#so it's like… i forget it exists. and i'm gonna forget it exists again after this. if someone asks me “what evolves from pidove” i'm gonna

[front-facing-pokemon]

[eggmeralda]

I may have lost all hope

[ugh-yoongi]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[changisworld]

“Why do you make me feel like this, pretty?”

fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count; 5,902

Summary: After hyunjin took your virginity, you grew attached despite trying your hardest not to. You find out he hooked up with someone the day after it happened which broke your heart, making you cry.. but of course, hyunjin caught you crying. He didn’t really know what he felt, it being new to him, as he tries to refuse the silly ideas popping into his brain, he can’t ignore how much you being upset is making his heart.. hurt?? Surely he doesn’t like you too..?

18+ ONLY, MDNI, SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

part 3 here

**This can be read on its own despite it probably being confusing but i highly recommend reading part 1!**

SMUT WARNINGS: spit/drool, PIV, needy reader, pet names, shyish reader, rimming( f rec), oral ( f rec), fingering (f rec), finger sucking, unprotected sex, jealous jinnie, edging???,pull out method, literally 1 spank, slight dacryphilia, jealous jinnie, soft jinnie, kind jinnie, hyunjins a tease obvs, slight aftercare, wayyy fluffier ending than last time you're welcome!!

You & Hyunjin walk off campus, you still hiding your face from him, embarrassed at the tears now staining your cheeks, your face tinged red, you also don't fail to miss the looks you & Hyunjin are receiving from other students walking past the both of you, his arm still around you & you can't help but feel judged, so you push his arm off.

"Forget the cafe, I'm just gonna go home, I feel.. sick. I'll see you later Hyunjin." you murmur, still not looking at him in the eye.

"Y/n stop being weird, just cmon. I promise to cheer you up." He replies back, reaching out to cup your cheek but you move your head before murmuring a quick 'bye' before walking away from him hastily, leaving him standing there, confused & a bit annoyed.

He watches as you turn the corner & he huffs before kicking a stone nearby. 'Why do I care she's actually upset? 'What did I do wrong?' 'I hope she's okay' & 'Shit how can I apologise' are all thoughts that race through his head, no matter how much he tries to shake it all off, he genuinely feels guilty. But why? He never feels sorry for the girls he fucks n chucks, so what makes it different? He barely even knows you? He only spoke to you for a week which is barely anything. He sighs before pulling out his phone & going onto his contacts, about to call Joy, another one of his side things, before deciding against it, instead calling his friend Jisung& asking to meet him.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Twenty minutes later Jisung meets him at the local dog walking park & they end up sitting on a bench, talking about random stuff before the topic of you comes up, but not because of Hyunjin.

“You’re lucky you got to partner up with y/n for that assignment, I got put with Changbin so obviously i fucking failed, tryna do that presentation on the spot was absolute torture, you still talk to her? she seems quiet as hell.” Han sighs, sipping his bubble tea through his straw & Hyunjin laughs.

“Ay! I actually helped her so shut up, just because you both have no more than eight brain cells, i’m just proof there is such a thing as looks & beauty. Nah, we haven’t really spoken since, just been busy i suppose & what the hell am i meant to say to her?” Hyunjin replies, a quick chuckle leaving his lips.

“What do you mean you’re proof that looks n beauty exist, y/n basically invented it you idiot. Wha'cha mean what are you meant to say to her? Did you fuck her too or something?" Han questions, leaning forward.

Hyunjin just kisses his teeth before nodding & Han just raises his eyebrows. "fuck, I didn't think someone like y/n would get around that way. Can you do me a favour n start speaking to her again n put in a good word about me I wanna approach her but she feels intimidating, you get me?" Once Hyunjin hears these words, a bad & gross feeling bubbles up in his stomach.. is what he feeling... jealousy?

"Uhh.. you're really not her type, she's not up for dating, she told me. Go try your luck with someone else." Hyunjin says in a bitter tone, not looking at the man in front of him & Han scoffs.

"You chat shit Hyunjin, stop gatekeeping! I'll just use my charms & trust me, we'll be fucking a week later n dating two weeks later." Jisung jokes, patting Hyunjins leg but he pushes it off.

"You're ridiculous Jisung, she won't want what's between your legs." Hyunjin spits out before standing up off the bench, stretching out & sighing. "I have things to do, you can keep day dreaming, I'll see you later. choke on your boba." Hyunjin jokes with Han & he spits out a bubble as a response before he walks away, leaving Han on the bench.

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He walks through the rest of the park, thinking about Hans words & he can't get over it. 'Why am I so jealous?' 'Who does he honestly think he is talking about y/n like that?' 'They wouldn't even look good together.' are things that keep racing through his head & he is getting more pissed off as the seconds go by.

He gets out of the park & he keeps walking on the pavement, not having an actual destination in mind.. until he seen you walking out of a random convenience store across the street & a lightbulb lights up behind his brown eyes.

He picks up the pace of his walk as he follows just far enough behind you on the other side of the road until you reach your apartment complex before entering & he can't help but feel like an absolute creep, but that doesn't stop him. He screenshots his location on find my Iphone, just so he won't forget where to go later on as he walks back the way he came, heading to the main line of shops near the campus.

He strolls around for around twenty minutes, looking at random little trinkets, bookmarks with the college logo on it, which he cringes at due to the look of it, before he keeps walking until he reaches a little florist shop.

He enters it, aimlessly walking around, fingertips grazing over a few roses & tulips, admiring the pretty colours as he sets his eyes on a bouquet of lillies. He picks it up, giving himself a better look at it before deciding he is happy with it, heading to the counter.

He places them down, not paying attention to the cashier as he looks at the little vases beside the register.

"Can I get this pink vase to- ohh, I didn't know you worked here Jennie, hiya." he says, surprised. "Sure. You know, Lisa doesn't like lillies, I suggest you get her daffodils, her favourite colour being yellow n all." she responds, smiling up at him. "Ah, they.. they're not for Lisa so I'll pass. Can you fill up the vase with a bit of water too? I think that's what you're supposed to do, right?" he says quickly, hand coming up to the back of his neck, the awkwardness filling the small space.

"mhmm. £29.11 is the total." She says in a cold voice, taking the tag off the vase as she turns around to the small sink, filling up the vase 1/3 of the way. She dumps the bouquet in the vase with no care at all before pushing it towards him, giving him the card machine. He pays, a strained, awkward smile on his face before saying thank you & leaving.

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After buying you a box of chocolates & a Vanilla bean smelling candle & following the path you walked on earlier, he ends up back outside your apartment complex.

He sits on the front steps, waiting for someone to leave the building so he can catch the door & once he is inside, he begins knocking on every door, talking to each person who answers in a quiet voice, Ignoring the confused looks of other students who recognise him who are all definitely wondering why he is knocking doors looking for you, making sure you wouldn't hear him & then refuse to open the door.

He reaches the fourth floor, mouth slightly dry from all the talking he has had to do & he is beginning to doubt his memory. He knocks on the third door & takes a step back, waiting for an answer as he hears footsteps & he can't help the smile that spreads across his face as you are the one who open the door.

"Surprise, & I'm not just talking about my pretty face. Can I come in?" he chirps as he raises his arms, making sure you see what he has brought despite it being almost all you can see, not missing the chance to give you an up & down look, you wearing black tight shorts & an oversized off the shoulder graphic shirt.

"Hyunjin, I told you I was sick.. How the hell do you know where I live?" you question, honestly just confused. "Does that matter? I asked a question, Don't leave me standing here I went to like twenty doors to find you!" he pouts. You roll your eyes & begin to shut the door but Hyunjin stops it with his foot.

"Okay okay okay! I followed you, but not in a creepy way I swear! I just wanted to.. apologise? But I knew you would ghost me If I text you." he says in a sulky voice. You groan before opening the door back open, his pretty face poking through the gap. "You are a creep, you know that? Why you apologising?" you question him, crossing your arms, not amused but slightly flattered despite not showing it.

"I'm not going to broadcast my deep, heart warming words in the corridor for everyone to hear, just let me inside, pleaseee." he pouts again & you just sigh before moving out of the way so he can enter, taking his shoes off as soon as they touch your laminate flooring.

You walk into your connected living room & kitchen before sitting on your corner kitchen counter, your legs swinging off it as Hyunjin follows behind you, looking around at the cute random decorations hung up on your walls & on the mantle pieces.

He places the flowers on your coffee table before walking back into your small kitchen & leaning on the opposite counter top, still holding the chocolates & candle.

"Okay, Can I give you my apology now? I rehearsed this to make sure I get everything right." He tries to joke but you just look at him with a blank expression before nodding, encouraging him to continue. "Okay, I didn't realise how much I've upset you & I'm sorry for not trying to check up on you sooner & stopped speaking to you. I partially didn't even mean to ghost you but I also genuinely thought you wouldn't speak to me anymore since you're always so concentrated on lessons & studying, I thought you would have thought I was getting in your way. I'm also sorry for fucking with that girl & you overheard it, if I'm genuinely being honest, I did it to try wipe my mind of you. I know what we did is a huge thing & it was wrong of me to have acted the way I did, if i'm being honest, this was the first time I did what we did so I just didn't really know how to act, but I'm genuinely sorry y/n. Chocolates?"

He blurts out, not taking his eyes off you as he feels his cheeks go hot, the nerves & also the way you're looking at him making him flustered. You both sit in silence for a minute, him waiting for a response & you thinking of a response.

"Gimme the box & light the candle for me, second drawer to your right n you will find a lighter. If you felt like this all week, You've still had seven days to come n tell me this but instead you've let me feel like shit for a week, this was the exact reason I was unsure to do it with you Hyunjin, in fear something like this would have happened & instead of just growing a pair & talking to me, you fuck someone else to just try forget?" You reply, your voice getting a bit shaky without meaning it, the feelings of it all hitting you again.

Hyunjin listens as he digs into his pocket & pulling out his own lighter & lighting it before putting it on the counter & he walks the few steps over to you, handing you the chocolate before standing right in front of you, leaning his hands on the counter on the outside of your legs, caging you in.

"Please y/n, don't think like that. I know I should have swallowed my pride n apologised earlier, I was just trying to convince myself I didn't give a fuck but I do, hence why I'm here. I honestly think you used those crystals & manifested this or something." he mumbles the last part, looking away from you, his ears going red after hearing his words out loud & your legs stop swinging as you pause at his words.

"What do you mean you actually give a fuck? What are you trying to say." you reply back, resisting the urge to reach out & stroke his hair. Hyunjin sighs & shakes his head. "Don't make me spit it out y/n, It's just gonna sound like a lie to you." You get an anxious feeling in your belly before taking his chin & guiding him to look back up at you. "Hyunjin, just say it, it's only me here anyway. Just say what you gotta say." you respond in a quiet but firm voice, honestly scared.

He doesn't have much option but to look at you as he lets himself melt into your hand lightly before taking a deep breath. "I.. care about you? I don't know, it feels weird but like... I genuinely felt like shit after how I treated you n i've tried to bury it but it just won't leave, I don't really know what it is about you n honestly it scares me." he says in a quiet, quick tone & your jaw drops.

You just freeze as you both just look at each other in complete silence not including the quiet crackling of the candle & your living room clock ticking. Hyunjin can't bare the awkwardness anymore as he gets shy for the first time in years, moving his arms to stand completely upright but you pull him in by the shirt to hug him, tears threatening to leave your eyes as his arms wrap around you in return.

"This better not be some sort of sick joke Hyunjin or i swear I'll kill you, you're gonna boost my ego to a fraction of what yours is." you half laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. "It's not, dead serious. You're just different n I don't know how to feel about it, stop casting spells to make me attached to you. I've been itching to ask to see you all week, I wish I wasn't being so stubborn." he muffles into your neck, moving his head side to side slightly, his nose tickling your neck, making you lean more into him, chuckling at his stupid joke.

"Stop with the silly magic jokes, you're ridiculous. I want to say you're not forgiven since you need to prove to me you're not talking out your ass but I do accept your indeed heart warming apology & I appreciate it just more than the flowers n chocolate." you say in a soft voice & you feel Hyunjin smile against your neck before he moves & kisses the tip of your nose, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"That's what I wanted to hear, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you had told me to fuck off, my first ever rejection coming from the first person I've ever bought a present for that isn't my mom." You chuckle at this before hopping off the counter, grabbing the box of chocolates that were staring at you.

"Rejection? You tryna say you like meee?" you tease, taking his hands before swaying them back & forth & he rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Was it not kinda obvious? I wanted to say it without directly saying it in case I embarrassed myself but... yeahhh I have a tiny crush, I think you made us soul tied or something." you just 'tut' at his remark but your face goes bright red at his confession, cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling.

"I'm touched. Got thee famous playboy hwang Hyunjin to like like me, not sure if it's a surprise but I like you too." You kiss his cheek before leading him to the couch as you sit on it, him flopping next to you. "Enough of the soppy talk for now or I'll get embarrassed, you can choose a movie while I get us a blanket." He just nods & you hand him the box of chocolates & he begins opening them as you scurry to your room to get your favourite fluffy blankets.

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You both end up watching a recommended Netflix romcom suggestion, both of you devouring your chocolates but you pay no mind to it.

Some point throughout, your legs end up swung over his as your head lays against his shoulder, him stroking your hair with one hand as the other hand caresses your thigh.

Every few minutes or so, you focus less on the movie & more on his touch as his hand slowly rises up your leg, then your thigh & his hand is now grazing against your inner thigh over your tight shorts, giving you goosebumps, which he doesn't miss.

This continues up until Hyunjin repositions himself, pushing your legs off him so he can lay down over your thighs, his view now sideways of the TV, not that he cares, not paying the slightest bit of attention anyway as you momentarily tense up beneath him.

You continue stroking his hair, sometimes digging your fingers into his scalp a bit to scratch it, making him let out a satisfied hum. You can't help but keep looking down at the beautiful man laying on you & you can't help but smile to yourself.

As if he can feel your eyes burning into his skull, he moves the blanket down your legs enough to expose your legs enough for him to begin planting little pecks on them, slightly tickilish but you don't miss the wetness now pooling under your shorts. "Stop teasing Hyune." you speak up, your voice quiet & he just chuckles.

"If you don't want me to tease, I won't complain if you lay back." he replies, not bothering to look up at you as his hand reaches to squeeze your thigh softly as he keeps giving your legs kisses, suckling at them slightly,

You think about what he says & you would be stupid to deny the chance, your pussy clenching around nothing. You lightly push his head up off you & he takes the hint, moving & you push the side of his arm, towards the edge of the couch & he looks at you slightly confused but does what he thinks you're hinting at, getting onto the floor right in front of you, looking up at you with his pretty eyes.

You give him a shy smile before you take it upon yourself to wriggle your shorts & underwear off, leaving your bottom half completely nude, biting your lip in anticipation.

"You really got this desperate since last time I saw you?" he teases & you put your hand in front of your cunt, covering it with how shy you've just started feeling but he is quick to pull it back off, looking at the small shimmer on your middle finger before licking it off in one go.

"Don't be shy, gorgeous. I've been just as desperate if not more, can I get a taste?" he says in a sweet voice, not looking away from you, stars in his eyes. "Please.. If you want to." you respond, hiding your face in your hands but he reaches up & swats your hands away yet again as his other hand begins to slowly drag through your folds, making your hips buck.

"Stop hiding, where's your confidence gone hmm? Do I make you that nervous? trust me, there's nothing I want more." he leans in & kisses right next to your lip before smirking at you & sinking back down onto the floor, blowing cold air onto your now soaking cunt, making your legs tense up & he tongues his cheek as he watches your face twitch.

He spreads your folds open, getting a better view of your hole, clenching around nothing before he licks a long, slow strip from your hole to the top of your clit, letting out a low groan in the process. "Taste better than anything y/n, I fucking swear." he says as he looks up at you for a split second. "eyes on me, if you look away I'll stop." he voices before digging in.

You do as he says & make eye contact with him as his mouth latches onto your cunt as he begins letting spit roll off his tongue, mixing with your juices just before slurping it back up, not afraid to make as much noise as the mixes of juices allow.

You weave your hand in his hair & play with his hair & scratch his scalp for him as he suctions his tongue onto your swollen button, both of you groaning at the same time.

"Hyune, so good" you whimper out, your breath shaky as your eyes struggle to stay open & you feel Hyunjin smile against you. He brings his fingers up to your clit before rubbing it in a steady rhythm as he lets go of before his tongue find its way into your opening before beginning to tongue fuck you & you throw your head back, your moans now louder than the TV still playing behind the both of you, your legs now closing around his head, not that he pays attention to that anyway, if anything he is enjoying it.

You begin to clench around his tongue which he remembers is your tell tail sign you're about to orgasm, your moans getting higher pitched & your grip on his hair getting tighter & he chooses to worm his tongue out of your hole before pinching your clit between his two fingers & dropping a glob of spit to it before giving it one more lick, smirking.

"I wanna try something I think you might like, turn over so you're facing your back to me, hunny." You huff at the beginning of a future orgasm beginning to appear suddenly bubbling away but you do as he says, slightly confused.

You get up on your knees & rest your elbows on the back of the couch, you now looking at the wall behind you. "Why am I fac-" you're cut off as Hyunjin spreads your cheeks & begins fondling them as he begins suckling on your pussy from behind, letting out a satisfied hum behind you as you begin kneading the couch until your fingers begin to ache, biting your lip to try hold back moans.

"G-gonna cum Hyunjin, keep g-going." you whimper, pushing yourself into his face, seeking even more from him if it's even possible & he gives you a quick slap on your ass as he removes himself from your cunt again, much to his own displeasure.

"Don't bite your lip y/nnie, I wanna hear you fully, Mkay?" he speaks from behind you as you yelp at the impact & he hums as he keeps kneading your ass, giving it a few kisses. "Your ass is to die for, you know that? Gonna taste it." Before you can even process what he says, your mind too full of lust to understand, he is letting a glob of spit fall past his lips & it landing right on your tightest hole.

You try jerk your hips away from him but he is quicker & pulls you back to him, keeping a tighter grip on your ass, keeping it spread as his tongue begins to graze over your pretty pucker, his eyes scrunching together as he smiles against you, tongue now drawing patterns on it as he lets go of one of your ass cheeks, going down to your leaking cunt again before entering two fingers, instantly finding the same G-spot that made you orgasm only a week or so ago.

Your hips buck at the new sensation & you let out a long mewl, letting your face fall onto the back of the couch as your knuckles turn white from how hard you're clenching on it.

Your pretty hole is clenching & pulsating on his tongue as he lets out a deep growl at your taste, so different compared to your cunt but still enjoyable, you're moans getting to an even higher pitch as his tongue enter inside you, swirling around as much as the tight ring will allow.

"Hyun- please l-let me cum, s-so- fuck!" you basically scream out, not even being able to find the strength to lift your head up to look at the man behind you as your pussy & ass clench around his fingers & tongue but right before you cum, Hyunjin pulls completely away, again & your legs shake from the painful pleasure of yet another stolen orgasm.

Hyunjin leans over so his clothed chest is touching your back & he tilts your head so he can see your pretty face & he sees your now tear soaked cheeks & your pretty, glossy eyes.

"Awww, pretty girl couldn't contain their tears, could you? I promise you can cum now, I don't have a condom on me though beautiful so do you just want my fingers hmm? or my tongue?" he questions as he strokes your now damp hair out of your face, pouting at you.

"J-just fuck me Hyune, j-just pull out." you whiimper back to him, your breath so unstable it's difficult to even push the words out. Hyunjin opens his mouth to re ask you, just to make sure he is hearing things right but you wiggle your naked ass against him & he bucks his hips before just nodding before kissing your shoulder & then shimmying his pants & underwear down, freeing his pretty cock.

He spits onto his cock, pumping it into his hand a few times, letting out a hushed groan before he aligns his tip with your pussy, rubbing himself against it a few times to coat his tip in your juices before prodding his tip against your hole, before pushing just the tip inside.

"I'm still gonna be gentle, it's only your second time, tell me if this position is uncomfortable." he speaks behind you & as you mumble out an 'okay' while your face now being mushed against the cushion again, he pushes his hips forward very slowly until he buries himself to the hilt, you both letting out a moan in unison.

He stills inside you, trying to not cum instantly from how hot your walls feel without the restriction of the condom he wore last time, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he waits for your signal to continue.

Your breath staggers as he pushes forward, the stretch being a bit painful but no way near as painful as last time & after a minute or so, you push yourself on his cock experimentally, making you both hiss.

"You- please move, mak-make me cum Hyune, p-please." you elongate the last word, turning your head to the side so he can actually hear you. He takes a deep breath & pulls out half way before pushing back in, the both of you letting out a whine as his balls slap against your clit, making it even more intense for you.

Hyunjin sets a steady rhythm, lightly using the tips of his finger nails to add sensation to your back, tickling it but also feeling nice as you know it will leave those pretty little red marks later on. Both of your moans & whines fill the small apartment, not even thinking about how your neighbours can one hundred percent hear you.

"Y/n yo-you're too tight, s-so warm." he breathes out, lifting his leg & standing it on the couch for a better angle as he keeps rutting into you, leaning over your back again to kiss your cheek, your moans going straight into his ears.

"To- so big hy-hyune, pleas-e lemme c-cum." you whimper, your eyes scrunching closed, the ends of Hyunjins hair tickling your face as he begins to nibble on your earlobe, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around his cock, almost suffocating it.

"c-cum with me baby, h-hold on for me." he groan back as he tilts his neck into an uncomfortable position just so he can kiss your lips. His tongue instantly enters your mouth & you suckle on it, tasting the remaining taste of your juices from what he hasn't already repeatedly swallowed, making you moan in content.

Hyunjin speeds up his pace slightly & your G-spot loves this, making your legs almost give out on the spot as your brain turns into mush. "I-in my s-stomach Hyun-deep." you babble out against his lips, barely even knowing your own name at this point.

As Hyunjin stands back upright after giving your shoulder a few pecks, his phone begins to ring. Your eyes spot his phone on the other end of the couch, where he was sitting earlier but he reaches over & declines it before shutting his phone completely off, throwing it to the side, his pace not slowing once.

You don't bother questioning it, instead focusing on the noises of your slick & his balls connecting together mixed with the sweat of the both of you, sloppy clapping noises of your skin connecting filling the room, your legs begin to give out as Hyunjin worms his fingers down to your clit yet again before rubbing it frantically.

"In your s-stomach hmm? You can cum for me angel, n-not gonna last, too w-wet n tight." he squabbles, breathing frantically & this i all you need to hear as your entire body tenses up as finally, your orgasm hits you like a brick wall & you let out a squeal & Hyunjin has to grip onto your hips as his life depend on it in order for you to not flop & slip off the couch.

Your noises & the way your pussy flutters around him is just too much for him to handle & as much as he doesn't want to, he pulls himself out of your wet, hot walls as his cum spurts down your ass & back, throwing his head back as his cock quite literally pulsates as his balls empty, a high pitched whimper leaving his lips, breathing staggered.

He comes back to his body quicker than you do & he helps reposition you so you're fully laying on the couch, trying to make sure his cum doesn't get onto any other surface.

He grabs his underwear & wipes the cum off your back in a comfortable silence, slightly twitching as he wipes it off. He leans over your back again before kissing your earlobe. "Did so well, so proud of you, still so pretty for me despite being sticky with sweat." you both weakly laugh as you turn onto your back before using the ounce of strength you have left to pull on his wrist.

"cuddle." is all you say as you pull on him until he lays on top of you, half his weight dangling off the arm of the couch as he lays his head on your chest, listening to your still racing heartbeat & he can't help but feel secure.

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You both sit like this for a while, talking to one another about what you both spoke about in a bit more detail & also just talk to each other about things you don't know about one another, things like family pets, favourite colours, favourite brands etc.

Hyunjin ends up powering his phone back on & you are both just scrolling through his for you page, when you remember his phone ringing. "Quick question hyune, who was it that called you? If it was important you coulda stopped to answer." you ask him, not lifting your eyes from the video playing on his phone screen, not really thinking too much of it.

"Don't stress it, it was just someone I'm not gonna be speaking to anymore." he replies in s tired voice, still scrolling. His reply slightly confusing you. "Who? I don't mean to be nosey or anything but now i'm curious." you respond back, your fingers in his hair now pausing.

Without saying anything, he switches apps, onto his call log & it's Lisas name at the top.. nineteen missed calls. He just sighs as he presses on the 'more' option before deleting her number & deleting the Imessage conversation without even bothering to read her spam of texts, yelling, crying & cussing him out before switching apps back onto tiktok without saying a word & you just blush, your hands cupping his cheeks from above, your thumbs just below his eyes.

"You're cute." you say as you squeeze them playfully & he just 'tut's but still, he melts himself into your touch.

I'm not completely sure if I want to leave this story as a two parter orrrrrr do a third n final part but to everyone wanting a happier ending here you all are!

Tags: @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada @tsunderelino

[authorhjk1]

Ivory

(Miyawaki Sakura X Male Reader)

"Oh god. Stop it already."

Sakura laughs, embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

"I'm not doing anything."

You fake innocence. But you both know that your hand on your wife's ass is nowhere near innocent.

"No. We are in public."

"So what?"

The two of you are standing at a table at the back of a ballroom. You were both invited to this fundraiser. But when you saw Sakura step out of the bathroom four hours ago, you knew there was only one way this is gonna end.

"Let's wait until we get home."

"I can't wait that long. You look gorgeous."

Sakura blushes more and hits your shoulder.

"Plus, you made a promise that day."

Your free hand, which is not lying on her ass, takes her hand.

"Here."

Your finger grazes her wedding ring.

"We promised it to each other. To have sex whenever and wherever."

Sakura shyly nods. It was her idea after all. Right after the wedding. Your first night as a married couple.

"You know what?"

Sakura turns away from the stage and looks straight at you.

"Let's put some fun into this fundraiser."

It didn't take long for the both of you to find a quiet spot. The empty kitchen was probably not the best spot to have sex. But it does the job.

You're standing in front of the clean counter, while Sakura sits on top of it. The straps of her dress have fallen off her shoulder and have left her chest naked. Your hands roam her back, while you suck and lick at her tits.

"Honey..."

Sakura sighs, her head falling back and her hands holding onto yours. You keep devouring her chest, making your wife moan and whine.

"I need you, baby."

Her whisper makes you stop. You raise your head to give your wife another deep kiss. Stepping between her legs, you part her thighs. Meanwhile, Sakura begins to unbuckle your belt and unbutton your pants. Once you step out of them, you push the hem of her dress up.

Her white lace panties fit her dress. You remember helping her putting them back on after your little shenanigans in the car earlier. You were unable to just go inside, so you ate out your wife in the backseat.

"I love you."

Sakura captures your lips with hers as you align yourself with her wet cavern. You force a deep moan out of her as you push inside. Your hands rest on her waist, while hers are draped around your neck.

"I love you too."

You whisper into her mouth as you slowly thrust into her.

The two of you forget where you are. You forget what is going on in the ballroom. You forget you're in public. Whenever you are with her, it feels like only the two of you exist.

Sakura and you share moan after moan as your lips stay locked. Your hands explore each other's bodies. Your slow, shallow thrusts make Sakura gently buck her hips towards you.

In one fluent motion, she is suddenly lying flat on the cold metal surface, while you are on top of her. Her head rests on top of your arm, while her hands pull your head down to her.

There are no words needed. One of her hands travels down your back. A silent plea to go a little faster. You give into her desires.

The both of you make love inside the empty kitchen. The clapping of the people inside the ballroom is just an odd noice far off in the distance. You both have closed your eyes, only needing each other's touch.

"Oh baby..."

Sakura lets out a deep sigh, her whole body seems to stiffen. You stop for a couple of seconds and open your eyes to enjoy your wife's smile on her face. Her small orgasm makes her feel butterflies as her pussy hugs your cock tight.

After a while, you start thrusting into her again. She lets her fingers run through your hair, encouraging you to reach your climax as well. You eventually do. You feel a familiar pull inside your stonach.

"Kkura..."

You groan your wife's name into her ear.

"Yes, baby. Cum inside."

Her sweet voice and her snug hole finally drive you over the edge. With one last thrust, you bite her bottom lip with your teeth, earning yourself a whine.

Sakura feels your warm cum invade her pussy. Its warmth spreads throughout her body.

"How can I ever say no to this again?"

Your wife's question makes you give her another kiss.

[goldfades]

Paige nsfw hcs pls

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! read at your own discretion!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | the long awaited nsfw headcanons for paigey, i finally got the motivation to write it after i kept reading the INSANE smut yall keep writing (keep it up im lovin it) also this is such a mess, this is just rambling and not organized whatsoever, but wtv i hope yall enjoyed :)

woo, where do i even begin?

let's begin with the obvious, paige is a TOP, i can't stress this enough

i genuinely can't see anyone topping her she's just .... a TOP

but that doesn't mean she won't let you take the reigns every once in awhile, esp after a bad game/tiring practice because everyone once to be taken care of sometimes

i'm def not the first person to say this and certainly will not be the last but STRAP GAME GOES SOOOOO HARD

i feel like at first she's gonna be weirded out cus like... she likes only girls for a reason??? and she has her mouth and fingers??? why would she need a piece of plastic to make her girl feel good???

but the first time y'all try it, she's hooked

she forgets ab her hands after that

jk but like

yeah she's HOOKED

she gets really into it LOL, def can imagine her calling the strap her dick

oh and she fucks HARDDDD like, no room to breathe or anything

like you'll be gasping for air after and she'll be super duper proud

i read this one fic with like the dual ended one (i didn't even know that existed) and then i was like yep, yes this is the oneee

with positions, i can't see her doing anything more than like missionary (cus she loves to see your pretty face) and like from the back

but as soon as she discovers riding, it's OVERRRRR for you

she's making you ride her strap anytime she can, cus she loves it

she has her hands on your hips as she's guiding you and she LOVES IT so fucking much, like the power she has over you makes her go feral

oh and do not get me started on sucking her strap, cus again she loves the power she holds over you

she has your hair in a ponytail and the more you get comfortable with the whole thing, she WILL make you gag

she acts like it's her dick (yeah i know we covered that) but like esp when you're sucking her strap, she will just dirty talk u the entire time

"you like my dick, pretty girl? like gagging on my dick?" cus yeah, u do

oh and yes, she does have breeding kink

it breaks her heart that she can't get you pregnant 😪

but she sure as hell will pretend to!!!!!

will 100% bend you over and just yap about getting you pregnant

also if she's fucking you in missionary, she expects you to look at her the entire time

so if you turn away, she will grab your face and keep you looking straight at her

FUCK IDK WHY THAT'S SO HOT

paige is a D1 yapper i fear, and that would 10000% seep into the bedroom LMAO

mostly praise cus babygirl would feel really bad but when she gets into, she GETS into it

like she will call you her slut as she's about cum

that post-nut clarity goes hard the first time tho cus she's like no way i called my gf a dirty fucking slut 😭😭 she sits with her thoughts for a good 10 minutes trying to recollect herself

she is a munch for sure, like she will eat you out for hours and hours on end (not an exaggeration btw)

but she LOVES when you give back

it makes her go fucking feral when she sees you eating her out, like yessssssssssssss

she has to close her eyes bc if she keeps looking at your face, she WILL cum

she has a bad hair pulling problem, like she will grip your hair so hard your head will hurt after

it's apart of the appeal tho 🎀

her fav spot to get absolutely ate is her gaming chair cus like, she needs you in between her legs giving her support to get that victory royale 💯💯💯

she hates when she gets ass or tits bc she genuinely cannot pick

it depends on the day bc they're both great, she will never pick one

i feel like she's definitely thought ab fucking you in public but she can't risk it

SHES A D1 ATHLETE !!

the only time yall did was in a bathroom at an event and it was SOOO bad afterwards cus everyone could tell

you had to pretend like you didn't get your brains fucked out and paige had to pretend she didn't DO the fucking

but lowkey she enjoyed it a lot, but would she do it again?

maybe, a solid maybe (with the right motivation)

okay but like ....

she def has fingered u while the girls are over cus like, she was in a silly mood?

you just looked too fucking good, she had to

but thank god no one noticed (at least to yalls knowledge...)

she's a horny fuck ARGUE WITH THE WALL

she will get turned on by anything you do, like homegirl is just sooooo down bad for you

you could be applying chapstick and paige will be like "we need to fuck, now."

paige's aftercare is just giving you water and cuddling with you for 10 mis while scrolling on tiktok and then gets up to play fortnite with kk

she literally is the tiktok where it's like "after he rearranges my organs he goes and plays fortnite" i hope yall know what i'm talking about

but you don't mind ofc cus she makes you sit on her lap while playing

but then turns into another round cus shes a horny fuck

paige is all for hickies on YOU but she gets pissed when you give her a hickey cus she's like people are gonna see

like she's the only one who has to deal with the public 🙄🙄🙄

but she loves marking you EVERYWHERE, esp on your collarbone like it's so sexy

oh and god bless you in the summer, the ones on your thighs are getting AIRED OUT bc paige does not care

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[buggachat]

To be clear, I goddamn hated the finale on first watch. I was withering in my seat. My heart had dropped to my stomach. I had no fucking idea what I was watching in that final scene lmao

and then Adrien said "when Ladybug gave me the rings—" and I was like— wait. LADYBUG? LADYBUG STILL EXISTS?

I THOUGHT THE ENTIRE TIMELINE HAD BEEN REWRITTEN 😭😭😭😭 I THOUGHT LADYBUG AND CHATN OIR DIDNT UFCKING EXIST uNTIL ADRIEN SAID THAT I WAS SO SO SO SCARED

and then I realized, oh wait. This isn't a complete utopian timeline rewrite. This is just a timeskip of a few months and Mme Bustier is just a kickass mayor. In fact, she's only mayor BECAUSE it's still the same timeline. And then I realized, hey, wait, if they didn't rewrite the timeline, then how tf is Emilie casually there with no questions?

And then I realized she was wearing black. And Félix was there. And I remembered Amelie exists.

Basically, I went into the finale chanting to myself "it's okay, it's okay... they probably wont bring Emilie back... they probably won't rewrite the entire timeline permanently.... right? please....", even though I didn't actually expect it to happen, but just because I was terrified that it could. And apparently that fear actually got to me so much that I misinterpreted the episode as being everything I didn't want it to be... when... it actually wasn't that at all

anyway, all of this is to say, everything in the episode happens so fast that it confused and terrified me at first. And when I realized what had happened, my opinion went from "my year is ruined" to "oh. well. okay. kind of disappointing, I guess". And then I kept thinking about it, and the ending, and all that is set up and rewatching the scenes and all the loose ends still in place and.... i realized I loved it?

like, every time I think about this finale, I love it more. every time i rewatch a scene, I get a little obsessed. this episode went from my nightmare to actually really really cool to me, and I'm still kind of reeling from it

Basically, this is why I've been kind of passionately defending the finale— not because I think people who don't like it are """dumb""" or anything, I don't blame people at all for that, and I totally get the confusion. I was confused too. And I know I'm not the only one who went in preparing themselves for the worst, or went in with very specific expectation on what will happen, because this finale has been long awaited for so long. I think everyone was shocked with how it ended. I think most people probably startled at Amelie's face (it's so easy to forget she exists....)

Anyways, I started this post basically as an apology for if I seem too aggressive or defensive about the finale. Because I get it! I get hating it! I get being disappointed or frustrated or confused! Part of why I'm so defensive is because I have all the arguments so ready on the tip of my tongue because I had the very same argument with myself already 😭 So I'm sorry if any of my posts came off as too aggressive and in advance for any future posts that might. I promise promise promise I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for having bad opinions on the finale! I just think this episode is really cool and the fact I related to a lot of the nay-sayers makes it easy to feel so impassioned about it.

But this post is getting off the rails and I'm just gonna let it, because some of my regrets w my participation in fandom is that I find myself chickening out of actually talking about my thoughts on episodes a lot. I get kind of overwhelmed and overthink everything after I've posted it and I'm a shy person. But my inbox is closed and this is the season 5 finale and I want to ramble and ramble so I will allow myself this

Basically, I went in with some very specific expectations for this episode. We all know about the Hawkmoth defeat story. Many of us have read it in fics over and over again, it was teased in Chat Blanc, we all know what we expect, we all know our favorite beats from it.

And what actually happened....... met virtually none of those beats. (For me, at least).

Like, Adrien wasn't there for the final episode. At all. He was completely absent from the confrontation. He never found out his father was Hawkmoth. He got his rings, but he never found out he was a sentimonster. He is living in the dark.

Ladybug confronted Monarch... alone. Which is sad, when so much of the series is dedicated to the partnership of her and Chat Noir. Them against the world....... and Monarch was "defeated" with nary a Chat Noir in sight.

The whole entire "Gabriel is known as a hero" thing. I don't think anybody was expecting that. Absolutely shocking.

The fact Marinette would lie to Adrien like that. The fact she's keeping so much from him. The fact everyone is. SO MANY people in Adrien's life (Marinette, Plagg, Nathalie, Felix, Amelie, Kagami, probably Alya, maybe more I'm not thinking of....) are just... lying to him, now. He is so in the dark. He knows nothing.

But.........

I kind of like that I didn't predict nearly any of this. I like that it caught me off guard. I love how this show just completely baffles me at every turn, how it will present concepts and ideas to me that I've never read a fic about.

In retrospect, Chat Noir being absent from the final battle... makes sense. It actually makes a lot of sense, if I think about it, because... there is only one possible way that could've gone, right? Chat Noir would not be allowed to have the emotional implosion that he would have to have. This is devastating. This is SO devastating. This is the entire shattering of Adrien's entire world we're talking about, and Chat Blanc is the only real way for that to end. Adrien has an emotional implosion in front of Monarch, he gets akumatized, it turns into an emotion explosion, extinction event. The end. We've already seen it.

And........ even if it didn't end that way, even if he managed to avoid akumatization...... how could the finale satisfyingly end on that note? How could it end in any semblance of a "wrapped up" way, at the very start of Adrien's emotional breakdown? It couldn't. I wouldn't WANT it to. In retrospect, Adrien finding out his dad is Monarch and then.... what? The season ends on a close-up of him crying? The season ends with a time-skip to the new school year where they skipped his entire grieving period!? I would HATE that, actually. I would hate that. I thought I wanted it, but I would hate it. I would hate it so so so much.

What's kind of amazing is that the finale ended with Monarch being defeated.... but Adrien still has those realizations to make. He still has those betrayals to come to terms with. There is time for him to make these realizations, for him to come to these conclusions, perhaps one at a time, perhaps in a more controlled environment.... and that gets me far, far more excited for the seasons to come than an episode that tried to wrap it all up in the last 5 minutes.

Also, the reason Adrien didn't go to the final battle was because he feared becoming Chat Blanc. He didn't know the truth to it, didn't understand that literally, yes, that's what would have happened if he was there, even if he hadn't been under a nightmare curse. But he still knew. He still expected it. He willingly chose to sit it out, no matter how much he hated it, because he knew. And there's something kind of powerful to that, I think, of Adrien making a choice that is so unequivocally the Correct choice, even more than he realized. And the strength it took for him to make that decision...... damn.

As for the lies and the Gabriel statue? I... it's upsetting, but it's supposed to be. And I believe it. I absolutely believe it. I 10000% believe Marinette would keep the secret of Monarch's identity to herself to try to save Adrien the pain. I 10000% believe that the population could easily be led to believe a famous billionaire is a hero. I 10000% believe that Adrien would WANT to believe it. I 10000% believe Tomoe would take advantage of it.

And I can't wait to see that illusion crumble.

Also.... this is the beginning of The Lila arc.

And the Lila arc begins on........ Marinette telling the biggest, boldest face lie she ever told. The Lila arc begins on the most extreme city-wide illusion we've ever seen. It begins on such a huge fabrication and....

..... it's Marinette's lie.

............ and Lila knows that it's a lie.

I'm

!!?!?!?!

This is so fucking cool???? The irony here??? the deceit???? All these loose ends, all the possible confrontations, all the ways this could GO. I don't know where the show is taking this, obviously, because nobody ever can predict where this show is going apparently (and I love it for that), but oh my god. I'm imagining all the fics I could read about this. all the fics I could write. all the thoughts and scenarios that this finale has provided me with to daydream about as I go to sleep.

Adrien, going through the motions of life. Looking up to his father as a hero, despite the fact the last time he saw him, Adrien was sobbing, in tears, and cursing his name. Adrien, after all the abuse he was subject to, having to look up at a statue of his father and...... be forced to think that maybe he was wrong about his father. But he's not wrong. He WASN'T wrong. He just THINKS that he is. His father is going to continue to loom over his life in ways I never expected post-hawkmoth. Adrien's relationship with Gabriel has not ended, a new and terrifying and horrible new chapter of it has simply begun, and Adrien is still as manipulated by his father's ghost as he was by his father himself.

THAT'S. WILD!!!

also, Adrien now believes that MONARCH MURDERED HIS FATHER. Chat Noir now believes that his greatest nemesis KILLED HIS FATHER. CHAT NOIR, resident self-sacrificer, believes that HIS FATHER was a HERO who DIED FIGHTING MONARCH. Adrien thinks that maybe he should be more like his father— more like his father who died in battle. This is. Not Good. For Adrien.

And it's Marinette that started this. Well intentioned Marinette, who doesn't really understand the extent of the horrors. Marinette, Adrien's girlfriend, the person he trusts most. She did this.

And, I mean.... god. I totally get how this sucks for a lot of people, because it's objectively upsetting.... but I LOVE lovesquare tension. Season 4 is probably my favorite season for that reason alone (still mulling over if season 5 beat it for me). I love the relationship drama, I love that it's in character drama, I love how it fits everything we know about them sososo well, I love that it's horrible and it's terrible and it's awful and it's all because Marinette loved Adrien too much to want to hurt him.

I was worried no reveal would mean that season 6 would just be... what? adrienette fluff? not that I don't love that, but where's the drama? well. there it is. that's the drama.

I need to stop typing this. I know this is abysmally long and ranty and if you read all of this then I'm sorry. But I wanted to get some of my thoughts out.

But basically, I was expecting a lot of things for the finale.

In my best case scenario, it would somehow, miraculously tie up and address all the loose ends with Adrien's angst and character arc in two episodes.... and then end with me totally satisfied, ready to only half-heartedly watch season 6 like it was just a small dessert after the main course.

And I already described my worst case scenario (my first impression of the episode lmao)

But it wasn't that. I was expecting a series finale, but I got a season finale. And I love season finales. I love how they keep me wanting more. I love how excited I am for season 6, because in both my best and worst case scenarios, I honestly didn't expect to be. I love all the new ideas and thoughts and scenarios swirling around in my brain. And even if season 6 doesn't address some of the things I want addressed, I'm so excited to see the creative content in this fandom that DOES

[queenimmadolla]

I need a part in the penny verse where the whole Eddie telling baby bump penny that her mom is going to be a MILF comes into play.

Like one we day the reader is picking up penny from school and maybe another kids dad flirts with her or like a new neighbor of theirs does and maybe Eddie’s reaction to that

Not even gonna front with you, I've been sitting on this for a min because I wrote it and then freaking forgot about it. I did take some creative liberties, but I think you'll like what I got for ya. Ps, ‘baby bump penny’ had my heart throwing up, I always forget that we get her in different phases of her existence and she was once in reader’s belly 🥹💘

to everyone else, sorry, I can't link shit but this is a follow up to a ton of other pennyverse entries so you can search that on my tumblr until the links work again. and i'm trying the keep reading cut again, let me know if it fucks up the post.

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

Summary: Something's been bothering you these last couple of weeks and you won't tell Eddie what it is. Like that'll stop him, he's determined to figure it out.

warnings: a creepy (and freaking terrible) dad hits on reader, implied unwelcome advances, crude comments about reader and the female body (eddie sets this fucker straight), protective!eddie :)

Eddie knew you. He knew every fiber of your being, every marker in your past, all the ways you liked to style your hair, how you decided on what makeup to put on that day—if you even wore any—,the different types of silence you’d sink into and what they meant, your body (god, he was intimately in tune with it), and every different smile you wore. Eddie knew you.

  He just didn’t know exactly what went on in that beautiful head of yours. Eddie was positive he had a sixth sense catered only to you, it’d let him know whenever there was something wrong, something bothering you. It prompted him to approach you, watch you even more than he already did. Putting himself metaphorically in your shoes usually helped him figure it out the rest of the way, but for this particular occurrence, he had nothing to go on.

  For the past couple of weeks, since Penny had started preschool, you’d moved your work schedule around to go in earlier so you’d be out in time to pick Penny up from school and snag the baby from Maude and Wayne, who watched him while you and Eddie were at work.

  Eddie noticed a change in you. It was minor at first, a little frazzled when he’d get home, but you hid it well. Now, you looked bothered. Always zoned out, with a frown on your face. You never left the house like that, always gave him and the kids kisses before you went on your merry way (well, as happy as you could be going to a desk job), so it had to be something that happened after you left home that bothered you.

  It wasn’t work, you’d rant to Eddie about it if you had a bad day but you liked to leave work problems at your desk when you left it, something about not being paid to worry or think about work after hours.

  It bugged the fuck out of him. He’d tried to approach the subject before, leaving you openings to tell him what was going on but you always shrugged it off and went on about your day as if you hadn’t been upset over something. You couldn’t hide it completely, though. Not from Eddie, he could still see those split seconds where your mind wandered off and the corners of your lips twitched down.

  Given how stubborn you were, Eddie decided he’d need to take a more hands on approach. Since he suspected something was happening after you left home in the mornings and before he got home from work, he’d have to be present for that timeframe. 

  He’d left work around lunchtime, Norm was understanding about it and didn't really care all that much since it was a relatively slow day for business.

  His son had been delighted when he picked him up from his Grandpa and (grandma) Maude’s, squirming and wiggling in her hold until Eddie got a hold of him. Baby Wayne had immediately placed his hands on Eddie’s jaw, urging his dad to bend his head so he could rest his forehead against his own, those big eyes of his fluttering shut the moment they connected and soft coos of dada mumbled in between them, unlike Penny had, Wayne caught onto the baby babble of mama and dada. Penny hadn’t because one of you was always helicoptering around her so Princess Penny hadn’t felt the need.

Eddie would never get over how much his baby seemed to love cuddling with his parents, everytime baby Wayne was affectionate, he turned into goo, melting in his chubby hands. They lingered in the trailer for a couple of minutes while Eddie and big Wayne discussed how things were going in the apartment, though it had been more than a year since they’d moved in. Naturally, Wayne had asked why he was stopping by so early to pick up the baby so your change in demeanor came up in conversation.

  “Mmm, I been noticin’ ‘er actin’ odd whenever she comes to pick up little man. Seems fine when she gets ‘ere. ‘S when she leaves, she seems a little…”

  “Hesitant?” Eddie supplied and Wayne nodded, mouth pressed in a firm line.

  It was then that Maude Maple spoke up, something the widow rarely did in the presence of anyone other than Wayne, and it was with great hesitance.

  “She—she mentioned something once, about the pick up at Penny’s preschool. She didn’t go into too much detail, I think she’s bothered by it.”

  “Looks like I’m on pick-up duty today.” 

  After leaving Wayne and Maude’s and asking the latter to give you a call at work to let you know he picked the baby up, Eddie spent the rest of the afternoon with baby Wayne. It involved a food fight—yes, Eddie flung some back at him, he had it coming, when Wayne had decided he was done being fed and done with food that wasn’t coming from your boob so he’d thrown the macaroni at his dad’s face—a shared shower to rid evidence of said food fight, jamming out (terribly) on toy musical instruments before Eddie gave him a bottle and some cuddles while he put Wayne down for his nap. . . And fell asleep with him. 

  You came home to a suspiciously quiet apartment, a little too clean, save for a couple of toys in the living room. You found your boys in Wayne’s nursery, both of them in the crib. 

  It was a heartwarming and comical sight, Eddie’s legs were dangling outside of the crib and the baby was curled up on his chest, though he stirred at the sound of the door opening, pushing himself up off his dad as he blinked lazily at you, mouth parting to reveal a couple of little white nubs in his gummy smile, teeth coming in.

  He cooed softly, once. When you didn’t immediately go pick him up, he let out a stream of coos, loud and demanding but still loving as he tried to entice you over. When you still stood there giggling, he got mad, seemingly joining you in your laughter with his fake and very forced sounding baby laugh which quickly morphed into fake cries as he pushed himself to his feet and stood on Eddie’s chest, clinging to the bars of his crib as though he were a locked up criminal.

  Eddie groaned, hands moving to grab your son and you finally made your way over, picking Wayne up—much to his utter delight—to relieve Eddie of his weight.

  “Ouch, dude. You can’t just stand on people like that, it’s rude.” He croaked out, as his son’s weight was lifted off of his chest.

  Eddie couldn’t even be annoyed, not when he could see Wayne scrambling eagerly in your arms, face rubbing into your neck, chest, cheek, anywhere the little guy could reach in his desperation and excitement to be as close as he could to his mama.

  After giving Wayne’s tummy some tickles, amplifying his excited wiggles with a few ‘so excited, so excited’s, you leaned over so the both of you could stare down at Eddie, amusement cloaking your pretty features.

  “I think it might be time to get you a big boy bed.”

  Eddie huffed out a laugh and then groaned once more as he tried to sit up as much as he could, which wasn’t a whole lot given the fact half of him was hanging out of the crib.

  “This is gonna be fun,” he mumbled, but eventually he was able to maneuver himself out of it without breaking it. He placed his hands on his lower back, arching until it gave away to a satisfying pop.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s good.”

  “Daddy’s so silly, huh?” You asked your son, bouncing him in your arms as you placed a kiss on his curly head before directing your next question to Eddie, “Is everything okay, baby?”

  “Just peachy, honey.” He was definitely gonna have to ask you to rub his back tonight. “Wanted to have some one-on-one time with him, even if he regularly abandons me the moment you’re in sight.” 

  Eddie reached a finger out to tickle Wayne’s stomach, smirking when he laughed and tried to hide further in your hold.

  You smiled at their interaction, though the joy quickly flitted from your expression, “Do you want to watch him? While I go pick up Penny?”

  Another obvious tell something was wrong: you’d chosen to come home, put an intentional stop between getting off of work and picking up Penny. It was almost as though you needed time to prepare yourself, which was a giant freaking red flag to Eddie considering you used to drive straight over to her school and wait for her. 

  “Why don’t you stay with him? I can go pick her up.”

  The light returned to your eyes.

  “Really? I mean—I don’t mind, I don’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.” 

  “He’s clearly over me,” The sentence was whispered at his son with fake aggression, which left Wayne a giggling mess once more, Eddie chuckled and gave his son’s chin an affectionate squeeze and wiggle, “I’ll pick up Princess Penelope, she loves the disapproving looks people give me.”

“Shut up!” You laughed, leaning up to give him a kiss before he snatched his keys off the counter.

“I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”

“Say bye-bye to daddy!” You encouraged your baby, bouncing him a little against your hip. “Buh-buh.” He waved his chunky little hand, smiling wide for his dad. 

When Eddie collapsed into the door, hand clenched over his heart, you added, “Blow daddy a kiss!” Baby Wayne lifted his palm to his mouth briefly before extending his arm out in Eddie’s direction, “Mah!” Eddie pretended to catch it, smacked the invisible kiss over his mouth and blew one right back at his baby before he forced himself out the door.

   His kid was so cute, it was a federal offense. The drive to Penny’s preschool was short, thanks to living close by. Eddie hopped out of the van–he and a couple of the guys from the shop installed a backseat prior to Penny’s birth–and made his way to the waiting area. Eddie had never gone to a preschool as a kid so he couldn’t exactly judge the pick up and drop off routine, but Penny’s preschool rarely allowed anyone in. They simply walked  up to one of the entrance doors, rang a special doorbell attached to the building, and one of the teachers or aides or whatever would verify the adult picking them up if they didn’t recognize them and then bring the kid out.

  Which meant Eddie had to stand around with other adults. There’d been a couple of them already waiting when he’d arrived, so he’d made himself comfortable on a nearby column as he waited, mind once more preoccupied with reasons as to why you didn’t seem to enjoy picking Penny up anymore. You liked Penny’s teacher, could it be one of the aides giving you a hard time? No. That’s something you would have told him.

Eddie was so distracted, he hadn’t noticed another body settle against the wall across from him.

“You a new dad? Haven’t seen you around before.”

  “What?” Eddie blinked, roused from his thoughts. The guy across from him looked like he was in his mid thirties, dressed in a skeezy suit that looked like it belonged on a car lot rather than an office, and had really big, overly white teeth he couldn’t seem to put away.

“Not a new dad, a new dad to this school. Although, you do look a little young.” The stranger clarified with a shrug.

There was something about him that Eddie immediately disliked. He could tell this was not only their first interaction, it would also be their last.

“No, I usually do the drop off.” Eddie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, eyes flashing back to the entrance door just in time to make eye contact with one of the aides, he saw the recognition in her eyes before she closed the door again and felt less annoyed with the situation knowing she’d be retrieving Penny. 

  He hadn’t really left room for conversation, but the guy still continued.

  “Gotcha, gotcha.” His head bobbed around, Eddie thought if he listened carefully enough, he could hear his brain rattling in there, “I used to be on drop off duty myself, but I hated getting the kids ready. I’ve got four of those little monsters, every little task takes goddamn near twenty minutes.” Oh, no. This guy didn’t say it with annoyance, no, he seemed contemptuous when he talked about his kids. Eddie didn’t like that.

“Wouldn’t be so bad if my wife could just get a grip on them,” Maybe she could if she had help, you’re clearly useless, “Name’s Neil, by the way.” Eddie just raised his chin in acknowledgement. One would think ol’ Neil would catch on to Eddie not wanting to talk to him, but one would be wrong. “Yup. ‘S why I’m not on drop off duty. Sure, the pick up has its faults, kids always smell like a stale fart from all that running around and they’re babbling non-stop the whole ride, but I think you’ll find you’ll like being on pick-up duty,” Then he leaned in, like he was telling a secret and whispered out, “Most of the hot moms do the pick-ups.”

  That sixth sense Eddie had for you? Yeah, it was on freaking fire, hot red and jumping around. He was positive he now knew the reason behind your discomfort with picking Penny up. 

  Some fucking creep wouldn’t leave you alone. Eddie’s jaw ticked, hands clenched into fists from the insides of his pockets. He didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t necessary with this guy.

“Man, you should see some of them. You gotta wonder why they only have one kid, I’d be all over that.” He gave a low whistle before he let out the most unflattering of cackles.

  “You missed most of the show, but there’s this one mom–god, the body on this one. . .and she’s always done up, think she works in an office or something, but she’s a sight for sore eyes. A real MILF. She’s only got one kid, too. Little girl she picks up, so you know she’s tight.”

Eddie would be committing a crime, because he knew he was talking about you. He was going to murder this asshole. He was gonna strangle Neil with his own intestines and get rid of the body in the town dump where he belonged.

  He must have not noticed the crazed glint in Eddie’s eyes because the idiot kept going, “I know what you’re thinking, I’m not actively planning on doing anything. Haven’t seen her in a couple of days, pretty sure she’s working late or something because she’s gotta be snatching this kid up late. Heard she’s married to some greasy mechanic and a pretty little thing like that coming to pick up her kid with these dads around? Shit, I wouldn’t be letting her out of the house. He’s signing her up for this. You gotta wonder if she likes the attention. She’s got this shy thing going on, though. Always so meek when I’m chatting her up. Not like my wife.” Neil’s face contorted in disdain, “Four fucking kids, man.” Okay, Eddie would be murdering him on behalf of you, and his wife. And the rest of the human population. He’d had enough, it was time to make sure this shit wouldn’t be continuing. “You got any pictures?” Eddie asked, feigning interest for the first time since he’d come up to him. Neil scoffed and dug around in his pocket, “Wife won’t let me go anywhere without them, you know how it is. Constant reminders and all that, like she doesn’t trust me to not forget.”

Eddie tried not to snatch the photo out of his slimy hands, frown deepening when he realized Neil’s story about having a wife and kids was not in fact made up. Four beaming little faces stared back up at Eddie, with a pretty fifth smile in the picture. She was severely out of her husband’s league, seemingly juggling all the responsibilities on her own, all of them underappreciated and unfortunately stuck with him.

“Beautiful family,” He commented, eyes flashing to the door just as it opened to reveal Penny and the aide. He returned the photo and pulled out his wallet from his pocket by its chain. Eddie flashed the photo inside to Neil, who immediately looked like he was going to shit himself. The photo was of you sitting on the couch, Wayne sitting between your legs and Penny standing on the cushion next to you, clutching your shoulder as you all smiled for him.

  Eddie slipped the wallet back into his pocket, and just as Penny began to run over, he leaned in to whisper like Neil had earlier, “Here’s what’s gonna happen: you're not ever gonna talk to my wife again or I’ll fuck you up. If you so much as look in her direction, I’ll kill you. If you think about her, I’ll beat you 'til the bones of my knuckles break through the skin. I’ll make sure you experience pain like you’ve never felt before. Bones can heal, but I promise you they don’t grow back, you pathetic fucking worm. You don’t deserve your wife, who gave you four fucking beautiful children, and you don’t deserve your kids, either. If I ever see her in public, I’m gonna tell her that so you’d better start appreciating her now. I’ve got a friend who wants a ton of kids and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me sending him their way. Got it?” Neil, good ol’ clammy, pale faced Neil swallowed hard and silently nodded as Penny finally reached him, arms already outstretched. Eddie swooped her up before she ran into him, relishing in the way her arms wrapped tightly around him in a hug. And this fucker was annoyed to have four little people who gave him these.

“Hi, sweet pea! Daddy’s just gonna finish up this conversation with Neil here and we’ll head home to mama, okay?”

Penny nodded eagerly, turning her head to stare inquisitively at the man she knew was her friend Izzy’s dad.

  Eddie took Penny’s backpack off of her with her help and slid it over his free arm, “I’m glad we understand each other, Neil. And if we don’t, my buddy Steve’s on speed dial.”

  He smirked as he walked away, leaving Neil both dumbstruck and terror stricken. Eddie didn’t even stop when he recalled a small inaccuracy Neil had mentioned, calling over his shoulder, “And we have two kids!”

What a jerk.

“Tell me about your day?” Eddie asked as he slid open the backseat door and leaned forward so Penny could climb into her booster seat. “Oh, boy, daddy! It was long! First, teacher said we were gonna draw with crayons but she change-ed her mind and we got to paint with our fingers instead!” She displayed her clean, paint free fingers for him as Eddie buckled her in, “Oh, yeah? Did you paint me a picture?” “Yeah, ‘s in my pack pack. But we only gotted to paint for a little while ‘cause Stanley tried to eat it.” “Not again, Stanley.” “I know!” Penny filled him in the rest of the drive home, while he got her out of her seat, the entire walk into the apartment building, only stopping when he opened the door for her and she caught sight of you. “MOMMY!” She let go of Eddie’s hand to run into your waiting arms. “Hi, baby! Did you have a good day at school?” You asked after you’d gotten in a good cuddle squeeze. “Uh huh! I painted with my fingers!” Penny ran back to Eddie and dug around in the backpack now dangling at his side until she retrieved a very poorly folded piece of thick paper. “I gotta show Waynie, first!” She bypassed you and ran straight for her baby brother, who was clutching the seat cushion of the couch and bobbing up and down. He’d be walking any day now. Eddie set Penny’s yellow backpack down on the counter as he closed the distance between you, arms wrapping around your middle to pull you flush up against him. “I don’t know how you do it, they make you wait forever.” He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as you laughed. “It’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, well, regardless, you should be having a much easier time picking her up.”

It was easy for you to read between the lines and pick up his real meaning. Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment before they softened, and you leaned further into him, hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders. “Thank you.” You’d been afraid to mention the invasive and unwelcome attention you’d gained from one of the dads. Ashamed. He’d been vulgar, blatant and creepy. Even on the days he wouldn't approach you, you could still feel his eyes on you, on your body. It made you feel gross and cheap, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d politely tried to get away from him when you’d find yourself in that situation, but where you went, he followed. Soon, you’d begun waiting in your parked car until Neil left, and when that wasn’t good enough, you’d either go home and wait until just before they closed–which you hated because you didn’t like to keep Penny waiting there when she could be at home–or wait in the parking lot at work until you’d make it when all the other kids were mostly gone. It was draining, and made you dread the end of the work day. 

“You never have to thank me,” Eddie leaned down just as you leaned up to kiss him, mouths mingling a little more on the wet side since you knew neither of your kids’ attention was on you. When you finally broke away, Eddie licked his lips and sighed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know how you do it. Men are gross and creepy, I wanted to deck him before he even really said anything. And what he did say–ugh. Let me know if you see his head turn in your direction, honey, ‘cause I made a promise I’m eager to not break.” You hummed appreciatively as you leaned up for more kisses, “My hero.”

[littledemondani]

Hello I'm back AGAIN with yet another jealous fuckboy!Eddie because I'm a whore for him 🫡

Anyway.....jealous fuckboy!Eddie INTENTIONALLY moans even louder and talks even dirter than usual when you're hooking up somewhere, especially if he's all riled up after seeing you talking or laughing with somebody else. Like he'll just randomly pull you to a bathroom or a random closet or the closest bedroom, and best believe he'll do just about anything to make you scream and whine and moan as loud as possible.

Then you'll be like, "Eddie shut up, people could hear us." But he just smirks and goes like, "Even better. Let them know who's making you scream."

OKAY BYEEEEE

GORL—

okay but listen…. (this is gonna be a continuation of this lil blurb)

he has you on the sink counter, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he’s fucking into you all rough and fast.

his hand is squeezing your throat, not hard, but enough for you to really feel it. his other hand is placed on your lower back to keep you still.

you didn’t know what had gotten into him, but you weren’t about to complain. you loved it when eddie was like this with you. when he fucked you so hard you can feel it for days, are left with bruises and marks from his spanks, hickeys, and scratches.

you couldn’t possibly know the only reason eddie dragged you from steve’s kitchen into the downstairs bathroom was because he couldn’t stand to watch you make out with steve.

seeing you grip steve’s hair, roll your hips against him, trail your hands down his chest, all of the same things you do with him, caused him to feel something he had never felt before.

he fucked you with the sole intent on making you forget about steve’s existence.

his hips were angled so that the tip of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with precision. you cried out his name, your face twisting in pleasure with each, perfect thrust.

you get swept up in the moment. in the way he’s making you feel so. damn. good. your moans get louder, higher in pitch, and eddie knows you’re so close to cumming.

“say my name, baby,” he groans, glancing down to watch his cock slide in and out of your soaked pussy. “shit…let everyone know who..mm..fucks you this good.”

you don’t give it a second thought.

his name falls from your lips repeatedly. you’re entirely consumed by him. his touch, his lips on your heated skin, his cologne, the way his cock stretches you out, his hair falling over your face.

the white, hot pressure from your orgasm hurls through you and you cum the hardest you think you ever have.

eddie grins wickedly as he watches you unravel for him. your cunt squeezes his cock so tightly that it triggers his own release. he groans loudly, gripping your hips so tight you know you’re gonna have bruises in the morning.

it takes you both a while to come down. you’re panting and utterly wrecked from the intensity of it all.

“what was that all about?” you ask breathlessly when you’re able to finally think semi-straight.

eddie closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down his own breathing enough to answer you.

instead of telling you the truth, ‘i didn’t like you making out with steve’, he says with a non-chalant shrug, “got horny and needed someone to fuck.”

[shaunashipman]

i am genuinely a bit scared for my fellow bucktommies because with all the love eyes for bucktommy and tommy, i am not sure if people don't happily-ever-after too close to the sun with their expectations about how the bucktommy relationship will continue. 911 is still very much a drama show that will create drama out of thin air if it has to, oftentimes in ways that feel very dumb and will make the characters look very bad. we have seen in the past that resolutions are usually very lackluster, or sometimes even off screen. i personally really look forward to see buck and tommy, but i hope we all remember that buck AND tommy will fuck up at some point, and maybe even fuck up Bad. please be careful out there with how high you set your expectations, my fellow bucktommies, and don't forget that buck and tommy will have conflict again, with the others or with each other, sooner or later! (i hope it will be compelling and nuanced and interesting conflict that fuels their development, at the very least 🤞 but i also know that i am watching 911 so...)

so nonny, this isn't really directed at you, but i'm gonna use your ask as a springboard cause i'm seeing this sentiment pop up a lot

people need to stop conflating fanon actions with desires for canon

by this i mean, 99% of what i post about bucktommy, are things i never expect to happen in canon, and some of it quite honestly i would not want to happen in canon. i obviously can't speak for everyone, but most of the people i interact with are well aware that the characters on screen are not really the characters we're playing with in our sandbox.

and that's okay. that's how fandom is supposed to work. fandom is separate from the source material. we didn't used to need to post disclaimers about how no, we don't actually think this is going to happen. no, we don't actually think their relationship is going to be sunshine and roses. ppl in fiction act stupid cause sometimes the writer needs stupid to move the plot where they want. I, as a fan, can choose whether to incorporate said stupidity into my existing fanon, whether to analyze it to see how it could fit with my existing fanon, or whether to toss it out, baby and all.

part of the reason fandoms start is because we find the source material lacking. so honestly, when buck or tommy, or any characters, inevitably acts like a dick in a way that seems counter to their previous characterization, it's just more fodder for fandom, a new facet of their character that we then get to analyze and decide why they're doing it. well behaved women rarely make history and well behaved characters rarely make fandoms

so, just so it's clear, at least from me, unless I specifically state that this is what I think will happen in canon, everything I post about bucktommy, and basically all of my fandoms, is not even wishful thinking, it's just me playing with my dolls.

[malues]

i saw a pb x cb post so i got curious, is it ok to ship them? i tried to find out by myself with searching but all the thing of pb being an adult but young adult/late teenager mentally and cb being a 10 year old but a mid teenager/late teenager mentally gets me a bit confused

im gonna use this post to talk about the characters ages again! (no shade to this person in particular, ive just been getting a lot of questions abt it recently.)

when discussing ages, a lot of fans refer to this post i made a while back:

i'd have no problems with this but a lot of people who use this image seem to disregard/forget the bottom paragraph? its mainly my fault for not being good enough while explaining, which i apologize for. but i want to use this to better explain what i meant here:

charger block and crown are NOT actual 10 year old children; when i say that they are 10 and 9, i'm saying that they have EXISTED for 10 and 9 years. even when they were 0 years old, their mannerisms and such were the same as they are today, and may even remain the same when they reach the age 500+.

for example, a character that was created yesterday is only a day old but they may still have the resemblance and maturity of an adult. this is how it worked for michael and sean: since their creations, they have always resembled adults. the characters in LOTS do not age the same as actual people do.

with this in mind, ever since their creations, cb and crown have always resembled teenagers! so while not real children, they're still a bit on the younger side.

so, use this for a better reference:

charger blocks maturity resembles that of a 16-17 year old.

crowns maturity resembles that of a 18-20 year old.

michael, sean, and pipe bomb are fully adults!

this does not mean that a characters mental age WILL stay the same forever, however! it's possible that we will see maturity in cb and crown as the show goes on; don't forget, theyre stuck with a job for 500 years!!! but for now, this is who they are.

so what about the actual question above? well, i anticipated seeing a ship of pb and cb rise after 1C. it's not one i exactly look forward to seeing like many others, so i'd prefer people take a different direction when it comes to that relationship.

and please please, if you see someone who enjoys the ship but is possibly unaware of the ages, DONT get upset!!! it's not their fault that they haven't seen a random post clarifying the ages that only 5% of LOTS fans see!!! if you want to, politely inform them. if they don't care, leave them alone and move on!! they wont change their mind as you won't change yours!!

so theres that! i hope this doesn't leave more questions than answers like last time, but dont be afraid to ask for further clarification!

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

There's a 100% Chance I'm Gonna Marry You | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The team doesn’t even know of her existence but when Spencer can’t get a hold of her, he gets worried. Now he has no other choice than to tell his coworker about her.

Warnings: worry, guns, kicking down doors, mention of Maeve & Haley's death, fluff!

Author's note: I kinda love this like a lot???

Words: 3.4K

Spencer was happy. Considering the things he had gone through in the past ten years, no one had expected him to ever come back to his incredibly happy and constantly smiley self. No one had ever seen him so giggly and teasing his colleagues every single day. 

If you asked his coworkers, all of them would say something different. JJ, Alex and Penelope all swore he was simply in love. Hotch and Rossi knew what was happening – years of profiling in their back pocket that would catch onto the tiniest signs and being his boss had its perks. Morgan believed he was just getting laid, finally. 

If you asked Spencer, he’d simply shrug and say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

The truth was that he was in love, just like his female coworkers had guessed. 

He had met her a few years earlier at a bookstore. The two of them had reached for the exact same book at the exact same time, causing their hands to bump. Apologies floated through the air, followed by their awkward giggles when their eyes locked. Spencer offered to buy her the book that day and she insisted they read it together over a cup of coffee. Of course he didn’t decline, and neither did he alert her that he read as fast as lightning. For her, he’d read at her pace. 

Ever since that day, the two of them had been hanging out non-stop at bookstores, coffee shops, and eventually at each other’s apartment. It took them a good six months before finally sharing a searing kiss that sealed their relationship. 

That kiss was about a little over a year ago and now, the two of them were living together. Albeit, she kept her old address, with the help of Hotch who had called in favor, just to throw anyone that snooped into their personal affairs off. 

Without any of his colleagues knowing. 

At first, he didn’t want their relentless teasing, but then he was reminded of how the BAU’s family and partners were put in constant danger over being even slightly connected to them. Spencer almost wanted to break up with her over it, just to keep her safe. And they did, for a good week, until Spencer realized he couldn’t live without her. 

She was fine with being his little secret. Though sometimes, she wanted to get to know his colleagues after all the stories she heard from him. The gruesome details about those stories, however, she’d rather forget immediately. 

That was why the two of them kept in touch as much as they could during his cases. Quick phone calls, just to check in with one another, constant text messages, … There was never a moment where the two of them didn’t hear from one another. 

When one day she didn’t answer him, he grew immediately worried. 

That day had started early for Spencer. He'd been woken up at five am by a call from JJ, telling him to come into work as soon as he could, but not to bring a go-bag. Her eyes had fluttered open ever so slightly, but he shushed her and kissed her forehead. 

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered and tried to pull away, but her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him back. 

The girl whined and though her eyes were closed, her lips were pursed. “Gimme kiss first.” 

Chuckling, Spencer leaned down and kissed her on the lips sweetly. “I love you.”

“Mmh, love you too. Come back to me in one piece, Doctor Reid.” 

She tugged at the duvet to cozy up and doze off again. For a couple seconds, he watched her with a tender smile plastered on his face. He hated leaving the girl he loved behind. He’d much rather cuddle up to her underneath the covers. 

“I promise,” he whispered and kissed her head again before finally turning on his heel and walking out the apartment. It was always with a heavy heart that he left the apartment, but his mind was quickly occupied by the case at hand. 

It wasn’t until 10am when he received a text from her. The initials “L.G.” flashing onto his screen. It was her contact name that she had added. It stood for Lover Girl, she had told him, while putting his contact name as P.B.; Pretty Boy. 

L.G.: I actually slept until now. Got any statistics on that, Doctor? 

A smile took over his entire face. She often asked him for any statistics about whatever she was thinking about. It was her favorite thing to do, listening to him ramble off facts and statistics, which was why she’d asked for it. Even if it was merely through text.

P.B.: 55% of people oversleep at least once a week and 75% of those have missed work. A little over 30% said they oversleep once a week and 24% do it multiple times a week.

He waited a minute, she usually answered within a couple minutes and he and Morgan were waiting for their colleagues to compile their theories anyway. When her message popped onto his screen, he couldn’t help but smile even wider. 

L.G.: You never disappoint. – Thank GOD for bank holidays. ;-) 

Spencer chuckled before starting to type up a response. 

P.B.: What are you up to today? 

Before her reply came in, their colleagues filed into the briefing room where he and Morgan resided. He quickly chucked his phone in his pocket and focused on what his coworkers were saying. It took a couple of minutes as they put their heads together and piece together some of the evidence they had found. 

“Morgan, Reid, I’m gonna need you to go to the apartment building and ask around if anyone has seen Peter in the hallways that night. Alex and Rossi, you’re on the new crime scene. JJ and I will head to the M.E.”

Everyone nodded at their assignments before they got up and filed out of the briefing room. As Spencer followed Morgan out to the SUV, he grabbed his phone to check her message she had sent. 

L.G.: Just going to run some errands. Do you need anything from the grocery store? 

P.B.: Can you get me some of those rice crispy treats, please, angel? 

He put his phone back in his pocket before turning to his coworker next to him, who was sneaking glances at him whilst driving. “I do still wonder who you’re always texting with that dopey smile on your face.” 

Spencer coughed. “My-my mom.” 

“Are you ever gonna tell me the truth?” Derek asked, his thick brows raised. There was no answer at the top of that genius brain of his, so he simply grimaced and nodded his head. 

The two of them focused back on the case and went door to door at the apartment building, asking everyone if they had seen who they were looking for. None of them were much help and when they were done interviewing the inhabitants, one hour had passed. On the way back to the car, Spencer checked his phone again, but no messages from his Lover Girl this time. 

He frowned and sent her another text. 

P.B.: Back from the store yet, L.G.? Did you remember my rice crispy treats? 

It wasn’t usual for her to take this long to reply, especially when she had a day off. Her phone’s sound was always on and she had it closeby at every moment. Worry settled on his chest. He couldn’t act on the anxieties swirling around in his mind as he couldn’t just rush home mid-case. 

When there was no answer another hour later, Spencer knew something was up. He tried to call her when he and Morgan were waiting on the rest of the team to regroup, but it went straight to voicemail. 

“Hiya! You just missed me, but leave a message and I’ll call you back when I can.” 

The sound of her voice calmed him down a little bit, but the fact that it was her voicemail only made his worry grow. Two steps forward and one step back, it felt like. 

“You okay, Reid?” Morgan asked when he noticed his coworker in distress. 

Spencer internally groaned at the fact he couldn’t tell Morgan what was stressing him out because he had decided to keep his girlfriend a secret. Especially at a moment like this when there could be something wrong with her. For all he knew, she could be hurt. The exact reason for keeping her a secret in the first place.

“Uhm, yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

It was crystal clear that Morgan didn’t believe his coworker but with the height of the case nearing, he decided not to press any further. It was only hours later, when they closed the case, and Spencer was clearly spiraling that he decided to ask further. 

“Reid, seriously, what’s going on?” he asked when Spencer hung up his phone for a fifth time, not getting the answer he wanted. 

Spencer sighed and chucked his phone in his pocket, his hands trembling as he did so. “I-I need to go home. Something’s wrong.” 

“With your mom?” Morgan asked as he watched Spencer rush out the BAU. The resident genius didn’t even bother to answer, which left Morgan with no other choice than to simply follow behind him. “Hey, Reid!” he called when he caught up to Spencer near the SUV. With furrowed brows and trembling hands trying to unlock the car, the younger man looked up. “Let me drive.” 

And with that said, Derek and Spencer got into the car and drove off to Spencer’s apartment. Derek wasn’t even sure what he was in for, but he trusted Spencer enough to follow him blindly. The two of them entered Spencer’s apartment building and rushed up the stairs to apartment 23.

A scream echoed through the door and reverberated in Spencer’s chest, causing his heart to plummet to his stomach. Derek and Spencer both reached for their guns, ready to shoot whoever’s hurting this screaming person. Another scream came from inside and Derek quickly and swiftly kicked down the apartment door. 

Another scream, but this time because of the sudden disruption. Once Spencer was certain there was no immediate danger, he holstered his weapon, as did Derek. His eyes scanned over his girlfriend. She had her hair scraped back into a messy bun, an old CalTech shirt of his that reached just beneath her bum and underneath it the tiniest of shorts that were barely visible. 

Once her heart had calmed down from the near-heart attack, she tugged the earphones out of her ears. “Fucking hell, Spence, way to give a girl a heart attack.” She threw a cushion from the couch at him. 

“Me?! You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts! I thought you were kidnapped,” he argued before stalking up to her and taking her into his arms into a much-needed hug. 

She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m sorry, I was too wrapped up in that new Taylor Swift song and singing along.”

“Ah, that was the screaming about,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle.  

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Spencer whispered and kissed her head before remembering there was someone else in the room. Coughing, he looked up at his coworker and only slightly let go of her, keeping an arm around her shoulders. 

“So, you’re ready to tell me the truth now?” Derek asked, a smirk on his face. 

Spencer smiled down at the girl. “Morgan, this is y/n, my… girlfriend.” 

The girl reached out a hand for him to shake and Derek did, but not without eyeing her up and keeping that teasing demeanor. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Spence has told me so much about you.” 

“Wish I could say the same about you, but unfortunately, Boy Wonder never mentioned you once,” he told her, chuckling. “How did you keep this a secret from all of us?” 

Spencer shrugged. “I thought it would be better to keep our relationship a secret from everyone to keep her safe. We all know what happened to Haley, I don’t–” He inhaled sharply, unable to get the words across his lips. Noticing his sudden tensed shoulders, she interlaced her fingers with the ones on the hand on her shoulder, squeezing them reassuringly. “She kept her old address, just so no one could trace her back to me. Only Hotch and Rossi know.” 

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” she told him, gesturing to her appearance. 

“Shut up, you look cute,” Spencer reassured her and kissed her temple again. 

The smile never left Derek’s face as he looked at the sight in front of him. “I’m happy for you, Reid, you know that, right?” he asked happily, a hint of pride in his tone that caused her insides to grow mushy. 

From Spencer’s stories, she could tell the team cared about him a lot, but hearing it in real life and seeing it in Derek’s eyes and face meant the absolute world to her. She knew he was safe whenever he was with them, she knew she didn’t have to worry too much when he was out at work. They would protect him no matter what. 

Sensing Derek wanted to talk to Spencer alone, she excused herself and removed herself to the bedroom where she looked for something more appropriate to change into. All while keeping an ear on the conversation between the two coworkers. 

“I know,” she heard Spencer mumble. “I’m just scared, you know? She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t want that to be taken away from me… again…” Heat crept to her cheeks as she listened to her boyfriend talk about her. 

“I get that,” Derek said. “She’s important to you – she’s family. Family of yours is family of ours, Reid. You don’t want anything to happen to her, and neither do we. We’d do anything in our power to protect her.” 

“Like we did Haley and Maeve?” 

She knew all about Maeve and Haley. Spencer had explained everything to her. It scared her to death that something like that could happen to the family of the BAU agents as much as it scared her something terrible could happen to Spencer. 

“You know that was out of our control, Reid,” said Morgan. 

A short silence fell and she knew Spencer inhaled deeply before continuing. “I know, but what if the same thing happens to her? I can’t lose her, Morgan. I wanna keep her safe, out of harm’s way.” 

“Don’t you think your best shot at keeping her safe is to have us informed about it? At least then, we can keep her safe and help you protect her,” he explained and she couldn’t help but agree with her. With her heart a little heavier and her outfit changed into jeans and a top with her hair down, she walked out into the living room. 

“He’s right though, baby,” she mumbled, capturing the boys’ attention. 

Spencer sighed, “Y/N.” He shook his head. 

“Don’t “y/n” me, Spencer. Your little family sounds amazing and I wanna be part of that, too.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her head against his chest. “I know you wanna protect me, but don’t you think we both got a better chance if we got them in our lives, too?” 

Another sigh heaved Spencer’s chest, causing her head to move along with it. “Okay, you’re probably right.” He kissed the top of her head before looking at Morgan again. “Text everyone to come over here for dinner.”

“We don’t have enough food for that many people, honey,” she gasped, almost in a panic. 

Spencer shrugged. “We’ll order Chinese.” 

Within half an hour, the entire team had arrived at Spencer’s, one by one getting acquainted with the one he had kept secret for so long. Neither one knew why they were invited to apartment 23 but when they did find out, their reactions melted y/n’s heart. 

First, it was Penelope. The chirpy, colorful blonde she had heard so much about. 

“What’s the emergency? Are you okay, Reid? I–” she stopped in her tracks when her eyes landed on the girl beside the resident genius. “Who–Wha–” she stumbled over her words, her brain short-circuiting. 

With a smile, she reached out her hand to shake Penelope’s. “Hi, I’m y/n.” 

“Reid’s girlfriend,” the brunette that had come up behind her moments after, deducted. 

Penelope’s eyes widened before taking the girl into her arms. “Oh, my God! I knew it! I knew our Boy Wonder was in love!” 

Giggles filled up the apartment. Spencer and y/n couldn’t help but lock eyes, happy this was the reaction from his coworkers to his news. “Happy to meet you, too, Penelope.” 

“Hi,” the brunette greeted when Penelope pulled away. “I’m Alex Blake.” 

One by one, the team filed in, greeting y/n as though she was part of the family. With Chinese food scattered around the dining room table, the whole family sat, ate and asked the couple all the questions they needed answers to. 

“When did you first meet?” The blonde y/n has come to be known as JJ. 

Y/N glanced over to Spencer and took a hold of his hand, entwining their fingers in his lap. “We met at a bookstore, we were reaching for the same book–”

“Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver,” Spencer interrupted. 

“That one,” she concurred with a giggle. “He insisted on buying it for me and I insisted we read it together.” Her nose scrunched up while her lips pressed together, remembering how adorable Spencer was that day, and still was. 

“Damn, boy,” Derek commented. “Didn’t know you had game.” 

“What do you do?” Alex then questioned, moving on from their meet-cute. 

“I’m a primary school teacher,” she responded. “I try to mold and form these brilliant little minds to become something that somewhat resembles this genius’ mind.” She placed her free hand on Spencer’s head and lovingly squeezed. 

A collective bubble of laughter spread through the apartment, causing y/n’s heart to flutter. She loved being around Spencer’s friends. They were lovely and brought out the best in Spencer. While he always had his guard down when he was with her and showed her his soft side, his friends brought out a completely different side in him. A side she had seen before, but never with people other than her. 

For an entire night, the team asked the couple questions, told stories about Spencer even she didn’t know yet and she easily returned the favor. It turned out to be a lovely night that would be grafted into the couple’s minds for a long time. 

“I enjoyed spending time with your friends,” she told him when they were cuddled up in bed afterwards. 

As soon as they hit the mattress, their limbs entangled and her head ended up on his chest. While his hand trailed up and down her back, hers was drawing patterns on his chest. A position they had found themselves in almost every night. 

“Mmh,” he hummed. “They loved you.” 

She let out a giggle. “Of course they did.” 

A laugh rumbled Spencer’s chest, reverberating through her head. It was her favorite sound and feeling in the whole wide world. She lifted her head from his chest to properly look at him, finding him looking up at the ceiling. From this angle, she had a perfect view at his sharp jawline, his curls sticking out here and there, and his long lashes fluttering to keep himself awake. 

“Got any statistics, Doctor?” she then asked, putting her head back in place, right over his heart to hear it beat just for her. 

She could feel him turn his head to look at her. “About what?” he asked. 

“Anything,” she answered. 

He sighed. A content sigh, one where you could hear the smile in his breath. “There’s a hundred percent chance I’m gonna marry you,” he muttered and kissed the top of her head. 

A smile curved her lips upwards while her eyes slowly shut. Her body was completely relaxed, her heart fluttering in his presence. She could see their entire future flash before her eyes. Spencer getting down on one knee at the bookstore, her father walking her down the aisle while his friends and coworkers and his mom sat in the pews. She could see ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers. 

She could see forever with him. 

“There’s a hundred percent chance I’m gonna say yes.” 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeeee @unnowhatthisistbhh

Criminal Minds Taglist: 

@boimlers-gonna-boimm @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess 

[u3pxx]

PLEASEEE can you elaborate on the gavinners i cant stop looking at them theyre so pretty

sometimes i forget that outside of my friends and servers, i don't really talk much about my gavinners boys* huh! so basically, i originally wanted to make them so i could beef up turnabout serenade in my roleswap au, kind of like turnabout samurai where you have a lot more characters which in turn means a lot more suspects!

but then i realized, wait, i need to make them in the canon-verse first before i could make their swap au counterparts! and so now they exist pftt

here y'all go, i'm gonna be copy-pasting the character descriptions i wrote for them during art fight pftt <3

🥁 DEIDRE MINUENDO

Height: 5'7" (170 cm), 5'9.5" (176) with boots on Birthday: Jul 7 ♋︎ | Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her, They/Them

Deidre is the seemingly gloomy and stoic drummer of the band The Gavinners! At first, it could be difficult to get a read on them but despite all that, they're just like that because they prefer saving their energy. It might not look like it, but Deidre enjoys company even if they're not the most chatty with it and thrives the most when they are around other people (she prefers it if she's around the people closest to her though). Deidre is pretty sensitive and an emotional person even if they don't outwardly express it. To the people close to them, Deidre has a sarcastic streak and can be pretty snappy when it comes to teasing. She can dish it but she can't take it however as they can get slightly irritated when they're teased back. Even if they are a rockstar, they can get embarrassed when people praise or say nice things about them to their face, he tends to brush affection if even if he is secretly flattered by it (he's not gonna admit it though pftt) They also enjoy doodling here and there and like stuffed animals (they have a few of their own!)

Deidre was the closest to Daryan so the events of 4-3 affected him immensely. They felt betrayed and confused and tried to deny that Daryan would be capable of taking another person's life; they scrambled to do everything to protect Daryan from omitting information and even lying on the stand. In the end, all of their efforts were for naught and they felt incredibly guilty for what they've done, especially since she started antagonizing Preston when he was starting to suspect Daryan. They cut themselves off from the group, their job, and stardom. They ended up severely depressed and started to rarely go outside anymore. Only Doremy (Daryan's twin, also a close friend of his) was able to reach him during this time while Viva tried to but he kept refusing to see him. It took them a long time to finally be able to reconnect with the group and it took them a lot of help and support to be able to be well again. Deidre carries Daryan's betrayal to the group heavily and it took a while for her to start forgiving herself.

⚡ VIVA CHI

Age: 25 | Height: 5'9" (175 cm) Birthday: Jan 1 ♑︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Viva is the lively and energetic bassist of the band The Gavinners! Though he may seem goofy and a little unserious, he actually is pretty responsible and is the mediator of the band (as the eldest brother of his siblings and the eldest of the band, he kind of made that his responsibility). He's a forensic scientist and has always had an interest in science alongside music ever since he was young (he thinks Ema is very pretty but she finds him annoying pftt). Viva was the last one to join the band when they were all in high school and despite his extroverted personality, felt a little shy at the time getting to know a new group of people (it's because Preston was there who he may or may not have crushed at while in high-school.) He's a lover of all things caffeinated (especially energy drinks though he should really pace himself) which isn't always the best match to the fact that he's got terrible anxiety and thinks himself down a spiral when he gets too worried.

Once the band disbanded after the events of AA4, Viva, though left in a bad place with his anxiety shot through the roof, fared better compared to the other members. He tried his best to keep in touch with everyone with varying successes despite Daryan's arrest being fresh and hurt. - visiting Daryan in prison to hear his side of the story - popping in to check at Preston in his office because the guy started to take worse care of himself - contacting Deidre even if she was trying to isolate and cut herself from everyone and looking out for Klavier even if he buried himself in his work He took a break from music like everyone else, he still hopes one day they can meet up and play music again, not even as a band, but as a group of friends who loved creating music.

🦇 PRESTON KEISS

Age: 25 | Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Birthday: Oct 25 ♏︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Preston is the mysterious yet magnetic keyboardist of the Gavinners! Tall, dark, and bewitching; Preston is aware of the impression people have of him at first glance and likes to use that preconception to surprise and even catch people off-guard by purposely being silly or crass. He has a number of odd quirks and mannerisms that he doesn't realize he has, people tend to notice but they often let it pass because he is very handsome (pretty privilege lmao). Preston can sometimes be mischievous and finds certain things amusing only to him even if others don't find it as funny. He's always had an interest in horror and the macabre ever since he was a young boy which developed into a great fascination with the special effects used in old and new horror films alike. (He can be a bit jumpy when watching movies even if he loves to do it, he can't help it if the movie gets to him!) He plays up his whole immortal vampire schtick because the fans tend to theorize if he really was one. (He is not, he'd love to be one though pftt) Preston is very stubborn and adamant about his opinions and can be difficult to sway if he thinks he's correct; he is also quite awkward when it comes to personal matters, as can be seen in his strained relationship with his older sister and whatever romantic thing he's trying to achieve with Viva. He's used to acting larger than life when the cameras are on but being raw and honest has him feeling a little embarrassed and stilted. Preston smokes and keeps it a secret. (Don't tell Viva that!)

Preston was the first person in the band to start suspecting Daryan which he mostly kept to himself at first but wouldn't deny when you asked him (Deidre did not like that.) After Lamirior accused Daryan in court, Preston was determined to make Deidre confront the truth (unfortunately, not taking in why Deidre might be upset and in denial about it) which caused them to have a fight (with Viva being unsuccessful in de-escalating it.) After the Gavinners disbanded, Preston didn't feel very well after Daryan got sent to prison and lost contact with Deidre (whom he hasn't talked to since the case. [he misses them.]) He seemed fine afterward with his workload seeming to increase though upon closer inspection, he's started taking worse care of himself, skipping meals, and losing his interest in music. Preston has a lot of baggage to sort through regarding his friends and his family that will be difficult and painful for him to confront, but rest assured, he's gonna come out of it happy and well.

and here's a compilation of some very old turnabout serenade drawings too :^]

(i didnt make dei's bday turnabout serenade on purpose, it was a tragic happy accident DFGHDJ i wanted his bday to be 7/7 bc i made daryan 6/6 but then the date. i realize the date orz)

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ WAITING ROOM

𝝑𝝔 son of Athena!Lee Know x Cursed!Fem!Reader

𝝑𝝔 cw: Lee Know has mommy issues, Lee Know is immortal, reader is cursed, angst, suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of gore and death, there is no happy ending, not very detailed smut, smut with feelings

𝝑𝝔 skz hyung line Greek god!AU m.list | skz maknae line Greek god!AU m.list

He always had hated his mother. Ever since adolescence, the thought of her made his skin crawl. He hated how she was brave, and how that meant he had to be brave. He hated how she was born from her father's head.

How she had a city named after her. How she was gracious to everyone except for him. How she cursed him with immortality.

He hated how he couldn't hate his mother. His mother cursed you.

Like everyone was to him, you were a glimpse. A glance taken around the lecture hall. Eyes mistakenly landing on yours. That's all anyone could be for him; a simple glance.

You were beautiful though, he noticed. At least to him you were. No other boys seemed to glance in your direction for very long. He took another look at you.

Your hair was pulled up messily, your shirt had stains on it, yet you were beautiful. You scribbled on a piece of paper at your seat across the lecture hall from him. Positively not paying attention to the biology professor in the front of the room.

You. You. He found you, yet again.

He remembered you suddenly, a blurry memory that he couldn't put the date on. Your hair. He recognized your hair. He saw it over all the lifetimes he lived.

But why couldn't he know your name? The name from your first lifetime.

"y/n!" he remembered screaming.

"Minho! Go run! Run!" you cried.

y/n, that was your name.

y/n.

The girl who died in Pompeii. The girl who he begged for his mother to spare, to bring back to him.

"Minho?" a tap awoke him from his thought.

He turned around to face you, it was you. "What's your name?" he immediately asked even though he knew you.

"y/n and you're Minho," you smile.

"You know me?" he asks.

You pause, "you don't know me?"

I've known you for eons he says in his head.

He thought of Pompeii. "Pompeii?" he questions out loud.

"You remember Pompeii?"

"I remember you," he whispered.

You had the blanket covering you from the coldness of your room. The landlord just wouldn't fix your heater, even if it was in the middle of winter.

"Fucking hell," Minho mumbles as he enters your room, "it's cold as fuck in here."

"You can thank my shitty landlord for that, he won't fix the damn heater."

"I'll get you an electrician, it's like below freezing in here," Minho mumbles.

"With what money?"

"Sweetheart I'm immortal, I have more than enough money to my name after thousands of years of existing," he reminds you.

"I forget you're literally like Edward Cullen, you freaking vampire," you chuckle.

"I am not Edward Cullen," he persists.

He was now laying next to you, "I am not as pale as him," he continues.

"Are you wearing jeans on my bed right now?" you look at him with disgust.

"Minho," you blurt.

The noise from the TV above the fireplace becoming background music in your ears. "Mhm," he hums, his eyes fixated on the TV screen.

"Are you brave?" you ask, "like, your mom is Athena, so are you like her, are you fearless? Do you have no quest too grand to conquer?"

He chuckles, "no, I'm quite cowardly," he replies.

"Why can't she live?" he begs his mother.

"Minho, she is still alive," his mother reminds him.

"Yeah but for how long? How long until she is gonna die? How long until I have to look for her in her next life?" he yells in despair.

"Minho she is cursed with reincarnation, you know there is nothing you can do."

"Minho?" you ask the boy who is laying next to you in bed.

He looks up at you, "make love to me?" you ask.

He is gentle when he makes love to you, just like always. He kisses over your skin and takes your breast into his mouth like always. But this time feels different. Like he is studying your body. Like this will be the last time he holds you.

You don't question his desperation, figuring it was just due to the lack of time you had spent with him recently.

He gently pushes into you and watches over every way your face contorts with pleasure. He holds you close to him as he buries himself inside your cunt. Mumbling sweet words into your ear while you cum around him.

Taking his time building up his own orgasm before spilling into you his seed.

"Minho," you call out to him, he perks his head up and looks at you, "tell me the story of how we first met," you request.

You curl up into his side, his arms draped around you lovingly.

"Well, we were both kids, living in the village next to Pompeii, your mother was a baker and your father was a farmer. Your parents prayed to my mother, and my mother sent me to bless them one night," he pauses, rubbing circles on your lower back, "and so I walked into your house, and was going to leave the money my mother had sent me to give to your parents but you saw me. You thought I was stealing from you," he chuckles at the memory, "and then instead of doing the logical thing like waking your parents up, you handed me a piece of bread and told me that I didn't have to steal food. D'you remember that?" he asks softly.

"Mhm," you nod your head, "and you told me your little secret," you recall.

He's never been more sure of anything in his entire life. This he knows, he knows he is tired of watching you die.

He knows he must die to break your cycle of reincarnation.

He holds the knife to his wrists and doesn't think twice before cutting them.

He'll wait for you in the underworld. And that is the only comfort he has as life leaves his body. Knowing you and him will one day be reunited.

You sit next to the headstone where he is buried and wipe away any of the dirt and grime that has accumulated on the surface.

The word 'brave' carved into the stone right below his name.

[mercurianthing]

SHORT ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS Pt.6🗣️😻👠

🫶🏽 Saturn in the 10th house can indicate that at the beginning of your career you were not liked at all and other people laughed at you because of something you did (usually what you became famous for) but later in your career you get positive publicity and you start getting appreciation and love from other people And because you learned from the lesson you already passed at the beginning of your career, and only after that you started to receive love and appreciation from other people, you know exactly how to work and how to behave in the life of publicity and fame and that is exactly what makes you continue to receive the love and appreciation you receive from your audience for many years after.

🫶🏽 I don't think there is a mercury - uranus (especially conjunct) who doesn't experience that feeling when you think of something you want to say and the moment you want to say it you forget what you wanted to say and you still keep thinking about what you wanted to say hoping and feeling that you will remember it but after a few minutes you despair and realize that you have completely forgotten.

🫶🏽 I don't care what your style is right now, start dressing according to your venus and ascendant signs and if you want to attract a lot of attention and you don't care about other people's reactions, also according to your lilith sign. IT LOOKS THE BEST ON YOU.

🫶🏽 I'm sorry for all of pisces mercury (uranus - mercury too) who have experienced again and again, each time anew the moment when you say something and everyone gives you back "what?" and then again, you repeat what you said and once again everyone answers you "what?" because they never understand what you say or hear what you say, it sounds sucks to experience it every time.

🫶🏽 Venus conjunct MC (also venus conjunct jupiter) is just the definition of pretty privilege in a human being, no matter what this people say or how shitty their personality is people still gonna see them as the most beautiful person they've ever seen.

🫶🏽 When you have placements in your 2nd house it's either you love makeup and literally can't go out naturally no matter what or you don't care at all about all the makeup industry and appreciate and respect the beauty's of natural face. there's NO in between, I think it depends on what placements you have in your 2nd house.

🫶🏽 Sagittarius moons have the loudest laugh and the most beautiful smile ever, they are just so beautiful when they smile and are truly the funniest people ever. they literally can be the most serious in the world, accidentally look at one of their friends and in a second burst out laughing and get out of all seriousness, in a second.

🫶🏽 Venus - chiron/saturn can indicate that relationships can overwhelm you and bring out a certain insecurity from you (can be fear, trust issues and jealousy) but if the relationship is with the right person for you then as time passes in a relationship with that person you will learn, to free yourself from this insecurity and this person will learn you how to put aside this insecurity and he will bring out sides of you through which you manage to live without this particular insecurity, sides that you didn't even know are existed in you.

🫶🏽 THAT'S IT FOR TODAY, SENDING ENERGY OF GOODNESS AND LOVE.❤️‍🔥