. But his eyes returned back to you as he did so, watching as you and Phoenix left the bar laughing. 

That’s what he did wrong; he went after Phoenix’s friend. 

And Rooster was right; Phoenix was never gonna let him live it down. 

Jake figured he’d never see you again. He’d never seen you before and Phoenix had never mentioned you so he could only presume you’d come in to visit her. But he did see you again. 

Four days later, just a little after eight in the evening, Jake ran into you. Quite literally. 

Turning round one of the aisles, Jake ran into a shopping cart. 

“Ooh, sorry.”

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.”

Looking at who had just ran into your cart, you were met with a familiar face. And he seemed to recognise you, too.

“You…”

Letting yourself relax, you smiled. “Hi, Jake.”

“You know my name?”

“You did introduce yourself and Phoenix has told me a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope?”

You shrugged. “Some stories are more entertaining than others, but…” You saw the flash of panic across his face but then you chuckled. “I’m kidding. I’m Y/n, by the way.”

Stretching over your cart, you held out your hand. He shook it. 

“Nice to finally meet you, I guess.” Jake replied. You laughed a little with a smile, averting your eyes from his for a moment. Jake’s eyes followed yours and landed inside your cart. 

“You throwing a party or something?”

It took a moment for it to click with you. “What? Oh, yeah. No, no. No party. I’m actually- I’ve just moved.”

“Here? To San Diego?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Job transfer.”

“That sounds…”

“Stressful?” 

Jake nodded, admitting the truth. “Yeah.”

You nodded, moving your cart out of the way. “Well, it is. But everything is going well so far. Ooh, you wouldn’t know where the bedsheets are? I’ve been in here an hour already and still haven’t come across them.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, they’re just down here. I’ll take you to them.”

So, walking beside him, he walked you across the store. 

“I feel like I’ve been put in a dryer and then put back on my feet. I have no idea where anything is in this store.”

Jake chuckled. “I felt like that. Each store had a different layout than the ones I was used to. But, you make enough late night runs for a box of pens, you tend to find your way around.”

“Figured it would have been for protein powder or something?”

Jake shrugged. “That, too.”

You felt yourself laugh a little. 

“They’re just down here.”

“Fabulous,” you almost exclaimed as you took in the rows of different materials and colours. 

“You’re probably best getting something light. The days are gonna be heating up pretty soon. It can get cooler at night but cotton is probably gonna be your best friend.”

You nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Scanning the shelves, you picked out a few different ones. However, the final one remained on the top shelf. Then it fell onto its back. 

“Shit.”

“Here.” Lightly pushing the cart out of the way, Jake reached up and pulled it down before handing it to you. 

“Thanks.”

Standing in front of you, Jake smiled. “Anything else I can help with? I mean, I probably know this store like the back of my hand by now.”

Looking up and down the aisle, you made a decision. “Furniture packs?”

Walking backwards, a pleasing smile on his face, Jake extended his arm. “If you will follow me, Ma’am.”

For the next thirty minutes, Jake helped you find everything you were looking for in the store. All the while, you both talked. Swapping a few short stories on how you both came to San Diego, where the best pizza places were, and how you’d met Phoenix. 

By the end, Jake helped you pack up your groceries and walked you back to your car. 

“So she just pushed them into the pool?”

You nodded. “With as much force as she could. They never bullied me again, though. After that, we became inseparable.”

“Well, I can tell you, she hasn’t changed much.” Jake placed one of the bags into the back of your car. “I mean, probably less pool pushing. Though, she probably thought about it during training. But, still.”

You chuckled. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Finally packing up your car and placing the cart back into the shelter, Jake quickly rounded your car and opened your door before you could reach for the handle. 

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Here to serve, ma’am.”

You chuckled, rolling down the window as Jake shut your door. 

“Thank you, for your help.”

Leaning on your door, Jake shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“Guess I’ll see you round?”

Jake nodded, trying to hide his smile. “I guess so. I hope so.”

You smiled. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Y/n.”

As Jake walked back to his car, he watched as yours rolled away and headed in the opposite direction back down the street. 

Jake saw you again just a few days later when he walked into The Hard Deck. 

You and Phoenix were sitting in one of the booths at the back, talking. The rest of the Dagger Squad were dotted around the place. Some at the bar, some out at the back and some by the pool table. 

And as he walked over to the bar, his eyeline falling back on you as even just the thought of you sent something pounding in his chest, Rooster came and stood beside him. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times you try, Phoenix won’t let you.”

Jake puffed air from his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bradshaw.”

Rooster just smirked, tracking Jake’s gaze from where it kept flicking across the room. 

“I think you do. Or else you really are as stupid as you look.”

Clapping him on the back once more, Rooster disappeared with his beer bottle towards the pool table. 

“Penny, my dear.”

Paying for his drink, Jake seemed to check himself over. 

“You look handsome.” Penny smiled as she dried a bar glass. 

Jake felt himself laugh a little. What was he doing? You were just a person. And you’d already said no. 

With a little more confidence, Jake headed towards the pool table and took up a cue with Coyote. But after two games, his confidence took a shot when Phoenix stood from the booth and you followed her. 

Both of you lent against the fence barrier and watched as they each moved around the table, taking their shots. 

And each time you were in Jake’s view, he missed his shot. 

“Getting rusty, Hangman?” Bob asked, already having noticed what effect you seemed to have on Jake. 

Glaring at Bob, Jake tried his best to focus on the shot. But there was something still stopping him. So, taking another look at you, Jake saw you looking at him. 

You raised your eyebrows a little, silently questioning him. Then you took a slow drag of your beer. 

Standing up, Jake cleared his throat and avoided the looks from the rest of his squad as he moved around the table. It took him a moment, but he finally made a successful shot. 

That continued for another two rounds until Jake found himself unable to even look at you without his stomach doing enough flips to send him dizzy. 

So, pushing Hangman aside, Phoenix took his cue and the game continued between her and Rooster. 

“How’s the move coming along?” Jake eventually managed to find his voice, though his eyes remained on his feet. 

“It’s…coming.”

Jake looked up at you. “That bad, huh?”

You shrugged. “I’m getting there. It’s just taking a little longer than I thought.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Flatpack furniture with no instructions.”

Jake folded his arms. “But it’s a side table.”

You laughed. “It’s got twenty-six pieces.”

“What?!”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Jake watched you for a moment as your attention went back to Phoenix and Rooster as he beat her. 

“Can’t be better at everything.”

Phoenix laughed. God help Rooster. 

“We’ll see.”

Leaning into Jake, you whispered. “She’s gonna kill him.”

Jake smiled. He knew that to be true. But as they broke in the next game, Jake turned back and looked at you. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” He thought to himself before another set of words left his mouth. 

“I could help you.”

“What?”

“With your furniture. I could help you.” Jake clarified. “I’ve got a couple free days coming up and I’ve got nothing else to do. I could help.”

You peeled back for a moment, your eyes flicking over every inch of his face. You smiled a little. “You’d do that?”

“I know we didn't meet under the most conventional circumstances, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you.”

You studied Jake for a moment. 

“Okay.”

That was how a week later, Jake had turned up at your home with Phoenix in tow. Once she got wind of Jake offering to help you, she’d already given him a warning. 

“I know you like to flirt-”

“I’m not flirting.”

“But she’s my best friend. So, if you hurt her in any capacity, I will end you.”

Jake shifted in his seat. “Duly noted.”

When Phoenix let herself into your home, she called out for you. 

“Upstairs! Please tell me one of you can read Swedish!”

Looking at each other, Jake and Phoenix realised what they’d got themselves in for. 

Three hours later, the three of you were sitting on your office floor figuring out how to build your wall library. 

“How can something have this many pieces?”

“How can two fighter pilots with engineering degrees not know how to build a library?”

Jake sat with the instructions in between his legs, reading back over the pictures. 

“Wait. I think I’ve got it.”

Phoenix sighed before pushing herself up to stand. “Well, while you get a handle on that, I’m gonna order food.”

As she left the room, going into your kitchen to find the menu, you stayed with Jake. 

In the time Phoenix was gone, you and Jake sat feet to feet across from each other and had built the first half of one bookcase. 

“Will it stay?”

Silently both you and Jake prayed that it would hold as you both let go at the same time. Risking it, he shook it a little. But it remained intact. 

“Yes!”

High fiving, you both continued to build the rest. 

“Alright, food’s ordered. I’m gonna pick it up. Are you two gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

You nodded. “We’ll be fine. Ooh, Nat, make sure they give me extra dip this time. They forgot it last time.”

Phoenix took her orders and left. 

“Do you really have enough books to fill this thing?” Jake asked as he fastened some of the screws down. 

“Yep. Is that sad?”

Jake shook his head, which surprised you. Even before you’d met him, the way Phoenix had talked about him made him sound like the only book he’d ever read in his life had probably been in an English class in highschool. Even then, you doubted he’d have actually read it. 

“No, not at all. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

“Do you like to read?”

Jake looked up at you, a light expression on his face. “You sound surprised?”

“Wha- no. No, not surprised. Just…” You tried to search for a word to use. 

“Relax, it’s okay. I get it. I don’t seem like the type who reads.”

“But you are.”

Jake agreed, starting on the second bookcase with your help. 

“Loved reading since I was a kid. Obviously, I preferred books with planes in ‘em but…it was an escape. A world where I didn’t have to sit in class and be given the future profession of office worker.”

You smiled, finding joy in listening to him. There was passion in his voice as he told you about his childhood books. You even found you’d read some of the same ones. 

“I don’t get much time to read now. Mostly, it’s just textbooks.”

“You’re welcome to borrow one, anytime. God knows I have more than I know what to do with.”

Jake smiled, graciously. “Thanks. And, I promise, if I ever borrow one, it will be returned in the condition I found it.”

“Ah, a true book lover.”

Sharing a pleased look, you and Jake stood and started to shift the book cases around the room. And you tried not to get too distracted at the fact he could pick one up on its own. 

Granted, they were light. But you had tried and the best you, or anyone that wasn’t militarily fit, could do was shuffle it along the carpet in increments. 

With Jake holding the ladder steady, you drilled the hook into the wall before he lifted the bookcase back up and you secured it in place. 

By the time you reached the third one, Natasha had opened your front door again. “Got the food! I’ll set it up in the kitchen!”

Hooking it into place, you admired the finished product before carefully walking back down the ladder. 

“You okay?”

“Yep.”

Both of you stood back and admired the empty cases. 

“Just need the shelves.”

“And the books.”

You smiled. “And the books.”

However, it was downstairs where Jake came to learn of how many books you actually owned. 

Midway through eating pizza, you opened up the walk in pantry door and pulled out a cardboard box. 

“Let me help.” Natasha told you, but with strain in your voice you declined. 

“I’ve got it.”

It landed on the counter with a thud. Opening up the folded lid, you were all greeted with the smell of books. 

What followed was another two hours of mapping out shelves and organising books into alphabetical order. Something Jake seemed to do pretty quickly. 

“Not just a pretty face.”

Thanking them a thousand times over for their help, you watched as they drove back to base and you were left to tidy what you could. 

However, the next day you found yourself with a surprise visitor. 

You were midway through rearranging the furniture in your living room when someone knocked on your door. Opening it, you found Jake stood on the other side. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, sorry. I know I should have called-”

“It’s no problem. What’s up?”

Jake looked at his hands nervously. He was holding a box of lightbulbs. 

“I had some extra in my garage and thought you might wanna use ‘em. They’re only collecting dust and it would save you a trip to the store so-”

You smiled. “If you know how to fit them, I’ll happily accept them.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “I would fit them myself but if my family finds out I went near a light socket, I think they might actually send me to my grave.”

Jake laughed, “Why?”

Inviting him in, you closed the door behind him as you explained the story. 

“It happened when I was 12. I was helping my dad change a couple of the lightbulbs in the house and I'd seen him do it enough times that he trusted me to do it myself. Only, each time I did, I kept getting electrocuted.”

“No.”

You nodded. “You’d think it’d be a fluke. Faulty wiring or something. But, dad tried – he did nothing different. But it worked. I touched a bulb and it blew up. I tried again when I was 17 and it happened again. At college, me and my roommates tried. All worked for them and blew up for me.”

“It’s a good job I know how to change a lightbulb then.”

As Jake got to work doing that, you went back to rearranging your living room. However, when he returned, he stood in the hallway for a moment. 

The sofa was at a diagonal in the middle of the living room. The side tables were at opposite ends, and you seemed a little lost. 

“Do I want it to be cosy, or more open?” You asked, out loud. “Open means there’s more airflow, but it also means I’m left with this massive empty space.”

“Why not try it both ways? If you don’t like it, switch it back.”

With his help, you did it both ways. And neither worked. 

And there weren't many ways left for you to arrange your living room. So, you flipped a coin. 

Open it was. 

Finally moving everything back into its place, you and Jake collapsed on the sofa. 

“Who knew moving could be so stressful?”

“More stressful than piloting a plane going a thousand miles an hour?” You asked. 

Jack nodded. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Hey, when do you start your new job?”

“Technically, I already have. I work from home three days a week. Because of the move, I don’t actually have to go into the building until next Wednesday.”

Jake looked at you. “Wanna do something that isn’t rearranging furniture?”

“Yes.”

Standing up, he held his hand out to you. “It requires standing?”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid so. Come on.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Taking his hand in yours, you did your best to ignore the butterflies you felt float along your stomach. But standing almost chest to chest with Jake Seresin made those butterflies go from floating and fluttering their wings to an entire tornado being created. 

“Grab your jacket. Meet me on the porch?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Two minutes later you locked your front door and walked with Jake to his car. Once more, he beat you to your door and opened it up before he closed it for you and walked around to the driver’s seat. 

Twenty minutes passed before he was pulling up outside the Hard Deck. 

“I don’t think it’s open.”

Jake hopped out of the car, as did you. “It’s not.”

“Then why are we here?”

“You’ll see. Follow me.”

Walking up to the door, it opened up and you both walked inside. Anytime you’d been at The Hard Deck, it had been packed to the walls. But at that moment, it was empty. 

“Penny?”

Walking backwards out of a swinging door, Penny came through carrying a heavy box. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

Without warning, she dropped the box into Jake’s arms. Getting a steady grip, he hoisted it a little higher. 

“I’m picking Amelia up from school. They’re hosting an emergency PTA meeting so I might be back late.”

Jake shook his head. “No worries. We can keep the bar going til you get back.”

Penny smiled. “Thank you.”

As Penny grabbed her jacket and left, Jake said nothing but saw the look you gave him. 

“You’ve wrangled me into work?”

Jake shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face that he was struggling to hide. “Maybe.”

You chuckled and followed him outside to the back deck. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”

Jake shrugged again as he looked out to the sandy beach and the slow beating waves. “Can’t deny it’s a slightly better view, though.”

You looked out at it. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Sitting down on one of the picnic benches, you sat across from Jake whilst he pulled things from the crate. Napkin holders, sauce bottles and salt and pepper shakers. 

And for the next hour, you both sat in the cooling sun filling each one of them. 

“So how long have you been helping Penny?”

“A while now,” he told you. “It started out as an after-work detention.”

You felt a small laugh rise up. He was a grown man being given detention. 

“Oh, no. What did you do?”

“I left my wingman behind. Mav couldn’t get through to me, so he sent me to Penny.”

“And did she?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Well, her and Amelia did. Penny told me more about what happened between Mav and Goose.”

“Rooster’s dad?”

Jake nodded. “They flew together but died after an emergency went wrong. Mav was torn up for months. He’s better now, obviously, but…it stays with him. Then Penny made a point to me; I’ve never lost a wingman. I’ve left plenty behind, but I’ve never lost one.”

You screwed the cap onto the salt and pepper before taking another two and filling them. 

“And then the first full day I spent here – before I’d just spent afternoons or late nights. But it was my first full day. Penny got called away to the docks after she dropped Amelia off at the mall; she was meeting friends for her birthday.”

Pushing some more napkins into the holder, Jake packed it back into the crate and moved onto the next.

“Only, an hour later, Amelia came through the front doors with tears streaming down her face.”

Slowing down with the refilling so you could spend longer with Jake, you continued listening to his story. 

“Her friends had ditched her. One of the other girls had turned up and basically took over everything and made sure to leave Amelia out of it. She didn’t want to call her mom and she knew she’d be busy, so she came to the bar.”

The image of Amelia wiping her tears away as quickly as they fell would probably never leave him. Anytime he’d met Amelia she’d been happy – and she’d been practically bursting with fireworks when her mom agreed to let her go to the mall with her friends. 

“That was when things started to change for me.” Jake told you. “Seeing Amelia the way she was. She’d been left behind on her birthday, of all days. And not one of her friends called her.”

“They didn’t know she’d gone?”

Jake shook his head. “She tried to find them. She searched the whole mall until one of the security guards stopped her. ‘Told her he’d seen a group of them leave ten minutes before.”

“No!”

“I knew it wasn’t the same; losing someone in the air and being left alone on your birthday. But it made me realise something. I was like her friends. If something had happened to my wingman…I wouldn’t have known. It makes me feel bad, the fact it took Amelia being left alone on her birthday for Mav’s message to get through to me, but it worked. Haven’t left my wingman since.”

You smiled a little as you looked at him. “So what did you do when Amelia came back?”

“Well, she sat at the bar top doing her homework for an hour before I managed to get it out of her why she was back early. Then we made a day of it; I made her favourite foods and taught her how to make a cocktail. Penny would never let her behind the bar but after the day she’d had, how could I say no?”

“I’m guessing Penny doesn’t know about this?”

“She knows about it now. Amelia had to make a science project and her mixology seemed a little too advanced for someone who’d never been allowed behind a bar.” 

“And you agreed to make a cocktail?”

Jake hesitated for a moment. “Well, it was a mocktail. I might be a rule breaker, but I am responsible.”

Once you’d both finished restocking, you went back inside with Jake and placed one of each thing onto the tables, whilst he carried the crate beside you. 

“You said this job was after-work detention. Is it still?”

Jake chuckled, lightly, and shook his head. “No. That ended a while back, but I asked Penny if I could stay on. I help out every now and then. Fills my day when I’ve got nothing to do and,” Jake looked around. “I don’t know. There’s something nice about seeing this place calm. Penny’s put a lot into this place and we all respect it.”

Watching Jake admire the place around him, you smiled. His gaze finally landed back on yours and his expression softened as he looked at you. 

You moved onto the next table, and the next, and the next, in quiet silence. 

But as you reached a familiar booth, Jake felt the memory rush back to him. But as you scooted across the seat to place the menus and items together, a question left Jake’s lips before he could fully stop himself. 

“Did you know who I was when we first met?”

You looked back at him a little confused. “What?”

Jake looked around a little just to simply move his feet. Why had he asked? Fuck it. He’d already asked. 

“The day I hit on you. Well, tried. Did you already know who I was? From Phoenix?”

You relaxed a little, realising what he was talking about. “I didn’t know your face, but…yeah. I’d heard stories from Phoenix. She also warned me that if one of you were going to hit on me, it would have been you.”

“Is that why you said no?”

You tilted your head a little. You’d gotten to know Jake over the last two weeks and something told you he wasn’t asking because he was trying to heal his ego. 

“Why do you want to know? Truthfully?”

Being under your comforting gaze in that moment made Jake feel heat rise directly from his feet. 

Taking a deep breath, he told you why. 

“Because I want to know if you said ‘no, thank you’ because of me, or because Phoenix warned you away.”

For a moment, you smiled and Jake didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t mocking, or amusement. 

Scooting out of the booth, you stood in front of him. 

“Jake, I said ‘no, thank you’ because you did what every dude in a bar does. They walk up, no matter how nice their smile is, and expect that after a conversation I’ll give them my number. If Phoenix had wanted to warn me, she would have shown me your picture. If a guy wants to go on a date with me, he should just ask.”

Jake stood there for a moment a little dumbfounded. So, if that night he’d just walked up to you and asked you on a date, you would have said yes? If he’d asked you in the supermarket, you would have said yes? 

Did you still want to-

“She’s telling you to ask her out, idiot.”

Whipping his head to the side, Jake found Amelia at the bar unpacking her school bag. Jake’s eyes flicked over to you for a moment. You were looking at Amelia with a thankful smile before turning back to look at him. 

After nearly giving himself whiplash a couple of times, Jake’s gaze finally landed back on you, a light smirk on his face. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, Jake?”

“Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?”

“As in a date?”

Jake nodded, and you smiled. 

“I’d love to.”

[mattybsgroupie]

better ♡ matt sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; fighting; cursing; slight angst; brief mention of smoking; slightly toxic; praising; fingering (f receiving); p in v; creampie; soft dom!matt

— NOTES: fuck i got horny writing this and yes im feeling submissive and breedable tn so shhhh! i think we all need a break from all the kink shit on this blog right? been wanting to write a more vanilla, sweet, slow sex and anon requested make up sex so! not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes ♡ hope you enjoy it, let me know ur thoughts!

— REQUESTED BY: anon

you stomped through the front door, taking a deep breath as the cold breeze brushed across your cheeks. you leaned against a random car parked nearby, left hand frantically searching for a pack of cigarettes into your pockets. folding your palm, you lighted the object in between your fingers, inhaling the warm smoke before releasing through your nose in a tired sigh. 

the sound of wood creaking slowly took over the silent street. you didn’t have to turn around to know how it was — matt’s careful footsteps were always recognizable. he stopped in front of you, crossing his arms. “what the fuck is up with you today?” matt raised his voice, watching as you inhaled once more. 

“what the fuck is up with you matt? my god, get a fucking grip” you mumbled, looking away from him. your free hand went to the top of your head, gently pulling your own hair, trying to relieve your headache somehow. matt clicked his tongue before huffing. he was getting angry and you could tell by the slight change in his tone, his voice getting raspier and louder.

“weren’t you busy with your friends? kissing chris and shit?” he hissed, the sudden accusation making you gasp. you threw your cigarette away, twisting your foot against it and walking towards matt’s direction. “fuck you!” you pointed your index and him, pushing your own finger against his chest. 

as you spilled your words, tears started to form in the corners of your eyes. you and matt had been bickering for a while, especially because none of you had time to be alone. you both needed and missed each other deeply, but frustrations took over and the words would come out too rough. 

“no, fuck you! what the fuck do you want from me?!” matt pointed back at you with his tattoed arm. you sighed in annoyance, a knot forming on the back of your throat. “leave me alone.” you managed to speak, leaning your body against the car. you raised your palm towards your face in a failed attempt to stop your tears from falling down. 

matt chuckled, clicking his tongue once again. “great, now you’re gonna fucking cry” he rolled his eyes and scratched his beard. deep down, you wished matt would stop talking. you wanted him to hug you, to tell you everything was gonna be alright — but he kept going. “why don’t you fucking ask chris to come here calm you down, huh? does he know how to do that? does he even know the things you go through? cause i was there, every single time. every fucking breakdown you had i was there to take care of you.” each word that came out of matt’s mouth felt like a punch in your stomach, and you could no longer pretend you didn’t care, starting to sob. 

“babe” he called, voice in a lower tone, trying to ease his own feelings. “stop. look at me, please”. you could feel the warmth of his body growing closer to you, his digits gently touching your wrist and removing your hand from your face. matt caressed your cheek with your thumb, wiping away your tears.

“let’s just forget this, yeah? let’s go back inside and we can talk later or tomorrow if you feel like it. can we do that?” he asked, opening his arms for a hug, allowing you to hide on his chest. you snuggled closer, sniffing against his shirt. “i don’t wanna go back” 

matt chuckled lightly, his large hand scratching your back in circular motions as he placed a kiss on the top of your hair. “‘m sorry. i always fuck things up with you, even when i don’t mean to” he said, tightening the hug as you tried to pull away, playfully punching his chest. his hug immediately washed your anxiety away, and you felt safe again. matt offered you his hand, interlocking your fingers and leading the way back inside the house. 

matt locked the bedroom door and placed his hands on your waist, pressing your back against the wall. your smudged make-up caused matt to smirk, and he leaned in to kiss the mascara smeared across your cheek. he continued to shower your face with smooches, lingering over your jaw and releasing a heavy sigh before slowly pressing his lips against your sweet spot. he proceeded to kiss your neck, nibbling on your skin and pushing his own hips against yours.

your fingers went to his brown strands, tugging at his scalp, making matt groan. “nhng, i miss you so much” he muffled, letting go of you and sitting on the edge of the mattress, patting his own thigh, a silent plead for you to join him.

you sat on matt’s lap as he held you by the waist. you nuzzled against the crook of his neck, happy to finally have some time alone with your boyfriend “been so long hm?” he said and you nodded, feeling his hands travel across your back all the way down to your ass. matt stopped there, gently palming your flesh and whispering “i’m sorry, princess. i’ve been so bad to you right?”.

you pouted, looking at him with puppy eyes. “i know, i know” matt repeated, his sneaky fingers reaching the hem of your shirt. “let me make it up to you hm? my beautiful, beautiful girl”, he said as he started to remove your clothes. you had nothing underneath your tee, letting your breasts hang loose as soon as matt removed the piece.

matt placed his palms on your chest, massaging your boobs and smirking before latching his lips around your nipple, his tongue quickly flickering against your hardened nub. goosebumps took over your skin — matt and you hadn’t been intimate in a while, every touch felt like the first one.

“matt” you moaned when he squeezed one of your tits a bit too hard. you could feel matt’s hardened cock pressing against your covered cunt, your panties completely drenched. “matty, please” you whimpered, begging for some attention where you needed the most.

“hm?” his blue orbs looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. “use your big girl words yeah? what do you want, princess?” you pouted once more at his request. you hated speaking up, especially when matt knew exactly what you wanted.

“it’s… it’s starting to hurt” you said, glancing at where your parts met. you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip as you watched matt’s bulge gradually moving underneath you. he was just as needy. “please, i need your cock” you spoke, a pink tone taking over your cheeks.

“oh yeah? that pretty pussy misses my cock?” he repeated, inflating his own ego. you nodded and matt scratched his beard before hugging you by the waist and flipping your body, laying your back against the mattress. “haven’t been inside you in so long” he continued, holding his weight with his elbows, positioning himself in between your thighs.

“think it’s gonna fit?” you moaned at the question, receiving a smirk from matt. he removed his own shirt and proceeded to take your shorts, pulling it down along with your panties, revealing your bare pussy. “yeah, i think she needs to be stretched out first right?”

“mhm, please” you whined desperately, adjusting yourself as matt finished undressing, standing fully on his knees. his cock was throbbing, pre-cum leaked from his slit, covering his veins. he pumped his dick a few time, gathering just enough of his stickiness to coat two of his fingers.

matt dragged his digits between your folds and you could feel him placing both fingers on your hole, teasing it before sliding the first one in. your oozing juices made it easier for him, and in a few seconds matt was already able to add another one. you let your mouth hang open as you felt yourself getting fuller, matt’s long fingers moving inside you.

“already taking me so well” he praised. “my good girl, gon’ make you feel so good” matt continued to thrust his fingers, your grip on the sheets getting tighter as you felt the pressure on your lower belly starting to grow.

“please please please” you cried out loud. of course his fingers felt good, but you knew if he hit your spot, it was over. and you wanted to cum around his cock, you wanted to feel it deep inside you, touching your cervix, opening you up.

matt understood your whines and chuckled, removing his fingers from you. he positioned himself between your legs, wrapping his knuckles around his shaft and bringing it near your pussy. matt pushed his tip on your clit, rubbing it slowly before returning to your hole. he held your thighs apart, gradually burying his cock in you. you couldn’t help but moan loudly — matt was huge. “fuck you’re so fucking tight” he gasped, feeling your walls squeezing him.

“like a virgin all over again hm?” he said, letting you adjust to his size. you nodded desperately. matt filled you up so perfectly, his veins pumping against you as his tip oozed pre-cum. “lookin’ so fucking perfect around my cock”

he began to move his hips forward, lazily dragging his dick in and out of your pussy. “matt, please, ‘m so close” you breathed out, one of your hands tangling on his hair while the other one scratched his back, trying to get him closer somehow.

“don’t need to ask baby” matt chocked on a moan, his own high approaching. “wanna see you cumming all over my cock, my perfect girl”.

“‘m gonna cum!” you cried, throwing your head back as your orgasm washed over you. your whole body trembled as you squeezed matt even tighter, which helped him reach his own high. as you were still cumming, matt suddenly released his thick, white spurt inside you.

matt slowed the pace of his thrusts as he finished inside of you, his body collapsing over yours. with a heavy sigh, he tilted his head, looking at you with puppy eyes. “kissy?” he asked and you chuckled, sealing your lips together in a tender, sweet kiss.

“feel better?” he asked and you nodded, silently thanking him. “promise i’m never gonna let this happen again, if we have a problem we’re gonna fuck it out.”

— TAGLIST ♡⊹𑄽୧ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @alesturniolos @emely9274 @courta13 @elandrys @sturns-mermaid @mattsplaything @marrykisskilled @bells-sturn @mattsgstring @strnilolover @jetaimevous @aaliyahsturniolo @evie-sturns @loveliest-sturniolo

matt masterlist | complete masterlist

[corpsedogs]

jason todd x f!reader

✿ sea of lamp stars. — comforting jason after a nightmare

It was about three in the morning when Jason jolted up awake. He was sweating, his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest by any moment and slowly he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He remembers choking on the acidic liquid on his mouth and the feeling of being boiled to the skin and bone.

It was too much for him to bear.

You fluttered your eyes to see him sitting up, staring into space. Eyes wide, heavy breathing and eyes teary. You sat beside him, placing your hands on his shoulders so you could move to face him.

“Hey, hey? What’s the matter?” you whispered softly. Your touch on his shoulders was light, almost barely touching. Jason swallowed, he felt like something was choking his neck, preventing him from speaking. “It's— the..”

You looked at his eyes, he was fighting to hold back tears as his body was tense. You lend out both of your hands to him, silently asking if you could hold his.

He slowly gave his hands to yours as you gently clasp it. It was as if Jason’s breath finally relaxed a bit by having you hold his hands. His shoulders finally slumped a bit as he slowly started catching his breath, though his body still shook slightly from the fear he was feeling.

He kept his eyes down, embarrassed and almost ashamed of himself for having a nightmare like that. For being vulnerable.

“It’s alright…” you whispered as you gently squeezed his hands to comfort him. You brought one of your hands to gently stroke his cheek, “I’m right here. You’d be alright, I promise.”

You knew all too well that he hated showing this side of him to you. He would often lie or avoid whenever he would be at his worst.

He tried to keep a straight face, to hide the pain he felt but he knew he couldn’t hide anything from you. You’ve known him long enough by now, this wasn’t the first time he had an episode like this.

He leaned his face into your hand as he squeezed your hand. He finally looked into your eyes, his own eyes were watery, his breathing was still unsteady.

“Can I show you something?” you asked. At first he was confused by your question but he quickly nodded in silent consent.

You walk away from the bed as you take a lamp from the closet. You opened the hatch to check if it still had batteries, and so it did. You then move to the windows to close the blinds, making the bedroom pitch black.

After that, you went back to the bed with the lamp in your hands. He raises an eyebrow, “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Give me a second…” you tried to find the switch on the lamp as it did, the room was filled with a very beautiful light. He blinks in awe as the light lit up, displaying the solar system on the ceiling. He watched the way the light moved, it almost felt relaxing.

“Where’d you get this?” He asked quietly. You only shrugged, “Just from some garage sale. I thought it looked cute but I didn’t use it that much.” you said.

You then pressed a button on the lamp as it showed the different constellations. “If you press this button, it changes into this.”

He stayed silent for a while, still staring at the lights as you fiddled around the lamp. He can tell you’re trying to calm him down, to distract him from the nightmare he had.

He then pulls you in his arms for a hug. You were a bit caught off guard, not nonetheless you hugged him back. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, “Thank you.” he murmurs, his voice was quiet and soft, barely a whisper.

You softly smiled, “Of course.” He stayed silent for a while as he held onto you, just holding you and listening to your breathing. This was just what he needed, to be able to ground himself through you.

“You know, it's a shame we can’t see that many stars in Gotham.” you frowned. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s too much pollution here. Can’t see anything but the bat signal.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, true.”

He stayed silent for a moment, listening to the soft hum of the lamp and feeling a moment of peace in his mind. He slowly pulled away, “Hey, can we… lie down for a bit?” he asked.

You nodded, “Sure.” He then lays down, bringing you down with him as he does. He wraps his arms around you as he pulls you against his chest.

You look at the constellations up the ceiling, “I don’t know much about constellations, their patterns and names confuse me.” you said.

“Really?” He murmured, hands were gently caressing your back. “Yeah, all the stars look exactly like some other stars.” you replied.

He was silent for a moment as he stared at the constellations before he spoke again, “The one on the left corner is the big dipper.”

He then pointed to another one, “And that one’s the little dipper.” He moves his hand a bit to point at the center, “And that’s the North Star… but you’re right. It's really hard to distinguish the stars here.” he said.

You hummed, “I see.“

His arms were still wrapped around you, holding you tightly. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You don’t have to stay up with me if you don’t want to.” he said quietly.

You shook your head, “I can, besides how can you sleep with this view?”

“Alright, be stubborn.”

ooc, i think. i hope not.. anyways please reblog and comment

[lesservillain]

Request: Friends to lovers with Steve? We want so desperately for him to notice us, but he never asks us to hang out outside of the group. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands…or do we?

i wrote all of this in one sitting so enjoy!

cw: smut, piv, perv steve

wc: 3.3k

You looked yourself over in the mirror a few times to make sure everything was in place. There would be other people at this pool party, including the kids, so you weren’t trying to show off too much. But you wanted to made sure you looked good. Good enough for him.

It had been a long time crush, longer than you’d like you admit, that turned into a head over heels affection for Steve Harrington as recently as last year. When you were tossed into the throws that was “the Starcourt Mall incident,” you saw how brave and caring he could be in real time when it came to putting himself before you and the others. It just solidified the feelings that you’d been harboring for the king since before he started working with you at Scoops Ahoy.

But Steve just didn’t seem to feel the same way about you.

You watched as he flirted with countless girls at the mall as they came in for ice cream, and you’ve seen him do the same with the girls at Family Video where he now works with Robin. You even thought that him and Robin might be having a secret fling, but she assured you that was not the case. Either way, Steve never seemed to even be more than friendly with you. And it was really starting to bum you out.

Now that you work at your mom’s hair salon, the only way the two of you really see each other was when the whole gang would get together. Which today happened to be such an occasion. It was Dustin’s birthday party and the weather was warm enough that Steve decided to throw him a pool party at his house. Dustin extended an invite to you and you decided it would be the perfect opportunity to finally catch Steve’s attention.

You checked out the two piece on your body in the mirror. The ruffled top accentuated your breasts and the bottoms were just peaky enough to leave more to be desired. Plus the navy really brought out the colour of your eyes. You did feel a little dumb putting on make up and doing your hair, but you didn’t plan on going under the water so you were sure you’d be fine.

When you pulled up to Steve’s house you could already hear the kids being rowdy in the back yard. You grabbed Dustin’s gift from your back seat and went around the back to find everyone there. It didn’t take long to find Steve, manning the grill in his swim trucks and a cropped, sleeveless t-shirt. Jesus christ.

“You came!” Dustin shouted from the pool grabbing your attention.

“Of course I came!” You reply, raising the wrapped box in your hand. “Wouldn’t miss my little buddy’s big 15th!”

“Told you guys she would come,” Dustin says pointing this thumb in your direction. The kids all rolled their eyes at him and continued swimming around in the pool.

“Hey,” Steve says, giving you a wave. “You can set that inside if you want. Don’t want these bone heads to accidentally get it wet with one of their water guns.”

That's when you noticed. The entire front of Steve’s body was clearly drenched in water and it was leaving little to the imagination about what was underneath. His chest hair was clearly visible through the shirt, as were his nipples…

“Earth to dingus, are you okay?”

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m just feeling a little spacey today is all.”

“Sure you are,” she said with wiggled eyebrows. Robin didn’t know you had a crush on Steve, but you were sure she expected it, even though you denied it anytime she asked.

“Do you want a beer?” Steve asks, bending over to grab one from the cooler.

“Sure,” you say with a slight stutter. This was going to be a long day, and you might as well have a drink to help you keep it together.

“I’ll help you take that inside,” Robin says after Steve hands you a beer. You nod and the two of you go through the sliding glass door. 

There were several other gifts set out on the table so you just sat your gift there with the rest. When you turned to look at Robin, she had a shit eating grin on her face.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep as collected as possible.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, “Just seemed like you were checking Steve out out there.”

“Robin, I was not checking him out.”

“I knew you’d deny it. But I have eyes, and I can tell when someone wants to eat another person alive.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at her.

“Steve is just a friend. I was just surprised to see him soaking wet is all.”

“At a pool party?”

Shit, she got you there.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’m sure you hadn’t.”

There was a pause between you two before she inevitably turned and opened the sliding glass door. As soon as you walked out you heard your name being called from the pool.

“Come get in the pool, we need one more person for volleyball!”

Ah, yes, perfect time to unveil yourself.

“Okay, coming!” You say walking over to one of the pool chairs. You started to undress, hoping that Steve was watching you as you did. Shirt was off first; you made it a point to bend over in his direction when you pulled your shorts down. You heard a huff from Robin, who you were sure was seeing right through you, but you weren’t going to entertain her.

You took a chance to look over at Steve, who, to your dismay, seemed to be too preoccupied with the grill to have even looked your way. Damn it.

“Cute bathing suit,” El says from the pool.

“Thanks!” You say. At least someone noticed.

“What does it look like?” Max asks from the pool steps.She was looking in your general direction, but you knew she wouldn’t be able to see you from so far away, even with her glasses. You moved closer to her so she could see better.

“It’s navy blue, with some ruffles on the top and a little ruffle skirt.” You take her hand and let her touch the material so she can get a better idea.

“Shit!” You turn to see Steve holding his hand, wincing in pain.

“You okay, chef?” Robin asks.

“Yeah, just got too close to the grill is all.”

“Come on, lets play already!”

Your attention is taken away from Steve yet again by the teens calling for you. Dustin announces he wants you on his team and everyone groans.

“You only want her on your team because she’s an adult,” Lucas says.

“And your point is?” Dustin retorts.

“I’m honestly not that good, Dustin,” you tell him.

“We’ll see about that.”

And saw he did.

Even with El not using her powers, her, Mike, and Lucas beat you Dustin and Will by a landslide victory.

“Told you,” you shrug at him.

“It’s alright,” Dustin says defeated.

“I still think El cheated,” Will says.

“Did not!”

“Hey, food’s ready!”

That got the kids attention. They all rushed out, Lucas stopping to help Max get out as they did. They all hoarded around Steve who passed out dogs and burgers to everyone.

“What will you take?” He asks when he finally gets to you.

“A hotdog, please,” you say, holding your plate with the bun on it for him.

“Don’t shake it!”

“But nothing’s coming out-woah!”

It takes your brain a minute to process the feeling of something hitting you. You raise your hand to your hair and it instantly touches something wet and slimy. Bringing it back down, you look at your hand to find it’s covered in mustard.

The first thing you do is look at Steve, whose expression makes your heart drop. You probably look like a total idiot right now.

“Dude…” Steve turns to look beside you.

“I am, so, so sorry,” you hear Dustin say.

“It’s okay,” you say, more so telling yourself that rather than getting upset over an accident.

“Do you want to use my shower?” Steve asks, looking at you pitifully.

“Thanks.”

“Gimme that,” Steve says, grabbing the mustard bottle from Dustin as he walks past.

“Hey, I was still going to use that!”

“Just turn the knob to, like, right here and the water should be plenty warm for you.”

Steve shows you how to use the shower while mustard still drips from your hair. At least he’s not making fun of you. Just another reason to love him

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, turning to look at you. He’s very close to you in this bathroom, so much so you can smell his sweaty skin and cologne. “If you want I can run your bathing suit through the dryer real quick.”

“That would be perfect, thanks.” He stands there for a moment, and you don’t really know what to do. “Um, I’ll get undressed now.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He leaves the bathroom and pulls the door shut.

You start to pull the bathing suit off when the bathroom door starts to open.

“What the hell,” you say, closing the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve calls through the door, “This door is broken and doesn’t always stay latched. I’ll stand outside the door while you shower to make sure no one comes by.”

“Okay,” you call back.

Once undressed, you stand behind the door the best you can and stick your arm through the opening. Steve takes your bathing suit and you close the door behind you.

You do your best not to wash your make up off while in Steve’s shower. You do take the time to huff his sweet smelling shampoo. You’ve smelled it on him before, and it reminds you of him. It was crazy to think he was just on the other side of the door while you were in here. The idea made you a little crazy. Something to think about later tonight when you’re alone.

Turning the water off, you pull back the curtain and find that the bathroom door is cracked open a bit. You decided not to think much of it. Not like anyone would see you while Steve was manning the door

You took the towel that Steve had given you and started to dry off before wrapping your hair in it. You wondered if Steve had a blow dryer some where and decided to ask.

“Steve?”

You hear a thump from the other side of the door.

“Y-yeah,” you hear him reply.

“Do you have a hair dryer?”

There’s a quiet pause.

“Under the sink,” he replies.

“Thanks!”

You bend over and look for his hair dryer, finding it hanging on the side of the cabinet on a little hook. A smart idea.

Plugging it in, you take the towel out of your hair and lay it over the shower rod to dry. You take your time to dry it, you used your fingers to run through it since you didn’t have a comb.

“You can use my brush,” you hear from behind you. It startles you, and you look at the door through the mirror.

You’re shocked when you can see an eye peeking through the crack.

You place the dryer back down on the counter and grab the towel, wrapping it back around your body slowly. 

Then, you suddenly grab the door and swing it wide open.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t Steve Harrington with his cock in his hand.

“I can explain!” He says, covering himself. Well, trying to cover himself. He was huge. So big in fact that not even his big hands could cover the horse between his legs.

“Steve…were you spying on me?”

“I-I-wasn’t-I was--”

There’s no way this was real life. You’ve been trying to get Steve Harrington to notice you for months and you catch him not only jerking himself off, but doing it while spying on you.

So you make a bold move.

“Steve.” You drop your towel, fully exposing yourself to him. His eyes drop with the towel, slowly moving back up your body, examining you closely.

“If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask.”

He stands there, still as a statue as he tries to compute the words that just came out of your mouth. Since he didn’t seem to be getting the hint, you decide to grab him by the shirt and pull him into the bathroom. Pushing the door closed behind you, you hear it latch just fine.

“Are you going to say something, Stevie?” You say in a silky smooth voice.

“I-I--”

But you don’t give him the chance to stutter more. You take his cheeks in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The smell of his aftershave fills your senses as your lips move in tandem, waking him up from his stupor enough to get the hint.

He starts to take off his shorts, letting them drop to the floor and kicking them off. His shirt comes next, your lips parting for just a moment to let the fabric pull over his head. You let your hands land on his chiseled chest, fingers desperately running through the hair that resides there. The feeling only confirming that this was indeed happening.

His hands land on your hips, sliding down until they reach your ass. He cups you, and suddenly you’re being lifted up and onto the counter. He pushes you back, kissing you with such force that you hit the mirror behind you.

“You were so hot out there undressing,” he says as his lips trail down to your neck. “And when you let Max see your swimsuit. That was so sweet of you.”

“Really, that’s what got you going?” Your laugh turns into a moan as his hands grope your breasts.

“I’ve got a soft spot for those kids. Seeing you be nice to them just--” His lips meet yours again, his teeth taking your lower lip and pulling on it.

One of his hands moves from your breast and lowers down to between your legs. You feel him rub his fingers in your wetness and it makes your breath hitch when he hits your clit.

“Right there, huh?” He says, his fingers beginning to rub gentle circles into your bud.

“Oh, shit, Steve--”

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he says against your ear.

He does some moving between your legs and you suddenly feel his finger making its way inside of you, his thumb replacing them to keep tending to your clit. His finger pumps inside of you at a breathtaking pace, the thick digit hitting that spot inside you.

“You’re so wet. Is that for me or is it just from the shower?”

“Definitely for you,” you pant out. You could feel yourself getting close to your release the more he worked you. When he added a second finger stretching you out more, you felt the coil tightening at an alarming rate.

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m gonna--”

“Do it. Cum for me, baby girl.”

That chord snaps, and you start to cum on Steve’s fingers, legs shaking around him as you do.

Steve slows down, letting you come down from your high while giving you kisses all over your neck and cheeks.

“You think you’re ready for me, baby?”

You nod your head drunkenly. Steve uses the spend on his fingers to pump himself, lubricating his cock with it before bringing the head to your entrance. In a moment of clarity you almost panic. The sheer size of Steve between your legs had you worried.

“It’ll fit, I promise.” He says as if reading your mind. You gulp, but choose to trust him. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.”

You nod your head again, and the both of you watch as Steve lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was something else. You’d never been with anyone as big as Steve before and it started to make you question any guy you’d been with before.

But he took his time. He definitely knew his limits and rocked in and out of you at a gentle pace until he found himself fully sheathed inside of you.

“You ready?” He asks in a sultry tone, giving you a half smile.

“Y-yes, please,” you gasp out, still amazed that he was able to fit.

Steve chuckles and begins to move. And it feels amazing. It wasn’t a brutal pace, but as it picked up, you could definitely understand why all the girls in high school talked about his game back in the day. This was the fullest you’d ever felt in your life.

But Steve wasn’t just fucking you. No, this felt like there was passion behind it. Something about the way he was staring between you with an open mouth expression really turned you. It didn’t feel like just a random fuck on a random Tuesday.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you moan out as his hips smack into your ass over and over.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me who’s fucking you right now,” he says as his pace starts to quicken.

“You are, oh my god, you are, Steve,” you say. You start to feel that familiar feeling in your stomach again the more he pounds into you.

“Fuck yea,” he moans, moving in close to take your lips as his once again. “Been wanting-to do-this for-a while.” He talks between kisses and his words set your body aflame. Steve wanted to fuck you. If you weren’t experience it in real time, you’d say this was just another one of your wet dreams.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he says as he pulls away. His thumb returns to your clit to rub quick circles  into it, only heating you up more.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve--” You feel yourself getting closer to the edge as he continues to work you. It’s not much longer before you feel yourself cumming on his cock, squeezing and contracting around him in a way that drives him crazy. And in just a few more pumps, you feel Steve starting to fill you up. 

After a moment, you finally come down from your high to see Steve panting like he just ran a marathon. You’re about to speak when he brings his lips to yours. Even in his post nut clarity, he feels the need to kiss you like a man starved.

But you kiss him back joyfully, glad to know that this wasn’t just going to be one big mistake for him.

“That was--”

“Crazy.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile that melts your heart.

You wince as he pulls himself out of you. He grabs the towel from the ground and reaches around you to wet the end of it, using it as a rag to clean you up.

“You’re too sweet, Steve Harrington,” you say with hearts in your eyes.

“Nah, I just really like you,” he says throwing the towel to the ground.

“You like me?” You say with surprise. “Like, like me, like me?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“For a while now. I just didn’t want it to become a whole thing with the kids if I asked you out and you turned me down.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t do that. I’ve liked you longer than you’ve even known I existed.”

Steve head tilts back and he laughs that sweet laugh of his. 

“Of all the girls I try and ask out, the one I had a chance with is the one I actively avoided.”

“I guess you should ask her out then. She’d probably say yes.”

“How’s Friday night looking for you?”

“Looks like I’ll be busy with Steve Harrington.”

[sc0tters]

A Helping Hand | Jack Hughes & Trevor Zegras

summary: when the boys learn that you've never finished, it's only right that they change that for you.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, oral (f & m receiving!), unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of drinking.

word count: 7.02k

authors note: is it really a trevor and jack threesome from me, without @sweetestdesire's help? no, no it is not... all jokes aside though this may be the dirtiest piece that I have ever written? like i embraced my inner slut, whore and everything inbetween while writing this so I do hope that you enjoy it! I know I did so we may end up with the first series of the year with this one!

Nobody truly remembered how you all got there.

Sat around the camp fire with a blanket thrown over your legs and a beer in your hand. 

It was these little moments at the lake house that you adored so much. Luke was in the chair next to you, allowing you to send him the occasional whisper after the boys did something stupid. 

Tonight was one of those nights as Cole managed to convince the group to play never have I ever, after Quinn’s suggestion of truth or dare was quickly shot down by Jack reminder of how he had to go skinny dipping in the lake. When the boys stole his clothes and locked him outside, it was the first and last time truth or dare made an appearance at the lake house.

You sighed thinking to yourself of a question“never have I ever done the walk of shame.” It was a good one to get most of the guys to drop a finger as Luke had told you about many of their escapades throughout their careers. 

A while left Trevor’s lips “that one isn’t fair!” He grumbled dropping another finger leaving him with only two up.

Alex looked at the group of girls that had joined you guys as he had found one he wanted to make a move on “never have I ever faked an orgasm.” The boy swore he was going to do a dance of happiness when he saw the blonde one he had been talking to, keep her finger up whilst the first around her thought about their answers.

Your finger went down hoping that someone else would have a much more interesting story to share than you “are you seriously telling me that your little football player boyfriend was shit in bed?” Trevor asked as he let out a laugh seeing your cheeks turn a shade of red. 

Jack turned to you, matching his friend’s curious expression “who is to say it was even with him?” It was something he had never even wondered about before, but now everyone’s eyes were on you as most of the people around that fire knew of your entire love life “she does not need to answer if she doesn’t want to.” Quinn sent you a friendly smile, Luke nodded in agreement with this being something that he didn’t even know about. 

You let out a sigh of relief “yeah why don’t we move on?” There was a pleading sense in your voice that made everyone accept your request. 

Well almost everyone, as the night went on and people went home or to bed. You were left with Trevor, Jack and Luke “you want another beer?” Luke asked as he got up with his empty beer bottle “please.” You nodded, the older two boys giving the same response. 

This was the first opportunity that they got to truthfully ask the question that plagued their minds all night “so was it Jake?” Trevor blurted out as he turned his attention to you “what about the theatre kid before him?” Jack truthfully never liked that one, thankfully he only lasted one summer. 

You toyed with your bracelet “if I tell you do you promise to keep it to yourselves?” If it got out you knew half of the people there would never look at you the same. 

Hell you weren’t even sure if Trevor and Jack would see you the same way again “we will not tell a soul.” They both nodded at the same time, practically sat on the edges of their seats. 

You let out a sigh, rubbing your lips together “it was all of them.” Those words made them freeze “you faked it with every single guy you’ve been with?” Jack let out a shocked laugh when you nodded. 

Trevor felt confused “I didn’t realise you were with such shit guys.” Some of the guys had notable reputations too “it wasn’t their faults-” you tried to give them some grace within the situation. 

But Jack was having none of it “if you have to fake it then it is on him.” Of course that’s what he’d say, the man prided himself on how good he was in bed after all. You had been privy to hearing the mutters through the wall when you stayed over to see Luke. 

The Ducks player nodded in agreement “we won’t tell them if you think they were shit.” He added wanting so desperately to hear more of this “it’s me okay!” Your words suddenly made them both go quiet. 

Their eyes went wide “I can’t cum so when I have sex I have to fake it.” Your voice was quieter as you didn’t know where Luke was “and before you ask yes I know my body is clearly broken-” you were cut off by the sound of the sliding door opening from the house. 

Luke walked out with the four beers in his hands “what is broken?” The three of you looked like kids caught with your hands in the cookie jar in that very moment “oh just the door of my closet in the apartment.” You quickly recovered, it wasn’t a lie. In fact, it was actually something you needed to fix.

He stared at you for a moment before he nodded “wait until I visit and I can help you.” Luke offered making you nod “sounds like a plan.” You sent him a smile, ignoring the conversation that you had just had with the boys. 

It seemed that even if you were able to sleep soundly amongst all of Luke’s snoring, Jack and Trevor were plagued with thoughts. Neither one could fall asleep as they sat there thinking about what you had said. 

How was it that a girl like you could have a problem that seemed so unbreakable? 

“Just so we’re both on the same page, she clearly has a shit taste in guys right?” Trevor blurted out as he stared at the ceiling “I mean it has to be that right?” He added not even sure if Jack was listening. 

Jack let out a harsh sigh “but how is she going got accept that?” He rolled over knowing that he shared the same thoughts “well I mean there is one way we could do it.” Trevor trailed off figuring, that it was the should have been obvious. 

The Hughes boy let out a laugh “yeah like she’s ever gonna go for that.” He shook his head rolling over to look out the window as he tried to force himself to go to sleep.

A party echoed out in the yard, music blared through the speakers as you made your way upstairs “I’m telling you that she’s not going to go for it.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he chugged back the remainder of his beer “why not?” Trevor whined crossing his arms. 

He took in a large amount of air in when he sighed “it’s not like she exactly has any other better options than sticking to never coming.” Those words made you freeze in front of their door. Why were they talking about you, and what was their potential option to help you? 

Your cheeks grew warm when your mind began to travel “because you think little miss perfect is gonna fuck the two of us to prove that she just has a shit taste in boys?” Those words made you scoff, it was a response that was a little louder than you had hoped when the boys went quiet “shit.” Jack was quick to open the door. 

Both of them were visibly relieved to see it was just you “care to join us?” Jack smirked at the sight of the irritated expression on your face “I am not little Miss Perfect.” You announced sticking your finger in his face. 

It was the response he wanted, knowing you had taken the bait “so why don’t you give us a chance then?” Trevor spoke up from behind the younger boy who nodded in agreement. 

Your fists clenched into balls “over my dead body.” You were embarrassed as you stormed off in the direction of your room “on a scale of one to ten how badly do you think we fucked up?” Trevor asked hearing the door slam behind you. 

Jack sucked at his teeth “I would lean closer to ten.” He nodded thinking about what would happen if Luke were to find out about what was said. 

The night had grown dark as you tried to push the boys comments back to the bottom of your mind. It was something that so negatively failed, especially when you began to picture those two. 

You had ended up in the bathroom having a shower trying to calm yourself down at first “fuck!” You grumbled letting your fingers thrust into your cunt as the steam stuck to your skin. 

Your body had started to shrivel like a prune due to how long you had been in there. Your body was hot as the image of Jack and Trevor lingered on your mind, picturing how they’d kiss you and morph your body in the ways they wanted to use you. You weren’t an idiot, if they were talking about you then it was clearly a competition in their minds. 

The peaks of your nipples throbbed as this clearly wasn’t working. Defeat wasn’t something that you accept gracefully, and that’s why you muttered to yourself as you grabbed one of Luke’s shirts and threw it on. Bringing your panties up your legs as you sent Luke one last look, as if you were checking that he was indeed asleep. 

You had to try to be quiet as you knew that everyone else was in there room, and with the minimal amounts of chatter that came from Quinn’s room when he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone. It was the timezones that caused him to be awake, but you knew you couldn’t be certain about the other rooms “shit.” You grumbled landing at Trevor and Jacks door to see that there room was empty. Their beds were made with their sandals missing, which only meant that they were downstairs. 

It was a lightbulb moment as you practically raced down using the banister as support. Chatter could be heard from outside and that’s where they were “pass me the blunt.” Jack’s voice was soft, muffled by the glass. 

Your feet brought you up to the door as you sighed knowing that beyond this moment if you wanted to turn back, you wouldn’t be able to “do my eyes deceive me or is little Miss Perfect stood in front of me?” Trevor teased, using the nickname that Jack had as his eyes drank in the sight of you. 

Jack could sense you were nervous “why don’t you come take a hit?” He offered holding the blunt in your direction “don’t know how.” You shook your head, making him smirk. 

Of course, weed was something you hadn’t dabbled in, how were they not surprised “I’ll teach ya.” Jack patted his thigh as he spread his legs open for you to sit there. 

He held the joint between his ring and pointer fingers when you sat down “just suck the air in but don’t inhale it.” The middle Hughes boy knew that you weren’t exactly some chain smoker so he had to help you. 

You nodded as you followed his instructions when he brought the blunt to your lips. Both boys watched on when Jack let his hand travel up the inside of her thigh “there we go.” He cooed until you let out a cough. 

It made them softly laugh when you shook your head “never doing that again.” You announced assuming that it would have done something to calm the nerves that ran through your veins.

Jack brought the blunt to his lips “what brought you down here?” He asked looking at his watch, you were usually fast asleep “I couldn’t sleep.” You confessed wanting sigh when you felt the breeze brush past you. 

Trevor smiled at your words “anything particular that brought the late shower on?” It was clear that your hair was still wet as it drenched the back of the shirt that you made into a dress “do you think you guys can really fix me?” The words made the two boys freeze. 

It wasn’t something that they thought you would come around to “because if I have to spend another fucking unsatisfactory night with fingers between my thighs I’m going to shoot someone.” Jack let out a soft laugh hearing your confession. 

He smiled bringing his lips to your cheek to kiss “you gonna be a good girl for us?” He quizzed you, circling his thumb on the inside of your thigh “let us break you?” He added which made you whimper in response.

Trevor almost felt jealous at how far away he was from you “why don’t we move this inside?” His proposal made your head snap in his direction. You seemed to sense where the boy came from “c’mon pretty girl.” Jack patted your thigh signalling to you to get up. 

Jack had never been more grateful for the fact that he picked a room downstairs, which you at the moment seemed to so happily run into “c’mere.” Trevor shut the door behind him. 

He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. A grin plastered on his face as your head tilted in his direction so that he could kiss you. There present taste of beer mixed with the weed on his tongue that he dragged over your lower lip. A moan escaped your lips as Jack placed his hands on your hips “didn’t forget about you too.” you confessed, turning your head so that you could kiss him too. 

It was rougher when Trevor turned his attention to your neck. His kisses were hungry as he sucked at the skin “n-no marks.” You gasped not wanting to worry about covering more than your bikinis already did. 

Jack finally took a step back as he looked at you “why don’t you show us how you normally try to get off?” Jack’s fingers danced over the hem of Luke’s shirt that hung over your knee. 

Trevor nodded in agreement “doll, it ain’t like we don’t see those pathetic bikinis you wear.” His words were sharp, making you listen as you took a step back, “like you want us to know what is under ‘em.” He added, allowing his eyes to burn your skin.

The boys watched in awe as your fingers gripped at the ends of the shirt, you took in a deep breath in like it was meant to give you some newfound confidence. The room grew warmed as you pulled the white t-shirt off of your body, letting it fall onto the floor when you now stood in just a white thong. They both stood in silence, causing you to bite at your lip with your confidence immediately wavering.

You were quick to reach down wanting to grab the shirt, assuming that the boys thought this was a mistake or that you weren’t as pretty as they thought you’d be “let us get a good look at ya.” Trevor’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from leaning over any further. 

 A whistle left his lips when you stood up straight “never thought these tits could ever have looked better than when they were in those bikinis.” His voice was a low growl, letting his fingers cup at your breasts before he gave them a squeeze. 

The feeling made a moan get caught in your throat “god imagine what she’s hiding under those panties?” Trevor turned to Jack, not letting his hands move from your boobs that his thumbs began to massage. 

Possibilities felt endless “you wanna let us see?” Jack asked making you nod. Trevor kissed at your neck whilst you locked your fingers into the sides of your panties. 

The fabric brushed against your skin when Trevor looked down to see your bare mound “don’t know how any of those boyfriends of yours used to let you leave them.” He sighed pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

Jack nodded in agreement “if we had a say you’d always be around ready for us.” Those words made you squirm and force your thighs together. 

Neither one of them were an idiot, easily sensing the effect they had on you “can you sit on the bed for me sweet girl?” Jack cooed tilting your jaw up to him so that he could kiss you. 

That kiss helped settle some of your nerves as you nodded. You sat on the edge of Jacks bed “higher.” Trevor motioned to you to move higher up the bed. 

You drove your hips up until you got sat in the middle of his bed “now why don’t you show us how you get off?” After all that was the entire reason that you were there so it made sense they watched you first.

When you lay down on the bed the boys looked at you like you were the sight for sore eyes “c’mon you can show us.” Trevor’s voice oozed this sense of cockiness as he motioned to you to start, brushing those waves of uncertainty aside.

Your heels pushed up to your ass as you spread your lefs open, seeing the boys stare back at you “need to make it wet.” You whimpered feeling Jack kneel into the bed. 

He took two of his fingers to spread your folds open, saliva pooled in his mouth before he let his spit fall onto your cunt. It ran down your clit making you squirm “that enough?” Jack asked standing back up straight as you nodded. 

You brought your fingers down your stomach and to your slit. The two fingers rubbed over your sensitive nub making the boy’s pants grow tight, your fingers travelled to your cunt as you let them thrust into the hole. The pace you used seemed to be a happy medium using Jack’s spit as some kind of lube that let your fingers create a squelching sound. 

Jack felt his throat grow tight “you think that you add another finger?” He could see how your eyes stuck on his now-formed boner “you want some encouragement?” The boy smirked when you nodded. 

Neither one hesitated to drop their pants as they pulled their cocks out of their boxers “can’t fit.” You shook your head watching as your mouth watered seeing them palm their members. 

Trevor sucked at his teeth “know you can do it.” He encouraged but still that didn’t seem to be enough. 

Your free hand went up to cup your boob, going tease your nipple that had been throbbing since it felt the cool air of Jack’s room “need help.” You pleaded, only ever having two fingers in your hole. Even the guys you dated seemed to stop at two, thinking that it was the perfect number. 

Jack took his precum over the head of his cock as he rubbed it down his length “why don’t you pick who.” If he had it his way he wouldn’t have even given Trevor a chance to get you first. 

When your eyes didn’t leave the Devils players it seemed your answer was written on the walls “no hard feels right?” He smirked tucking his cock back into boxers before he joined you on the bed. 

You sat up letting your back rest against his headboard “gonna relax f’me okay?” Jack asked watching you pull your own fingers from your cunt “okay.” You nodded letting your eyes shut when his thumb circled your clit. 

In the beginning he opted to start easy, with two fingers it was only slightly bigger than what you could fit in yourself “shit.” You whimpered letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip. 

His fingers grazed the spongey area of your cunt “uh huh baby want to hear you.” Jack kissed at your neck wanting to hear you scream “feels good.” You confessed making him nod. 

Jack pressed these opened-mouthed kisses on your jaw as he felt you clench around him “you see how hard you make him?” The Hughes boy turned his eyes to Trevor who palmed his cock at an even quicker pace “feel how hard you make me?” Jack brought your hand with his free one over his boxers. 

You took the time to feel his hard appendage and with that, Jack slid a third finger into your cunt “fuck!” Your toes curled at the new sensation. 

Jack lowered his head to your boob letting his lips wrap around your nipple “right there.” Your head rested against the cool wood behind you. 

His fingers felt every inch of you, the way your cunt clenched around his digits that attacked your needy hole “think you should get her clit Z.” Jack’s words made you whimper as you saw the boy’s swollen red tip look desperate for more of your attention “such a pretty girl ain’t she?” Trevor nodded, joining you on the other side of the bed. 

But he didn’t take the liberty of tucking himself away as he let his fingers tap on your lower lip “and a good listener too huh?” He teased watching your mouth suck at his fingers. 

He was forced to pull them out, not wanting to get too carried away “don’t stop.” There was a feeling you had never felt as Jack curled his fingers in this come hither motion. Trevor added to it letting his fingers drop down between Jacks hand and your clit. His calloused fingers were rough “fuck!” You called out watching Trevor drop his face to your chest. 

The boy clicked his tongue “look at this poor fucking tit all ignored.” He sighed not giving you a chance to respond as he too wrapped his lips around your other nipple. 

Looking down it was a sight of dreams as each boy sucked at your nipples, working in tandem on your clit and your cunt “I feel funny.” You confessed making them both look at each other.

It was encouragement for them to increase the pace of their fingers as Trevor rubbed your clit faster and Jack increased the pace of his thrusts “I think I’m gonna.” You trailed off with wide eyes as your body began to shake not sure if the pleasure was coming from your nipples, clit or cunt, or even a mixture of all three. 

Jack made a muffled grunt against your nipple that sent you over the edge, your face scrunched your face up letting your head jolt. Your cunt clenched around Jacks fingers as your body didn’t stop squirming. The boys didn’t stop there though as they brought you through your orgasm. 

The Hughes boy let his fingers begin to slow as your release didn’t seem to grow any sloppier around his digits “shit baby.” Jack let your nipple drop from his mouth with a pop. Your chest heaved as you nodded enough.” You whimpered feeling them retract their fingers away from you as Trevor finally let your other breast go. 

Trevor and Jack looked at the sight that you were in front of them “why don’t you taste yourself.” Jack offered his fingers bringing them into your mouth “so you can remember your first orgasm.” He added as Trevor had a devilish look in his eyes.

You went to turned your attention to the other boy whilst still sucking on Jacks fingers “I want a proper taste.” Trevor announced settling in between your legs. 

Your body was still sensitive and Jack was able to pick upon that “hey pretty girl.” His voice was soft, his fingers gripped at your jaw turning your head in his direction. 

His eyes caught yours “don’t worry about him right now?” Jack reassured you as Trevor kissed at your thigh “you want to still feel so good right?” Trevor asked wrapping his arm around your thigh when he blew against your cunt. 

The sensation made you squirm “please.” You nodded switching your gaze between both boys “a guy ever eaten this pretty cunt before?” Trevor ran his finger down your slit when he pressed a kiss against your other thigh. 

Jack focused his lips against the hollow of your collarbone “none.” But that wasn’t to say that you never wanted it, the guys you were with just wanted it to be you who went down on them “can’t believe you fucking thought you were the problem.” Jack clicked his tongue watching your eyes stick on Trevor. 

The boy mindlessly stared at your cunt, like he had never seen something so glorious “kiss?” You pleaded looking at Jack who couldn’t help but nod at you. 

His fingers gripped at your jaw as he started kissing you slowly at first. Trevor felt his cock throb watching the scene unfold in front of him. Jacks tongue ended up in your mouth and the Ducks player decided he couldn’t be the only one not having any fun. 

Trevor wrapped his other arm around your bare thigh, allowing your feet to settle on his shoulder blades “fucking hell.” His voice barely above a whisper before his head dropped against your cunt.

His mouth latched over your clit first making you moan into Jacks mouth “such a sweet cunt.” Trevor moaned sending shivers up your spine. The boy let his tongue travel to your weeping hole, his nose grazed your clit as he thrusted his tongue in against your walls. 

Your head fell back as Jack looked down “be a good girl and look at how good Z his making you feel.” He sucked at your earlobe making you whimper. 

Trevor’s eyes locked onto yours, his arms slightly loosened around your legs allowing you to drive your hips close to him “fuck z.” You moaned feeling Jack cup your tits once again “Jacky you’re missing out here.” Trevor confessed placing his thumb on your clit before he went back to fucking you with his tongue. 

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt Jack softly laugh against your skin “don’t have to worry because we’ve got plenty more in ya.” He looked at you through his devilishly long lashes “don’t we baby?” Jack asked as he sucked at your jaw. 

Silence swallowed you up when pleasure lulled in your ears. Trevor had been paying attention which made him scoff “he asked you a question doll.” The boy cupped his hand as he lay a smack against your cunt. 

The movement made you jolt when your eyes burst open “ahh,” you whimpered almost folding your body over “‘m sorry.” You apologised letting your lips form a pout. 

Trevor accepted the apology as he continued. He pressed a kiss against your clit “we just want you to be a good girl.” He sighed licking a stripe down your slit. 

Your thighs tensed around his head “because we don’t have to punish you then.” Your cunt clenched around his tongue as it lolled back into your hole “just wanna make you feel so good tonight.” Jack confessed going back to kissing your lips as you quickly became like a drug to him. 

There was the slightest scent of your perfume that was still on your skin that invaded his nostrils “please.” You nodded practically feeling like a brand new woman as the boys focused on you. 

Jack nodded running his fingers over your collarbone “c’mon sweet girl.” Jack cooed as you bit at your lip “you let this house hear you or else we’re gonna stop.” He warned squeezing your cheeks in his hand. 

Trevor pulled his tongue from your entrance before he let it lay flat running against your clit “seems like little miss perfect wants that.” Trevor taunted latching his lips around the sensitive nub. 

Jack gasped toying with your nipple between his fingers “you want Lukey to see what we are doing to his best friend?” The image made your voice quiver “h-he can’t.” You whimpered shaking your head. 

The boy between your thighs smirked “shame to keep this pretty pussy a secret.” Trevor sighed pressing a kiss against your clit “when she’s all soaked for us, it’s better to keep it our think no?” Jack asked pressing a wet kiss against your throat when you arched your back. 

The Ducks player let his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub, creating a healthy rhythm that caused your thighs to squeeze against his head “all for you.” You nodded with your voice turning breathy, almost angelic to the duo.

Those words went straight to the boys cocks that they were still so desperate to just let burst out, letting it soak your skin “can’t believe you tried to act like you were too good for us.” Jack pinched at your side making you jolt “I’m sorry.” You cried, your throat feeling raw as your heels pushed against Trevor’s shoulder blades. 

Jack smiled raking his fingers through your hair “‘s okay.” He mumbled pecking your lips “all that matters is that you’re here now.” Jack kissed you harder that time when your nails dug into his thigh. 

Trevor let his lips go from your clit as you whimpered not aware of how that hurt him more to stop than you could have known “please she’s been wanting to be a dumb little slut for us.” Trevor’s words were rough as he thrusted his fingers into your cunt. 

His were longer than Jacks but they weren’t as smooth either “please.” You begged clenching your walls around his digits “please what?” Trevor softly bit that the inside of your thigh. 

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head while Jack kissed at your shoulder “make me cum.” You whined wanting nothing more than to feel the high you felt earlier on “how can I say no to that.” Trevor clicked his tongue as he went back to sucking at your clit. 

His fingers did this scissoring motion stretching you out around him. The squelching noises echoed against the walls of the room, mixing with the sounds of your moans that slipped through Jacks kisses “such a spoilt girl ain’t ya.” Jack saw the sweat that formed on your stomach. 

You nodded whimpering against him “want you to cum really good for him okay?” Those words made your toes curl as the coil tightened in your stomach “can I?” You nodded not knowing it was possible for you to do it again. 

Trevor nodded refusing to slow down his thrusts as he grinded his hips into the bed beneath him. Words left your lips in a shaky chant “please fuck please.” You begged squirming as he didn’t relent running his tongue over your clit. 

You huffed shaking your head “c’mon sweet girl you can let go.” Jack egged you on kissing your lips, swallowing the moans from your mouth. 

Your legs shook when Trevor fingered you through your high, your release coating his fingers when the coil snapped in your stomach “shit, holy shit.” Your chest heaved letting your fingers tug at Trevor’s hair to pull him off of you. 

His fingers dropped from your cunt went you kissed him. Your release shone on his chin “fuck.” Trevor moaned feeling your tongue brush against his, your walls clenched around nothing as you knew it was the taste of your pussy on his tongue. 

Jack grunted from beside you as you turned back to look at him. There was a smile on your lips “you ready for one more?” He asked pushing your hair out of your face when you nodded. 

It made Trevor laugh “of course she is.” He mumbled tugging at the hair on the nape of your neck so that he could kiss you again. You felt as if the wind was knocked out of you with the amount of passion in it. 

A moan escaped from your lips “wanna taste you.” Your confession made his cock throb “how can I say no when a little slut asks me so nicely?” He nodded cupping your jaw as he smiled. 

Jack gripped at your sides “gonna let me fuck you while he does that?” Those words made you nod. 

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened but before you knew it Jack was on the end of the bed with his legs hanging over. You were hovering over his hips and of course Trevor stood over you, taking in the sight that you were through your thick eyelashes “remember when you thought you were too good to entertain us?” Trevor taunted you like those words hadn’t been spoken mere hours ago. 

You nodded feeling Jack kiss your shoulder blade “well I think it’s time you give us an apology for being such a fucking brat.” His words were harsh as Jack dragged the head of his cock against your clit “I’m sorry Trevor.” Jacks hand held your hip stopping you from sinking into his cock. 

Trevor laughed shaking his head “you gotta do a whole lot better than that.” His fingers brushed through your hair “and that’s gonna start with you getting on his dick okay?” You were eager to please them both. 

Jack let out a grunt “condom?” He asked when your head leaned against his shoulder “on the pill.” Your words made him gasp finally letting your cunt sink down on his cock. 

The ducks player smirked watching how your jaw went slack “shit this cunt is-wow.” Jack let his teeth gnaw at your shoulder blade. 

Neither one of you moved, taking the chance let your walls stretch around his cock. Trevor palmed himself watching how your eyes screwed shut enjoying how the boy felt inside of you “gonna have to try it one day too.” He nodded as you finally started lifting yourself up against Jack “you ready f’me to fuck you huh?” Jack asked, your head bobbed with your one hand resting on his thigh your nails digging into his skin. 

Jacks blue orbs burnt into the back of your head “this cunt is so perfect god.” He barked wrapping his one arm around your waist to keep your back flush against his chest “don’t stop.” The Devils player drunk in your whimpers while you squirmed. 

He adjusted his legs so that you had spread yours around his. Letting the feelings of pleasure soak over you, not sure how much more of him you could actually take. A grunt came from in front of you, reminding you that it wasn’t just you and Jack in that room.

Trevor’s precum oozed out of his cock and you swore you could see a smirk on his face when your mouth watered “you wanna suck my cock?” He asked watching you nodded. 

His breath grew short when you used your tongue to spread his liquid around his length “shit this mouth is-” Trevor cut himself off as you took more of his cock in your mouth. 

His fingers messily tugged at your hair forming a loose pony at the back of your head, encouraging you to work his cock between your lips “you want more?” He asked seeing how you looked up at him through your eyelashes. 

Jack had settled into a rhythm he liked unintentionally knocking your hand off of him. This cause you to reach out at Trevor’s thighs “fuck.” Both boys spoke through gritted teeth as Trevor’s cock hit your throat causing tears to spill from your eyes when you clenched around Jacks cock. 

The ducks player watched how you worked your tongue on the underside of his length “don’t stop pretty girl.” He nodded hearing the squelching of your cunt as Jack fucked you “yeah sweets we wanna use you proper.” Jack cooed gripping at your hip, pinching at the skin. 

You moaned around Trevor almost toppling him over “think you like the idea of us using you.” His words were full of desire, fantasies forming in his mind wanting to go through with them in that moment. 

Sweat stuck to your skin, turning you into a whimper mess “god you’re such a cock hungry slut.” Trevor muttered tugging at your hair eliciting another moan from your lips

The sensation made his eyes screw shut “fuck I’m gonna cum.” Trevor response was mangled, Jack started chasing his own high that was quickly approaching when he heard that message “you gonna let me make a mess in this pretty little mouth of yours?” He brought his one hand forward from your hair. 

His thumb brushed against your cheek “mhm.” Tears streamed down your cheeks while your eyes darted up to his. 

Trevor’s movements increased fucking your face as if you were his own hand. He took that moment before he became undone. His hand held you in place so his release hit the back of your throat all at once. 

Your throat gagged at the new sensation causing his cock to twitch before he went lax letting go of your hair. You hollowed out your cheeks as you let your lips swallow every last drop of what had been on his skin cleaning him up in the process. 

Gasps escaped from your lips causing droplets of his release to drip out of the side of your mouth “don’t go making a mess now.” Trevor clicked his tongue catching it with his thumb before he brought it into your mouth. 

Your lips wrapped around his digit swirling your tongue around it like it was his cock all over again “fuck I’m gonna make a mess in this pussy.” Jack announced feeling that he was close. 

His pace turned animalistic and if Trevor wasn’t in front of you, you swore you would have fallen over “such a tight cunt.” The boy moaned with his eyes glued to the way your folds swallowed his cock. 

Trevor felt himself grow hard again “such a pretty little cock drunk slut ain’t ya?” He asked watching your eyes grow glassy “yeah.” You cried hearing how your thighs slapped against Jack with every thrust of his cock. 

He almost felt as if he could feel your guts he was so deep, touch places you didn’t even know were in you “needed you both so bad.” You were surprised you were able to form a coherent sentence “knew you were always gonna be so desperate for us.” Trevor almost laughed watching your head bob as you nodded along. 

Your mouth watered seeing how his cock still oozed while his hand ran along the underside of it “you wanna feel this too pretty girl?” It was almost the sweetest thing he had said that night. 

It seemed to throw you off as you chewed at your lip sensing you were close “or maybe we should stop until this little slut remembers how to talk.” The threat held no weight as Jack was far too close with your walls squeezing his cock to let you off of him, but that wasn’t something that you considered “please Z.” Your moan sounded like you were a pornstar letting the whimpers of desperation escape from your throat. 

Trevor crouched down pumping his cock once more before he let the head sit in your clit “shit doll you like that?” Jack asked feeling you clench around him “so good.” You nodded letting your head fall against his shoulder. 

The sight was something Trevor swore should have been in the Louvre. His cock dragged over your clit matching the pace of Jacks thrusts. The Hughes boy was desperate to get you to cum first because he knew that the moment he finish he was a goner. 

Trevor begun to kiss at your throat which he now had the perfect spot to do as such “go on.” Trevor mumbled sucking at your sweet skin “make a mess on Jacky boys cock.” Your breathy gasps filled the room as your eyes screwed shut. 

Jack grunted from behind you “yeah baby make a mess for me.” Between Jacks cock fucking you senseless, Trevor’s cock against your clit and now both boys marking up your throat you were done. 

You shuttered out a cry while your face contorted letting tears fall from your shut eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. Neither boy stopped what they were doing, wanting to guide you through your orgasm “shit shit so good!” Jack sputtered out feeling your cunt clench around him. 

His eyes practically rolled back into his head as his cock shot warm sticky ropes of release into your cunt “fucking hell.” Trevor softly laughed against your throat when the younger boy lulled his thrusts before he kissed your shoulder. 

Your chest heaved trying to catch your breath you lay against Jack slowly coming back to, before you softly clenched around him remembering that he was still there “you with us baby?” Jack asked brushing your hair out of your face. 

You nodded gripping onto Trevor’s arm to help yourself up “damn.” Jack mumbled looking down at where you had been sat. A mix of your release and Jacks oozed out of your cunt and down the inside of your thigh as you used Trevor to support you. 

Trevor’s eyes followed Jacks before he let out a soft gasp “you know you could do that?” His hand squeezed at your hip before he set you on the bed next to the devils player. 

You shook your head “do what?” You asked growing confused “this broken girl just squirted.” Trevor scooped the release that had fallen before he thrusted his fingers into your cunt once more “we can’t have you forgetting about this now can we?” He asked watching your hand try to wrap around his wrist to stop him. 

Jack smirked seeing how you dropped back onto the bed, allowing your face to contort as you felt with a mix of pleasure and overstimulation “silly girl this summer is only just getting started.” The devils player nipped at your ear knowing that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Because here is to the summer you’ll never forget. 

[777heavengirl]

kitchen

remus lupin x reader one-shot ! warnings: my beta reader rated it 12/10 angst, do with that what you will. word count: 2,889 masterlist a/n: this is so sad. this is rlly just me partly reflecting my break up onto Remus i AM SO SORRY IN ADVANCE.

You stared at the side of Remus’s face as he talked with James. Your brother ever the animated man, waved his arms around and spoke excitedly, to which Remus could only muster small chuckles and low-toned responses. 

You knew he was tired. 

Work was tiring. 

The moon was tiring. 

His body was tired. 

Part of you was still left with a bitter aftertaste from his apathy. You pressed a kiss against his bicep.

Remus’s lips pressed into a thin line resembling a smile. You knew it meant he was itching to leave. But you didn’t move. You sat, and stared, at him, at James, at Lily. At nothing at all. You laughed when they did, and put your hand on his forearm as to remind yourself of the spark between you. To remind yourself that he was here, with you and that he loved you.

That you loved him too.

You wondered if he had always been this way. Had you just been too in love to notice the apathy? The way he seemed to not even try to reciprocate any energy? Were you just being too needy? 

Was James not bothered by his friend’s lack of emotion? 

You and Remus had too much history. You could not remember what life was like without being with him. It had been years. Years of running up and down behind your twin brother and his friends, years of hands intertwined with Remus’s, kisses first shared in the dark— Merlin forbid your brother found out at the time. You had been happy. For years. Even with the ups and downs and the mercurial nature of his moods. Maybe lunar is a better word for it.

The waning and waxing phases of the way he felt about the world. You thought that might be the hardest part of it all. 

The way he’d be enthusiastic about the future one week, talking about job postings that had piqued his interest, talking about a future. But other weeks, the dark side of the moon reared its ugly head. He’d be riddled with doubts and fears. Days and weeks were he simply wallowed, days where he haunted your room or your kitchen, for hours. He’d reluctantly go to his muggle job, the monotony of it all bringing his mood down even more.

Weeks like those it was hard. The talks of aspirations went up in a cloud of smoke and you were once again left with nothing.

 He always did say that even though he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, he was sure about you. That you were the one constant in his future. No matter what, it was you. It wasn’t as reassuring as he believed it to be.

You tried not to think about it.

You eventually bid goodbye to your brother and his darling wife. The picture of a perfect family, with a baby on the way, in a small flowering cottage. You itched to ask Remus if he ever wanted that. Did he ever think about it at all?

But, you loved him. That was all that mattered.

Besides, you had real history. Too many years invested. If it wasn’t with him, you were probably just going to end up alone.

You were in love with him for Godric’s sake. Maybe that was the reason you could never choose yourself. 

“Have you given what we talked about some thought?” your words were barely above a whisper, unsure, scared about what his answer could be. You could see him look around uncomfortably. Maybe you should’ve waited until you actually got home not walking through the streets. 

“Y-yeah, I did…” his hand gripped yours tighter as you walked, like you might slip from his fingers “I think I should maybe wait a few weeks…” his shoulders tensed when the sigh inevitably left your lips. “I’m sorry I know it isn't what you wanted to hear but- I don't know if the Ministry would even take me… I did see a new posting for an entry-level in the department of magical creatures maybe I could apply”

“Apply soon yeah”

He nodded silently and you kissed his shoulder to wordlessly tell him thank you, as you walked home from James and Lily’s. Maybe he’d actually do it this time. Maybe one day, he’d see his own potential, he’d see how much farther he could go. 

Maybe someday he’d be brave enough to take a leap and fulfill his promises to you and himself. Maybe one day you’d finally be in a spot to build a family together. Or at least plan for it.

After all, you and Remus had real history. And he promised. Many moons ago.

Your love for him was why it was always so hard to do the right thing. 

Because as soon there was some disagreement, you knew, as much as he did, that no matter how upset you might be with him he could sweep you into his arms and all worry would melt away. 

In the small flat, you and Remus shared, under the warm light of the stray table lamp you’d dance. He’d take you in his arms and move along the soft rhythm of the music he’d put on. He’d kiss your temple and swear and promise.

Shallow words that at this point went in one ear and out the other. Promises of a future together, of applications that would never get done, of steps that would never even be attempted. 

But nevertheless, you forgave. 

You forgave four years of broken promises. You forgave the lack of a ring on your finger. You forgave the lack of planning for the future. You forgave his indifference.

You made yourself think you forgave him.

You tried to forget too.

Tried to forget his lack of ambition because why try when they would never want to hire someone like me? Tried to forget the way your mother had warned you about this a year back. Tried to forget the way Sirius called your phone last month from France, telling you you’d love it there, telling you it was a shame Remus didn’t want to go. How much of a shame it was that you had to miss out on life-changing experiences because Remus couldn't. 

Wouldn’t. 

Same thing.

Sirius called again a few days after you visited your brother.

“Is it raining there? The weather’s shit here at the moment” You ask, staring at the window, the raging storm outside banging against the glass and drowning the usual sight of the street bellow. 

“Meh- could be worse, I reckon it’s starting to warm up soon, so m’pretty excited about that,” He said, you hummed in acknowledgment “Have you talked to Moony again about coming? It really is beautiful in the summer doll— besides you can stay with me for free obviously”

You sighed

“No Sirius, I honestly don't even want to ask I already know how that one will go”

“So what? you’re not vacationing at all?”

“The only place I’m vacationing is in rock bottom Black-” you said, staring at the closed bedroom door. No doubt Remus was taking a small nap. The full moon was approaching.

Sirius tskd’d.

“You know you can always come… by yourself I mean, stay with me for a while”

“Sirius…”

“I know I know… I’m sorry-” Sirius tried laughing it off, the chuckle not lasting long as he asked, “Are you happy at least? With him.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that” You tried fighting the way your eyes seemed to immediately water.

“I fear it’s a pretty straight-up question- yes or no?”

“I don’t know if this is what happy is anymore” you whispered, afraid to state it fully aloud

“Then it isn't. When you’re happy, you know” Sirius sounded somber “You have to do the right thing, whatever is right for you not for him”

“It is never that easy”

“Yes, it is doll. It is always that easy”

You bid him goodbye soon after.

You chalked it off as Sirius not knowing what it was like to be with someone for years. You couldn’t just throw away the past four years of your life just because what? He was tired? He wasn’t putting as much effort as you wanted?

It could be fixed.

You were convinced you’d fix it as Remus trudged out of the room, hair disheveled as he rested his head on your shoulder. A kiss to the crook of your neck.

“Was it Pads?” he mumbled against your skin, you ignored the way you felt caught

“Yes”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, better than okay”

“I wish we could go to Paris” you tried not breaking down in tears right there and there. 

It was never about money. You could go on brooms for fucks sake. You could portkey right into Sirius’s little French apartment. 

You didn't ask him why not. Why not go? You drowned the question in the tea he eventually handed you. You had always been more of a coffee person, but much like everything else, you sacrificed it for his preference for tea and its calming effects.

You tried your best to fix it, for months. You’d lay down with him after work, card your fingers through his light brown locks, trace his scars while he fought off sleep, press a chaste kiss to his lips before he fell asleep. 

You started calling Sirius more often than not, in hushed whispers. Tears were often spilled. You stopped feeling bad eventually. It was just calling a friend in a time of need. Draining the disappointment you didn't dare throw in Remus’s face. 

He was going through enough.

You continued to hold on to hope.

You’d nudge him along. Try for new jobs, call friends to see if anyone, anyone at all, could find him an in with the ministry.

“He just needs to apply sweetie- this is stupid” Marlene rolled her eyes, her auror uniform casually unbuttoned after her day of work, she twirled the spoon in her tea with a small wave of her finger. “They’re starting these werewolf allocation programs, they make sure they’re given jobs and such…”

“I don't know if he’d like that” You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. You could imagine him already, turning his nose away from any sort of Ministry help.

“Can I ask why he isn’t the one asking me these things?” Marlene said a glint in her eye that let you know she knew the answer already. You looked away.

“Sometimes it's hard to do the right thing Marls”

“You need to do the right thing for yourself”

“Marlene-” you scoffed “Me and Remus just have too much history- how can I ever just choose me? It’s us”

“Maybe it’s time it’s just you” 

You stared at Remus that night, the soft music that played from his muggle radio filling the air between you. You stared at him silently, the curve of his lips, the soft of the apples of his cheeks. The silvery scars that ran across his face. 

You loved him, you did.

But you also did feel the very worst you could feel. No dancing in the kitchen could fix it anymore. No kisses and fake promises could fix it. Not anymore.

As soft as he made you feel, as much history as you had together. You couldn't help the overwhelming need to cry every time you looked at him. 

What the hell was he even doing? What were you doing?

Any plans you had dreamed of with him were now very quickly crumbling in front of your eyes. He continued to silently make tea. You hoped he wouldn't notice the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes.

You and Remus had what your brother always called real history. He just meant it was deeply engrained, in your bones, in your heart. He said it poignantly last time you popped in for a visit. His tone didn’t fail to chip at your heart.

Your years together weren’t something you could erase. Not that you wanted to. 

You were happy with him. Right? You loved him.

Maybe if you just gave him more time. You had graduated Hogwarts a mere two years ago. 

He had always been more than good to you. Even at your lowest. Even at his lowest. He was nothing but gentle and loving.

Maybe. Sometimes, love wasn't enough.

You didn’t say anything as he finished cleaning up the kitchen. He kissed your temple goodnight. You stayed up, staring at the phone line debating on calling Sirius, again. 

“I just don’t know what I should do…” you leaned against the wet metal railing of your balcony, the drops seeping into your pajama pants. You grabbed the base of the phone with one hand, the other holding the receiver up to your ear

“I don’t know why you’re asking me angel, you already know what my answer is going to be”

“Don’t be mean Sirius” he could hear the pout in your voice, and he laughed

“I’m not- you know I love Moony, we’ve been friends for ages but…”

“But?”

“I love you more” You didn’t respond. “And I think you need to love yourself more than you love him too” You could hear him inhale what you guessed was a cigarette

You hummed in acknowledgment, not daring to open your mouth at the fear that sobs would break your words.

“Don’t wear yourself out for someone that isn’t doing the same for you…”

“That’s unfair… he does”

“He forgot a card for your anniversary”

“It was a few days after the full moon…”

“Okay, what about your birthday? Or Christmas for that matter? What? D’you think I’d forget how you called crying? Every single one of those times” He said, you could feel your lip wobbling. “Come to Paris with me-”

“Sirius-”

“Just think about it okay? Promise me you’ll at least do that…”

“Okay, I will—”

“Right… ‘night love,” he said, you muttered a small goodnight “and for the record…” He hesitated for a second, almost as if he shouldn’t say it. Sirius was never one to stay quiet, he did this time. “Nevermind, I love you”

“Love you too Sirius” you answered, head hanging in defeat. The phone call clicked off.

It really wasn’t about Sirius you thought, as you guiltily crawled into bed with your boyfriend. Not about France either. You stared at his sleeping form.

It wasn’t about your and Remus’s history. It didn’t matter how long you had been together if there was no future.

It wasn’t about what your brother or Marlene, or even your mother thought. 

It was about choosing you. 

Right?

“Remus” you padded over and stood next to the small dining table that morning. 

“Yes?” He didn’t look up from his book, a bad habit he had picked up. He was never truly listening when he did that

“Remus have you applied to the job at the Ministry?”

“Mhm? Ministry…” he still didn’t look up, he took a sip of his tea “No I haven't yet, I’ll get around to it though, I just want to take my time with it you know?”

“Its an application how long can it take?” you could feel yourself start getting angry, and you looked away from him. Not that he had looked up to look you in the eyes anyway.

“I just want to give myself the best chance to get in.” he finally looked up from his book, an exasperated look on his face. You refused to meet his eyes “What's wrong with that?”

“You’ve been saying the same thing for ages Remus”

“We’ll I have other things going on— just because you have different ideas about what my progress should look like doesn't mean I’m not doing anything you know? Because I do, I do a lot actually” He said, staring at you as if daring you to deny that he did anything. 

Of course, he worked hard. You could never refute tthat. He moved his eyes down to his book.

You bit your tongue for a second, but the words slipped out nevertheless.

“Remus I don't think we can be together anymore”

“What?” the tone in his voice was nothing short of heartbroken. He searched your face for anything. Any hint that you weren't serious. “No”

Godric it was so hard to do the right thing.

“I don’t think we are on the same page anymore, you say things, you promise but…” you rubbed your temple, you could feel a headache coming “None of those promises ever come true” you sighed, finally looking at him

His eyes were rimmed red.

“You’re right,” he said, defeated, breathless.

“If you know I’m right why didn’t you just do it? I have never asked you for anything else, just for you to apply for yourself Remus, because you had said it was what you wanted”

You and Remus stared at each other. A blank look on his face as he looked at you, his nose red and tears threatening to streak down his cheeks. 

“Can you say something? Anything? Why didn’t you just do it?”

“I don’t know”

“You never know Remus, but I do and I refuse to wait for you to figure it out anymore”

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

let me know if you want to be added onto the permanent tag list ! also please check out my new series bless the telephone if you haven't already! MWAH thank you for reading <3

[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[k1mbe3rly]

I was thinking watching Nam-Gyu kill Se-Mi and reader getting scared of him and when he comes up to reader she gets scared and he’s like ‘baby?’ And yeah that TYYY!!!!

You were acting like a different person

You and Nam gyu were dating for honestly awhile, since senior year, you’ve seen him in many different states, on drugs, on weed, on many things

He had gotten into debt by MGcoin which you told him countless of times it was okay, so that’s how you both ended up in the games

He had stayed with you thru out the games and even introduced you to Thanos, you were a bit skeptical about him but didn’t say anything, you’ve noticed they took this colorful drug and notice Nam gyu acting differently

He started dancing around with Thanos during mingle and screamed at min su, you didn’t really mind since you’ve been him on drugs before

It was until he had left for the bathroom with Thanos and took awhile, you took this time to talk to se mi, you sat there with Se-mi after min su basically betrayed her having a casual talk

It was until you heard the speaker go on, “Player 230 has been eliminated”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion as many numbers kept going saying they were eliminated

Finally Nam gyu came out but he was bloody.. he yelled out “Everyone! The ‘X’ attacked us for no reason! they killed my friend and much more!” he yelled out

“That’s a lie! you guys were pressuring one of us to pick ‘O’!” another guy yelled as everyone stared yelling

Eventually they calmed down and counted how much were left, after the counting Nam gyu came to you glaring at Se-mi for a bit “Come on. Let’s go to the other side” he said raising a hand out motioning you to come

You looked at Se-mi giving her an apologetic look as you got up grabbing his hand and holding it as you went to the other side where the rest of the ‘O’ were

He sat on a bed leaning his head back and staring the cross necklace Thanos has, “Fucking asshole..couldn’t even get my name right” he muttered opening the cross and taking 2 colorful pills

You watched him for a moment as you spoke up “What happened in the restroom..?”, He looked at you “Nothing they just killed a couple of people..and killed Thanos obviously.” He said but he wasn’t bringing up the fact he killed someone as well

You hummed, “I’m sorry about your friend” you told him, he did a small smile at you “It’s okay baby, we still have eachother, but i really do wanna get revenge on them when lights are out..what do you think huh?” he said giving you a slight nudge, you stared at him noticing something was off

“I don’t know nam gyu..what do you mean by revenge?” you told him, “I mean killing one or two for killing our side” he said, you continue staring at him looking into his eyes than around his face, noticing small blood stains on his cheek, “No..? are you insane? that’s just dangerous! a fight would break out and who knows you could get killed as well!” you told him as he glared at you in a bit of annoyance

“Nothing gonna happen to me. It’s just a couple people, if you don’t wanna help out fine than don’t” he said leaning back to the wall, you felt bad but you weren’t gonna help him kill people, you stayed silent

As the lights went out he looked at you, “It’s time..just stay here.” he said giving you a quick kiss on the lips and getting motioning other people, you felt worried and remembered about Se-mi and Min-su, you watched as they slowly creeped over to the other side

And eventually they started running at them as you heard a couple screams and fighting, loud stabbing noises and blood rushing through them, the lights started flickering as you quickly got up heading to the other side looking for Se-mi

Min-su was nowhere to be found as you managed to find Se-mi, “Se-mi!” you yelled as she looked at you, “Are you okay?!” you asked as she nodded, “I’m fine but you seriously can’t be on this side” she said leading you to a bed for you to hide, you softly sat on it as you heard someone call for her

“Se-mi..come here you little cunt!”

You looked over seeing Nam gyu with a fork and his face even more bloody, you widen your eyes at the sight of him, never seeing him look more scary.

You breathed heavily feeling like you couldn’t move, as he inched closer a loud glass bottle stopped between them, Nam gyu looked up as Se-mi grabbed a peice of glass quickly stabbing Nam gyu with it but it wasn’t enough, you panicked as your heart pounded quickly

Nam gyu growled out quickly stabbing her with the fork as you flinched watching him, you couldn’t move nor help out, you were shaking like crazy as tears formed into your eyes

You watched as Nam gyu repeatedly stabbed Se-mo over and over again, you listened to her scream out as she landed on the floor trying to push Nam gyu off, He hovered over her still stabbing into her until you saw her hands fall down onto the floor signaling she’s gone.

Tears begin falling down, “N-nam gyu..?” you spoke out softly, barely able to form a sentence as your hands went to your hair and your knees to your chest

He looked over his face softening at you, “Y/n? why are you on this side? it’s dangerous!” he yelled as he tried getting closer as you quickly backed up, he froze when you backed away from him

“No. You’re the dangerous one!” you told him as you begin sobbing out at this new form of him, he stared at you for a moment

“What? no .. Baby what are you saying?” he said as he dropped the fork and tried placing his hands on your cheeks, his hands shaking slightly over your face

you shaked your head still crying out, “Who even are you..” you spoke to him as the lights flicked on and the guards came shooting up

He continued staring at you, “Baby..” he spoke “It’s still me. Your boyfriend” he said

“My boyfriend wouldn’t kill anyone!” you yelled as you quickly shoved him and leaving

He watched you as he sighed in a bit of worry and guilt.

[jihoonjuseyo]

Perverted jihoon hacking readers computer so he can see what she is doing in her room just to see her jerking off to him.... Then might end it with him fucking her in her bedsheets the very same night

~💩

a/n: this isn’t something i usually write ;u; i really tried to make him a pervert but i have a hard time writing real people with these kinds of character traits. i hope you understand ♡

cw: smut, toys, spying, dubcon if you squint, computer hacking to watch reader masturbate, oh yeah masturbation, lmk if i missed anything

requests open!

when you told jihoon that you’ve been told that you make noises when you sleep, he half-believed it to start. he wasn’t a stranger to having his ear pressed to the wall that separates your bedrooms. he recognized quickly that those weren’t just measly noises from sleep, no soft hums from your slumber - no, those were *moans* he was hearing.

it woke an obsession within him, standing next to the wall for minutes after you’ve gone to bed, hoping and praying that he’d hear the soft buzz he’d learn to listen for, his hand already moving down to his waistband.

it woke an obsession within him, standing next to the wall for minutes after he knows you’ve gone to bed, hoping and praying that he’d hear the soft buzz he’d learn to listen for, his hand already moving down to his waistband. he’d seen the vibrator once. on accident, as he was so innocently helping you organize your drawers one day while you were gone. he certainly didn’t smear his own cum on it just to see it before washing it off, oh no.

jihoon’s obsession continued to grow as he patiently waited for your soft moans in the night, his mind filling with increasingly more debaucherous thoughts of you. one night, as he stood with his ear pressed against the wall, he heard the familiar buzz he was waiting for, the soft gasp of your initial tease to your core.

a thrill ran through his body as he pressed even closer to the wall, his excitement growing as he listened to the soft moans coming from the other side.

he pictured you in your room, those little shorts you wore (the ones he saw riding up your ass countless times throughout the afternoon), pulled to the side with your fingers teasing your entrance. he loved the idea of that purple toy shoved inside of you, your walls encasing it so tightly. but your fingers, god he pictured them everywhere on his body-

he closed his eyes as he stroked his cock, a shaky breath coming out as jihoon pictured himself in front of the bed, eyes level with your cunt as you teased yourself.

that’s when his brain went a different direction, and he physically felt his length harden at the idea. your computer, so perfectly situated in the front of your bed. jihoon knew that computer had the best spot in the world, it made him envious.

jihoon's mind continued to spin as he listened to your soft moans through the wall. as the room on the other side of the wall fell silent, he quietly stepped away from the wall, his mind still filled with thoughts of you. it was like a magnet pulling him back to the wall, but he resisted.

he walked over to his own desk, his hands shaky as he turned on his computer. he knew that he had to see the view that your computer was enjoying. it was so unfair, the way he knows your legs are spread out for the computer to see.

sitting down at his desk, jihoon quickly launched the hacking program he had been developing for the past few months. with a few commands, he was in your system, giving him access to your webcam and the contents on it.

he navigated to your webcam and clicked to open the live feed, his heart racing in anticipation. he'd been fantasizing about this moment for weeks, hoping he would be able to get a glimpse of your most intimate moments before you fall asleep.

as the camera launched, jihoon’s breath hitched as your bedroom came into view. there you were, laid out on your bed, wearing those same shorts that had been driving him crazy all day.

only, those shorts were pulled to your ankles,

“jihoon-“ your voice hitched, making jihoon’s hand, that had been pumping his cock so slickly, stuttered, his hips jerking slightly. he felt his face flush, his instincts kicking in almost immediately. he had to grip the chair as he considered, barging in on a private moment or making her fantasies a reality?

jihoon's mind raced as he watched you on the other end of the camera, his body reacting to every little sound you made. he knew that spying on you was wrong, but he couldn't help himself now. he wanted you so badly that he could taste it.

his mind was swirling with all the ways he wanted to taste you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes focused on the way you were writhing on the bed. He couldn't believe the situation he found himself in, watching you so intimately without you even knowing.

“fuck it,” he hissed, pushing himself out of the chair and standing up, pushing his cock back into his pants for the moment.

jihoon's heart was pounding in his chest as he quickly got up and left his bedroom, his mind racing with thoughts of what he was about to do. he approached your door, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to turn the knob.

jihoon hesitated for a moment before turning the doorknob and slowly opening the door, his breath caught in his throat as he stepped inside. the room was dimly lit by the light from the desk, the computer screen casting an eerie glow on your body as you lay in bed.

his eyes drank in the sight of you, laid out before him like a gift. he closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in his ears.

unfortunately for him, you’d heard it too. you shot up with a gasp, hands coming out while simultaneously trying to cover your lower half with your legs. “d-don’t you know h-h-ho-aaa..!” jihoon felt himself get chocked up, knowing that you were attempting to hide the fact that a vibrator was lodged tightly in your pussy.

jihoon's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, his gaze going straight to where your hands were trying to hide the vibrator. His heart raced in his chest as he tried to form a coherent thought.

he took a step forward, his mind going back to the sight on the camera. he hadn't been able to see that in the dimly lit room, nor had he been prepared for the way it would feel to see it in person.

“I-I…” he tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat as his body responded to the view in front of him. he took another step forward, bringing him within a few feet of the bed.

jihoon's eyes roamed over your body, taking in every part of you. the sight of your chest heaving with each labored breath was almost too much for him, the urge to touch you growing stronger with each moment.

“I don’t-“ he started, his voice low and rough. he took another step forward, bringing him right next to the bed. he knelt down on the edge, his hands shaking slightly as he reached out to touch you. you jerked back slightly, your breath heavy as you watched jihoon intensely, confused but curious.

his eyes, ever so dark and focused, stared at the exposed part of your leg before trailing his hand up your thigh, pushing the blanket up as well as you almost fought him. “hey-“ you began, but he shushed you, not even having the respect to look at you before he tossed the blanket over your hip, wasting no time in prying your legs open and half-leaping onto the bed to ensure a place between your legs. “fuck- fuck-“ he didn’t know where to look first, your thighs were spread out and held by his strong arms, encasing your thighs between his forearms and biceps.

yet, his mesmerized eyes didn’t even flinch as you barely thrashed, more confused on the situation. “jihoon, wha— ah—.?!” you hissed when you felt the vibrator push further into your core, glancing down at him in shock. his lips were pressed to the flat end, applying pressure to the toy as it penetrated and rotated inside of you.

you pulled yourself to your knees, expression one of bliss and shock. his eyes shifted from your clit, up towards your face. “are you going to behave?” he asked.

you found no fight within you, feeling your legs give up as well. jihoon felt them relax as he set them on his shoulders. his hand moving to grasp the toy. his mouth found freedom, yet immediately hitched up to attack your clit, his tongue flattening it with his saliva aiding your juices in soaking you. with gentle movements, you felt the pull and stretch of the toy in a way you never have before, stomach feeling twitchy as a new type of pleasure settled within you.

“does that feel good?” jihoon asked, clicking the button on the vibrator to speed it up and watch you curl just slightly from the suddenness.

“so good,” you whimpered, both hands coming down to thread through his hair. “so fucking— oh, god,” you purred, hips lifting just slightly to give a slow grind to his lips when he delivered a particularly sweet suckle to your numb.

“i have a lot to make up for,” jihoon said mostly to himself, his free hand coming to smear the spit all over your clit in a messy fashion.

you didn’t question the statement, too focused on the way your eyes practically rolled back. whatever he meant, you prayed it meant that you wouldn’t be leaving the bed any time soon.

[dpr-moni]

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: angst, friends-to-almost-lovers?

Summary: No matter what you do, no matter what he does, you can't not love Namjoon. His girlfriend can't stop it, his baby, a thousand miles between you, your fiancé. Nothing makes it any less painful. Nothing makes it go away and nothing can give you the happily ever after you both want.

Word count: 20.7k

Content: INFIDELITY, pregnancy, baby, marriage, divorce, morning after pill, mild smut, lots of angst, not a happy ending, member pov

A/N: for @kkaetnipjeon who likes to hurt Namjoon as much as I do. unbeta'd * * *

Namjoon was late. 

“I really should go,” he said, taking his phone from the table and slipping into his pocket. 

You laughed. 

“Yeah, you said that twenty minutes ago.” 

“Oh, well, sorry for enjoying your company. Fuck me, I guess.” 

“Exactly. It’s all your own fault.” 

It was. When it came to you, time went out the window. Even when he told himself he only had an hour, or two, or times when he actually had somewhere to be, you were just more fun. He tried to leave. He really did. Always said, up front, he had to be gone by 2 or 4 or 7. Always pushed it a little. ‘No, I’ve got a little more time,’ he always said. He always had a little extra time for you it seemed.  

Today, he was only going home to his girlfriend; it wasn’t a hard deadline which made it all the harder to enforce.  

He pulled himself up from his chair, thanked you for the coffee that you had paid for, and made it home. 

* 

“Joon?” Hayeon called as soon as he’d shut the door behind him. “Can you get that please? I have my hands full!” 

Somewhere in the apartment, her phone was ringing. There was no contact information on the caller screen, just a number he didn’t recognise. 

“Hello?” Namjoon said into the phone. 

“Oh, uh...” 

The pause went on for long enough that Namjoon was halfway to hanging up when the man on the other line spoke again. 

“I’m calling for Hayeon?”  

As if it were a question. 

“She has her hands full right now; I can take a message.” 

Another long pause.  

“No, no, that’s ok.” 

“Shall I tell her you called?” 

“No, no thanks. Bye.” 

They hung up first. Namjoon shrugged and carried the phone into the kitchen, where Hayeon was up to her elbows in washing up. He put it on the counter beside the sink and gave her a quick kiss on the temple. 

“I’ll dry,” he said. 

“Who was calling?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Some guy-” 

And Namjoon hadn’t thought anything of it. Would probably have forgotten all about it, except that Hayeon paused, just for a second, her body frozen with tension before she shrugged it off herself.  

“He didn’t want to leave a message or anything,” Namjoon finished, watching his girlfriend a little more closely. 

“Weird.”  

“Yeah, weird.” 

And he would have forgotten it. In truth, had forgotten about it, but then he got out of the shower and heard Hayeon speaking on the phone. 

“-ere you thinking? Why would you call this phone?” she hissed viciously, her voice quiet but her anger clear. 

She had her hand cupped around her mouth, shoulders rounded—defensive, protective—as she stood, leaning against the fridge, her back to Namjoon.  

Namjoon was not interested in spying on his girlfriend. He turned into their bedroom and got dressed, content to ignore whatever that was. 

As he lay in bed, though, he found he couldn’t ignore it. It was one thing to get a call from someone you didn’t know – spam, voice phishing, a genuine wrong number – but those people didn’t usually ask for someone by name, by first name alone, as if they knew you. The way Hayeon froze when Namjoon said it was a guy. Whatever secret conversation she was having when she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear it.  

He was not a suspicious man. Had no reason to be. He and Hayeon had been together for so long, the thought of there being anyone else was inconceivable. They were Hayeon and Namjoon; they came as a pair. Never one without the other. It just was. So there was no way, he concluded, that she would be cheating on him. Yet he could think of no other reason for her behaviour.  

He took Hayeon’s phone from her bedside table and pressed his thumb against it to unlock. It didn’t. He tried again. And again. He tried enough times that the phone refused biometric unlocking entirely and prompted him for a passcode. Well, he knew that, too, so he typed the numbers in—incorrect. When had Hayeon changed her passcode? Had she removed his thumb print? They’d always had—and almost never needed or wanted to use—access to each other’s phones. Now he did not.  

He looked down at Hayeon, sleeping peacefully, face squished into the pillow, lips pouting. He rolled his eyes: she wasn’t cheating. It was an absurd conclusion to come to on the scant evidence he had. Evidence! It wasn’t evidence. It was nothing. He kissed her carefully on the forehead, and settled down to sleep. He would forget all about it.  

* 

It came into his head when he got a call himself from an unrecognised number (it turned out to be someone offering him a new credit card). He remembered it again weeks later when Hayeon asked him to change the music on her phone and he, once again, couldn’t unlock it. 

“Oh, it’s been doing that to me, lately,” she said, when his thumb was denied entry. “I think it’s the screen protector or something.” 

She came over and unlocked the phone herself—worked first time.  

But, for the most part, he forgot about it. 

* 

Spring was meekly peeking from behind the curtains of winter and it was the first day warm enough to allow eating lunch outside. So Namjoon took himself out of his desk chair and walked to the nearest green space with a bench. They called it a park though it wasn’t really, but it was enough for Namjoon. It had been trapped for too long in construction, with scaffolding at all sides, precluding entry, but late last year, the buildings surrounding it were finally complete and the park was free to enter again. This had come as quite a relief to Namjoon, who loved the city, but loved nature, too. A relief it was to have green grass under his feet, sun on his face, nature’s fractals everywhere he looked. He liked it all the more for its contrast to the beige-grey buildings, the chrome, the chaos of the city. The traffic noise was loud and unceasing but the birds sang, too.  

He was halfway through his sandwich when he spotted Hayeon. He reached into his pocket for his phone, to call her, to say ‘I see you!’ and watch her look around herself in confusion until she saw him. Until she smiled and came over and they had lunch together. He abandoned that idea when he saw a man come up behind her. He touched her lightly on the lower back and they walked together.  

Probably nothing, he said.  

Then he remembered the phone call.  

Probably nothing, he repeated to himself. Still, he watched them until they were out of sight, out of the park, probably finishing their own lunch breaks, heading back to their own desks. 

* 

Namjoon had decided that he had to ask. He had to find out because he’d started adding things up and, well, he was usually very good at maths but he didn’t like the answer he’d arrived at. 

The phone call. The way his thumb no longer unlocked her phone. Her changed passcode. That guy. The way she was always on her phone these days, but jumpy about it. Her increasing disinterest in him; how much quicker she was to anger; how things that had always playfully infuriated her now genuinely pissed her off. She had claimed work stress, having started a new job last autumn. Was it? 

He couldn’t go in half-cocked. If he was going to confront her, he needed better ammunition.  

That was why he was digging around at the backs of drawers, rooting around in every bag she owned, hunting for some unidentified smoking gun. Something that would confirm everything.  

The bedroom carefully ransacked, he was still empty-handed. She had told him she would be working late that evening, so he decided to do the good-boyfriendly thing and take her dinner. That is what he would say, anyway, assuming that he would find her there. 

* 

“Hayeon? She’s already left for the day,” the receptionist told him. 

“Oh, really? Do you know what time she left?” 

“Mm, one second.”  

There were security gates just three feet from the desk, into and out of which everyone who entered the building would swipe their access cards. The computer would know, down to the minutes and seconds, when she left. He had familiarity on his side—people knew him, knew he was Hayeon’s boyfriend, would share this sort of information with him. He was lucky.  

“It was 5:15. Early today,” she said.  

“Right, ok, thank you. Must have got our wires crossed.” 

He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. 

[13:04]  Hayeon: remember I'm working late today, babe. Have dinner without me! 😘 

Not a smoking gun, but getting warmer. 

* 

He checked bank statements—his, hers, their joint account. Nothing really seemed off. Nothing jumped out at him, but he kept looking, whittling down anything he could twist into infidelity until he was left with only a handful of transactions.  

The nails. True, she’d only started having them done recently. She and Namjoon had been together for years and she’d never gone to the expense or effort. Also true, her salary increased, which meant her disposable income had increased. It was a popular thing to do. Didn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Some expensive perfume. See above. 

A store name he didn’t recognise until he searched online and discovered they sold lingerie—amongst other things. He tried to remember the last time Hayeon had worn anything sexy. He couldn’t. A piece of information was trying to float to the surface of his brain, and without being conscious of it, he followed it into their bedroom and her underwear drawer. He’d fished around in here not long ago, looking for something like a burner phone, or condoms (that they hadn’t used for a long time, since Hayeon switched to hormonal birth control). He hadn’t been looking for lace or satin so hadn’t seen it, but there it was. Lingerie. That he’d never seen before, though she’d had plenty of opportunities to wear it since she bought it: Christmas, New Year, Seollal, Valentine’s day, White Day just passed.  

It wasn’t a smoking gun, but he was getting hot.  

* 

He might not have gone to any effort at all, in the end. Looking back on it, he had had to laugh. She must have been trying to get caught. After months of hiding it all so successfully, maybe she had got complacent.  

Namjoon had arrived home to an empty apartment—Hayeon was away for the weekend with some friends. That was what she had said. Namjoon ordered dinner and lounged in front of the TV. He luxuriated in the space and the silence. The world was his own. Unshared. There weren’t many moments like this. 

His phone buzzed. 

Jang Yijeong: Hey, man hope youre good 

Jang Yijeong: idk if this is weird and i might be totally mistaken, i only met her a couple of times but 

Jang Yijeong: im in jinhae with my girlfriend and  

Jang Yijeong: is this your girlfriend? 

Jang Yijeong: [attached a picture] 

Well, it certainly looked like Hayeon.  

Namjoon’s screen was interrupted with more messages. 

Jang Yijeong: my girlfriend says its weird for me to take photos and shes probably right and im way off and this is just a weird thing to do! 

Jang Yijeong: maybe im mistaken! Hope so, dude, but thought you should know if not. i know id want to know 

Namjoon stared at the photo and then at the second one Yijeong sent. It was her. Undoubtedly. He would know her face in twenty pixels but the photos were clear as day. Hayeon holding some other man’s hand. Hayeon posing for a photo, kissing his cheek.  

A third arrived. Well, he’d wanted a smoking gun. They didn’t get much more smoking than a video of your girlfriend kissing another man. All this time that he’d been actively searching for evidence of this and now, here it was, presented to him on a platter. All this time, he’d been looking for something that—he realised now—he didn’t want to find.  

He was furious. Livid. Could feel the vein in his temple pulse as adrenalin coursed through him.  A smoking gun. A man kissing his girlfriend. His girlfriend kissing a man who wasn’t him. 

He sent a text back before he could forget. 

Namjoon: that’s her. Thanks man 

He put his shoes on and went straight out. Hayeon didn’t know he knew. Namjoon decided, through a red haze of rage, that there was about to be a lot more than Hayeon wouldn’t know.  

* 

“Are you ok?” you asked, opening the door to Namjoon, who had shown up unannounced, sounding agitated.  

Everyone had always told him you liked him. Liked him. They said it was obvious. They told him to be sensitive when they thought he’d overstepped in some way—with you, with Hayeon in front of you. He had never been sure if he believed them. You and he were just friends. Had always just been friends. You’d never said a word to him of anything different. Now, he was going to find out for sure. 

“What would you do if I kissed you?” he asked. 

He didn’t wait for an answer. Before your face had rearranged itself from shock to confusion, he was kissing you. He half-expected you to slap him, push him off, ask him if he was crazy (he just might have been at that moment), but you didn’t. You kissed him back. Snaked your arms around his neck, opened your mouth when he brushed his tongue against your lips. More, you pulled him forward, into your apartment, so he could kick your front door shut, so he could follow you into your bedroom.  

Namjoon didn’t stop to ask questions. Neither did you. He put his hands on a new body for the first time in almost a decade; for the first time, touching someone who was not Hayeon. He learnt that your skin was soft and your mouth was sweet. He discovered the pitch to which your voice raised when he found just the right motion. He found his own body responded to yours with swift alacrity. He discovered different things that other people did, that you did, which Hayeon did not. Found that he preferred them. With adrenalin surging through him, he found the newness exciting; he was hungry for it, desperate to learn how to use your body, how to make you tick, how to time the implosion carefully so that you came as he sank his teeth into the soft skin around your nipple.  

He did not forget, in all this rage, in all this lust, to use a condom.  

Spent, but not in any way sated, Namjoon lay for two seconds on his back next to you, before rising to clean up the evidence. 

“I’m sorry,” was what he said to you when he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. 

“It’s ok,” was what you said back. 

It wasn’t what you wanted to say. You wanted to say that it wasn’t ok. You wanted to have said no back at the front door. To have not let him kiss you, not let him into your house, into your body. You wanted to be the sort of person who would have said those things.  

But you loved Namjoon. Had loved him as long as you’d known him. Had known also all that time that he would never leave his girlfriend for you. Would never leave his girlfriend full stop. Sometimes you were at peace with that. Found that it was ok, really, didn’t much bother you. Other times, you ached with it, burnt with it, cried from it. And he had shown up at your front door, asked to kiss you, kissed you and what else could you have done?  

You would have liked to have been a better person, but there he was, finally doing the thing you had wished he would more times than you could count. So you didn’t say no and you didn’t ask questions. You just kissed him back, poured as much of your love as you could from your mouth to his, your body to his.  

Did he know? How you really felt? He must have known. Why else would he have come? Why else would he be apologising to you now?  

“Hayeon is cheating on me.” 

You closed your eyes, tried to swallow the tears that pricked in your eyes. Of course, it wasn’t about you. You weren’t suddenly the object of his affections; you were subject to his hurt, wounded pride, betrayal, anger, what else? When he fucked you, just now, on the bed where you still lay, was he thinking of her? Of course, he was.  

Was it not also true, though, that you knew that? That you knew, when he was kissing you, that it wasn’t about you. Couldn’t have been about you because you and Namjoon had been friends for years and he’d never once as much as hinted that he might have wanted to kiss you—as much as everyone knew that you wanted him to. Did you let him touch you, did you touch him, thinking that it meant something? Or did you take your scraps eagerly, desperately, like a stray dog, not asking what they were or where they came from, just eating hungrily, quickly, until they were gone? 

“I’m sorry,” you offered him. “That sucks.” 

Namjoon stood and redressed. You lay still on the bed, watching him. Waiting. For something. Anything.  

Before he turned to leave, he inclined his head slightly towards you (not looking, not looking at you, naked still, uncovered, for his eyes).  

“Could you-... I mean... would i-” 

“Relax, Namjoon. I won’t tell anyone.” 

The relief washed out of his body on a sigh. He nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

* 

If you had been a better person, you wouldn’t have let him kiss you even once. Definitely would not have let him fuck you whilst he was still in the maelstrom of reacting to finding out his girlfriend of nine years was cheating on him.  

Definitely definitely would not have let it happen again. And again. And again.  

Because it kept happening. He kept coming. To you. He said it was only you. You had no choice but to believe him because you wanted him to come again. Even as the door shut behind him on his way out, you wanted him to come back. 

You told no one, as you had said you wouldn’t. You betrayed nothing, except all your morals and principles, except Hayeon (who was kind of your friend, too). You found it hard to look at yourself in the mirror: hair messy; purpling bruises on your breasts from his teeth, yellow and green bruises on your thighs from him in times before; still flushed, heartrate still high, skin still warm, sticky with drying sweat.  

You never told yourself that it would be the last time. That this time you would put your foot down. You knew you wouldn’t. Couldn't. You had opened the floodgates and here was the deluge: the feelings you had known you had done your best to hide from now dancing in the spotlight. You loved him. Oh, you loved him. Would have done anything for him. Including and not limited to fucking him behind his girlfriend’s back and keeping it a secret. 

He never spoke about her. Never once said he was going to leave her, was thinking of leaving her, wanted to leave her. You knew he never would. They had grown up together: all the way through school, spinning in the same orbit. When they got to taste independence and adult life at university, their friendship had become something more. Then her parents had died in a car crash that almost killed her, too, and Namjoon knew he would never leave her. That was how the story went, how his friends told it.  

So you kept your mouth shut and your legs open. Told yourself you a thousand lies to make yourself feel like maybe you weren’t the worst person in the world for it.  

Namjoon would have told the story a little differently. Hayeon had almost died in a car crash that almost killed her, too, and that was when he knew he could never leave her. He was the only family she had left. She was the only love he had ever known; he her only love. He would not, could not, abandon her. Even if he wanted to. Even when he wanted to.  

He told himself this was why he hadn’t confronted her about cheating yet (that, and of course, he had gone and done the very same thing. Done it over and over again, so many times that he didn’t even think of Hayeon when he was with you anymore. That it wasn’t about her anymore). Because, despite how they may have appeared, despite what anyone might have said about them as a couple, they weren’t perfect for each other. She wasn’t his soulmate. He couldn’t blame her for cheating when, frankly, if he’d been honest with himself, he wanted out, too. He wanted out but couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger, to be the bad guy, to break her heart when he was the one who had to put it back together all that time ago. There was tragedy between them that would last forever; to Namjoon, that meant they had to, too.  

You were something entirely different. All his friends’ words resounded in his head after the first time. How much you cared for him. How sad it was, how well you bore it, this unrequited, doomed, desperate love for him. He had expected this to make you weak, somehow, to make you feel too soft, too pliable, too malleable under his hands.  He felt bad the first time, for using you, for burning you up in his roaring rage, but then he came back to you and you opened the door as if you knew exactly what he wanted—because you did know exactly what he wanted—and let him in. He had expected to feel as if he was taking advantage of you, of your weakness for him, but he didn’t. You weren’t pliable and malleable and pathetic. You didn’t get on your knees and prostrate yourself, offer yourself up on a platter for his delectation.  

He loved the taste of your moans in his mouth. He loved the smell of your lotion, faintly lingering on your skin as he kissed, licked, and bit his way across your body. He loved the hot, wet slip of your tongue, the tight, slippery clutch of your cunt. He even loved the way you were careful, dug your nails into his back, into his thighs for a microsecond before releasing him, leaving no marks. Sucked on his skin so his eyes fluttered closed and his breath caught, but not so that the tell-tale bloom of burgundy and purple would give you away.  

“I should go,” he said quietly, lying naked on your bed, sweat dry, heart rate steady.  

“Yeah, you said that,” you replied gently, naked next to him, on your side, head propped on your hand, watching him, taking him in, the man you loved and could never have outside of these moments.  

He turned to look at you, eyes catching his, and he felt desperate suddenly. Desperate not to leave. Not to go back to his house made of straw, house made of lies, to a girlfriend who maybe didn’t love him anymore. To a girlfriend he didn’t love, whom he hadn’t loved—he was sure—for some time. To a girlfriend he wouldn’t leave.  

So he left you. Returned home, with heavy feet and a heavier heart. Returned, angry, frustrated, all his old fury bubbling up again, a rolling boil threatening the edge of the pan.  

“We need to talk,” he said in greeting to Hayeon, who was making tea in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, we do.” 

His surprise made him pause for a second—was she about to confess everything? 

“I know we haven’t really talked about the future much recently,” she began, leaning with her back against the counter as the kettle rumbled slowly to a boil. “Things have been crazy with work and I feel like we’ve just been kind of missing each other, y’know? But that’s why I think this will be great. This is a good thing. A really good thing.” 

“What is?” 

And nothing could have prepared him for the words that followed. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

A cloud of steam rose from the kettle beside Hayeon, the noise of the water roiling inside grew louder. So did Namjoon’s rage. So did he sense of betrayal. The injustice (of what? He couldn’t have said, could barely manage conscious thought). The inescapability of a child. His child. His anger surprised him, the strength of it, the speed and ease with which it rose inside him. He bit down on his tongue to stop all of his worst instincts taking control of it. He reminded himself this was as much his fault as hers. Then he wondered if it was. 

He did his best to school his features into neutrality, to keep his voice level when he spoke. 

“How do you know it’s mine?” 

To her credit, Hayeon did not immediately launch into a wounded, defensive howl. She did not cry big, fat crocodile tears. She flinched, swallowed, opened her mouth and closed it again. She took a deep breath, eyes shut, and looked at him again, nodding silently to herself, but she didn’t lie. She knew Namjoon too well for that. Knew him well enough to know that he knew. And that was when it crystallised inside him: the knowledge that their relationship was fucked. Was fucking over.  

“How long have you known?” she asked. 

“How do you know the baby is mine?” 

A crease flashed across her face – concern? Anger? – and was gone again in a second. Part of Namjoon wanted to have this fight. To force a showdown and make her confess everything she’d done and who she’d done them with. Maybe he would confess, too; maybe he’d tell her all the things you did to him, all the things he did to you; maybe he’d tell her just how much you wanted him.  

He didn’t, because most of him just wanted this to be over. 

“You’re the only person I’ve slept with without protection.”  

Her voice was small, eyes downcast, her fingers picked at her fingernails, at the skin around them. Namjoon was furious at himself for the tiny spark of pride that ignited within him at her words. Sure, he was being cheated on but that guy never got to fuck his girlfriend raw.  

He was pathetic. Pathetic, too, the way he thought of you, of what you would do or say. Would you end it all? Refuse to see him again? Would this change things? A sliver of panic slid down his spine at the thought, his fingers grasping air when trying to grab the life rope. 

“You’re definitely pregnant?” 

She took three pregnancy tests from her pocket. All different brands, all positive. 

“I took three more at work earlier,” she said. “False positives are extremely rare, apparently.” 

Namjoon looked at the tests, unseeing. What he was seeing instead was a closing door, a lid on a coffin, a baby growing inside his girlfriend that neither of them had planned, neither of them had expected. Neither of them had wanted.  

Namjoon didn’t come over for a while. You saw him, socially, as you saw your other friends, and he seemed tense. There was something hiding behind his smile that you were sure everyone else could see, too; it couldn’t just be you that noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes, didn’t last quite long enough to be genuine. That noticed that he was checked out of conversations. That noticed his jaw tense, just a little, when Hayeon was around, when someone mentioned her name.  

You hadn’t seen him, one-on-one for a couple of weeks when he messaged you. 

[20:31]  Namjoon: can i come over? 

As if you had ever said or would ever say no.  

He had fire in his eyes again, when you opened the door to him, but it wasn’t blazing, raging, out of control. This was a rich, deep smoulder; darker, burnished light glinting at you. He didn’t ask any questions, just took your face in his hands and kissed you, far more softly than you’d expected. More slowly. He shut the door behind him, but he didn’t drag you to the bedroom; he wrapped his arms around your body and held you close to him; he rolled his tongue into your mouth and gave a quiet, contented hum when it met yours.  

It wasn’t always urgent and hurried with Namjoon. It wasn’t always needy and aggressive and high-geared. It often was, but not always. Never, though, had it been like this. Slow. Intense. Your bodies pressed together; fingers twined in fingers, twined in hair; lips brushing lips, brushing skin. It was indulgent. Wanton, with his mouth between your thighs as you whined, as your breath caught in your throat; with his head clamped between your legs as you writhed, squirming as you came, your body contorted with pleasure and your face the perfect picture of ecstasy. And later, with his length stuffed down the wet tunnel of your throat, when he was lost for words and could only moan, could only utter slurred vowels that sounded like your name. When he came for the first time and whispered quiet praise to you. When he came for the second and held you so close you could feel his heart pound. It was the kind of sex people had when they had all the time in the world and nowhere else to be—no one else to go home to. The kind of sex that made you fall in love—as if you hadn’t already. The kind of sex you assumed he had with Hayeon, had assumed before now that he would never have with you.  

When he came for the final time—sitting against the headboard with your backside in his hands, with his hair in yours, with his tongue in your mouth—and you moved to get off him, he held you tight against his chest. Whispered, ‘just give me a minute’. He cradled your head as it rested against his shoulder. He rubbed your back. He sighed heavily, closed his eyes. 

“Hayeon’s pregnant.” 

“Fucking hell!” 

You sat up with a start. You had known there was something. You had never imagined it would be this. Namjoon smiled grimly. 

“Uh, congratulat-... um-” and you didn’t know how to continue, how to ask the question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t need to because Namjoon had already heard it, seen it coming. 

“She says it’s mine-” 

“You asked?” 

He nodded.  

“So... she knows you know.” 

Nodded again.  

“And...” 

“And she’s pregnant,” he repeated with a shrug that looked effortfully casual. “She’s agreed to a paternity test, though she says I’m the only one who...”  

He cleared his throat, as though this was awkward, as though you weren’t sitting with his cock, soft now and still inside you.  

“She’s on birth control, so we don’t use other protection.”  

You stood, trying to understand how you felt. Trying to understand how Namjoon might feel. He moved, too, disposing of the used condom, cleaning up, pulling his boxers back up his legs.  

“You’ve always wanted to have a kid,” you offered, not knowing if he wanted this kid, at this time, with this girlfriend. 

“Yeah,” he said, but he was still facing away from you, so you couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell what myriad things his one word might be saying.  

“Is that why...” 

But you didn’t finish the question because you didn’t need to ask it. Of course, that was why he hadn’t come to you for weeks. Of course, this would change things. It already had. It was a child—there was no question of keeping it or not, you knew that—and they would be a family.  

Namjoon sat at the edge of your bed and spoke the words you were thinking. 

“What about this?” 

“This?” 

“Us?” 

You laughed. Laughed because tears pricked in your eyes and the only other alternative was crying.  

“Is there an us?” 

And he couldn’t answer because he knew as well as you did that there wasn’t. That, whatever you were, it wasn’t real, wasn’t lasting, wasn’t love. Not for him.  

“Why do you let me come?” he asked, sounding as sad as you had ever heard him, no hint of recrimination, accusation.  

You laughed again, weaker, wetter, tears on your waterline.  

“You know why,” you answered thickly. “You know and everyone else knows, too. You know how I feel about you, Namjoon. Beggars can’t be choosers. They can be pathetic and cruel and selfish and wrong, but they can’t be choosers. I don’t get to choose, Namjoon. To love you or not love, to be with you or not be with you. I'll always say yes.” 

You bit your bottom lip as it wobbled, as the tears made tracks down your cheeks.  

“Doesn’t it hurt?” his voice a mere whisper. 

“Of course it hurts,” you whispered back. “It hurts you too, doesn’t it?” 

Namjoon was a father. 

A baby boy, 7lbs 7oz, born (unlike most babies) on his exact due date, in the final days before Christmas. Namjoon laid his eyes on the bloody, screaming gargoyle that was his son and his fate was sealed. A love the likes of which he had never known burst his heart apart. That was his son and he found he had no interest in a paternity test. Biology wouldn’t take anything away from him, couldn’t change what he knew he felt. The request for a paternity test was in Hayeon’s medical notes and it was done without anyone having to mention it. Two days later, results confirmed that the probability of Namjoon being the father stood at 99.9999%. He threw the letter in the bin. 

He had tried to tell himself throughout the pregnancy that he’d stop. He’d put an end to it for everyone’s sake. To see you was equal parts joy and heartbreak. To have you, knowing you weren’t truly his. To love you, without telling you. He kept so much from you during that time because you were his friend but you were so much more than that now and you didn’t deserve to hear him talk about the baby his girlfriend was carrying. You didn’t deserve to see his excitement, despite everything, his wonder and awe and anxiety. You deserved far more than he could give you.  

So he told himself, after the baby was born, he’d end it. It would be a fresh start, a clean slate. The baby, brand new, didn’t have to know anything of his father’s sins, his flaws, his shame.  

* 

Namjoon ushered you into the apartment with the baby asleep in his arms.  

“Ohh,” you cooed, almost silently. “He’s so cute.” 

“You don’t have to whisper,” Namjoon told you, his voice loud in the silence. “He’s out like a light.” 

You followed him to the sofa and sat next to him, staring down at his son.  

“I didn’t really know they were so small,” you said. “So much smaller than I was expecting.” 

“Right?” Namjoon smiled, couldn’t stop himself. “He’s light, too. It’s almost like there’s nothing there at all.” 

“Yeah, they lose weight after being born, don’t they?” 

Namjoon blinked, exhaustion slowing his brain, so that he took a few seconds to process the question. He didn’t know you knew anything about babies.  

“Yeah, about 10%,” he answered, watching you carefully, trying to gauge what you felt about this child and balance it against what he thought you felt about children as a concept. “He’s 5 days old now so he’s stopped losing weight but it can take a few weeks to gain it back. Want to hold him?” 

You looked surprised then but nodded tentatively. Namjoon still wasn’t used to this manoeuvre; he and Hayeon hadn’t quite nailed the transfer yet but he was getting better. Slipped his son into your waiting arms without too much physical awkwardness. You were quiet as you watched him sleep; Namjoon watched you watch him, felt his heart drop into his guts and those guts start to churn.  

“His name is Hajoon,” he told you. 

You were the first of his friends to be told. He saw the moment of tension in your body, the bob of your throat as you swallowed. You smiled, unable to tear your gaze away from the baby, so he couldn’t see your face properly, couldn’t look you in the eye and see into your soul.  

“Hajoon. Kim Hajoon, nice to meet you,” you whispered.  

Namjoon let his head drop, not sleeping but not quite awake. Minutes passed, he couldn’t have guessed how many. Then he felt your hand on his leg and he opened his eyes. 

“How are you?” you asked with a grin. “You must be pretty wrecked.” 

He nodded. 

“Hayeon is so jacked up on hormones that she’s fine. She’s sleeping right now but she said she honestly doesn’t feel tired most of the time. She feels normal. Whereas I am the most tired I have ever been. I don’t know if I will ever feel normal again.” 

“I expect you won’t. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it?” 

You turned back to his son and Namjoon saw your smile drop, saw it twist into some kind of sad resignation. He didn’t argue that it hadn’t changed.  

“I have news, too,” you announced quietly, Hajoon still snoozing. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I got a new job.” 

“Oh, that’s great!” 

“In Hong Kong.” 

“What?” 

“I’m moving to Hong Kong.” 

“Why? 

“I got a job.” 

Thinking for Namjoon was like swimming through molasses; he was sure he had somehow misunderstood.  

“You’re moving to Hong Kong?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When?” 

“Just after the new year.” 

“Shit.” 

You laughed and it was generous of you. Words wouldn’t come to Namjoon. He knew he should be saying things like: congratulations! That’s amazing! What a great opportunity! I’m so happy for you! He could only think things like: don’t go. What about me? I’ll miss you. Please don’t leave. 

“Obviously I wanted to meet Hajoon first and, y’know, let you know. I’m going to tell everyone else at drinks tonight.” 

“Right... Yeah...”  

“It’s a really good opportunity for me.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“I think I’ve been coasting at work here; it was time for something new.” 

And Namjoon didn’t know if you were trying to convince him or yourself. He didn’t care. He didn’t care how great an opportunity it was; any opportunity that put a thousand miles between the two of you was not worth it. Not for him. 

He knew he wasn’t allowed to think that. He didn’t get a say. He didn’t get the privilege of being heartbroken by this. Not after everything he had done. Not after deciding that he was going to end things himself anyway.  

But he did think it. And he was heartbroken. He could feel it, cracking in his chest, trying to contort itself around this new knowledge, your approaching absence. He could feel it, fighting with his resolve, losing. His heart, so full, fit to burst, overflowing with love and gratitude because his son had arrived safely in the world; his heart, torn in two, slivers and shreds of it going with you to Hong Kong... Would they ever return? 

He opened his mouth to say something he shouldn’t. He hadn’t planned what but if this was the last time he was going to see you (and it probably would be because you were leaving in a week and he had a newborn baby), he couldn’t let you go with everything unsaid like this.  

Hayeon opened the bedroom door and walked out, rubbing her eyes, looking a little dozy, hair mussed and face pillow-creased. 

“Oh hi,” she said with a smile, seeing you on the sofa.  

“Hi,” you returned, standing. “Congratulations. He’s beautiful.” 

“Thank you, we certainly like to think so.” 

“I was just heading off.” 

“You were?” 

“You were?” 

Namjoon and Hayeon simultaneously; Hayeon politely curious, Namjoon urgent, panicked. 

“Yeah, you know how it is this time of year. Lots to plan for.” 

“Of course. It was nice to see you; thanks for coming.” 

Hayeon approached and took Hajoon from you, turning back towards the kitchen, while Namjoon stood by and wondered how he could stop you leaving. His apartment, Korea, his life. 

“Well,” you began. “I guess I’ll go. Congratulations on the baby, really. I’m really, really happy for you. You’re going to be a wonderful dad.” 

It was testament to his exhaustion that tears stang in Namjoon’s eyes. He wasn’t really a crier. Certainly not in front of other people. But he couldn’t swallow down the lump in his throat—the lump of words stuck there, that he wouldn’t say, couldn’t say; the words he wished he could transmit to you without saying them aloud.  

You stepped closer with your arms out and he enveloped you, crushing, too tight, too hard, too long. The smell of your hair, the lingering scent of perfume on your neck, your fingers lightly gripping the hair at the nape of his neck the way you always did, the slight overbalance of your weight against his as you rose onto your toes.  

Then, too soon, far too quickly, you pulled back; you said goodbye; you walked out of his apartment and his life. 

* 

Namjoon heard Hajoon stir before the crying started because he wasn’t asleep anyway. He should have been but he didn’t want to go to sleep and wake up in a Seoul that didn’t have you. Even though you had already gone. Had left this afternoon after a raucous bottomless brunch that Namjoon saw the photos from but hadn’t been able to attend. If he didn’t sleep, the world wouldn’t settle into its new formation; the city wouldn’t bend and twist to cover the gap you had left. If he didn’t sleep, he would go mad enough to truly believe it hadn’t happened. 

So he heard his son and went to his cot in the nursery, picked him up, checked if he needed changing, held him close to his chest as he looked out of the window at the city, newly empty or so it seemed.  

Hajoon began to cry, a sweet little mewling racing into full-bodied screams. Namjoon prepared a bottle, one-handed, as he had already learnt to do, but Hajoon didn’t want it. He wanted to kick and scream and Namjoon couldn’t blame him.  

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said quietly, his own voice breaking, tears rolling down his cheek. “We can cry it out together.” 

Namjoon sat in the outrageously expensive rocking chair they had bought but not, at that point, yet used, and he and his son cried their hearts out.  

Hajoon settled before Namjoon did, crying himself back to a newborn’s dead sleep while Namjoon’s breath still shook, came in snatches, tears dropping from his cheeks onto Hajoon’s swaddle. He didn’t put him back into the cot; he rocked, slowly, gently, intent on spending the rest of the night there.  

Hayeon crept in just as Namjoon’s eyelids were dropping.  

“Hey, why are you awake?” he asked, voice thick and groggy.  

“I had to pee. Thought I’d check on him. And you.”  

“We’re fine. Go enjoy some sleep.” 

“Ok.” 

She hesitated at the door and Namjoon wondered what she’d heard, what she’d been woken by but he was too tired to follow the thought to its end, to worry what she might know or suspect. He rested his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, sleep coming swiftly this time. 

* 

The next morning, Namjoon handed Hajoon to Hayeon for his second breakfast, and was stopped in his tracks on the way to the bathroom when she asked him, 

“Did you love her?” 

Like a punch in the gut. ‘Did’ was the wrong question. He had loved her and loved her still. There was nothing past about it; it was all too present, all too painful.  

Could he tell her that? He hadn’t known that Hayeon had known about you, but it didn’t surprise him. It didn’t surprise him that she knew and didn’t confront him about it, that she was willing to let it all be swept under the rug for the sake of their family. Guilt ate at him, suddenly, sharply. Maybe they could both benefit from a little bit of honesty. 

“Yes.” 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

It had been almost two years. Two really good years: you thrived at your job, had made good friends, had established a real, proper life for yourself. And had hardly missed Namjoon at all. That was your story and you were sticking to it.  

His social media were rarely updated—the occasional story of his son, ‘now listening’ songs that you did your best to ignore when you were doing well, that you did your best to decode when you weren’t. It made things easier that he wasn’t there every time you picked up your phone. It made things harder, gave you all sorts of space to imagine his happiness. You knew the big facts: he was happy; his son was beautiful; he and Hayeon were still together. As they would ever be.  

Her instagram was busier. Hajoon. Namjoon. Friends. Family holidays. Hajoon. Namjoon. Namjoon. Hajoon. Namjoon.  

You couldn’t unfollow her; you were supposed to be friends still. So you prodded your bruises, picked at your scabs, looked so closely at photos of him you could have recreated them, pixel for pixel.  

Now he was here in front of you and you had to face the devastating reality that he had the same effect on you as he ever had. You had never seen Namjoon and not loved him.  

“You finally made it back here.” 

That surprised you and you wondered how it was possible that no one had told him. Of course you’d been back to Seoul before now. You just hadn’t seen him, hadn’t wanted him to know while you were here. You hadn’t expected your friends to keep their mouths shut. You were grateful that they had.  

You shrugged.  

“Guess so... Happy birthday.” 

It was pure rotten luck that meant your visit for Chuseok coincided with this. That gave you no excuse at all to not attend. Whilst Namjoon was the birthday boy, it didn’t mean you had to spend any time with him. He was popular and there were more than enough people filling the space; you could avoid him easily. You’d ripped off the plaster, seen him again, said hello and acknowledged him. That was enough.  

You thought. He was somehow always in your line of sight. Somehow waiting for the bathroom at the same moment you needed to go. At the bar buying another drink as you stood there, emptying yours. With every encounter, you grew surer that this had been a mistake. You shouldn’t have come. You should have pretended to be stuck in Hong Kong, pretended your family were visiting you instead, pretended you’d died, who cared? You just needed to get away from him.  

How had the bar become so crowded? Why were there so many people and why were they all in your way? You forgot your manners, left them somewhere on the bar, and pushed, feeling claustrophobic in their presence, in the clinging love and pain that was suffocating you again.  

“Woah, hey!” 

An arm grabbed at you; you struggled, pulled back. 

“Let me go!” 

“Where are you going?” 

Jimin. Interfering. 

“I’m going home. Let me go.” 

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” 

“I’m going home! Don’t try to make me stay.” 

“Good lord, girl, I'm just asking if you’re alright.” 

“No! I’m not! This was a stupid fucking idea! Now let me go!” 

He did. You ran. Ran into him, Namjoon, literally; the force of your body against his sent his drink sloshing over the rim, soaking you and he both. Namjoon laughed. 

“Someone’s keen.” 

Was this funny? Could he really laugh? You thought later of all the witty putdowns you might have thrown his way, something cutting and sharp that would show him just how over him you were, how unbothered, that he had no effect on you whatsoever. In the moment, you just looked at him pleadingly, trapped, unable to look away, to move, to continue your trajectory out of the bar, out of the city, out of the country, back to Hong Kong, where you were safe, where Namjoon was not.  

“Are you ok?” 

No. God no. Was it that obvious?  

Namjoon took you by the arm and steered you to the back, outside where it was dark but still close and muggy. Where there were fewer people. Where you could be alone. You covered your face with your hands, regretting whatever number of drinks it was you’d had that night.  

Namjoon said your name, soft and sweet and concerned, his hand on your arm.  

“How’s Hajoon?” you asked, abruptly, anything to avoid a real conversation.  

Namjoon could not stop the smile that stretched his face wide. You were happy for him, you really were. Happiness was all you’d ever wanted for him so you’d got your wish. If only you had been more specific. 

“He’s so funny,” Namjoon began. “Kid never sits down for a minute. He’s really into tools at the moment—tries to hammer anything long and thin into anything wide and flat. He’s making a mockery of our deposit.”  

“Can’t believe he’s going to be two soon.” 

“It’s scary how quickly the time goes. It feels like yesterday he was brand new.” 

It felt like yesterday to you, too. How raw you felt, how fresh the wounds you’d moved a thousand miles to lick.  

“I’ve missed you,” he said and you physically wilted.  

“Have you?” 

His face fell, softened. He looked at you for a long time, a tiny crease between his eyebrows, a tiny twitch in his jaw.  

“You know I have.” 

“Do I?” 

“Don’t you?” 

“I don’t know, Namjoon.”  

You looked at each other. You wanted him to say something, to fix this, to do something that would mean you could stop loving him, stop missing him. You wanted him to throw his entire life away and kiss you, then and there, onlookers be damned. You expected he wanted no such thing.  

“Hong Kong is treating you well?”  

“Yes, it is.” 

“Good. I’m glad.” 

You didn’t want him to be glad. You wanted him to be cut to ribbons. You wanted him to feel skin-stripped and naked.  

“I was on my way out,” you said, when no more words passed between you, when you were standing in an endless silence. “I really should go.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I have to go.”  

“It was good to see you again. Don’t leave it so long next time, yeah?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

And you stumbled away from him, through and out of the bar, walking as fast as your feet could carry you back to the subway.  

* 

You made it back to your parents’ house, took your make-up off, and brushed your teeth. You made it all the way back to the bed you slept in when you were still a child. Then you cried. Then you curled yourself up in a ball and cursed yourself for this. For being this way. For not letting him go. For somehow still being in love with a man who had never been yours and never would be. For all the things you did two years ago, for how many times you did them, for every opportunity to be the better person you didn’t take.  

It was close to midnight when your phone began to buzz. You stretched yourself across the bed and checked.  

Namjoon. 

You put your phone back down. It continued to buzz. Then it stopped. Then it started again. On and on and on, even when you shoved it under the spare pillow to stop it juddering against the wood.  

It stopped. Two short bursts followed: a message. 

[23:58]  Namjoon: please pick up. I'm outside 

You did not pick up. You exchanged your sleep shorts and vest for a T-shirt and joggers, slipped your feet into slides, and snuck out.  

He was waiting underneath the lamppost three metres away.  

“What are you doing here? Did you get the last train? How are you going to get back?” 

He shrugged. 

“I had to see you.” 

“Why?” 

He almost laughed in his surprise.  

“Why? Because two years ago, you moved a thousand miles away, and you’ve been back here so many times but this is the first time I’ve got to see you. You’ve been avoiding me even from Hong Kong. You were avoiding me all night; every time I tried to talk to y-” 

“We talked.” 

“No, we didn’t. Not really. Not properly.” 

“Well, what do you want to say to me? What’s so important that you came all the way here to tell me?” 

He looked lost, maybe even hurt. You fought the urge to push on his bruises, too. It would only make you feel worse.  

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.  

“I have missed you.” 

He took a few steps closer to you, within arms’ reach now. He lifted a hand, brushed your cheek with his thumb.  

You took a step back. 

“Namjoon.” 

Plea or warning, you weren’t sure.  

He returned your name, closed the gap between you. Before you could move back again, he held your arms, held you still.  

“I have missed you,” he repeated as if it meant anything. “Of course, I’ve fucking missed you—Jesus, I...”  

He moved closer, cupped your cheek in his hand.  

“You just fucking left,” he whispered. “Just like that. Dropped the bomb and didn’t stick around to observe the wreckage-” 

“Namjoo-” 

“I was a wreck. I think I cried more than Hajoon did! One second you were there, and then you weren’t. You didn’t even warn me. I didn’t know you were looking for jobs in fucking Hong Kong!” 

“So what if I had told you? What would you have done? Would you have stopped me?” 

“Maybe!” 

“Namj-” 

“Maybe I would have stopped you! Or at least I would’ve tried.” 

“For what? To what end? Were you going to leave her? Leave your newborn baby? Drop your own bomb and destroy your whole life? You know you weren’t going to. I knew you weren’t going to.” 

“Bu-” 

“Have you left her, Namjoon? Hayeon? Did you leave her?” 

“No,” he answered and you could taste the reluctance in it, the bitterness, see it in the way he refused to meet your eye. 

“Still together?” 

“Yes.” 

“See? We were never going to make it out alive. For all intents and purposes, we never were. Never were anything at all. We existed and left no mark. Move on.” 

“No mark? No mark? Is that why you’ve all but cut me out of your life? Is that why you had our friends – my friends – lie to me whenever you visited? Because it’s left no mark on you? What we were?” 

“What we were was nothing!” 

You were trying not to shout on this quiet residential street, where houselights were off and traffic noise was no more than the sound of water rushing.  

“You’re not going to leave her, Namjoon. You and I both know it. You’re never going to leave her. That means there is nothing for us. We aren’t an ‘us’. Never were. There’s nothing between us. Understand that.” 

A beat passed. 

“What would you do if I kissed you?”  

His name was on your tongue but before it could make its way out, he did just that. Kissed you as he had done two and a half years ago, without waiting for an answer. And just like that day two years ago, you wished you could have said no, wished you could have done something other than kiss him back, than uncross your arms and wrap them around his neck. Your chest felt as though it would cave in, your heart collapsing in on itself—too heavy, too full, too wounded to sustain itself.  

He tasted a little drunk; you could still smell the beer that you had made him spill on himself earlier that evening; his hair was shorter now, short even, nothing to grab at the nape of his neck like you always used to.  

“See?” he asked, a little breathless, lips still touching yours. “How can you say there is nothing? It’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing.”  

“Namjoon.” 

You hated yourself for the way your voice broke. You pushed him away, extricated yourself from his arms, scrubbed a hand over your face.  

“No,” you said, sounding surer than you felt. “No, god, no, we can’t do this.”  

You shook your arms, paced in a tight circle, tried to blow away all the Namjoon-sized, Namjoon-shaped, Namjoon-scented cobwebs in your heart and mind. 

“Namjoon, in about one minute’s time, you’ll be going back to your girlfriend and your son; in four days’ time, I’ll be going back to Hong Kong. Can’t we just leave it at that? Please.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“There isn’t any other option and you know it. Go home, Namjoon.” 

You turned around and did just that, shutting and locking the door behind you, shutting and locking the door on your heart that housed your love for him, too.  

You didn’t know how you would be able to come back again. This had taken everything you had. 

Namjoon married her. Hayeon. His mother’s taunts had moved from ‘when are you going to make an honest woman of her?’ to ‘when are you going to give Hajoon a little brother or sister?’ so he’d married her just to put it all off, to stop people asking. They’d organised it quickly—there was nothing like a spring wedding in Korea. Cherry blossom everywhere, warmer weather, unlocking as he locked himself down. 

He did it a little to convince himself, too: that they were happy. That he was happy. That they were a perfect family unit, the stuff happily-ever-afters were made of.  

He wasn’t unhappy. He loved his son more than anything in the world and got no greater pleasure than the moments when he would stretch up his tiny arms to be lifted, to wrap them around Namjoon’s neck and cling to him like a koala. The pride he felt when Hajoon learnt something new, when he finally said a word correctly, when Namjoon saw him do something he had no idea he’d learnt already—applying lip balm like his mum, reading a book (albeit upside-down) in his dad’s reading chair.  

Hajoon had started going to nursery. He would begin going full-time next term and everyone kept telling him that it must be great having his time back. Having his freedom back. 

Free? Was that what he was supposed to feel? Free, knowing that his son was in the care of other people, people he didn’t know; free, worrying about whether his son was making friends or being bullied or learning enough; free, sending his baby into the world, watching that world expand around him, watching his baby understand that there was so much more than Mummy, and Daddy, and their little house? Free?  

He’d never felt more trapped.  

He set a timer on instagram on his phone and, every few days, would ignore it a hundred times just so he could look at you. Now you were free. Free to travel (most recently, Malaysia, but also the Philippines, Australia, Fiji, amongst others). Free to love (your boyfriend, Namjoon had suspected from your stories, and then had it confirmed by his friends). Free to be anything but his.  

* 

“Congratulations,” you said, with a smile that looked too big to be insincere. “I’m sorry I missed the wedding. You didn’t really give me much notice, though, so that’s on you.” 

Namjoon tried to return the smile.  

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just kind of decided, wanted to do it quickly, y’know? It was pretty overdue.” 

He watched you carefully, desperately hunting for clues, sure that he used to be able to read you much better than this.  

“Of course. You had perfect weather for it, too. The pictures were beautiful.” 

“Thank you... Your boyfriend seems... nice.” 

He knew that that smile was genuine. He had watched you, with him, in the minutes since you’d arrived at the restaurant and sat down opposite him, and you really did seem happy. He really did seem like a nice guy, which made Namjoon hate him. Made him hate himself a little, too. Because he had locked himself into a loveless marriage. Because he couldn’t have you. Because of everything that he had done to you.  

“Yeah, he is. I’m really happy.” 

“Good.”  

And then Namjoon felt like he needed another drink, though the first courses hadn’t arrived yet.  

* 

He stumbled outside, onto the roof terrace of the obnoxiously lit, trendy bar the group had chosen. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go anywhere but home. He wanted to go back three years ago, more than that now, and make different decisions. So many different decisions. He wondered just when exactly it was that his life had started spinning out of control. It wasn’t you. Wasn’t Hajoon. Wasn’t even Hayeon cheating on him. Did it go all the way back to the accident? The one that he was convinced had tied him forever to Hayeon, had made him family, an exclusive club of one.  

He had loved her. He absolutely had loved her. She was his first love. He knew that they had been happy once. Once. For a long time. He had never confronted Hayeon about her cheating, as she had never confronted him. When she was pregnant, Namjoon assumed that, whatever sort of affair it had been, it was over; she’d never given him any cause to think otherwise, nor any cause to think something new had started in its place. A blip. Maybe that’s what it was.  

It wasn’t over for him, though, was it? It wasn’t a blip for him. It was the sharpness he felt in his chest when he saw you. The low swoop of his stomach when he pictured you, all those miles away, happy without him. It was the way his brain automatically turned on the fantasy of his life with you whenever he stopped, even for a second. What you could be. What you could have. He knew it was a fantasy, but when he saw you, in person, when you were right there in front of him, radiant and fresh and just as beautiful as you had always been, he knew it could be real, too.  

“I’m the search party,” you said in way of greeting, sitting on the stool opposite him. “Jin went to search the toilets, too.” 

“Found me.” 

“Are you ok? Just wanted some air?” 

Namjoon laughed. Air was the least of his concerns.  

“Are you happy?” he asked, demanded.  

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He saw you put your guard up, saw the way it fell across your face just as it was starting to look sad, concerned. Saw it turn that face neutral, suspicious. 

“Yes, Namjoon, I’m sure. Are you happy?” 

He tipped his head back and sighed at the sky. 

“No.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He scoffed.  

“Fuck that.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re sorry to hear that? What are we, coworkers? Surely you have more to say than that.” 

He wanted you to be happy that he was miserable. He wanted you to understand. He wanted you to take him in your arms and make him not miserable.  

You bristled beside him, sat a little straighter. 

“What do you want me to say, then?” 

He felt desperate when he looked at you, dead in the eye, your eyes doing their best to keep him out.  

“You want me to tell you to leave her,” you continued. “You want me to say, do it, Namjoon. Leave your wife and be with me. Come and be happy with me... I’m not going to do that. You know I’m not going to do that.” 

“Why not?” 

You laughed. It hurt. 

“There are a hundred and one reasons, Namjoon. First and foremost: you don’t actually want to be with me-”  

You held your hand up, pre-empting his interruption, holding it there until he shut his mouth, until he gave you the slightest nod to say fine, ok, he’d be told off. He’d take his lashings. 

“You never wanted to be with me, Namjoon. Be honest. That first time, when you found out Hayeon had cheated on you and you came to my house? I could have been anyone. It wasn’t about me at all. It’s still not about me. Do you know what that does to a person? 

“I’m not blameless: I let you. Sat myself at your feet and ate the food you dropped. I knew it wasn’t about me and I let you have it anyway but do you not understand what that did to me? How hard it has been to build myself back up? How difficult it was to love you when you were my friend and how much more difficult once you were more than that? How much it hurt me every single day? Reduced me to nothing. No self-respect, no self-esteem, just a gaping wound where my heart should have been because, every time you came, I ripped it out and handed it to you.  

“Why do you think I left? You must know. You knew how I felt about you and you knew you didn’t love me and then I come back here and you try to open it all up again. You knew why I had been avoiding you, so why did you follow me? Why? Why do you sit there, indulging in your misery, and try to drag me down too?  

“I’m not doing it, Namjoon. I've spent too much fucking time getting over you. It’s not fair for you to do this to me.” 

He sat. He took it. With his head down, empty glass in hand, he acknowledged the truth of almost everything you said, felt his shame outgrow his pride, felt tears (that were always too close to the surface these days) burn in his eyes.  

“I love you,” he said, lifting his head to look at you. “I love you.” 

“No, you don’-” 

“I do. You’re right, I’ll admit it: to start with, it wasn’t about you. You couldn’t have been anyone but it wasn’t about you. Until it was. It wasn’t about Hayeon; it wasn’t about anything but you and it’s been you ever since. I loved you then and I love you now.” 

You covered your face with your hands, fingers pressing into your eyes. You shook your head. 

“You can’t say that to me, Namjoon.” 

“Why not?” 

“Becaus-”  

You stopped, tears spilling down your cheeks, lips pressed tight to stop the wobble.  

“Because I’m over you, ok? I have a boyfriend.” 

“And I had a girlfriend. I have a wife.” 

“Exactly! GOD-” 

You stood, started pacing in front of him, hands shaking at your sides. 

“You have a wife, Namjoon! And a son! What are you doing? You can’t say this shit to me, ok? You can’t. I won’t let you; I don’t have to listen to this.” 

His hand had wrapped around your arm before you’d taken your first step. He turned you to face him, held you too tight, held you still. There had to be something he could say that would at least make you stay to talk a bit longer. There had to be some way he could get through to you. That he could convince you he loved you, if nothing else. You turned your head away, closed your eyes, face tight as if anticipating impact. Your hands still shook. 

Namjoon saw your fear and instantly his hands fell back to his side. You tentatively opened one eye, swivelled it to look at him, not asking permission but checking if it was safe. You took a big step back from him. 

“Uh, guys?” 

Both of your heads whipped around: Tian was standing in the doorway, looking a little surprised, like he’d walked in on something he shouldn’t have.  

He had. 

“Um, the group is ready to head to another place; I was sent to round you up. Everything ok?” 

You nodded, turned quickly to swipe the tears from your eyes, and then smiled at your boyfriend, walking with a skip back to him. 

“Of course!” you answered, suddenly perky. “Where to next?” 

Namjoon sent a text to Hayeon. He was going to go home early and relieve the babysitter. He had a headache. 

You had been determined to pretend it had never happened. You took your boyfriend’s arm and smiled at him, rejoined the group, and walked to the next bar, aware of Namjoon’s sudden absence. You didn’t want the entire night ruined because of him. 

Your efforts were in vain. You excused yourself to the toilet once your order had been placed and tried some deep breaths. Tried some grounding techniques. Tried to will your heart to slow, your tears to stop pricking behind your squeezed-shut eyelids.  

It should not have been like this. You had been sure. Confident. Smug, even. Tian was a great boyfriend and you liked him a lot. Loved him, even. You had looked at Namjoon’s wedding photos with a pit in your stomach but then you had gone to dinner with Tian and had a lovely time and reminded yourself that there were people in the world (at least, there was one person) who wanted you around, who was prepared to say it, to live it, to love you out loud in front of everyone. You deserved that, you reminded yourself. You were happy.  

But your heart still raced and your stomach still churned and your heart still called for Namjoon: wanted to check if he was ok, wanted to run to him, wanted to tell him to leave his wife. That was the worst part: you wanted to do all the things you’d said you wouldn’t, all the things he wanted. Instead, you had to go back out to your boyfriend and your friends and pretend you were fine. That you were where you wanted to be. 

* 

Because Tian was a good boyfriend (he was and it hurt you all the more now that you knew you weren’t over Namjoon. Might never be), he picked up on your mood, asked if you would mind going home a little early, because he felt tired.  

“It was Namjoon, right?” he asked, as he shut your hotel room door and slipped off his shoes. 

“What?” 

You sat down heavily, not ready for the rigmarole of getting ready for bed. 

“You said you left Seoul because of a bad relationship.” 

You had said that. Had told Tian that you needed to take things slowly because you weren’t confident you’d glued yourself back together securely enough. So he had taken things slow, really slow, with you, because he was kind and patient and deserving of a far better love than you could give him.  

Your body sagged. You nodded.  

“Are you ok?” 

You held your arms open to him and he pulled you up into a hug. He stroked your hair and rubbed your back. 

“Yeah.” 

Pressed so close to him, you could feel the tension build in his body. 

“I was talking to Hayeon; she said they’ve been together since university.” 

“Yeah.” 

You felt him nod and he said nothing more for a few minutes; he just held you close and you finally found your heart begin to slow, your panic subside. 

“I’m going to wash up,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your hair.  

You undressed, put pyjamas on, and swore to yourself that this was an end to it. No more. No more Namjoon. It was done. There was a man in the bathroom who accepted you, loved you, didn’t cheat on you (hadn’t cheated on anyone), and you loved him. Namjoon was in the past; Namjoon didn’t even live in the same country as you; this didn’t have to be hard (though making these declarations in his absence felt easy, easier than holding to them in his presence). 

It wasn’t long before you were back in Seoul again. Namjoon found excuses not to see you. He knew the things you said were right. He didn’t want to know it. Didn’t want to face it.  

Had not wanted to face anything difficult in his life for a long time, he realised.  

Then, one day, he checked your instagram and there it was: an engagement post. A diamond ring on your finger. Two smiling faces.  

* 

He carried the heartbreak around as rage, impatience, irritability. Scolded his son for making a mess (as if that weren’t what kids were for), snapped at Hayeon so many times, she snapped back. It wasn’t their fault. It was his. All of it, his. 

* 

“I’ve been thinking,” Hayeon began, sliding into bed next to him. “Hajoon is almost four now-” 

And Namjoon thought it was going to be about school or extra-curriculars or maybe she was just being very efficient about planning for his birthday. The moment she said the words ‘little brother or sister’, he stopped hearing anything at all. A light-headedness rushed through him, roaring in his ears.  

“I want a divorce,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. 

* 

And that was how it was. Long talks. Lots of tears. A better understanding of one another than they had had for years. An easing. A settling. No longer the feeling of walking on eggshells. No longer the weariness, the misery, the emptiness of their relationship echoing in their bed.  

They were polite and civil and organised. Agreed the splitting of the assets. Agreed 50-50 shared custody of Hajoon, who didn’t understand and found the transition, when Namjoon first moved out, difficult but adjusted quickly (as children are wont to do) and continued to thrive. There were still legal things to be finalised, a long process made longer by paperwork, but the practical things were achieved quickly and their separate lives began. 

Namjoon, sitting in his new apartment, much smaller than the old one, much neater, quieter, cried. He cried a lot. Some of it was sheer relief. Some of it was terror of something he had never known. Some of it was regret that it had taken him this long. Some of it was heartbreak. Some of it was because he didn’t know what else to do now. Didn’t know if he could fix it. Didn’t know if there was anything left to fix.  

Because it wasn’t about you. Not really. Or not entirely. It was about Namjoon doing what he should have done years ago. It was swallowing a bitter pill to cure his ills. Not just his, but Hayeon’s too, and Hajoon though he was too young to have them yet – preventing his future ills, making it so he didn’t grow up with a fucked-up view of what a relationship was, what it was supposed to be.  

It was better for everyone. It was. After the initial surprise, everyone else agreed, too. His friends finally confessed that they’d wanted to ask him for years, was he happy? Did he want this? When he had got a little too drunk and said things they didn’t know how to take and they had just let them drop, should they have picked him up on them? Had they done badly by Namjoon for not pushing the issue? He wanted to be angry with them. To say, ‘why didn’t you tell me?! Why didn’t you make me leave?!’. But it wasn’t their fault and, if they had said those things, he’d have hurt them, too. So he reassured them; it wasn’t their fault and they couldn’t have fixed anything. It was Namjoon’s problem and he had to be the one to realise it, to do it. That it had taken him so long was his own fault and no one else could have made it happen any quicker. 

“I left Hayeon, did you hear?” 

And you didn’t know what you had done to deserve this. Didn’t know quite how it always ended up you and Namjoon alone. You and Namjoon having this conversation. Namjoon digging up the past, expecting to find life in it, expecting to find what he had convinced himself it was, not what it had actually been.  

“Yeah, I heard.” 

You moved away from him, out of the room, without a backward glance. 

You had heard: a message coming in whilst you flicked through a bridal magazine. You were getting married and you shouldn’t have cared. It should not have opened a crevasse inside your heart. It should not have seen a tiny butterfly of hope flit from that deep wound. It should not, in turn, have made your blood boil. You should not have put the magazine down, hands shaking with rage. You should not have cared. 

You did.  

It made you furious: that he’d finally left her when it was too late; that your reaction to the news was hope. That, after all this time, since the moment you fucking met him, he had this hold on you, this choking grip that would not let go. You’d moved a thousand miles but it stretched across the ocean, eternal, endless. You decided to make your fury endless, too. 

* 

“How are things with you? How’s the wedding planning?” 

“Leave me alone, Namjoon.” 

* 

Your name. You ignored it. 

Your name again. You left the room. 

* 

“Are you just never going to speak to me again, is that it?” 

“No, Namjoon, that’s not it.” 

“Then what?” 

You turned to face him, exasperated, terrified. 

“Then what do you want me to say? I know you and Hayeon are getting divorced. Of course, I know that and you know that I know it, so why ask?” 

His face twitched, in surprise, confusion, irritation. 

“Well, don’t you want to say anything?” 

“No, I don’t. Enjoy your divorce. Goodbye.” 

* 

Then, weeks later, a letter arrived for you. It languished in your postbox for almost a fortnight, because you received post so infrequently that you almost never checked it. Somewhere underneath piles of leaflets and advertising was a handwritten letter addressed to you. You didn’t recognise the handwriting but it didn’t matter because you knew who it would be from. Knew it in your guts.  

You were grateful that Tian was out, that you had time to sit and read it properly.  

You may want to burn this, it began, but please at least read it first. I have a lot to say and I know you won’t let me say it to your face—I may not be brave enough to say it to your face after all this time—so I have written it down. I wrote it once and scrapped it, wrote it a second time and tried to make myself sound resolved and wise and like I knew, at any point, that I knew what I was doing, but I can’t hide from you and you already know all my worst traits, every bad thing I've ever done, so I’m just going to state things plainly and show myself as I am.  

I love you. I’m not sorry for it. I’m sorry for all sorts of things but I won’t apologise for loving you, not now, not ever.  

You were right, when I came to you that first time, it wasn’t about you. It was about Hayeon and my own ego and a destructive need to fuck things up (I’m good at this, as you already know). It was not about you but I need you to believe that it couldn’t have been just anybody. I came to you because I was wounded and hurt and angry and I knew you would ease that pain. I liked you and trusted you; you were my friend.  

I hadn’t known what I was going to do. I didn't have a plan. I don’t think you will believe that, but it’s true. Everything I had, everything I was, as a person, a human, a half of that whole, was tied up with Hayeon; we had been together for so long, even before we were together-together, and I felt as though she had spat in the face of that. She had. She had denigrated and undermined the foundation of our lives—hers, mine, ours. I was angry and I wanted to do something I couldn’t take back. I wanted something that was mine and mine alone. I wanted something that had nothing to do with her (though, of course, unavoidably, it was to do with her, that reaction in me, that impulse). I felt I would never forget the images of her with another man and I wanted something that I could think about, when that image came to me, something that would replace it, would remind me that I had something of my own, too. I had something special with someone special. You.  

So you see it could never have been anyone. I am glad that it was you. Looking back on it, it feels inevitable, that I came to you and that you let me in. I am grateful to you. Despite everything that I have done and you have done, everything we’ve said, I am grateful. Even if you rip up this letter, if you burn it, tear it to shreds and soak it in water, I am grateful to you.  

I have done everything wrong. I see that now. I have done wrong by everyone: me, Hayeon, you, even Hajoon, though he is still so young and understands so little, I hope it doesn’t affect his future. I am sorry for that. Please believe me: I am sorry.  

In my first draft of this letter, here I wrote all the things I wish I had done or said. There were a lot of them. I won’t do that in this one, though, because it doesn’t matter now, does it? I can’t take any of it back. I can’t make better choices in the past. I can only make better choices for the future.  

So I separated from Hayeon, a thing I should have done many, many years ago. We are both much happier now. She has a boyfriend, I don’t know if you know. He is a good man and he is kind to Hajoon and I thought I would be jealous, would be inclined to find fault where there was none, but I haven’t. Hayeon and I get on better now than ever. Co-parenting is sometimes hard and often complicated, but we are better parents because of it. We are able to be better people because of it. And Hajoon gets to see his parents happier than they were; Hayeon and Minho can show him what a happy relationship is like.  

I know you are happy. I am as happy for you as I can be, though I am also sad and lonely and I miss you more than I have any right to. I know and I accept that I have done so many things wrong and I have hurt you, not just once but repeatedly, and I am sorry for that. Truly, deeply, eternally sorry. I love you. I will always be here for you if you ever need anything, even from a thousand miles away.  

Now this letter is in your hands, to be dealt with however you wish. So am I. 

Yours always,  

Namjoon. 

It took you a long time to read. Because you hesitated over reading it, unsure if you really wanted to know what he had to say. Because your eyes were blurry with tears. Because there were never enough nails in this coffin. Namjoon, wherever he was, whatever he did, you loved him. Had never stopped, not for a second since you started. Since you met. Since your heart fell at his feet. You’d done everything you could to fight it, to hide from it, to kill it. It would not be suppressed. 

* 

Namjoon never received a reply from you. What would you have said? What could you have said? There was nothing in the letter you hadn’t really already known. He knew everything you could say, too. So you hid the letter in a diary and tried to forget its existence. 

Minho had proposed to Hayeon. She had said yes. They were planning a wedding—a proper one this time, a big event with everyone they knew in attendance, not the tiny, family-only, rushed job that she’d had with Namjoon. Namjoon tried, in his worse moments, not to be happy for them, but there was no denying that they were a beautiful couple and Minho was great with Hajoon (as were his parents, who didn’t seem to care that their son was marrying a divorcée with a kid). In the absence of a father, Hayeon had asked Namjoon if he would walk her down the aisle; he had been unexpectedly touched and was genuinely looking forward to it. He loved her, in a sweeter and deeper way than he had before, and he was so glad that, whatever he might have done wrong, she had this happiness now.  

You had been invited. You had RSVP’d yes. That had surprised Namjoon because, according to everyone else, you had fallen off the grid. Responding to messages vaguely and intermittently, socials all dead. Despite the fact that you were supposed to be planning your own wedding. He tried not to worry. Tried and failed. Tried and failed, too, not to be anxious about seeing you again.  

Would you be happy? Would you want to speak to him? Would you still be angry? Would you ignore him and walk away as you had done before? How had his letter been received? He still didn’t know. As far as you were concerned, it seemed, Namjoon did not exist, but you wouldn’t be able to avoid him at the wedding.  

* 

 “Look at you,” Namjoon cooed, beaming at Hayeon, in her dress and veil, clutching her flowers tightly.  

“Do I look alright?” 

“You look beautiful.”  

“I’m really nervous, is that weird?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“I don’t remember being nervous when we did this.” 

Namjoon laughed. 

“We didn’t exactly do this. A quick trip to the district office isn’t really a wedding.” 

Hayeon smiled but didn’t laugh. 

“It felt like a wedding at the time, though. I liked it.” 

Namjoon nodded, knowing that he couldn’t lie and that she would see through it if he did. 

“I’m really happy for you,” he said instead. “Minho is a good guy and I’m glad you found him.” 

Her eyes sparkled with tears she tried to blink back, tipping her head as if to tip them back inside. 

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice watery, too. “We’ve been through a lot and I’m so grateful to you for everything, especially Hajoon, and divorcing me, and being friendly to Minho. You know I could never have said yes to him if I didn’t know you would be supportive. You’re still my family and I love you.” 

They hugged, careful not to smudge make-up, not to step on her dress. 

“I love you, too,” Namjoon said, a lump forming in his own throat, grateful that something good had come from all his mistakes, that they hadn’t ruined her the way they had him. “Ok, shall we do this?” 

* 

He looked for you as he walked down the aisle. Waved back at Hajoon waving from the front row, but scanned the crowd for you. Couldn’t pick you out on the short walk to the altar. Tried not to be obviously distracted as he stood at the front, next to Hayeon, handed her off to Minho, who looked as handsome and happy as he ever had.  

He spotted you, towards the back, eyes determinedly forward while everyone else let their gazes roam: Hayeon, Minho, the flowers, the other guests, the gardens outside. His heart squeezed. It was a wedding, for fuck’s sake. If he didn’t take this opportunity, on this of all days, he would be a bigger idiot than he thought. 

* 

You weren’t easy to catch, though. He knew you were doing it deliberately. Maybe that should have stopped him. It didn’t. 

It was long into the night, booze flowing, disco dancing, when he finally caught you, waiting for the bathroom.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, cutting through the niceties, which would only have given you a greater opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself. 

“No. I have to pee.” 

“Ok, you can use the bathroom in my room.” 

You scoffed. 

“Nice line.” 

“It’s not a line. I want to talk to you.” 

“No.” 

And you stalked off, apparently no longer in need of a bathroom. 

* 

He caught you again, outside this time, leaning against the wall, looking up at the sky.  

“Wondering when is an acceptable time to leave?” he asked, not sure if he was joking or being kind of a dick. 

“Oh, I’m long past that, no worries. Not that anyone would have missed me even if I’d left early.” 

“I’d miss you.” 

“Don’t start.” 

Namjoon moved closer, touched your arm with just his fingertips. Spoke softly, tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

“Please can we talk?” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Then you said yes. Well- 

“Ok, you talk,” is what you said. “What is it you have to say to me, Namjoon? Got some magic words that’ll fix my life? Because that’s pretty much all I want to hear. If you’ve got some other shit to say, I’m not sure I’m interested.”  

“How’s Tian?”  

He thought he was treading lightly on safe territory but you whipped your head around to face him with rage in your eyes. 

“Are you fucking joking?”  

Your voice was strained with anger.  

“What?” 

“Fuck off, Namjoon!” you shouted. “Just fuck off!! Forever!!! Ok? Fucking leave me alone!!” 

But he wouldn’t. Should have. Might have on a different day, if he were completely sober, if he were a different person. 

“No.” 

And you looked angrier still.  

“You can shout at me if you want,” he continued. “And kick and scream and whatever, but you can’t just avoid me and ignore me for the rest of time. Even if you live in Hong Kong, you have family and friends here and we’re going to fucking work this shit out. Ok?” 

He couldn’t read the look on your face, then, but you weren’t arguing or walking away, so he took you by the hand and waited for you to pull it back. When you didn’t, he wasted no more time and led you back inside, up the stairs to his hotel room, where you could kick and scream to your heart’s delight and it wouldn’t ruin the party.  

When he shut the door and turned to you, your face had settled into something mean. 

“You know I don’t live in Hong Kong anymore, right?” 

No, he did not know.  

“Uh, no.” 

“You know whose fault that is?” 

He felt like it was probably his, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“No.” 

“Of course you don’t! Because it couldn’t possibly be your fault, could it? Couldn't possibly have anything to do with you! Because nothing is your fault! You’re just a fucking bleeding heart, aren’t you, Namjoon?” 

He didn’t really know, now, what he had been expecting. Could see that maybe his hopes had clouded his judgement. He had told you you could kick and scream but he hadn’t realised that you really were going to. You weren’t usually this angry and he had no idea what you meant: not living in Hong Kong? Then where? Seoul? And he didn’t know, hadn’t known; no one had told him? 

“That’s not what I think at all,” he answered, voice calm, trying not to respond in kind, not to let the strength of his own feelings escalate this. “Lots of it is my fault but I didn’t even know you had moved back here—when? When did that happen?” 

“As if you fucking care!” 

“Of course I care! I love yo-” 

“DON’T!” 

With a finger raised against him, shaking lightly. 

“Don’t you fucking dare with that shit, ok? Stop fucking lying to m-” 

“It’s not a lie! Why would I lie?” 

“Because you can’t love me! Don’t you get it? We were nothing! Nothing! A fucking distraction for you and nothing m-” 

“Now you don’t.”  

Namjoon could feel his blood heat, feel the anger rising in him. He didn’t want to be angry with you; he didn’t want to have this argument but how could you still be saying this? Still be saying that what you had with him was nothing? It wasn’t nothing to him and he knew it wasn’t nothing to you.  

“Who’s the one lying now?” he asked. “You know it’s not nothing. If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be here spitting fucking feathers at me! Tell me: why are you back?” 

“Why do you think?! Because I fucked it, Namjoon! Because of you! Because it’s always fucking you! Jesus Christ, I moved a thousand miles away and it’s still you! Still you that I let fuck up my entire life over and over again like some insane moron! And you stand there, have the fucking gall to ask me why? How? What happened? You happened, Namjoon! You fucking existed and we met and then it was all fucked!”  

“Sorry.” 

You wiped your eyes, forgetting about your make-up, smudging it, smearing it—remembering too late to be delicate, swiping a finger carefully beneath your lashes.  

“I really fucking hate you sometimes.” 

“Yeah, I hate myself sometimes, too.”  

“I don’t want that.” 

“I don’t know what you want.” 

You didn’t answer that. Namjoon didn’t expect you to, not really.  

“Can I talk?” he asked.  

You shrugged, staring into the floor as if it might serve answers. 

“Ok, well, I’m sorry you’re back, I guess.” 

You scoffed, no heat in it. 

“Ok, maybe I’m not that sorry, I don’t know. I’m sorry you’re miserable; I'm sorry you hate me. I’m sorry that Hong Kong didn’t work out. Did... Is Tian with you here?” 

“What do you fucking think?” 

“Ok, well, sorry for that, too, I guess. Or not sorry, not really, because we’re both here now, aren’t we?” 

“Don’t, Namjoon-” 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t suggest we get ‘back together’. We’ve never been together. There isn’t anything for us to go back to.” 

“I don’t know why you keep saying this! Why are you trying to deny what we had?” 

“NAMJOON!”  

Angry again, arms raised, a resurgence of energy.  

“For fuck’s sake, STOP!” you continued. “We had a-, god, I don’t know, an affair? We didn’t have a relationship. Did we date, Namjoon? Did we tell our friends? Do they even know now?!” 

It hadn’t really occurred to Namjoon to ask. At the beginning, he had assumed they did not know because that is what he wanted to believe. Now, he assumed they knew—surely they did? Could they not have known? They were always a little skittish when it came to you; were they the same when they talked to you about him? They had to know. How could this thing, which had dominated more than five years of his life, have passed them by unnoticed?  

“So we weren’t anything,” you continued. “It was all a mistake. A mistake that I’ve somehow let ruin everything. I think I'm worse off than I was when I left for Hong Kong in the first place.” 

You looked up at him. 

“Do you ever wish you never met me?” 

“No, never.” 

“Oh.” 

Namjoon chose to assume that those words were just anger, not a reflection of what you really felt.  

“I’m not sorry we met. I can’t be. Even if I’m sorry that you’re miserable, that I’ve caused you pain, that I’ve fucked so many things up for you. I'm sorry for those things but I’m not sorry we met, I’m not sorry I love you.” 

“Stop it, Namjoon. You don’t love me and I’m going to tell you why.” 

You steered him into a chair, sat him down, sighed heavily. You sagged, all your energy wiped in an instant. You looked tired. Looked older than the bright, young thing you had been when all this started—which of course you were. You both were. Older but not necessarily wiser, Namjoon thought. 

“Before any of this started, I was in love with you. We all know that, right? I loved you and couldn’t have you and that was fine. Not fine but it’s how it was. Then you caught Hayeon cheating and you needed to do something destructive, isn’t that what you said? Something you couldn’t take back. Me. And then it kept happening because, despite appearances, you and Hayeon weren’t meant to be but you were too much of a fucking coward to ever leave her and then she got pregnant and there was no way you would leave your kid. So you trapped yourself in a relationship you hadn’t wanted for a long time and I became your escape. 

“You can say it was about me or it became about me or whatever else you want to but that’s not true. It was about me being not-Hayeon. It was about you having something that she didn’t know about and couldn’t touch. Having something that was just yours. Something that made you feel like less of a trapped fucking loser.  

“Then I, for once, did the right thing and I left and you had all the time in the world to idealise and fantasise about what we had and what we could have had if only everything were different. And it took you so long to leave Hayeon that now, when you could have been dating and looking for someone who would make you happy, all you have to cling to is me. Memories and fantasies of me. Because you’re still a fucking coward, Namjoon. You don’t want to meet someone else because it’s horrible and scary. You want me to say yes so you can welcome me into this fantasy life you’ve created for us. Except that it doesn’t exist. I’m not a fantasy! None of this is! It’s not real! You don’t love me; you love the idea of me that you’ve concocted! You love the dream life that you have spent years perfecting! 

“But that’s not real! That’s why I keep telling you we’re nothing! Because we are! Dreams are nothing, fantasy is nothing, we are nothing!” 

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” 

“NAMJOON! FUCK!” 

“Answer the question.” 

You might have been right, at least partly, but you were also partly wrong. You appeared to have forgotten that, before anything sexual happened between the two of you, you were friends. Good friends. You enjoyed each other’s company, made each other laugh, lent a shoulder or a helping hand when needed. Maybe Namjoon had spent a little too much time thinking about you but he would never, ever accept that you were nothing.  

Death by a thousand cuts. You felt shredded. Slashed to ribbons. Somehow still so raw after all this time: wounds where there should have been scar tissue, rough and ugly but stronger than it was. It beggared belief that you could still feel like this. That you managed to fall in love with another man, that you agreed to marry him, and then still let it all be ruined by the thought, the possibility, the memory of Namjoon.  

It hurt that he kept insisting you were something more than a fling. Because if it were true, why didn’t he leave her? Why did he stay? For all that time? Why did he let you go? If he cared so much now, why not then? Why was it not worth the leap, the fear, the risk? Why were you not worth it?  

Now it was easy. He was single and he knew you. Too well. Knew that, even after all this time, there was space in your heart for him. You hated it. You loved him. You knew if he kissed you, there would be no pushing him away. You had put a thousand miles and five years between you and it hadn’t worked.  

You took a deep breath, attempted to steel yourself for the thousandth time, feeling wrung out, brittle and fragile. 

“You don’t get to ask me that, Namjoon. You don’t get to kiss me. Not anymore.” 

He ducked his head—you weren’t sure if it was a nod—and then he looked at you, thoughtful, for a moment. 

“Ok. I understand.” 

He stood and when he took your hands in his, you didn’t have the heart to snatch them back. His hands were warm—always were—and having let him hold them, you had to fight the urge to squeeze. 

“I love you and you don’t believe that. I get it. If you’re back now, back in Seoul for good, I would like the opportunity to prove to you that I do love you and that there is something worth having here. Can I do that?”  

* 

You stood in your hotel room, trying to breathe deeply, trying not to lose it. Because what had you come back for, if not this? Namjoon at your feet. If you were being honest with yourself, wasn’t that why? Why you called off your wedding, left your fiancé, left the country, and came running back? Because Namjoon was single now and telling you he loved you and wasn’t that what you had always wanted to hear?  

When he was in front of you, right there in your presence, you couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand him being there, not being yours, not being so close to you you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stand that you couldn’t stand it. Felt every fibre of your being tight and twisted with the effort of refusal.  

When he wasn’t in front of you, his absence clung like cobwebs. Sticky, piling up immediately after you’ve brushed them away. When it was just you and your broken heart and your confusion and your hurt, you wanted him. As much as you ever had. But you couldn’t let him.  

You took off your make-up and stood under the shower, letting the water wash over you, trying to let it relax you, but your brain wouldn’t stop. Your brain wouldn’t stop asking questions and your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to just let him. To go back to him.  

You wondered if coming back was a mistake. If you should have just married Tian and stayed in Hong Kong. If you should have broken up with Tian anyway but stayed in Hong Kong. Because if you had stayed, you wouldn’t be here. If you hadn’t come back- 

Who were you kidding? If you hadn’t come back, you would still have been wrestling with this. It wasn’t over. Hadn’t been over. You ran away to avoid a messy ending but it also meant you avoided a conclusion. Closure.  

What if you didn’t want closure?  

As you stepped into your pyjamas and drew back the bed covers, you asked yourself: if you have come back for Namjoon, why are you pushing him away? If It's not over, why can’t you let it be something? 

You were asking yourself why he wasn’t willing to take a risk, to have taken it so long ago, but there you were, not taking the risk for him. Was he worth it or was he not? If he was worth leaving your fiancé for, was he not worth the risk now? Worth breaking down the walls you’d carefully constructed around his place in your heart? 

And maybe you were tired. Maybe it was watching his ex-wife marry the man she loved—a thing you hadn’t been able to do. Maybe it was foolishness or maybe it was you finally doing the right thing.  

You slipped your feet into slippers and padded back to Namjoon’s room. You knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Were sure he wasn’t going to answer, were turning away from the door, when it opened.  

He looked like he had been sleeping, eyes small and squinting in the light, door only half-opened, half-hiding his almost nakedness. He looked surprised and then confused.  

You didn’t let yourself stop to speak, to explain yourself. You pushed gently against the door so he would stand back, so you could reach out and take his face in your hands, so you could lean up onto your tiptoes and kiss him.  

He didn’t resist, didn’t pull back, didn’t stop to ask the questions you were sure he wanted to. He wrapped his arms around you, pulled you closer, let the door close as he walked you both carefully into the room.  

It reminded you of the beginning of the end. When he had come to you and said nothing but kissed you deeply and slowly and fucked you like there was no one else, could never be anyone else. Fucked you like he had never fucked you before and then told you that Hayeon was pregnant.  

This felt like that. Slow and full and heavy with the weight of things unspoken, years of unexpressed pain, joy, love, pleasure. It felt like a dream, like a memory hazy with age, like a veil drawn between you and reality, because that was all it had been for so long: remembered, dreamt, imagined. Now real, now warm, flushed in your hands, soft beneath them. Now everything you had wanted and tried not to want, yours for the taking.  

* 

When it was over, when you lay in his arms, when you felt his breath shift, about to speak, you tensed. 

“Don’t,” you asked quietly. “Please don’t say anything.” 

A pause. 

“Ok.” 

He kissed your head and you felt it anyway: everything he wanted to say. I love you and what does this mean and are you ok and what happens now. You didn’t have any answers for him, didn’t want the questions asked. You just wanted to stay there, warm and sticky and sleepy and with him. Safe, in the dawn hours, from the world, from the daylight, from the morning after.  

* 

You woke to the sound of knocking at the door. For a second, disorientated, then immediately overfull. Namjoon slipped out of bed and tied a hotel robe around himself.  

“Daddy!” 

“Joonie!” 

His son. 

A gasp you tried to hide beneath the covers. Heat in your face: fury, embarrassment, shame. You’d never wanted kids; had always taken the relevant precautions to avoid it. Until last night. Over-tired, over-wrought, whatever the excuse, you cringed silently to yourself, trying to feel disbelief that you would be so careless. Trying because, well, it was Namjoon and when did you ever do the right thing, the sensible thing when it came to him?  

Not ever. 

You listened to their conversation, grateful that Namjoon was keeping him at the door, with a growing sense of panic. There was still time, but the sooner the better, which meant you had to get out, get home, get to a women’s clinic. Your head was swimming, heart hammering. The second you heard the door close, you jumped out of bed, gathering your clothes, hastily putting them on, tripping over your pyjama trousers, crashing into Namjoon. 

“Whoa- hey, what’s going on?” 

“I have to go. I have to go.” 

And you left with no more explanation, running to your own hotel room, throwing everything haphazardly into a bag, throwing your key card at the reception desk on your way out.  

* 

You considered, for a second, if pregnancy might not have been the easier option. You lay on your floor, breathing carefully, eyes closed, trying desperately not to hurl. It had been more than a couple of hours since you’d taken the requisite pill, so you could be sick reasonably safely, but you weren’t sure you’d make it to the bathroom in time. The cramps were unlike any you’d experienced before. Breathing was about all you could manage.  

You had told Namjoon, as you sat anxiously on the subway, that you would explain later. You had left him on read when he asked if he could come over. You didn’t have the headspace to think about the conversation that would ensue if he did. Could only think about the possibility of pregnancy; swore you could feel it already happening inside you; could not stop the horrifying fantasy of what it would mean if you were pregnant, if you had to carry a baby, raise a child.  

There were worse people to do it with than Namjoon, but you didn’t want to do it with anyone. Ever. So now you were useless on the floor, sicker than a dog, listening to the insistent buzz of your phone on the coffee table. You knew it would be him, weren’t deliberately ignoring him, just couldn’t move enough to pick up.  

* 

Still prone, still cramping, slightly less nauseous than you were, you stretched to grab your phone that had buzzed itself to the edge of the table. You called Namjoon. 

“What the fuck, dude?”  

You probably deserved worse than that. 

“I’m literally on my way to your apartment right now. Jimin gave me your new address. Are you even going to let me in?” 

You took a careful breath, focused hard on speaking, slowly and evenly. 

“I’m not... deliberately ignoring you... I just haven’t... been able to get to... my phone, ok?” 

“Are you ok?” 

“No.” 

“Shit. Uh-” 

“It’s fine... I’ll text you... so you can let... yourself in.” 

“Do you want me to bring you anything?” 

“No, thanks.” 

“Ok, I’ll be over as quickly as I can.” 

“Ok.” 

* 

Namjoon’s footsteps across your apartment were heavy and loud but his arms were strong and he lifted you onto the sofa, pressed a hand against your forehead. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’m stupid.” 

“Ok, sure, but what’s going on? Why did you bolt? Are you dying?” 

“All good questions.”  

You wanted to answer, to explain, but you were too distracted by trying to ignore the pain—the cramps, the headache, the nausea that was returning again as your stomach started to hunger.  

“Sorry... I just... It’s bad.” 

“What’s bad?” 

You gestured to the coffee table, where you had left the box and its prescription.  

“Oh.” 

You had closed your eyes, couldn’t see Namjoon’s reaction, see what he was expecting from you.  

“So you’re not... And we didn’t... Right.” 

“Sorry... I just... I just forgot... I wasn’-” 

“Yeah, no, it's fine. It’s not like I brought it up either. Guess we both should’ve been a little more careful.” 

You heard him sit in the armchair perpendicular to yours. 

“Didn’t help being woken by Hajoon either.” 

“Actually, that was what made me realise.” 

He laughed. 

“I can’t have another kid by accident. People will start thinking I’m some kind of stupid.” 

“Start?” 

You heard the quiet snort of breath, saw in your mind his rolled eyes. 

“That’s why you ran out though? No other reason?” 

“As soon as I realised... I couldn’t think of anything else... I panicked. I'm sorry.” 

Namjoon didn’t respond and you were happy not to talk, grateful that he wasn’t forcing a difficult conversation on you.  

After a minute or two, you heard him stand, start opening cupboards, moving about your apartment. 

“What are you doing?” you called as loudly as you could manage. 

“One sec.” 

He moved around. He boiled the kettle. He gently lifted your t-shirt and lay a hot water bottle across your abdomen. You sighed. 

“Oh, that’s nice... How did you know?” 

“You know I was married.” 

“Oh shit, really? ... Had no idea.” 

“I suppose now isn’t a good time to talk.” 

You shook your head.  

“Do you want me to go?” 

You shook your head. 

You wanted a lot of things. Were surer now than you had been before that you couldn’t have them.  

Because if there’s one thing a potential pregnancy scare can do for you, it’s making it really clear to you whether or not you want kids. You hadn’t had any doubt about that before now, but you had forgotten to account for Hajoon. The light of Namjoon’s life. His child. His and Hayeon’s son and now Minho’s step-son. You didn’t want to be a step-mother, not a mother of any kind. Didn’t want to worry about the school run, moving to the catchment area of a better school, the germs and illnesses kids brought with them, the homework, the patience required, the eternity of it, the endlessness, the life that will never again be just yours. 

You knew Namjoon wanted kids. Not one kid. Kids. Wanted Hajoon to have siblings. Wanted to be a dad more than just once. Wanted a great, big brood of them.  

You knew, too, that he knew you didn’t want that. Any of it. You didn’t know if he had accounted for that. If all his fantasies had included babies anyway. If he thought you would change your mind. You knew you wouldn’t, not even for him.  

* 

Namjoon stayed for the remainder of the afternoon. He made you rice porridge (the Namjoon you had known wouldn't have even known where to start). He refreshed your hot water bottle. He rubbed your back. He sounded sad when he said he had to go. 

“I have to go and get Hajoon from Hayeon’s parents. They’ve had him since yesterday and it’s getting late for his dinner.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Namjoon wished he had said more. Maybe you couldn’t have talked but maybe you could have listened. He had thought long and hard about what he’d say, though most of it flew out the window once he realised why you’d left in such a rush. He was surprised you’d taken the risk; frustrated with himself for not having checked, for being reckless. He’d done that before and it had cost him you last time, too.  

He knew you didn’t want kids—and it wasn’t exactly how he’d have chosen to have another one, either—but he was surprised by the strength of his hope, impossible as it was, and of his disappointment. He thought about Hajoon, the single greatest joy in his life. You would be an amazing mother to him, to any child, if you wanted to be.  

You didn’t want to be. 

As he sat in your apartment, watching you rest, watching the sickly pallor of your face be replaced by its usual glow, he thought about the future and everything you said last night. About his fantasising, about how unreal it all was.  

He was so sure. Had been so sure. About all of it. You. Him. How right you would be, were. How easy it would be. How happy you would be. Now it felt like a house of cards. He didn’t want to ask, anymore. Didn’t want to hear you say that his son was the reason you couldn’t go through with this. Didn’t want to feel the twinge in his chest that said he wouldn’t choose—as if choice would even come into it. Between his son and anyone else, there was no choice. Hajoon always.  

Maybe you were right, because in his fantasies, he would never have to choose. In his fantasies, sure, you didn’t want more kids, but you loved the one he had already. Hajoon with four loving parents. Overflowing with love.  

He thought about you doing it reluctantly. Saying yeah ok, we’ll be together, I guess I can be a step-mum, if I have to. If you have to. If you have to. It made him sadder than he had words to express. 

* 

It was days before he found the courage to contact you. He noticed that you hadn’t contacted him either but he was grateful for it, because he wouldn’t have been ready to have this conversation. He wasn’t sure that he was ready, but it had to happen. Sooner or later. Might as well be now. Before anything else could be said. Before he saw you again and faltered, his weakness overpowering his strength. 

“Hi,” he greeted you simply, opening the door to let you in. 

“Hi.” 

It was awkward, though much less strained than it had been in years past.  

He offered you a seat and you took it. He took the one next to you. Neither of you started. You looked at each other. Namjoon took the time to study your face, as if it were the last time he’d see it: the slope of your nose; the swell of your lips; the tiny mole underneath your right eye; the slight dampness at your hairline because Korea was as hot and humid as it had ever been; your eyes, looking sorry, looking sad. Eyes that had been so often angry with him, sad, frustrated, guarded, now open and soft and sparkling.  

He loved you. As much as he ever had. Maybe more now because it was ending, because all of his dreaming couldn’t save it. Because it had taken this long; he had thought you were inevitable, but he could see now that this was. That heartbreak was. That it had taken him so long to get his shit together that he hadn’t seen this coming. He had spent all his time pretending to be happy in a relationship that wasn’t, then wishing for you, waiting for you. He had spent no time preparing for this. Preparing for the possibility that there would be no you. That this could end in a way that wasn’t the two of you together, forever.  

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. The things that needed to be said. But you weren’t saying them either. He swallowed, fidgeted, preparing to say something, though he didn’t know what. 

“We both know, right?” you asked, voice quiet.  

You didn’t need an answer. You knew. He knew. The world knew. 

“It’s Hajoon, isn’t it?” he asked. 

You physically recoiled, eyebrows drawing close. 

“Namjoon... It’s not... Don’t put it like that. It’s not Hajoon; Hajoon is great, cute, wonderful. It’s all kids. It’s that you want lots of them and I want none.” 

“I don’t have to have lots-” 

“Namjoon, you want lots. Aren’t we past denying ourselves what we want?” 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”  

“Not in the long-run. Look at what happened with you and Hayeon. You denied that you wanted out and look how long it took for you both to be happ-” 

“I’m not happy. I’m not happy right now. This isn’t what I want.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

He ran his hands through his hair, swore through gritted teeth. When he looked back at you, your eyes reflected the tears in his. 

“But I love you.” 

You nodded, looked down. 

“I love you, too.”  

It was the first time you’d said it. Namjoon wished he could have been happy to hear it. Not heartbroken.  

“And there’s no way-” 

“You know there isn’t.” 

You laughed to stop yourself from crying, because he knew you and he knew that was what it was.  

“Just think if we’d actually stopped to fucking think about this at any point in the last five years, we’d have saved ourselves this mess!” 

Namjoon couldn’t laugh, couldn’t raise a smile.  

“I don’t... I don’t want this to be over.” 

“Well, it barely started so-” 

“You think that makes this easier? Is it easy for you?” 

You scoffed, your breath hitching. 

“Does it look like it’s easy for me, Namjoon? I’ve actually been in this a lot longer than you have, don’t you forget.” 

As if he could. As if he had ever forgotten that there were years of friendship behind you, friendship that could have been more. If only he had seen. If only he had had the guts to end things with Hayeon before he did. Before any of this.  

Though it wouldn’t have changed this ending, would it? At some point, you’d have ended up here. Inevitable, the word resounded in his head and he hated it. Hated that it was true. Hated that he could roll the die a thousand times and it would never show your number. That he could shake this magic eight ball a thousand ways from Sunday and it would never show ‘yes’. 

You had been so close. He couldn’t decide if he was grateful or not, that you had one last night. That he had fresh memories stinging in the fresh wounds of his heart. Was he grateful that it had come to this: you, giving in; you, letting him in; you, loving him, letting him love you, only for it to fall to pieces? Would he have rather you kept pushing him away, acting as if you didn’t love him, as if he couldn’t love you? Would that have been easier? Would he always have wondered? Would he have let it ruin the next ten years of his life?  

“We can’t-” you said, wiping tears from your cheeks, blinking hard. “We’re toast.”  

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it’s easy. Not sure I’m that bothered.”  

And he hated himself for the sarcasm but he couldn’t bring himself to be sincere. Sincere was the tears on his water line, the embarrassing break in his voice.  

“Namjoon.” 

You stood, arms wide, welcoming. Like you hadn’t done for so many years. He went to you, wrapped you up, held you close, for the last time—it would be the last time like this he knew. He hiccupped, breath trapped in his throat. He tried to breathe you in, remember every tiny detail: the exact shade of every strand of hair, the notes of your perfume, the exact weight of your body against his, the slight tug of the hair at the back of his neck; he swore to himself that he would commit this to memory, never forget it. 

You drew back and took his face in your hands, rested your forehead against his nose, kissed him. One last time. If he could have frozen the moment, trapped it in amber, kept you just like this: sweet and soft and warm and his.  

The beep of Namjoon’s door lock sounded, followed by the whir of unlocking. 

“Dad!” Hajoon cried, thumping his bag down, throwing off his shoes.  

He was supposed to be at a sleepover, out for the night. 

“Changho got sick so I had to come home!” 

You sprang apart, both wiping tears, sniffling, trying to look presentable. 

“He got sick?” Namjoon asked, voice thick. 

“Yeah! His dad made me come home.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad, buddy.” 

Namjoon knelt towards his son, picked him up and placed him on his knee. He saw you turn away, collect yourself. Saw you, as Hajoon recounted the glorious story of what happened when a kid ate too many sweets and then went too fast on the roundabout, gesture towards the door, move towards it without a word. He heard the lock let you out, then lock you out. Could do nothing to stop you with his son on his knee.  

[coqhee]

𓍯 ⸝⸝ JUST A BET ╱ L.HS ONESHOT

IN WHICH ✷ you bet heeseung that you can find him his perfect girl ∘ ∘ ∘ more

희승 x f!r ― f2l angst fluff && jealousy cursing kissing oc usage highschool au heeseung x oc (not the end relationship) ⨯ 5OO4

em's note ★ wouldn't be a banger if i DIDN'T include angst, actually kinda fw this one heavyyyy lawl, cause yall ever help your situationship get w someone else haha.. ha. ha.

ALL YOUR LIFE YOU HAD KNOWN LEE HEEESUNG TO BE STOIC TOWARDS GIRLS.

somehow it seemed that every girl in your school was in love with heeseung. of course, that was an exaggeration, but somehow every single pretty popular girl you knew would just get flat rejected by heeseung. 

a simple “sorry, i don’t like you like that,” would be all he was given and it was in no time that rumors spread that heeseung just wasn’t into girls given his track record.

at this point, you began to feel bad for the girls, even worse for him that he couldn’t find the one.  just how could you not like them though. they were even sweet and kind, and didn’t even have a bad personality.

everyone surrounding the two of you seemed to be in a relationship except him and you.

you, because you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, and heeseung, well because he just couldn’t seem to find the one and didn’t seem to care to find the one.

at first it started as a joke, when you were hanging out in your room supposedly, ‘studying,’ when you told him “you’re so picky with girls, let me set you up with someone,” 

heeseung had raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a skeptical smirk tugging at his lips. “and you think you can find me the one?” he teased, crossing his arms back further against the chair near your desk, “haha, very funny y/n,”

“i know i can,” you shot back, your confidence only half-feigned. “you just need someone who gets you, and clearly, you’re incapable of finding her yourself.”

heeseung rolled your eyes at your bullshit statement, he wasn’t buying a single second of it.

“great so then what's my type huh?” he asked, clearly amused with your antics.

you paused, his question catching you off guard. “your type?” you repeated, stalling for time as you racked your brain trying to think of what his type was.

heeseung leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “yeah, y/n. if you’re so sure you can find me ‘the one’, you must know what kind of girl i’m into.”

“oh, that’s easy,” you said quickly, refusing to let him see you falter. “someone smart, kind, sarcastic, funny—basically someone who can put up with your dumbass.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “so... basically you?”

you blinked, feeling your face heat up at his unexpected comment. “what? no! i meant someone like me, not me specifically,” you clarified, trying to sound dismissive. “i mean sort of? but like, not me obviously, you know?” you tried chuckling to brush off any arising emotions. 

afterall, he’s just your best friend. and everyone knows, don’t fall in love with your best friend or else it gets messy.

he laughed, the sound light and teasing. “relax, y/n, i’m just messing with you. but seriously, if you think you’ve got this all figured out, prove it. find her.”

“fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “give me a week. i’ll find you someone who’s exactly your type, and you’ll be thanking me when you two ride off into the sunset together.”

“deal,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “but just so you know, if you can’t pull this off, i’m never letting you live it down.”

“and if i do?” you countered, narrowing your eyes at him.

heeseung thought for a moment before shrugging. “then i owe you. big time. whatever you want.”

“you’re going to regret that,” you said, smirking as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“we’ll see,” heeseung called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

the two of you went back to actually doing work, however, your mind raced with a mix of determination and unease. finding someone for heeseung sounded simple enough in theory—but why did the idea of him falling for someone else feel like a knot tightening in your chest?

─── ♡

HONESTLY, YOU WERE CONSIDERING JUST NOT SETTING HIM UP WITH ANYONE AND ADMITTING FAILURE.

while it would hurt seeing him getting along with one of your friends and potentially going out with them, you figured your pride would hurt more if you didn’t win this stupid bet. 

stupid you, stupid bet, stupid stakes, stupid prizes.

though, you wouldn’t let your own feelings get in the way of trying to make your best friend find his forever girl. that wouldn’t be fair—to him, to the girls he might actually click with, or even to yourself. you told yourself you were doing this out of genuine care, that it wasn’t some half-hearted attempt to distract yourself from the feelings you’d been burying for years.

maybe, just maybe, seeing him happy with someone else would finally push you to let go. watching him smile the way he always did when he was truly at ease, only this time with someone else by his side, might be the catalyst you needed to accept what you’d been trying to avoid: that heeseung would never see you the way you saw him.

you sighed, scrolling through your contacts in search of someone who might fit the impossible checklist you’d mentally created for heeseung. someone funny, smart, patient, and—above all—someone who wouldn’t make your chest ache every time they laughed together.

surely, that would make things easier. seeing him in love—real love—might make you realize that you weren’t the one for him, and that was okay. or at least, that’s what you told yourself. maybe in the process, you’d learn how to untangle your heart from his, stop feeling the way you did whenever he flashed that lopsided grin at you or leaned in just a little too close during your late-night study sessions.

maybe, for once, you could finally move on with your life.

but the thought of it stung in a way you didn’t want to admit. because deep down, you weren’t sure if seeing him happy with someone else would mend the ache in your chest—or make it worse.

your finger hovered over a name, one of your mutual friends who you thought might work. yeorin. she was sweet, easygoing, and had mentioned in passing that she thought heeseung was cute.

perfect. just…not for you.

your chest tightened at the thought, but you ignored it, convincing yourself it didn’t matter. this wasn’t about you. it was about him. so you texted her, casually suggesting a group hangout and strategically arranging it so she and heeseung would have plenty of time to talk.

the hangout itself seemed to go fine—or so you told yourself. you kept a careful eye on them from across the room, watching as they exchanged polite smiles and small talk. it didn’t hurt, not really, but you couldn’t deny the odd feeling that settled in your stomach when you saw the way yeorin laughed at his jokes.

you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t happy when heeseung reported back to you, that she just “didn’t match his vibe,”

when heeseung reported back to you the next day, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t relieved when he shrugged and said, “she just didn’t match my vibe.”

you raised an eyebrow, masking the quiet satisfaction bubbling up in your chest. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know,” heeseung replied, leaning back against the cafeteria table. “she’s nice and all, but it felt... off. like, there wasn’t anything to talk about,”

you masked your relief with quick witted jabs at him, with a chuckle, “maybe you’re the common denominator, and you’re just faulty.

he gave you a mock glare before cracking a smile. “yeah, or maybe she’s just not my type. you’re the expert here, aren’t you? isn’t it your job to figure this out?”

you laughed, though your mind was already racing to come up with the next plan. this wasn’t going to be easy. “okay,” 

─── ♡

YOU WERE CONTENT WITH TRYING AND FAILING, UNTIL YOU FAILED YOURSELF AND INTRODUCED HIM TO HER.

weeks of casual scouting, setting up dates with mutual friends that you knew were into him, and analyzing potential matches later, you finally introduced heeseung to her—a sweet, bright girl named hyejin from your calculus class.

you’d always thought she’d be perfect for him. she was kind, outgoing, and had that same quiet confidence that heeseung carried himself with. to your surprise (and mild horror), the two of them hit it off almost immediately.

they even looked good together, more so than you and him would ever.

you’d watched from a distance during the group outing you’d orchestrated, pretending not to care as heeseung and hyejin laughed together, their conversation flowing effortlessly. heeseung’s usual guarded demeanor had softened, and for the first time, you saw him genuinely invested in getting to know someone.

“you’re really good at this matchmaking thing,” your friend karina had whispered, nudging your side as she caught you watching them.

you forced a smile, brushing it off. “i guess so. he deserves to be happy, you know? thank god finally, hate that guy,” you attempted to joke, feeling your throat go dry.

karina hummed sensing your mock laugh, but kept quiet.

the final straw came during another hangout between the three of you, which was just you third wheeling on a date. hyejin had been running late, and while you and heeseung waited for her to arrive, he seemed distracted, checking his phone every few minutes.

“nervous or something?” you joked, nudging him with your elbow.

heeseung smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “no, just...i don’t want her to feel left out when she gets here.”

“she’ll be fine,” you assured him, forcing a smile. “she likes you, remember? you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

when hyejin finally showed up, the way heeseung’s face lit up was all the confirmation you needed. you watched as he stood up to greet her, his usually calm demeanor breaking into a soft, boyish grin that you’d never seen directed at you.

and that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t just a game anymore. this wasn’t about proving you could find him the perfect girl. this was real, and heeseung was slipping further away from you with every passing day.

you kept up the charade, though. every time heeseung mentioned her name, you smiled and encouraged him, offering advice or teasing him about being “whipped” already.

“she’s different,” he’d said one afternoon when the two of you were hanging out in the library.

“different how?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach twisted.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “she’s just...easy to talk to. i feel like she actually gets me, you know?”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “that’s great, hee. i’m happy for you.”

“guess you won our bet huh,” he joked, his full attention on texting hyejin back the second his phone lit up with a text from her.

“yeah. guess i did,” you hummed, too distracted to even fully register what he was saying anymore, too focused on the way his eyes lit up just seeing her text.

─── ♡

YOU FIGURED THAT WAS THE END OF YOU AND HIM.

and you weren’t wrong to think so. you couldn’t bare to see him with her. every single time you did, you felt like smashing your head into a locker just to push away the thought of how you just weren’t her.

plus who would want their talking phase hanging around his girl best friend, and it’s not even like she didn’t invite you to their hangouts. cause she did. and it hurt you more knowing that she was doing it because she didn’t mind that. 

because she was perfect, and she wasn’t two faced or anything like how you somewhere deep down hoped she was. you wished you could have a reason to hate her. but in reality, you hated her because you couldn’t find a reason to.

you started pulling away, not all at once, but little by little—enough for heeseung to notice, but not enough for him to call you out on it. you skipped out on hangouts with their new couple group, citing homework or vague excuses about being busy. when heeseung texted, you’d reply late, blaming it on being “swamped with assignments.” you even started sitting a few rows away in class, pretending not to notice when he looked for you.

but the truth was, you were avoiding him because being around him—around them—hurt more than you could handle.

you couldn’t tell which hurt more, talking to him, or not talking to him at all. both equally felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest and stabbing it with a fork over, and over, and over.

the worst part was, heeseung still checked in on you. he’d send you little messages asking if you were okay, reminding you not to skip meals, and forwarding memes to make you laugh. it made it harder, knowing he still cared in some way, but it wasn’t the way you wanted.

the hardest pill to swallow was you only had yourself to blame it on. not heeseung, not hyejin, or any of your other friends that said they looked cute together.

“you’re being ridiculous, you know,” karina said one afternoon as the two of you sat in your usual spot in the library.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, not looking up from your notes.

karina sighed, shutting her book with a dramatic thud. “you’re avoiding heeseung like he has the plague. do you really think he hasn’t noticed?”

“he doesn’t care,” you lied, the words bitter in your mouth. “he’s got hyejin now. he doesn’t need me around.”

karina frowned, leaning closer. “that’s not true, and you know it. just because he’s dating her doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about you. you’re his best friend, y/n. don’t throw that away because you’re jealous.”

you flinched at her bluntness but didn’t deny it. you hated how transparent you were, how easily karina could see through the wall you were trying to put up.

“it’s not jealousy,” you said finally, though even you didn’t believe it. “i just... i need space, from him, thats all.”

karina sighed again, but she didn’t press further. fine. but don’t let this space turn into a permanent gap, y/n. he’s going to notice eventually, and it’s going to hurt him too.”

her words stayed with you long after she left. maybe she was right, but you couldn’t help thinking it was better this way. better to let the distance grow now, while he had hyejin to lean on, than to risk clinging to something you’d already lost.

even though they weren’t officially dating, they might as well have been in your head the way you had took a step back from your friendship between the both of them.

so you kept your distance, even as it killed you to do so. you weren’t losing him, because you never had him. because if heeseung was happy with her, then wasn’t that enough?

─── ♡

THE NEXT TIME YOU SAW HEESEUNG FACE TO FACE WAS AT ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE GROUP OUTINGS.

you’d tried to avoid it, of course, but karina dragged you along, claiming you needed to “stop being a hermit” and “face your feelings head-on.” despite your protests, you found yourself sitting in a crowded booth at a diner, stuck between karina and jake while heeseung and hyejin sat directly across from you.

the whole setup was a slow burn of torture. heeseung was his usual self—laughing, teasing jake, and making jokes that made everyone around him burst into giggles. but you noticed the way his attention kept drifting to you, how he’d glance your way every so often as if trying to gauge what you were thinking.

you tried your best to put on your strongest face at least for tonight. pretend that everything that was fine.

“you’ve been quiet tonight,” heeseung said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter.

you blinked, startled, as everyone’s eyes turned to you. “oh, uh, just tired,” you said, forcing a smile.

“y/n’s always tired,” jake chimed in, nudging you with his elbow. “or at least that’s her go-to excuse for everything.”

“it’s a good excuse,” you shot back, grateful for the distraction.

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his expression, before hyejin said something to him, and his attention shifted back to her.

as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly hyejin fit into the group. she laughed at all the right moments, added just enough to the conversation without overshadowing anyone, and seemed to understand heeseung in a way that made your stomach twist.

you hated how perfect she was.

“gonna go pay,” you mumbled to karina, sliding out of the booth before anyone could stop you. might as well pick up the bill to make up for all the hangouts you had missed.

once at the front counter paying for your shitty overpriced meal, you looked at the mirror behind the counter, looking yourself in the eye.

“pull yourself together,” you muttered under your breath, closing your eyes taking a sigh, waiting for the people in front of you to finish paying.

when you opened your eyes, you noticed heeseung’s familiar figure behind you when you looked into the mirror. you looked him up and down from the side noticing how tense he seemed.

heeseung didn’t move. instead crossing his arms over his chest. “you’ve been avoiding me.”

you froze, your heart hammering in your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “you barely text back, you skip out on plans, and now you won’t even look me in the eye. what’s going on, y/n?”

your throat tightened, and you looked away, pretending to focus on finding something in your bag, fumbling around with the chapstick, wallet, and candy wrapper still remnant in it. “nothing’s going on. you’re imagining things.”

“don’t do that,” he said, his voice softening. “don’t shut me out.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. for a moment, you thought about telling him the truth—about the jealousy, the hurt, and the feelings you’d been burying for years. but then you thought about hyejin, and how happy he seemed with her, and the words caught in your throat.

“i’m fine, heeseung,” you said finally, forcing a smile, looking him straight in the eye. “you don’t need to worry about me, go sit down at the table with karina, jake, and hyejin, i got the bill,”

“okay,” he said quietly. “but i’m here if you need me.”

as he left to go back to the table, your heart felt heavier than ever. because you knew you needed him. you just weren’t sure he needed you anymore.

─── ♡

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED WERE A BLUR OF AWKWARD SILENCES AND FORCED SMILES.

you continued to avoid heeseung as best as you could, half-heartedly pretending everything was fine, by smiling when you did happen to see him. but deep down, the weight of the distance between the two of you was starting to gnaw at you.

you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t make specialized playlists about the breakup that never happened, since well. you were just never together. 

what surprised you the most was when hyejin asked you to go get coffee and chat. you weren’t close with her (or at least not anymore), and it confused you even more when she mentioned it would’ve just been the two of you. 

"hey," she greeted, her voice soft and calm. "glad you could make it."

“i just wanted to check in with you,” hyejin said, her eyes studying you with an understanding that made you feel both seen and vulnerable.

you slid into the seat across from her, still unsure of why she wanted to talk. "yeah i’m okay. what’s going on? you sounded like you really wanted to chat."

“well, it’s about…you,”

oh.

here's the part where she tells you that you need to stop being friends with heeseung and it’s getting in the way, and she’s not comfortable with him having extremely close female fri-

“thank you for introducing me to heeseung. he’s one hell of a guy, and so extremely kind. but, he’s not mine. i know it. i know his heart belongs to you,” she smiles, a grain of hurt coming from her voice, yet the way she grins, holding your hand in hers is more admirable than you could ever imagine.

you froze, your heart stopping for a moment. "what?" you managed to choke out, almost in disbelief. you couldn’t have heard her right. 

hyejin’s gaze softened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice quiet but firm. "y/n, I’ve seen it. the way he talks about you when you’re not around. it’s obvious. and i'm not blind to it. he’s been so incredibly worried that you’re pulling away, and it’s beyond just ‘worrying about a friend’,”

a cold wave of shock washed over you, mixing with a bitter sense of guilt that you hadn't known how to face. you felt like a coward. "but... but we’re just friends. we’ve been friends forever," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “i didn’t want to get in between you two,”

hyejin squeezed your hand gently, her expression still calm but filled with understanding. "y/n, you're not getting in between us," she said softly. "i know you care about him, and i know you’re trying not to ruin anything, but heeseung’s been in love with you for a while now. i can see it just by the way he talks about you, even when he's not trying to." she laughs as though she’s recalling a memory from the back of her mind.

"and you? what about you? you’re okay with this?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. it was hard to ask, but you had to. you couldn’t go on pretending like everything was fine when she had been involved too.

hyejin smiled, soft and understanding. "you’re my friend, y/n. and i want what’s best for you. if that means giving up heeseung, then i’ll do it. you don’t have to worry about me. he’s not mine, and he never was. i’m just glad i got to meet someone like him, but he’s always been yours in a way. i already broke it off with him, we’re just friends now."

there was something in her words, a sense of grace and strength that you didn’t know she had, and it made you feel even more guilty for holding onto your feelings for so long. but it also gave you the push you needed. hyejin had let go, and maybe it was finally time for you to do the same.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "i didn’t expect this... i didn’t expect you to be so understanding."

hyejin gave you a small, warm smile. "of course. just promise me one thing?"

"anything."

"don’t let fear stop you from going after what you want. you deserve to be happy, y/n. you really do."

you nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle deep inside of you. there was still so much uncertainty, so many what-ifs, but for the first time in a long time, you felt ready to face them head-on.

─── ♡

NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT IT SEEMED.

as later that day, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot at the library, tapping your fingers against the table, waiting for heeseung. when he walked in, a casual smile on his face, your heart gave a little jump in your chest. but this time, it was different. you weren’t just happy to see him as a friend—you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, there could be more.

though, you knew from experience, it was better to not jump to conclusions and have high hopes.

he sat across from you, his usual laid-back demeanor in place, but there was something in his eyes that felt... different. maybe he was feeling it too. maybe he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

"so," he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice light but with an undercurrent of tension, "what’s up? you seemed a little off the last time we talked."

“i need to apologize. to you.”

he nodded slowly, unsure of what you were going to say and how he’d react.

“i’m sorry for distancing myself after you and hyejin got close. i should’ve been happy for the two of you, i mean hell, i set the two of you up, but i couldn’t find it in myself to.” you took a deep breath, pausing. 

"because," you continued, your voice wavering slightly, "i was too focused on my own feelings. i didn’t realize how much it was affecting me until i saw you two together. and honestly, i felt like i was losing you, even though i knew i had no right to. i let my jealousy get the best of me, and i shouldn't have." you looked down at the table, tapping your index finger to distract your hands from doing something stupid.

“y/n i-” he began to respond, not missing a beat. you shook your head before beginning again. “i need to do this for myself,” you mumbled.

“truth is, when i set you up with people, i figured i just needed to get over loving you, and i obviously didn’t see myself fit as i was just your best friend. thing is, i just didn’t get over loving you and i pushed myself away out of fear of fucking things up, i’ve been an asshole and haven’t been giving you the respect and kindness you or hyejin deserve, and i’m sorry. i completely understand if you still like her, but i just need to get it out there,” you gave some sort of snort, before exhaling now that everything is out. 

heeseung’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh as he processed your words.

“can i speak now?” he asked softly. you slowly looked up and nodded, taking in the expression on his face, unable to clearly make out what would fall out of his mouth next.

heeseung leaned forward slightly, his eyes intense yet gentle as he searched yours for a moment, as if trying to make sure you were ready for what he was about to say.

“i never wanted to make you feel like you were just my best friend," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper. "i’ve always known how much you mean to me, and i’ve always cared about you more than i ever let on.”

 a knot formed in your stomach as his words sank in.

“the truth is, i was just as afraid as you. afraid of ruining everything between us. afraid of messing things up, because what if you didn’t feel the same way? what if we couldn’t go back to being just... us?” he continued, his gaze unwavering. 

“so i tried to convince myself that i didn’t feel what i felt for you. i never really dated anyone else, hoping that maybe there was still something between us. then, when you started setting me up with your friends, i thought maybe i just needed to move on, to let go of what i felt for you. but no matter what, it never went away.”

you blinked, feeling like your world had just shifted ever so slightly, as if everything that had been buried was slowly coming to the surface. "so, what are you saying?" you asked, barely above a whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the weight of it all.

heeseung gave you a soft, almost hesitant smile. "i'm saying that i want to stop pretending. i want to stop running away from this... from us." he paused, his eyes softening. "i’ve always wanted you. and if you’ll have me, i want to try. i don’t want to hold back anymore."

you took a breath, feeling the tightness in your chest slowly dissolve as you let his words settle over you. "okay," you whispered, your heart pounding as you squeezed his hand. "let's do this."

─── ♡

YOU’D SPENT THE NEXT FEW DAYS HANGING OUT WITH HIM LIKE OLD TIMES

sometimes you’d catch him glancing at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, and other times, he’d drop little remarks that seemed to hint at something more than just friendship. as if you hadn’t already established you were beyond friends. just…not exactly what type of relationship you had.

one evening, as you were both sitting on your rooftop, watching the sun dip below the horizon, heeseung nudged your shoulder with his own.

“so, this is weird, huh?” he said, voice low.

you laughed softly, nodding. “just a little. but we’ll figure it out.”

“yeah,” he agreed, his voice a little softer. “i think we already have.”

you turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. there was something in his eyes—a mix of vulnerability and certainty—that made your heart race. it wasn’t that he hadn’t always been a little guarded, but there was a clarity now. as if you were both stepping into something new, together.

heeseung leaned in a little further, his breath warm against your cheek. you could feel his eyes searching yours, looking for confirmation, for something more than words.

“you still want to try this?” he murmured.

without thinking, you reached up to place your hand gently against his cheek. “yeah. i think i do.”

the space between you closed, with his lips on yours, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved.

[louisjude]

bucktommy ficlet thingy: coffeeshop AU, age gap.

AU where 22yo Evan Buckley is still in Pennsylvania, (and out as bisexual already) who is barely making his way through community college but holds a steady job at a mom & pop coffee shop down on main street.

p.s. i wrote this all on my phone in one sitting so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t. enjoy.

Evan’s job is his solace, his happy place away from home ever since Maddie had stopped visiting and calling, at least not as often as she used to. It was good work, decent pay and hell he even kinda enjoyed it.

He’s working the front counter one day when the hottest, most gorgeous, the most handsome man he’s ever seen in his life steps up to order. For a moment, he’s lost his ability to speak which is how the two end up staring at each other awkwardly for a couple of seconds. He’s older. Probably a little too much older. His hair is wavy but styled neatly up top, silver peppering through his darker strands and the stubble on his face. He’s wearing a pair of glasses, perched on his perfectly sloped nose. He smiles a little and Evan is suddenly coming back to earth but not before he admires the way the lines around his eyes crinkle up like he’s sure the man has done a million times over through his life.

“Am I good to order?” He asked and Evan is laughing softly, though his face is bright red and burning as he grabs the little sharpie by the register.

“Yes, yeah. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sure. You’ve probably been getting a lot more traffic since Picasso’s shut down.”

Evan sighed with relief, because it’s true they’ve been swamped with a lot more busy mornings since the other coffee shop on the street closed a few weeks ago. “You have no idea.”

“Sorry to be one of those people. Starbucks is just *no* and I think I’d rather drink muddy water than go to Dunkin.”

Evan’s laughing again and the guy is smiling with amusement. “It’s fine, the more the merrier. So…what can I get you?”

“Can I get a red eye with just a small splash of whole milk?”

Evan puts it into the register and writers it down onto the cup, repeating it to himself as he did. “And a name?”

“Tommy.”

Tommy. “Tommy, got it.” Writing his name felt weirdly exhilarating. He puts a smiley face next to it for good measure before wimping out knowing he definitely was going to think about it the rest of the night and feel embarrassed about it.

He lets Tommy swipe his card to put his order through and got to work on the drink.

Listen, Evan liked his job well enough and he never really slacked off but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t being insanely meticulous making the easiest order possible for Tommy.

He topped the drink off with a small splash of whole milk just like Tommy said and brought it to the little pick-up counter. “Here you are.” Evan said as he went to set the drink down but Tommy’s grabbing it from his hand. Their fingers brush and Evan isn’t thinking about it because how juvenile would that be?

“Thank you. How late are you guys open by the way?”

Evan blinked and looked away when the bell on the door rang as another customer stepped inside. “We’re open until nine, Sir.”

“Great, thanks. Have a good day, Evan.”

That wouldn’t be the last time Evan sees Tommy. In fact he was back the next day, though with a much less intense order before he’s holing up in the corner of the shop on his laptop. In fact, Tommy becomes a new regular at the shop, either ordering his regular black coffee or something so caffeinated it makes Evan feel like he’ll start to get palpitations just making it. It just depended on the day or rather his mood.

Evan figured he must be working, hunched over his laptop, rubbing his eyes from under his glasses every so often. He wondered what he did for a job. The two didn’t get to speak often but every time they did always felt charged. It was hard to tell though, if Tommy was actually flirting back with him or if he was just being nice. Usually he never had any issues picking up what someone was putting down but Tommy. Tommy made Evan feel like he was melting into a puddle just from his mere presence. It was unlike any crush he’d ever had.

One night as Evan’s closing, he makes his rounds around the shop clearing tables, wiping them down as his coworker cleaned up the front counter. He gets to Tommy’s table where the man looks up from his laptop and checks his watch, which for some reason made Evan’s go a little insane since.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”

“It’s fine! There’s still 30 minutes ‘til we’re technically closed, just getting a head start.” Evan bit at his lip, looking down to where Tommy was packing his things up.

“Still, I might be old but I try not to be like all the other assholes who think coming in five minutes before close is totally okay to do.” Tommy chuckled softly to himself.

“Pfft, you’re not that old.” Evan scoffed, leaning on the table with a little teasing grin as Tommy zipped up his bag. He’d found out only a few weeks ago that Tommy was 40 when he’d come in and mentioned it was his birthday.

“My back would argue that.”

That made Evan laugh and Tommy gave him that look he always did, the same one he’d given him the first time they’d met.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Uhm-!” He didn’t know why he sounded so distressed, mentally smacking himself in the face as Tommy looked up at him.

“Yes?”

“Sorry, I uh…Sorry. I don’t even know if you’re—and I’m now realizing how stupid this is.” What in the hell am I doing? He thought to himself. Was he seriously trying to ask him out? Just randomly like that with no thought behind it? “You know what, forget I even came over here.”

“Evan.”

He’d only just turned around when Tommy said it, stopping in his tracks. “Yeah?”

“Are you free this Saturday?”

That has Evan turning around so fast he’s sure to give himself whiplash. “Saturday?”

“Yeah, are you working?”

“No.” His heart is pounding in his chest.

“Would you want to get dinner with me?”

Evan felt like everything swirling around him and suddenly he very aware of his every movement, shifting his weight from one side to the other. “Like a date?”

“Like a date.” Tommy smiled and his eyes crinkled.

Evan was going to die. “Yes.” He was seriously going to die. Seriously.

“Great. Let me, hmm…” Tommy felt around and pulled a pen out from his bag and grabbed a napkin from the table. He jotted down what Evan could only assume was his number and handed it over to him. “Text me and we can work the details.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Evan started to laugh and Tommy did it again. The look. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for weeks but had no clue—“

“Evan, you’re adorable.”

His face was beet red again.

“Text me, alright?”

“I will, get home safe.”

“You too.”

Evan watched Tommy leave that night and texted him the moment he was home.

One date turned into two dates. Two turned into four and four turned into eight. It’s a month into dating that Evan asked if Tommy was his boyfriend to which Tommy laughed and asked him if he wanted him to be. Of course he said yes. It’s two months into dating that Evan tells his parents he’s seeing someone, a guy, and it’s another month before they’re asking when they’ll get to meet him.

”He’s a little older…”, “Well, does he make you happy?”, “Yes.”, “Then I don’t see how a few years is anything to raise concern for.”

What Evan didn’t mention was a few years was actually eighteen. Maybe they didn’t need to know. It was probably better they didn’t actually.

It’s another month after that, four months into dating Tommy that Evan is pacing around the front door waiting for Tommy to knock on the door. It felt a little ridiculous, like he was 14 again and introducing his first girlfriend to his parents. Except this is a lot more real, a lot more serious.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Evan is quick to open the door, seeing Tommy standing there in his signature henley top, glasses perched right on his nose as always and a warm smile. The two share a quick kiss before he’s pulling Tommy inside, nervous as hell but…his parents were trying, so Evan was trying.

He walks them into the dining area where his mom is still setting the table and his dad is in the kitchen. “Uhm, mom, dad. This is Tommy.”

“Oh, it is so nice to finally meet you, we—“ Margaret had started before Phillip walked into the room, a bit stunned.

“Mr. Kinard?”

“Mr. Buckley.”

The room suddenly felt tense. Weird. His mother looking back and forth between the two before her hand is coming up to cover her mouth as she gasped.

Then, his dad turned to him, with a look he couldn’t quite discern.

“Evan. Is there a reason you’ve brought home my coworker as your boyfriend?”

end.

notes since a lot of details are missing: Tommy and Phillip are both teachers at the same school. Buck being Buck never thought to put two and two together. I use “Evan” because I feel like it and it’s an AU where none of the 118 is even present so 💃 I’d love to read this as an actual well thought out fanfic but I’m simply unable to force myself to write one, the idea is free reign thought for anyone who’d like to.

[typicalopposite]

tongue tied

thank you @nine-one-wanton for the title 😂🫶

BuckTommy | E (eh.. maybe M+) | 4859 words

also on ao3!

Mortification… 

That still isn’t a strong enough emotion to describe what Buck is feeling at the moment. 

He glances down at Tommy and asks if he’s still okay. All Tommy can do is blink in response; once for yes, twice for no. Pretty much any movement causes them both pain… and the humiliation is bad enough without them being overly sore as well. 

Tommy slides a gentle hand over Bucks thigh, doing his best to smile up at him. He inhales deeply through his nose and blows it back out, adjusting how he’s sitting on his legs, having to keep himself up high enough so he doesn't accidentally tug on the rings— tangled together and seemingly inseparable. 

There’s a knock at the loft’s door, and Buck hears Bobby’s voice yell out to him. He looks down at Tommy and sighs. 

This was definitely not how the team was supposed to learn they made up.

****

(Two months earlier) 

Tommy sat in a small chair, waiting his turn at the tattoo and piercing parlor. It had been years since Tommy had worn his little hoop earrings in his ears. Yet when he pushed the curved bar through the hole— thinking maybe they would be closed up and he’d have to force them— they just slipped right in. 

He considered getting a second hole, maybe. A nose ring. A belly button ring… 

Was he being dramatic— I want to feel something beyond the heartache I have caused for myself… so I’m going to go have a needle jabbed through some part of my body— maybe… He would agree, too, that maybe it was a little juvenile… a little petty even, to ultimately settle on a piercing Ev- no… Buck had shown so much interest in. He’d talked about having blowjobs from girls with tongue rings in his “Buck 1.0 days” (whatever that means); he said they were amazing. 

So now Tommy would have one, too… and he could give whoever the next guy he hooked up with amazing blow jobs. Take that memory of Buck that just wouldn’t leave! (in reality he knew he was fooling himself… He doubted there would ever be a next guy for him… Buck, however, would probably be getting plenty of better head from people way better than Tommy— whose knees don’t creak and ache after just a few short minutes on them, and who’s jaw hadn’t been shattered and wired shut in his teens so he can only hold it open for so long before it locks up.) 

He huffed angrily at the thought of someone else with Buck’s— with Evan's dick sitting heavy on their tongue; thrusting in and out, hitting the back of their throat. Someone else swallowing down every drop of his—

“Sir…” the receptionist said, thankfully interrupting his train of thought before he snapped his phone in half. “You’re up.” Tommy cleared his throat and thanked her, rubbing a hand over the heat climbing up his neck from embarrassment. 

He plopped down on the client chair and told the piercer what he wanted. He opted for the clear bar, and he had taken a (much needed) week off work; hopefully it would be healed by then. The woman gave him the instructions: sit up straight, stick out your tongue, please don’t try to grab my wrist. “People do that?” Tommy asked, around the clamp on his tongue, and she gave him an exhausted look. Sorry… he thought but didn’t say. 

He stuck his tongue out at himself in the bathroom mirror that night. It was swollen and very sore— it definitely didn’t make him feel better, but hey he’d always wanted to do something drastic. A tongue ring at forty counted… right? Yeah, it counted. He cleaned the piercing and went to bed. 

****

(One month earlier)

Buck wasn’t sure if this was just some Buck 1.0.2 phase or a very emotional based impulsive (probably stupid) decision resulting from his still broken heart. 

Still he was already there and had already put a deposit down; he might as well, right? 

He had come to the parlor alone, because… well, what would anyone he knows say about him doing something like this. Maybe if it was something simple like an ear piercing… or hell, even a tongue piercing. But this— this was not something his pseudo siblings or father figure would be on board tagging along to. Eddie was in El Paso… and he definitely wasn’t about to ask Maddie along.

The receptionist smiled at him, had him sign in, and told him to take a seat. 

He was early… Perhaps that had been a bad idea. His knee began to bounce and he fiddled with his fingers anxiously, staring around the parlor at the other clients ahead of him. Some laid back in the chairs getting tattooed— he should have just gotten another tattoo; what was he thinking— others getting any and every part of their body pierced. Most people were quiet. One lady in the back let out a scream so blood curdling Buck was about to get up and leave but—

“Sir! You're up!” 

Buck followed the piercer into one of the private rooms. The man was quiet and looked like he might bite Buck’s head off if given the chance. He instructed Buck to lower his pants, his boxers, and sit down on the pad covered seat. He did as he was told, and the seat was tilted back, putting him on full display thanks to the cold room. Why was he even doing this? Just because Tommy had said some guy he talked to before they even knew each other said he might get one? Was Buck really that shallow— that jealous?! 

“Alright, man… here we go.”

This was a bad idea. 

This was a bad idea.. 

WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING!?! 

This was so stupid! So bad! Such an impulsive idea! 

“And done!” 

Buck blinked once… twice… and looked down towards where the man was already slipping his gloves off. He pulled his dick up towards his stomach so he could see the little silver hoop hooked through his frenulum. “Oh,” he said, thanked the guy, paid and went home. 

****

(Two days earlier) 

Tommy played with the flat top of his tongue ring; he slid it back and forth over his teeth, he pushed the bar out enough to bite down on, all while he tapped on his steering wheel to the beat of a song playing on the radio. He was nervous. 

And the thing was… he shouldn’t be. 

He was a big brave grown man— capable of doing big brave grown man things… like to have drinks with an ex, whom he’s very much not over. He would be fine. 

Except the only spot available was directly beside the Jeep. 

“Fucking mother fucker.” Tommy grumbled out loud and turned into the spot hoping that maybe he wouldn’t be— 

He was still sitting in the driver seat. 

Cock sucking, bitch ass… What kind of god damned luck?!? How could he come to his senses about the meeting and run away now? 

He sighed and put the truck in park, then turned to look at him. It was the very first time he’d laid eyes on the man— beyond the pictures and videos he couldn’t bring himself to delete from his phone— since he walked out of the loft. 

Evan.

Or… Buck, since he’d decided to go that route and really drive the break up home. 

“H- Hey…” Buck said as soon as the both were out of their vehicles. “Thanks for — for the invite.” 

Tommy stuffed his hand down in his pockets, and chewed on the flat top to his tongue ring. “Of course,” he finally said. “I, uh… I felt like we really needed to talk about…”

“Everything?” Buck finished. 

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded along. “Everything.” 

“Okay… well for starters—” Buck wasted no time jumping right in. “Don’t ever call me Buck again.” He stared at Tommy so seriously before his lips twitched up a bit and he added, “please.”

“Noted,” Tommy said and there was a pause like he was waiting for— “Evan…” Tommy added and Evan fully smiled at that; he seemed relieved. “Okay, what else.” 

Evan stepped towards him. Tommy had the slightest urge to step back, but even more of one to move closer— to reach out and grab him and cling like his life depended on it. Evan reached for him first. “Don’t ever make a decision like that for me again.” Tommy waited, his eyes searching Evan’s… trying to say without saying how sorry he was. Finally Evan leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Tommy’s. “If I had needed more time to figure myself out… if I wasn’t sure about this— that you were what I wanted. I wouldn’t have just strung you along until I did… okay?” 

“Okay.” Tommy wanted to say more. He thought, maybe, he should say more… but his voice was lodged somewhere deep in his throat and all he could focus on was how his lips were tingling from that kiss. Evan, like a damn mind reader, took the moment to lean back in, deepening the kiss and wasting no time slipping his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. He noticed almost immediately. 

“You got a tongue piercing?!” 

“I— uh, yeah…” 

Evan’s eyes lit up mischievously… his breathing hitches then speeds up… he leaned in for another kiss.

****

(One hour earlier)

Buck had been very mature about the fact Tommy now had a tongue ring. In fact… he was so mature about it, that he didn’t suggest they forget the drinks, and their plans to actually talk like level headed adults do… In fact, after just one more kiss— one more quick swipe of his tongue over the flat top of the bar— he pulled away from Tommy completely; minus their hands, which Evan promptly laced together as they walked into the bar. 

And they talked. 

They actually talked.

They opened up— more than he’d expected them to.

They cried. They laughed. They left a few hours later and were officially back together.

Buck remained mature, and didn’t offer (beg, plead, or bargain) to follow Tommy back to his place, or bring him back to the loft. He allowed the night to end with them parting ways, but with the promise there would be a next time— and plenty of times after that—  So Buck was fine with going home alone. 

But when Tommy arrived at the loft, a bottle of wine in hand, his curls styled nicely, and wearing the cologne that he knew Buck loved… the maturity went out the window. He tugged him in by the collar and crashed their lips together. Buck had asked him to put a regular bar in, one with the bigger metal ball. Tommy had laughed and made a bitchy little joke but as Buck’s tongue passed over the piercing he let his lips curl up into a pleased smirk to find Tommy had done as he’d asked. 

They wasted no time; Tommy’s fingers ran along the hem of Buck’s shirt while Buck hurriedly pushed Tommy’s button-down off of his shoulders. “There’s something you should know…” Buck says as they nearly tripped over each other getting up the stairs, pieces of their outfits falling off every couple steps. He leans in close to Tommy’s ear and whispers, “I got something pierced too…” then he falls back onto the bed, pants and boxers already gone and his cock standing straight up like it’s showing it’s new accessory off. 

Tommy’s eyes widen. His brows fly all the way up to his hairline. He crawls onto the bed and takes Buck in his hand, tilting him back to look at the piercing better. “It’s healed, right?” Buck nearly gives himself whiplash nodding. Tommy leans in and flicks the tip of his tongue over the hoop— over the little piece of skin it’s going through— and Buck sucks in a sharp breath. “Good?” Tommy asks. 

“Amazing!” 

“Okay, great…” Tommy says, then goes back to licking at the piercing and around the head, and down the shaft. All the while Buck is moaning and squirming. It shouldn’t be so over-stimulative but it’s been so long… he hasn’t— not like this— not since Tommy. “Missed you; missed this…” Tommy says between licking down Buck’s cock and sucking the tip into his mouth, which only seems to make it so much more sensitive. 

Buck’s toes curl as Tommy takes him all the way down. And, God, how he has missed that. Buck whimpers and lets his hands move up into Tommy’s curls; messing them up, sure, but he doesn’t care. Tommy bobs his head, making sure to flatten his tongue and let the ball rub over Buck with every slide down and back up, and it feels just as amazing as Buck remembered— it feels even better, actually. 

Tommy moves Buck’s legs further apart so he can settle on the bed more. He flicks his eyes up to meet Buck’s and smiles around his cock, lining himself up so the ball goes over the hoop. It’s— well it’s mind blowing…

…at first. 

Tommy gets a little too into it. 

Probably due to the completely wanton noises pouring out of Buck’s mouth. He slides down all the way to the bottom, presses his tongue against the underside so the ball is pressed into the tender skin and starts to slide back up. He reaches the hoop… and somehow the ball just pops through it. 

Buck thinks he’s really just thankful Tommy caught the mishap immediately… without trying to pull off— so fucking thankful. 

“Uhh…” is all Tommy can manage. He holds himself up with one arm and brings the other up to try to get a finger in his mouth, to the where they are quite literally linked together. He can’t. 

And just like that… Buck’s pride in his size disappears. 

****

Tommy tries to move his tongue, ever so gently so he doesn't tug at the ring, but it’s useless. He wants to cry. He looks up at Evan… who is looking down at him… and looks terrified, and he can’t shake his head so he just sighs. “You have got to be joking… Tommy, what do we do?!” 

Tommy knows what they have to do… and he knows Evan knows what they have to do. 

“We can’t! Tommy, Maddie is at work! What if she takes the call?” He waits for a second like he’s expecting Tommy to answer, he can only blink back. “A- And I’m in the 118’s district… oh my god…” Now Evan looks ready to cry, and Tommy can’t even properly hold him about it. He runs his hand up Evan’s side, hoping it does something to soothe him. “Maybe if… if I can just get soft…” he suggests. Tommy shrugs, he doubts it but he doesn’t blame Evan for not wanting to call… this absolute disaster… in. 

So they wait. 

And wait.

And wait…

Drool starts to pool in Tommy’s mouth and he tries to swallow it as carefully as he can. His throat spasms, and Evan hisses, and Tommy makes a wounded noise by means of apologizing. To make matters worse, not that Evan’s erection had gone down much sitting in Tommy’s mouth… but the tightening of his throat from swallowing definitely didn’t help. They are doomed, he fears.

He looks up at Evan and tries to lighten the mood with a smile, and Evan manages to smile back, before dropping his head to his pillow and letting out a pitiful sob. 

Tommy knows they can’t sit here forever. He taps Evan’s leg and points to Evan’s pants that are the closest to the bed. Carefully they shimmy together, over to the edge, until Tommy slides off the bed, stretching out his leg to pull the pants over to him. He sits himself on his legs and pulls out the phone. Evan still seems hesitant so Tommy grunts around him and puts the phone in his hand. 

“Okay, fine.” 

Thank you, Tommy thinks and sighs. He slowly moves his tongue, still trying to find a way to pop the ball back through the hoop, but it’s just no use. He brings an arm up and uses it to prop up his head, and listens as Evan types in the dreaded numbers. 

He puts it on speaker and rests his body back on his free arm. “9-1-1 what is the location of your emergency…” Tommy watches Evan inhale deep and let out a long drawn out sigh. He gives his address, and immediately the dispatcher gasps. “Buck?” 

“Hey Josh…” 

****

“What's going on, are you okay?” Josh asks, eyes flicking up to look at Maddie who is in the middle of her own call and hasn’t yet heard her brother's name. 

“Well… define okay.” 

“Do you need medical assistance? I can send your team—”

“No!” Josh’s mouth snaps shut at the urgency in Buck’s voice. “Not— Not them… and Josh… please don’t tell Maddie you’re talking to me.” 

Josh glances back up at Maddie, and sighs. “Okay…” he says slowly; quizzically. “So what’s going on?” 

“Me and Tommy are stuck… together.” Josh waits for more, but his first panicked thought is that there has been some accident at Buck’s loft. 

“A- Are you— either of you hurt?” 

“Not… exactly. Just stuck.” 

“Like… in the elevator?” Josh pries, since Buck is giving him very little information. 

“I wish…” Buck groans, and Josh hears a muffled snort. “No, we're inside my apartment.” 

Josh tries to run through where they could be stuck in the small loft… He comes up with nothing, And Buck has gone silent. “Okay, look… I have no idea what’s going on, or how to help you, so I’m going to need you to give me a little more details beyond just ‘We’re stuck’.” 

Nothing— Nothing!!— could have prepared Josh for what Buck just blurts out next. 

“Tommy’s tongue ring is stuck through my dick ring…” 

Of course that’s the moment Maddie decides to look up at him. Her brows furrow and she mouths what’s wrong? Josh is pretty sure he resembles a deer in headlights, and he might have forgotten how to speak beyond a startled, “Oh…”

There’s a pause and Buck speedruns Josh through a quick explanation of what has happened, that Josh can only mmhmm back too, biting his lips between his teeth to stop them from curling upward and trying to figure out exactly how to word this in the notes to whoever he sends to… help. (33 and 40 year old males. No serious injuries. Unable to come to the door… prepare to be scandalized— he doesn’t add that last part)

Maddie is still just staring at him with a progressively getting more worried look. Finally she takes her earpiece off and starts towards him. Shit… he thinks, then quickly sends the 133 with a final note that an ambulance will possibly be needed. “What’s going on, Josh…” Maddie asks, looking at his screen. She immediately recognizes Buck’s address, gasps and grabs Josh's earpiece. “Buck?! Buck, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Josh watches the voice recorder from the call and it doesn’t move. “M- Maddie listen…” he tries, and reaches for the earpiece back; Maddie slaps his hand in return. 

Her eyes frantically move over the screen, furrowing as she tries to decipher what the notes could mean. She comes to the unit responding, and scoffs. “Why would you send the 133, Josh… the 118 is closer!” And Josh can do no more than run a hand down his face, and continue to bite back the laugh that has been threatening to break free since Buck explained the actual situation. “Buck I’m sending the 118 to you… everything’s going to be okay.” Her mouth pulls down into a worried frown. “Are you there? Can you please say something…” 

****

“Th- Thanks Mads…” is all Buck can think to say. 

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he finds Buck's hand to hold it. 

“What’s going on…” Maddie continues to press. “Is— is Tommy with you? Is he hurt? Buck, do I need to go there?”

“Please, no!” Buck cries out. “I’m… fine. It’s fine. We’re— we’re fine. R- Right Tommy?” He squeezes his eyes shut realizing Tommy can’t agree. 

He does manage a garbled “Uh huh,” though… (To which Buck hears Josh snort then quickly clear his throat.) 

“I, uh… I’m gonna hang up now…” Buck says, then before Madie can say anything he adds, “I swear I’m— we’re really okay. I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I— I’m sure…” he tells her, hangs up and throws his head back with a loud groan. Tommy sighs around him and moves the hand propping up his head and rubs at his jaw, reminding Buck of the reason Tommy never drags out his blowjobs. “Fuck! Tommy your jaw,” he says, and moves Tommy’s hand to rub over the spot himself. “A- and your knees have to be killing you!” Tommy shrugs and leans his face into Buck’s hand. “Is this at least helping,” he asks; Tommy cocks a brow, and his lips curl up into a smirk. “Oh my god… blink once for yes twice for no,” he groans, laughing only when Tommy blinks once. 

Which brings them back to the present. Bobby yells that they are coming in and the only silver lining is that Bobby has a key so they don’t have to break his door in. Something taps Buck’s leg and it’s his phone that Tommy has typed up a message on. 

pocket knife. cut off my tongue. I’ll go out the window.

That startles a laugh out of Buck… which is immediately followed by a pained hiss from them both. The front door opens and Buck groans. “Up here…” he says, and they both listen as the entire team— hell it sounds like the entire station— files in. 

Tommy whimpers when Chimney calls out, jokingly asking if Buck’s decent, and grabs the blanket to pull over his head. 

“Alright Buck what’s… going… on…” Bobby says, first to get up the stairs— his worried look melts away and is replaced by something akin to absolute horror, which Buck 100% gets. 

“What on earth…” Hen gawks as she comes up behind Bobby. 

Buck feels like his face is about to catch on fire, and Tommy hasn’t moved since covering his head— so he has either convinced himself if he doesn’t move they can’t see him… or he has died. 

“Is that Tommy?!” Chimney blurts out, looking around Hen and Bobby, who both slowly turn and look back at him.

Chimney shrugs. “What? I can appreciate nice features without it meaning anything, thank you very much.” He moves past her and gestures at Tommy’s backside. “And when you got it you got it…” Tommy makes a choked off noise— so, at least that means he’s not dead… 

“Wait so is it really Tommy?” Ravi calls from the bottom of the stairs. Buck doesn’t answer… which is enough of an answer in and of itself. 

Bobby turns back to Buck, rolling his eyes at the others. He sighs. “Okay, what exactly is going on here, Buck.” 

Before he can even think up a decent answer, Tommy twitches, stiffens and then pulls his hand up to scratch at his nose. He grunts, and takes a deep breath, and Buck watches in horror as it finally clicks what exactly Tommy is doing under the blanket. “This has got to be a prank,” Hen says, pulling off her glasses and covering her eyes. “Buck… tell me this is a prank.” 

Tommy continues to squirm and finally while holding his nose to suppress it, he sneezes. Buck yelps and Tommy mumbles incoherent apologies. The loft falls completely quiet; all eyes are now on him, waiting for an explanation. 

His phone rings first, and he expects it to be Maddie… but it’s Eddie— and he doesn’t need to deal with that— so he sends it to voicemail. 

Then Tommy’s phone starts to vibrate down stairs. “Ignore it,” Buck instructs when Ravi asks if he wants it brought up to them. 

About a second after it stops, Chimney's phone rings and he answers without hesitation, putting it on FaceTime.

“Oh… oh my god!” Eddie gasps. “You two didn’t…” he sounds like he’s crying and sucks in a breath. “You two idiots didn’t… did you?!” Buck glares at Chimney, but he is unfazed, turning the camera for Eddie to see them. “You did!” 

“I’m so lost,” Chimney says, looking at Bobby.

Hen is still covering her face and shaking her head. 

“These two—”

“Eddie…” Buck pleads— but really… What's the use in hiding details? “Whatever…” he groans and turns his eyes to the ceiling, and Eddie shares what he knows.

And apparently, he knows everything. 

So Buck wasn’t the only one who went to Eddie about his impulse body modification. Tommy had told him too— he texted Eddie after learning of his move to El Paso, and it just slid its way into the conversation. 

“How did you even find out about this?” Buck groans.

“Josh told me.” 

“Oh, but he couldn’t tell us so we knew what we were about to walk in on…” Hen says bitterly. 

“And since when do you and Josh talk?” Buck adds. 

“That is my business,” Eddie quips back. “You all  have fun with… yours.” He wiggles his fingers at them, laughs again, and ends the call. 

Chimney and Hen give each other strained looks, both clearly trying to hold it together. Bobby takes a deep breath, resting his hands on his hips and stares down at Buck. “Okay well we— we need to get you two… separated—” His lips tremble and he tries to stop the laugh but it bubbles out anyway. That's all the motive Hen and Chimney need to both double over. Even Ravi is laughing down stairs. 

Tommy makes a pained noise and Buck knows he has to be hurting from sitting like this for so long. “Yeah, yeah… laugh it up. Can we please figure out how to actually do that?” 

“Well we have to see what we’re dealing with first,” Hen says, grabbing the blanket without warning and lifting it up. “Oh my god…” she nearly chokes, and has to walk down stairs to compose herself. 

Yeah mortification was definitely not a strong enough word. 

It only takes the team five minutes to get them separated— Buck is sure it will take a lifetime to live it down. 

****

“Are you sure you don’t want to go in and get checked out?” Bobby asks; Tommy just shakes his head and puts his hand over Evan’s, where he is holding a frozen bag of peas against his jaw. “Alright,” he gives them both a smile— it looks more uncomfortable than when he was given the medal of valor at the ceremony. “You, uh— you two…” he looks between Tommy and Evan. “Well, I’m glad you… worked things out.” 

“That’s one way to describe what happened here tonight,” Chimney says, smiling smugly at the both of them.

Hen comes up beside Tommy and lays a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say you can definitely keep up.” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to her and she can’t hold back the laughter. “Maybe a little too well— you might wanna slow down actually.” 

“Uhm, what— what does that mean?” Evan leans in and asks; again… Tommy just shakes his head. 

Ravi hands Evan the little baggie the two rings were put in once they were removed. He doesn’t say anything, and just leaves. He pulls the door shut behind him, and then they are left alone, embarrassed, and sore in their respective affected areas. 

Evan holds the bag up and sighs. “That was… something.” 

“Yeah…” Tommy laughs, finally feeling like he can move his jaw again without it popping. “Next time, maybe we don’t go with the ball and hoop combo. 

“N- Next time?” Evan furrows his brow but his lips are already curling up at the corners. 

Tommy shrugs and grabs Evan’s hand pulling it to his lips. “If I have learned anything lately… it’s the importance of giving things another chance…” 

Evan’s smile widens. “Wow. That was— just wow...” he laughs and pulls Tommy into a kiss; he winces when just the slight movement hurts. “I’m sorry about your jaw, and your knees.” 

“I’m sorry about your… frenulum,” Tommy replies and Evan snorts. “Now I can’t finish what I started…” 

They both pout at that… for just a moment. “Yeah, b- but… my jaw doesn’t hurt,” Evan says with a suggestive smirk. “And your dick doesn’t hurt…” He bites his lip and tugs on Tommy’s hand to stand him up.

“This is true…” Tommy states. 

“So maybe we can finish what we started after all…” Evan leans in and brushes his lips over Tommy’s then turns and heads for the stairs, Tommy right behind him, and the silver hoop and tongue ring left behind on the table for next time.