#something that still breaks my heart is that I once took my ex to my towns community garden cause she was new to town and had never been

[luvth0t]

NEED ME? ━ L.N

in which you’re on vacation with your ex boyfriend, the only man who’s been able to make you cum in recent times.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, eavesdropping, cocky lando, ex lovers, conversations of masturbation and inability to orgasm, hair pulling, oral both receiving, overstimulation, praise, slight degradation, choking ect.

it was a throw away question. one lando probably shouldn’t have brushed off.

“you’re sure you’re fine with her coming?” max had asked so casually despite it being on this tip of his tongue for the last hour, eyes not lifting from his phone to see the way lando looked at him with raised eyebrows.

the driver said your name in confusion, even chuckled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” lando followed; a rhetorical question. he knew why max was asking such thing.

he watched as max shrugged, hummed mindlessly as if he didn’t have a response prepared.

“wouldn’t catch me wanting to share a roof with my ex,” max mused; putting his phone down and finally meeting lando’s eyes, glare more so, quick to put his hands up in defence. “just saying. something to think about,” max quickly added.

he had his best friends best interest at heart.

“so what? we tell her she can’t come?” lando scoffed, shaking his head as he leant back into the seat he was occupying. “we’re friends. hasn’t been an issue before.” lando dismissed.

and he wasn’t lying. you’d broken up almost a year ago, which was concerning at first considering you shared the same friend group. were friends before lovers.

but it worked, you’d remained friends. saw each other every now and then, in a group setting. you weren’t as close, obviously, but it wasn’t awkward.

“no i know,” max huffed; even rolling his eyes. “maybe two villa’s is something to think about, that’s all.” max shrugged once more. he wasn’t just thinking of lando, but you as well, his other dear friend.

the brit shook his head, not giving in to the worry max seemed to hold. “not necessary. no different than being at the same hotel.” lando concluded.

he’d seen you on nights out, had conversations with you on boats; you still got an invite and paddock pass to his home race.

there was nothing to worry about. if you two weren’t capable of being friends, such thing would’ve been exposed.

that’s what lando thought anyways.

standing on the deck of a ten bedroom villa in the south of france however, he realised maybe he should’ve considered max’s words more carefully.

small doses of you seemed to differ from your constant presence.

the break up was civil, lando was grateful for such thing. it’d been him who ended things, purely because he felt as if he couldn’t give you the time you deserve. it was a cop out, he feared, realising things were almost too good between the pair of you.

he wasn’t sure he could commit to putting you through a relationship where you wouldn’t get the time and treatment you deserved.

you took it well, an angel in fact; you wanted to hate him for it. but you couldn’t bring yourself too. selfless enough to put the peace of your mutual friends and him first. plus, losing him entirely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d mourned the relationship, cried in private and cursed him to your best friend; and moved on. well, appeared to have.

it went unspoken, amongst the group; in front of you two at least, and between you two as well. not exactly something you were ready to laugh at yet. it just seemed to go… unaddressed.

until it was night two, dinner at a fancy restaurant with maybe a few too many bottles of wine meant piling into ubers to get back to the villa.

it sort of just happened, lando shuffling into the car behind you; leaving you in the middle of him and max; pietra on max’s lap and tom in the front.

your senses were consumed of him immediately, not able to avoid him considering you were practically pressed into his side in an attempt to give pietra enough room.

you glanced up at him once, smiling sheepishly to see his eyes already on you.

“you still wear it,” lando hummed casually, pinky finger reaching to brush over the bracelet he’d bought you a few months into your relationship, grazing your wrist as he did so.

your cheeks went a shade of pink at the observation, and if it weren’t for the fact you were wine drunk you probably would’ve made up an excuse as to why the piece of metal still found it’s way onto your wrist everyday.

“it’s my favourite,” you replied; glancing down at the piece as your hand moved to fiddle with it, small smile playing on your lips.

you missed the grin spread on lando’s face, a sense of pride fulfilling him as he recounted the stress it had caused him just picking out the damn bracelet. he was relieved to see you still wearing it, for some reason.

“i’ve got good taste.” lando bragged, eyes practically begging for yours to meet his again; smiling in amusement when they did as you nudged him.

you were suddenly even more aware of the closeness, the way your knees were touching, how his arm had stretched to rest over the headrest behind you. it was forced proximity sure, but an odd sense of familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a while was accompanying it.

“most of the time,” you mused, earning a nudge back ━ which had a giggle escaping you, one you attempted to hush; not wanting to draw attention to you and lando’s conversation.

if it did, the others in the car would’ve seen the way lando’s face lit up at the sound. he hadn’t made you laugh like that in months, he’d forgotten how good it felt to do so.

he’d almost forgotten how easy you were to be around. how easy it was to fall for you in the first place.

it was as if the universe was punishing him for such thing, because suddenly you were all he could think about once more.

that night, he was simply relaxing in his room; when you came waltzing in.

“p,” your voice hummed as you knocked; pushing the door open before lando could muster a response from inside. “do you have my top━ oh shit, sorry!” you’d cut yourself short when you found yourself standing in lando’s room. not pietra and max’s.

who was luckily just lounging on the bed in his joggers, not far from switching the lamp off and going to sleep.

but he had been shocked to see you enter his room in just a towel.

“you’re fine,” lando chuckled; having sit up. “we swapped rooms this morning… figured they should have a private bathroom,” lando explained; watching as your face softened in some sort of relief.

you hadn’t been crazy. regardless, still embarrassed; the redness on your cheeks clear as you nodded, cringing ever so slightly.

“right; my bad, sorry,” you repeated; not even wanting to imagine what else you could’ve walked in on.

lando simply chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes glanced over your figure just once; unable to help himself. having to swallow to not let himself think back to what he knows is underneath the towel keeping you modest.

“i’m gonna go,” you declared; sheepishly smiling as you turned on your heel; cringing once more now that you were out of sight, not hiding the urgency as you practically fled his room and slammed the door behind you.

lando hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until you left, body relaxing as he flopped back onto the mattress; a curse leaving his lips.

the next morning, you were there again. obviously. yet he couldn’t see you, nor could you see him. so technically he was eavesdropping; but it hadn’t been on purpose.

lando was out on his balcony first, which was above yours it appeared; mindlessly scrolling through his phone before arabella’s voice became audible, who you were rooming with this trip.

“since when did nicolas get ripped,” she’d posed to you, peering at the man who was dipping in the pool; your eyes following her gaze from where you both sat in deck chairs; smoothies in hand.

“he’s always been cute,” you pointed out; shrugging ever so slightly as you adjusted the sunglasses atop your head, rolling your eyes the moment you caught glance of arabella’s grin.

“and he’s always been into you.” arabella chimed, and you should’ve expected her to steer the conversation in such direction.

lando whoever, who hadn’t scrolled past the tik tok which was playing for the fourth time now, had not expected such words.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you and nicolas? yeah right. you two were close friends, he knew that much. but nothing more. surely not.

“we’re friends bella,” you dismissed; shaking your head. slightly flirty friends as of recent, you’d admit. but just friends.

“so? doesn’t have to stay that way,” arabella had grinned ━ and lando felt betrayed; as if it should be him the pair of you were talking about. not nicolas.

“yes it does.” you laughed. “i’m not dating within the friend group ever again,” you spoke in such certainty it had lando confused, he didn’t think it faired that bad the first time.

but he also wasn’t opposed to your declaration. not that he was close to nicolas, in fact he probably knew him the least. but he was a brother of a childhood friend, who’d tagged along the last few trips. and lando had no complaints of the guy.

“don’t be silly,” arabella huffed. “i’m not saying fall in love with him. just that he could end the sex drought you’re stuck in.” arabella hummed, your eyes widening as you hit her softly.

“what? no one can hear us!” arabella spoke dramatically, and you rolled your eyes; no argument because you figured she was right.

however she wasn’t, because lando was still listening. and his interest had suddenly spiked.

“i am not… stuck in a sex drought,” you huffed; not sounding one bit convincing as you glanced at the pool. “men just suck. i’ve given up on having an orgasm.” your words were dramatic, and playful, but still a bit of truth to them.

suddenly lando felt guilty for overhearing, or purposefully listening, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

your words made no sense to him; considering nights with you would always lead to multiple orgasms for both of you.

and it wasn’t as if you were short on options.

“gotta do everything yourself these days,” arabella sighed out dramtically in agreement; but she had a boyfriend, and your friendship with the girl wasn’t one for many secrets; you knew she was only ‘relating’ out of sympathy.

truth was; since lando, nothing or no one could compare. not even your own damn fingers.

“can’t even get myself off.” you huffed out almost ashamed, and you only whined when you met arabella’s shocked eyes and slack jaw.

lando suddenly felt intrusive, and flustered from the idea of you touching yourself; one he’d grown familiar with due to long distance. suddenly he was standing and ready to walk himself inside in his room.

“is your body like… broken?” arabella sounded bewildered, and you could only huff.

you’d blame it on stress, or any of your medication if it was possible; you’ve heard stories, knew there could be many reasons as to why your sex drive and urges have suddenly changed. none aligned with your circumstances however.

“just deprived i think,” you sighed.

lando needed to get his mind off your sexual need’s immediately, deciding to go on a run with max to occupy himself. to get you off his mind.

and it worked, until he got back to the villa. hot and out of breath, he found himself in the kitchen ━ pouring a glass of water with ice, eyes wandering out the fold out doors that exposed the luxurious back yard. decking, sun lounges, a pool; and his closest friends.

and his ex girlfriend. in a little bikini. with another man’s hands on her.

he couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, you resting on your stomach as nicolas rubbed sunscreen into your back ━ watching as you grinned and spoke up to him momentarily. you were flirting, he knew that look.

his takeaways from his… eavesdropping, was that you didn’t plan to pursue nicolas. so what the fuck was this?

he wanted to laugh, you were going to seek answers to your problems in nicolas? he almost felt offended; if you needed good sex so badly he felt as if he was the obvious candidate.

“careful mate, you’re staring,” max’s words snapped lando out of his thoughts; causing him to glare at the man quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, unaware that his grip was so tight his knuckles were white.

max’s amusement only escalated, eyebrows raising as he chuckled quietly.

“i wasn’t.” lando murmured, leaning back against the counter. “just didn’t know that was a thing,” he tried to shrug off; eyes returning to where you now sat up, rubbing sunscreen into nicolas’s back now.

had he been oblivious to the pair of you?

“i don’t think it is.” max shrugged, following lando’s gaze momentarily, not overanalysing the sight. everyone was friends here.

lando looked to max in doubt, to check if he was being serious.

“does it matter if it is?” max questioned, sassily too, almost a challenge; and lando was quick to scoff ━ mustering up the best chuckle he could to appear as unbothered as he wanted to be.

“no,” the mclaren driver answered almost too quickly, clearing his throat slightly. “i hope it is. would be a good match,” he overcompensated; left to only flip max off as he chuckled and hummed unconvincingly.

“whatever you say,” max mused.

lando wished he was being honest, but as time passed by it became quite clear he was lying.

dinner that night you were sat at opposite ends of the long table, like usual; regardless, lando’s eyes were trained on you for the majority of the night.

you and nicolas of course. who’d snagged the seat next to you.

forced to watch as you shared food, laughed and chattered away in your own little world.

lando felt sick from the sight; that used to be him. should be him. and while he could only blame himself for it not being him, it was a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

he felt utterly helpless however, because there was nothing he could do.

he couldn’t even express his dismay to anyone as he watched nicolas help you in the car. left to watch as you both giggled and stumbled up to the villa ahead of the group.

he wanted to intervene, to make his presence known to hopefully at least make it awkward. but he couldn’t bring himself too.

not when you’d been such an angel in the breakup, made things so easy for him from the start of the relationship to now. it just wouldn’t be fair to ruin this for you.

even though it was all he wanted to do.

he noted how you two were first off to go ‘sleep’ that night, halfway through the movie that had been put on. and he suddenly wished he’d downed a few more glasses of red at the restaurant, maybe then he wouldn’t have the capacity to brainstorm up everything and anything you and nicolas could be doing tonight.

he wasn’t going to say it was what kept him up, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; but it definitely played on his mind.

it was starting to make sense to him at least; he hadn’t been around you without distractions since the breakup. it suddenly became clear how helpful those distractions are.

3:42 the clock read.

lando hadn’t gotten a second of shut eye, and after two hours of laying there; he conceded. deciding to get a glass of water as if that would be the solution to all his problems.

instead he was just met with the problem itself; you.

surprise, surprise. nicolas was not the answer to your prayers.

you were already keen to tell arabella ‘i told you so’ when you returned to your room. having spent the night in nicolas’.

he was a nice guy, until the clothes came off.

it was nothing new, you on top; he came. you didn’t. he then tried to get you to finish with his fingers, and you faked an orgasm when it became clear he wasn’t finding your clit any time soon.

your frustrations had now multiplied, it felt pathetic. you were ready to give up.

you snuck out the moment he fell asleep, in the kitchen to get a glass of water and for a few moments to yourself.

“shouldn’t be surprised you’re up,” lando made his presence known, having debated running back to his room when he noticed you occupying the kitchen.

typical.

“needed a drink,” you hummed sheepishly; and for some reason when your eyes met his you felt intimidated; as if you needed refuge, turning back around to the fridge to fill your cup up with ice.

maybe it was because you were already sexually frustrated. or the fact you were stood with your ex boyfriend after sneaking out of another guys room.

“same,” lando hummed; moving behind you to grab a glass for himself, and you could feel him waiting behind you as you poured water into the glass.

“nice night?” lando asked when you moved aside so he too could fill his glass, not looking at you for the time being so you wouldn’t decipher the motives in the question. he didn’t need you to know how concerned he was with your night.

you nodded quickly, humming as you still had a mouth full of water, leaning against the counter now.

“yeah, yeah,” you spoke; pursing your lips. it had been. until it wasn’t. “restaurant was lovely,” you smiled; shifting on your feet slightly as you took in his appearance, even in the dull lightly.

his messy curls that look slept on, slightly tired eyes. he looked cozy.

lando nodded, so much on the tip of his tongue. maybe if it was a different hour of the day he’d have the common sense to not speak his mind, but he was slightly sleep deprived and going insane from his own thoughts.

“you know my balcony is above yours,” lando told you; randomly, your eyebrows furrowing ━ coughing out a slight laugh. you weren’t sure where this conversation was going to lead, your guess was awkward silence. not him blurting out something… irrelevant.

it took a few moments for it to dawn on you, the slight curve of lando’s lips into a smirk causing your eyes to widen in realisation.

you’d only been out on the balcony once today.

“oh my god,” you mumbled; cringing as he chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “shut up!” you whisper yelled, leaning forward to whack his arm, which only had him laughing once more as his hands flew up in defence.

“i wasn’t eavesdropping! i swear,” lando mused, shaking his head as your eyebrows raised.

“great, so you just happened to hear all about my sad sex life,” you huffed, and lando couldn’t help the small smile that was refusing to leave his lips; always having adored the sight of you flustered and sheepish.

it didn’t help, the sight of you wearing what seemed to be just an oversized shirt. reminiscent of how his shirts would drape over your body.

“yeah,” lando confirmed sympathetically, causing you to whack him again; no force in your actions as you groaned audibly.

you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather not hear that conversation; ever so grateful you hadn’t been completely honest with arabella.

you would die of humiliation if you’d told her how you compared every man to lando, how you found no one was able to make you feel anywhere near as good.

but regardless, there was a level of comfort. you trusted the man in front of you.

“nicolas though hm?” lando spoke light heartedly, reminding you of the man you’d just been in bed with.

was it bad he’d slipped your mind completely? having forgotten that he was who sparked such conversation this morning.

“did he make you cum?” his follow up question had you dumbfounded, having not expected such blunt words as your lips parted. “can i ask that?” lando added with a reassuring laugh. but you knew that look in his eyes.

they were darker than usual, he was staring at you intently; practically begging you to step closer.

“no,” you cleared your throat, opting for honesty. “he didn’t.” you huffed, eyes avoiding his for a moment as if you were ashamed. as if it was your fault.

the relief lando felt was pathetic, not that he wished a bad time upon you. or anyone for that matter. but god it felt like the door had been swung right open for him.

he was right; of course nicolas wasn’t going to do it for you.

“i know you can make yourself cum.” lando chimed, pushing himself off the counter and taking a couple steps towards you; ridding any distance as he stood in front of you. “used to be able to at least, seen it myself,” he told you as if you could forget.

you swallowed intently, the tension now almost suffocating. sleeping with an ex was something you swore against; recipe for disaster. but it seemed awfully appealing when it looked like lando did right now.

your cheeks were pink, thinking about the countless times you’d gotten yourself off on facetime calls with the driver, purely because neither of you could wait any longer to see one another again.

“not the same anymore.” your voice was barely above a whisper, it didn’t need to be; not when he was only centimetres away, looking down at you as if he was ready to ravish you.

lando’s eyebrow raised at that, eyes flickering across your face.

it wasn’t the same, you’d worked out the hard way. you only relied on your own devices when you had no other choice; and with that would be lando on the of phone with words of encouragement and direction.

“what, need me to talk you through it again?” his words were teasing as his hand moved to cup your cheek; your stomach turning at the thought. at the fact he seemed like he knew that would do it for you.

you let out a slight breath, shaking your head but you held little confidence in doing so.

“need me to touch you?” he added on, offer sounding almost like a request; words so hushed you could’ve missed them. but you didn’t, you heard him loud and clear.

his eyes were pouring into yours as if he pitied you, but the smirk on his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be the one to solve your problems.

you didn’t even need to think about it, no ifs or buts entering your mind; nothing could make the idea of him seem unappealing.

“please,” you mumbled; eyes pouring up into his, watching as a wicked grin spread on his features; one that made your knees weak.

it was all lando needed to hear, lips pressing against yours in an instant; it coming back to the pair of you quickly. feeling so natural, the way your body melted into his touch; the way your lips moved against each other.

your hands finding a grip on his shirt as his spread across your hips.

lando didn’t waste any time; he wanted to make you cum.

he wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed like a challenge, or because he missed you; but god did he want nothing more than to make you feel good:

his knee pushed between your thighs first, your legs spreading; immediately aware of the finger he was tracing up your inner thigh.

as much as lando missed the feeling of your lips against his, he loved watching you react to every touch and feeling. pulling away but not creating much distance as his fingers brushed over your clothed folds.

you took a sharp breath, shifting your weight to lean against the counter as the anticipation built within, eyes locked on his as he teasingly brushed your clothed clit as well.

he could feel your soaked panties, a wet patch that you knew wasn’t there when you first entered the kitchen.

“you know it doesn’t make sense,” lando started speaking through a breath; his fingers pushing your panties aside with ease, swiping through your folds; spreading your wetness to your clit. “because you’re always so easy for me baby,” he practically cooed as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your jaw fell slack, hips pushing against his hand lightly as you whimpered; cheeks hinting at his taunting words which you’d almost forgotten about and how crazy they drove you.

his free hand returned to your cheek, cupping the side of your face and adjusting your head to ensure you were looking up at him; his head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed down at you.

“so responsive,” he added in a hum; looking incredibly smug, thumb settling on your clit ━ and the moan that escaped you as he circled your sensitive bud had lando’s jaw clenching. he’d missed your pretty sounds.

he was toying with you, teasing. his fingers moving slowly, thumb only lightly circling your clit. yet you hadn’t felt this good in fucking forever, face contorting in pleasure proving such thing.

lando could get lost in the sight, not able to help himself from wanting to give you more.

his fingers gradually picked up the pace, thumb applying more pressure now; but it was when he curled his fingers, grazing that spot he never failed to miss, that you hadn’t been able to find, that a slightly louder moan escaped you.

“ah, ah,” lando hushed you; tapping your cheek lightly. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando hummed through heavy breaths, hating that he had to ask such thing of you.

he wanted to hear you lose control, hear you scream his name like you had countless of times. but he’d hate to be interrupted and have the current sight cut short.

you whined quietly at the request, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep any noise at bay; knowing you had no choice. waking anyone up would be less than ideal.

but somehow, the thought of being caught was the least of your concerns.

your back arched when he added a third, thumb still expertly playing with your clit; your quiet whimpers and moans were growing in volume once more.

lando took matters into his own hands, the hand cupping your cheek shifting so he could tap his pointer finger on your bottom lip; and he had to shut himself up this time as you invited two digits past your lips without second thought.

“fuck,” he mumbled out; eyes fixated on the way you looked up at him with his fingers in your mouth; so similar to the sight of when you’d suck him off. his hard on was almost painful.

your moans were muffled now, thankfully, as your hips pushed forward once more; slowly losing control over your body as the pleasure continued to build.

you’d made a mess on your thighs, his fingers working in and out of you perfectly; beginning to curl his fingers repeatedly had your eyes rolling back.

“yeah, right there baby?” lando mumbled; despite you unable to respond. “gonna make a mess on my fingers yeah? think you deserve to cum,” he smirked ━ and if you could’ve you would’ve cried out, nodding quickly at his words.

your stomach tightened, it was sudden; more sudden than you remembered, lando having caught on to the fact you were cumming before you did; squeezing his fingers as you came undone.

his body was practically holding you up against the counter, vision going white for a moment as your muffled moans filled the air, hips bucking involuntarily once more.

lando wanted to curse himself for ever depriving himself of such thing, watching as you shook in front of him; fingers moving to let you ride out your high, until he was pulling them from your panties, and mouth respectively.

your eyes fluttered open, nothing but awe as you gazed up at him through hooded eyes; panting ever so lightly.

he was smiling cockily, if he didn’t know the root of your issue before, he did now. the way you needed him.

you couldn’t even crush his inflating ego, not when he’d made you cum so hard in a matter of minutes; giving you what you’d been chasing the past few months.

he was about to kiss you again, after moments of admiring your face; but the sound of a door shutting had the moment ruined, reminding both you and him of where you are and what you’re meant to be.

definitely not meant to be caught having a moment at 4 in the morning.

lando was quick in taking a few large strides across the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as you quickly tugged your shirt down and ran your hand through your hair.

when pietra walked in, it was an innocent sight. plenty of distance between the pair of you, not enough lights on to expose your flushed cheeks or lando’s glistening fingers.

you pretended to be surprised as you brought your glass to your lips, leaning against the counter because your legs were still shaky, lando nodding towards the blonde.

“can’t sleep?” lando hummed in question.

“need to fill my water up.” pietra nodded with a smile, eyes flickering between you in suspicion for a brief moment as she realised this was almost an awkward thing to walk in on. you and him.

if only she knew.

you nodded in agreement, raising your glass of water as lando let out a small chuckle.

“if you need a late night snack, the donuts are great,” lando spoke again; your eyes falling onto him, and you were sure your face was bright red as you watched him bring his fingers to his lips; licking them clean.

you coughed on air, playing it off as if your water went down the wrong way; pietra oblivious as she nodded with a smile.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

the smirk he’d sent you was sickening, and with that he was saying good night and excusing himself.

lando ended up needing a cold shower that night, with his own hand and images of you burned into his mind.

you were hoping your head would be clear when you woke up, but it was only more scrambled.

you’d gotten what you wanted, was it greedy to only want more?

“good night?” arabella had questioned you, sitting next to you on the long dining table; bowls of cereal in front of pair of you; and the smirk on her face was quite telling.

except she didn’t know the half of it.

“yeah, yeah it was good,” you hummed; eyes shifting to the other end of the table; where lando sat, already staring at you. the mischievous glint in his eye had you looking away quickly, the sly smirk not helping you in trying to play it cool to arabella.

you knew he was listening.

“did your… problem get solved?” arabella attempted to ask without outing you, so oblivious to the fact lando could easily piece together her words.

your eyes narrowed towards her, as if to say ‘shut up.’ which she only looked back at you with wide eyes, finding herself quite discrete.

“well?” arabella pushed, whisper yelling.

“yes,” you huffed; in hopes she would shut up, you could feel lando’s eyes burning into you. the man who solved your problem, unbeknownst to arabella who thought it was nicolas who was responsible.

“ah! how exciting,” arabella grinned; standing up and taking her bowel to the kitchen, only then did you let your eyes fall back on the british driver.

who looked oh so amused, you had to flee; following in the girls steps.

it set the tone for the next few days; longing looks, tempting smirks and lingering touches.

you couldn’t bring yourself to go out of your way and seek more of him; despite how much you wanted it. nicolas had been forgotten about, failing to explain your sudden interest and now lack of in the guy.

lando was all you could think about. how couldn’t you? he’d fingered you in the kitchen, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm you’d been craving; one you hadn’t experienced since him. and once again, it had gone unaddressed.

the tension was clear; you got peace from the fact he was in the same boat as you.

you hated that he’d walked off so smug that night and you yourself had nothing to brag about, left to accept the fact that you needed him. had missed him.

and he knew it.

so maybe you were tactical, every day the dresses got shorter. bikini’s got smaller. you wanted to see him squirm.

which was easy.

it was ridiculous, how often you felt his gaze burning into you; feeling the heat on your skin from such thing. you’d blame the hot summer sun for the the constant blush on your cheeks but in reality it was him.

made to feel better by the way his jaw was constantly clenched. hands fiddling with one another. leg bouncing impatiently because he was furious with the fact you were no longer his, he couldn’t whisk you away and tear your clothes off like he wanted too.

left to simply stare. dwell on the facts. wish that he somehow gets a moment alone with you again.

there were sliding doors.

two minutes alone underneath the cabin on a boat, both trying to find something to drink. he swore you were about to kiss him before max came bouncing down the stairs.

you’d all gone out one night, somehow it was only you two left at the bar. lando was convinced this was it, he was going to drag you off to the bathroom.

but then arabella appeared, demanding shots.

you’d never admit that you went out to the kitchen most nights, hoping he too would be awake at such ridiculous hour again.

you tried not to get frustrated, even with the knowledge there was only a couple days till you’d be flying back home to reality.

finally however, you got lucky.

lando had gone on a run; unbeknownst to you, who had slept in.

you rejected plans of going to a winery, choosing for a day by the pool to save energy to go out tonight like planned.

your group of friends had attempted to protest your decision, but you insisted. bribed them with a promise you would do some baking while they were out.

that’s where lando found you.

stood in the kitchen. of course.

tiny bikini. typical.

and no one else in sight. lovely.

“smells fucking amazing.” lando hummed; slightly breathless as he sauntered into the kitchen, moving to stand against the island ━ a safe distance between the pair of you.

the voice had startled you, jumping slightly as you turned around.

you smiled appreciatively at his words, attempting to not stare at his exposed torso. tanned skin, beads of sweat decorating it. his muscles only more prominent as he crossed his arms, flexing invitingly.

“would feel bad letting such a big kitchen go to waste,” you explained; shrugging ever so slightly as your eyes returned to the chocolate chip cookies you were currently making. refuge from the sight of him.

he chuckled, and nodded; not that you saw. but his eyes didn’t leave you.

he should go up to his room.

“who’s home?” he couldn’t help but ask, feet planted. he wasn’t going anywhere.

the question had you facing what you were trying to ignore; the fact it was just the pair of you. it was dangerous knowledge.

“just us,” you spoke through a breath. if the tension wasn’t clear before, those two words had it falling upon the pair of you like bricks.

lando nodded once more, lips pursing. you were so tempting. this was what he’d been hoping for. he was impressed he even had the mental strength to consider running off. hiding in his room till your friends returned.

that idea didn’t last long though. moving towards you, you heard him approaching; his presence was demanding.

he was behind you, causing you to freeze. breath stuck in your throat.

“you’re driving me crazy.” he’d whispered, despite no fear of anyone overhearing; and you had to shut your eyes for a brief moment when his lips grazed your ear, ensuring you knew just how in reach he was.

you found some solace in his words, confirming your suspicions. reassuring to know you weren’t the only one going crazy. the only one feeling nostalgic.

“how so?” you played dumb, bottom lip rolling through your teeth ━ regardless your head tilted aside as his lips grazed your skin again, his breath fanning your skin.

you heard him grunt, and it would’ve made you giggle if you weren’t fighting off the urge to jump his bones.

“don’t act like it’s not on purpose.” lando huffed, hands moving to play with the fiddling strings of your bikini, fingertips only just brushing your skin.

you had to draw in another breath, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you needed some sort of power, just a physical reminder that he too was struggling despite his admission.

so you turned on your feet, eyes flickering up to his as you shrugged your shoulders; breaths slightly irregular from the closeness. right in front of you. trapping you against the counter.

“know you haven’t forgotten that all you need to do is use your words if you want me to fuck you,” lando spoke before you could, oozing cockiness despite his wandering eyes and tense jaw; his patience wearing thin.

once more you were cornered in the kitchen by his attractive frame and blunt words that had your thighs squeezing together.

“goes both ways,” you chimed; worried if you didn’t speak now you wouldn’t get a word in. you knew how this went; it was only a matter of time till you were a mess in his hands.

his eyebrows raised, he even scoffed; if he wasn’t so eager for you to go on he would’ve reminded you it didn’t.

lando always had a kink for making you beg.

“i already got what i wanted,” you hummed; hands moving to rest on his toned abdomen, running down and across the muscles before finding the waistband of his joggers. “something you want?”

your teasing tone had lando remembering just how worked up you got him, how frustrating and almost annoying you were. how annoying it was to deal with your antics that was.

“the other night was more than enough for me baby,” lando mused; not cracking, even with your hands on his body. “always look so pretty when you cum.”

you wish his words didn’t have such a visible effect on you. how flustered you got clear by the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, even while you stood here playing with the waistband of his pants.

it was pathetic; neither of you wanting to crack first, wasting precious time because you both really thought you were above this.

able to be friends. exes who wouldn’t go back to each other.

you knew he wasn’t entirely lying; of course you could remember how you were gifted a man who got off from getting you off. how he’d spent nights with his head just buried between your thighs. making you cum countless of times before he got his dick wet.

“cold shower treat you well?” you huffed; not letting him get away with such thing. as if he wasn’t standing here with the need to fuck you.

he smirked at your words, your attitude more so; the playful banter having been something he’d missed. something that wasn’t the same since things became platonic.

“did the job.” he laughed, hands still ghosting over your hips. “jealous i can still get myself off?” he couldn’t help but chuckle; and your jaw dropped at him using confidential information against you.

your hands still on his stomach, whacking lightly which he only chuckled harder at; and if you weren’t embarrassed you’d be taking in the way the smile was lighting up his face.

“that was not something you’re meant to use against me,” you practically grumbled; eyes narrowing up at him and he practically awed at the sight, adoring eyes and all as his hand moved to cup your cheek. his grin not matching the sympathetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled jokingly as he leant forward; not giving you time to reply as he put the both of you out of your misery, lips connecting with yours.

it wasn’t what you’d both expected, the kiss to finally ease the tension that had been building ever since a few nights ago in the same spot; the kiss was slow. passionate and deep, but not rushed.

it didn’t last long; but was nice in the moment however. to feel him.

the urge to feel more however was soon too prominent.

your hands that had linked behind his neck soon tangled in his hair. the grip he had on your waist soon moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh within his hold which had you leaning into him.

he lazily dragged you back with him, his back hitting the kitchen island as he practically held you against his body; lips moving in sync.

you felt his hard on with the movement, contained by his joggers; your own excitement jumping as your hands left his hair to snake down between your bodies; palming him.

the groan against your lips only motivated you; and while you wish you could do what he does, stand here and tease him; you were too keen to get your hands on him. to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes.

so you simply smiled up at him as you pulled away; bending down and settling on your knees; hands tugging his pants and underwear down with you; revealing his cock.

his breaths were a lot heavier as he watched you, leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, gaze fixed downwards as a small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

he hissed as your small hand wrapped around him; thumb swirling the precum ━ you loving every bit of knowing how turned you got him from just a few words and the sight of you.

he wouldn’t ever deny it either; no one did it for him like you did.

“look so pretty on your knees,” lando praised; eager to gain back some control, despite knowing he’d do anything you asked of him right now; your hand feeling much than his did the other night.

you were eager to continue to please, so you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth. it was as if he knew such thing, by the way his eyes were peering down at you.

his head fell back at the sensation, one he’d missed ━ arms flexing as he gripped the counter; a few curses strung together tumbling from his lips as you practically took him in whole first go.

his tip hitting the back of your throat did little to deter you. it was natural, as if you’d done such thing only a few days ago; not months ━ second nature as your tongue swirled his cock.

your eyes remained up, looking through your lashes as your head bobbed ━ knees uncomfortably shifting against the tiles but it was the last thing on your mind with the beautiful man above you.

taking in the way his abs flexed, neck strained and lips parted as you sucked him off ━ gagging occasionally but both of you knew that was no issue.

“missed this fucking mouth,” lando grunted, hand moving to tangle in your hair; both to keep it out of your way and to just have some sort of hold on you.

he was blindsided with pleasure, more than he remembered he’d be. your bikini did little to leave much to the imagination from his angle, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. matched with your doe eyes, his jaw was slack.

you hummed as he tugged your hair lightly, the sensation one you always welcomed; and he too was reminded of such as he felt the vibrations around him. tugging again with a little more force.

his groans were gradually becoming more regular, hips bucking once or twice ━ pushing his cock further down your throat each time.

“just like that baby, always so good for me,” lando breathed, eyes screwing such momentarily as his head fell back once more.

you almost whined at the vision, wanting to scramble to your feet and kiss at his skin, feel all over him.

and he’d be happy to let you, he was hesitant in having you get him off first regardless; you hadn’t left much room for argument with good reason.

but right now he had no complaints, moans growing slightly louder in volume ━ grip tightening on the strands of your hair. he didn’t give you any warning as he came, but you didn’t need any.

the way he twitched in your mouth, you didn’t miss a beat ━ swallowing all you could; revelling in the way your name left his lips.

your mouth left him with a pop, gazing up at him to meet his adoring eyes, staring down at you as if you were the greatest thing to grace the earth.

because he did think of you as such. you continued to amaze him, he didn’t grow immune to such thing; just had managed to avoid the fact for a while now.

you stood to your feet, relieving your knees of the discomfort; a coy smile plastered on your lips at him panting and flustered.

you felt even, for the other night; reassured you weren’t the only one in need.

lando couldn’t complain either, couldn’t throw a playful comment towards you ━ not when you stood there with messy hair and swollen lips. all he could think about was turning you into a whiny mess, desperate to have you at his mercy again.

it was clear neither of you knew what to say in the few moments of silence; shamelessly admiring the other, catching your breaths. it wasn’t awkward however.

you were happy to feel his lips on yours once more ━ his hands not shy in wandering your body this time, sliding down to your thighs and hoisting you up immediately.

he was swift in turning around and placing you on the counter, stood between your legs as he hummed against your lips.

it wasn’t until his mouth ducked to your neck, then your collar bones, becoming harder to ignore as your head fell back, growing hot from the kisses he placed where-ever he could, that you spoke up.

“should go to your room,” you managed to get out, watching him through hooded eyes as he simply grabbed the material of your bikini to let your breasts fall free, kissing at the skin of them afterwards.

it wasn’t that you were worried on being walked in on, you had the house to yourselves for at least a couple more hours. you knew that. more so just the knowledge this wasn’t your house.

his eyebrows raised as he looked back up at you, hand sprawling over your stomach as he pushed you back slightly; your body blindly following the suggestion as you leant back on your hands.

“i paid for this villa baby, if i wanna fuck you on the counter i will,” lando murmured, hands spreading your thighs further apart; putting you in no position to argue you.

how could you? his words sounded like a promise, one you could only hope he would keep.

you nodded pathetically, suddenly aware of his hands resting high up on your inner thighs; suddenly aware of your own arousal and need for him.

he discarded of your bikini bottoms with ease, admiring your frame for a few moments as his hand reached to squeeze your breast, nipple rolling through his fingers moments later.

“lando,” you breathed; almost in warning, almost a whine. your legs were still spread and you were already resisting the urge to squirm. your patience non existent.

he only grinned, a slight chuckle maybe as his hands pushed your legs further apart once more.

“i got you baby,” lando hummed. “always so needy for me, you need me yeah? don’t you?” he spoke teasingly, tone painfully sweet as his fingers traced over your soaked folds.

you wanted to curse his obvious teasing, point out how you hadn’t been so cruel. but you knew it’d be no use.

you were scared to admit such thing, huffing as your hips bucked upwards momentarily.

“want to hear you say it.” lando grunted when he realised you weren’t planning on speaking; pinching your clit to get his point across, a strangled moan escaping you as your lips parted, falling into submission.

“need you.” you whined almost shamefully, head falling back as if the ceiling would offer you refuge from his hard stare. “please,”

your pleas were always music to his ears, so much so he debated with the idea of teasing you some more; to draw more whines and please out of you. but the way you were spread for him, so ready; he couldn’t help himself any longer.

you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud; not expecting such feeling as your eyes rolled back.

his hands manoeuvred your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders; giving him full access to your core as sweet moans started to escape you.

“o-oh my god,” you whimpered; eyes flickering to the sight of his head between your thighs ━ back arching as his tongue swiped through your folds, assaulting your cunt relentlessly as if he was starved.

you’d been reminded of how good his fingers were; so much so you hadn’t even considered getting his tongue again.

his large hands were squeezing your thighs, a bruising grip to keep you in place; eating you out expertly.

“lando━ feels so good,” you moaned as if that wasn’t clear by the way your hips were pushing against his hold. your right hand left the counter, moving to tangle in his curls, something to grab.

his blue eyes ventured to the sight of you momentarily, and he groaned into your cunt as he took note of the way your face was contorting in pleasure, how your body flinched with every move he made.

whimpers and moans were free falling, lando enjoying every single one ━ glad you could be as loud as you wanted, as loud as he made you.

you knew you were approaching your high shamefully fast, but had little room to care when you’d failed to reach it so much recently.

lando knew your body too well, could tell by the way you were tugging on his curls and creating more force against the hold he had on your thighs that you were about to cum.

he wanted you to let go, tongue flicking and nose bumping your clit ━ you orgasmed hard, suddenly; cumming on his tongue with what almost sounded like a squeal.

he didn’t stop, letting you ride out your high ━ before pulling away, wiping at the corners of his mouth.

you were mistaken however in thinking you would have time to catch your breath, not getting a word out before lando was moving only one leg off his shoulder and sliding two fingers into your entrance suddenly; thumb landing on your sensitive clit.

your body almost didn’t know how to react, falling back onto your hands that found the counter you sat upon once more to stabilise yourself.

“s’ too much,” you whimpered ━ legs attempting to squeeze shut, failing with the angle caused by one leg draped over lando’s shoulder, which allowed his fingers to hit deep within you.

lando hummed in amusement, knowing how much you could take. knowing you always said that, just to whine and cry out if he were to stop.

“too much?” he mocked; fingers curling and your body jerking. “want me to stop?” he breathed; smirking oh so cockily because he knew the answer. chuckling as you shook your head ‘no’ incredibly quickly.

“didn’t think so,” he huffed; thumb speeding up on your clit, rolling over the bud continuously. it was pure ecstasy, the overstimulation overwhelming your entire body.

his breaths were heavy as he admired you, the way you were shaking beneath him. reminiscent of how easily he could you like this, of the nights he made you cum four or five times before fucking you.

it killed him he didn’t have the time to do so again. but he couldn’t possibly complain right now.

“making a mess baby, all over my fingers,” lando spoke; the filthy sounds of his fingers moving in out of you filling the room, and you weren’t sure you’d last much longer when he entered a third. “so greedy. gonna cum again aren’t you?”

it was like he was three steps ahead of your body, leaving you to whine and nod pathetically.

“yeah? that what you want? to cum again?” lando spoke once more; watching as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut and it satisfied him to see you feel the pleasure he was giving.

he was hard again, purely from his name sounding so fucking incredible as you moaned and moaned, from the perfection you were.

his hand grasping your cheek had your eyes flying open as lando tilted your head forwards to look at him, eyebrows raised in expectance.

“words pretty girl,” lando reminded, chin still between his thumb and index finger ━ struggling to focus on him with the numbing pleasure that was causing tears to form.

you nodded, before processing what he’d said. words. right.

“please lando,” you gasped; eyes pouring into his, pleading with his as your back arched and legs shook. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself. “gonna cum,” you whined.

lando felt it had been far too long to be cruel, so he simply hummed in appreciation; smiling lazily as he pushed you over the edge as he curled his fingers once more.

your vision went white, screaming his name as you came again, all over his fingers.

lando’s bottom lip rolled through his teeth at the sight, able to take in every moment, no restraint for either of you and it felt fucking amazing.

his hands gently moved your leg off his shoulder, stood between them as his hands massaged your thighs comfortingly, giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath.

your eyes fluttered open, and immediately you were smiling stupidly at the sight of lando; his own grin mirroring yours as he hummed quietly.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered; unable to stop the compliment from escaping him, and your smile only grew; knowing you’d disagree if you caught sight of your tangled hair and flushed cheeks. 

it had your stomach flipping, men compliment you all the time. only lando would gain such a reaction.

“got another one in you?” his question was gentle; the sparkle in his eye daring, and you had no hesitation in nodding.

“need you inside me,” you mumbled, causing the driver’s smirk to return to its rightful place ━ glad your wants were shared.

you may have gone a long time without, but your stamina hadn’t faulted.

lando was tugging you to the edge of the counter at that, and you easily got lost in the kiss that he placed upon your lips; rough and messy as you melted into his hold.

it’d caught you by surprise, when he tugged you down onto your feet, spun your round and bent you over the marble surface; a gasp escaping you.

“missed you so much,” lando sighed; ushering your legs apart as your breath hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to focus on, his words, your position or the feeling of his hands on your ass.

the confession wasn’t one you’d hold onto, you knew better than to cling to words uttered during sex. but god it felt great to hear.

“missed you too,” you assured him back, moan slipping past your lips as you felt his tip press against your folds; but he made no further movements.

your hips shook slightly, attempting to entice him ━ so needy despite having cum twice already. you just wanted him. all of him.

his hand moved up your back, tangling in your hair and creating a makeshift pony tail ━ one he tugged on immediately, your head snapping up.

“what did i say earlier? about using your words?” lando leant forward, lips grazing your ear; cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to cry out.

your body was overstimulated, tired; tired of his teasing. out of practice to predict his wants.

“want you to fuck me,” you whined quickly, rushing your words out as your hips pressed backwards. “need you lan, please,” you whimpered; sounding oh so desperate lando couldn’t possibly deny you.

he entered you without any more warning, bottoming out as your walls wrapped around him; your gasps intertwining as you gripped the counter below you.

the cool surface against your front did little to cool you down, moaning at the feeling of being so full. full of him again, after so long.

too long.

“always take me so well,” lando grunted in your ear; giving you a few moments to adjust before he was dropping your hair and standing up straight ━ hands finding your hips now.

his thrusts were harsh, rough and deep; not too slow or too fast, ensuring you felt every inch of him as your aching cunt squeezed him.

every move had your body jolting, moans escaping you; the counter and lando the only reason your legs were able to stay upright.

“so-so good,” you stumbled out, eyes rolling back as your body fell limp, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling. what you’d been deprived of and craving.

the driver too was losing himself in the feeling, head thrown back as he moved in and out of you ━ sounds of skin slapping filling up the large and empty space.

it was a mutual feeling, as to why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. how on earth you two had been in such close proximity throughout the months and not gotten to this point yet.

safe to say keeping your distance now would be difficult.

lando felt the need to be closer, as if he needed more of you despite having you already at his mercy.

his hand found your neck with ease, wrapping around your throat and guiding your head up ━ causing you to stand up right, back against his chest.

he didn’t apply pressure, yet, but just the feeling of his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck had your legs feeling weaker; split open on his cock meaning lando’s body was the only thing holding you up now.

“feel good?” lando’s question was just him chasing praise, knowing you were fucked stupid; but he couldn’t help but want to remind you just who was the reason you could barely form sentences.

you nodded as much as you could in his hold. always nodding, he could ask or say anything and you’d find a way to say yes.

“only i can make you feel this good hm? only i can make you cum?” lando didn’t stop running his mouth, basking in the fact it was him that had the tears spilling out of your eyes. a sense of pride washing over him.

you choked out a yes, his thrusts having only gotten faster ━ and when his hand applied pressure to your neck you were almost certain you were in heaven.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect for me baby,” lando grunted in praise; and the kiss he pressed to your shoulder blade was a vast contrast to the treatment of your cunt.

it really was too much, the few tears and whimpers made that clear to lando; you were only moments away from cumming again and the thought alone had his own high dawning on him.

“come on angel, cum on my cock. cum for me,” he was speaking in your ear again; and you practically screamed as your third orgasm hit ━ body falling limp in his hold.

the way your walls squeezed him had him cumming with you, groaning as his forehead rested on your shoulder ━ erratic breaths filling the room as he stilled inside you.

all his touches were suddenly delicate, pulling out of you as he moved you to lean against the counter, still holding you up slightly as you caught your breath.

it was a comfortable silence, his hands ghosting over your waist as you pressed your eyes shut for a few moments.

you’d expected some sort of regret. an immediate now what? for one of you to panic or flee.

but instead, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

“want to join me for a shower?” lando broke the silence, a half smile that had you feeling an odd sense of relief.

one he felt too when you smiled right back, and nodded in agreement.

he’d chuckled, you would even go as far as to say he was grinning; hands grasping your thighs and picking you up with ease, carrying you off towards the bathroom.

when your friends returned you had been on the sofa, lando out by the pool ━ strategically placed to avoid suspicion, already under the assumption someone would’ve brought up the fact it happened to be you two who stayed back today.

chatter filled the room immediately, lando trudging in to greet everyone. you having stayed seated, purely because you didn’t trust your legs.

“burnt cookies y/n?” max had spoke across the room; having been first to stumble upon the overdone batch sat on the kitchen island you’d spent the last 15 minutes sanitising.

your cheeks flushed, purely because you could sense lando’s eyes burning into you.

you could picture the cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“yeah. my bad,” you laughed sheepishly.

and you were glad to be the only one paying attention when lando passed the back of the couch, finger grazing your shoulder as he did so.

“my bad,” he corrected; your eyes meeting his smug ones in passing.

━━

a/n: did y’all miss my shitty endings???

anyways idk what this is but here it is

unedited atm so apologies xox

as always appreciate feedback so so much, love u all and hope u enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[teardropsonsmyguitar]

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[ang3ltine]

❝ℭ𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔦𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔰❞  𝑓𝑡. 𝐵𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑆𝑒-𝑚𝑖 𝑥 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠: semi would deffo own a motorbike you can't convince me otherwise. This is just a short scenario for self indulgence heh , also pls share and follow if you like my work <3,

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: slight mention of toxic relationship and mild suggestive themes towards the end ( scroll to avoid)

✰ She first met you at a vintage store downtown called 'savvy styles'. During your shifts she would constantly flirt with you shamelessly in front of other customers. At some point you got used to it and would play along.

✰ You ended up being close friends with her at the time you were dating your bf. Things ended terribly with him, you decided to take a break for a year, and Se-mi was with you every step of the way.

✰ Se-mi loved having a smoke every now and then so you gifted her the vivienne westwood heart lighter for Christmas. She still cherishes 'till this day and she couldn't be more grateful.

✰ After flirting back and forth she finally asked you out. She was actually super nervous but tried to cover it up with her cool girl facade ( you totally saw right through her xd).

"So uhh.. wanna go out sometime? " she asked while leaning against the counter top. There was a slight falter in her voice but she covered it up quickly with a cough.

"Ofcourse! I'd love to"  you bodly gave her a soft kiss on her cheek " pick me up after my shift at 6?"

She stood there in awe with the tips of her ears turning pink, after pulling herself out of shock she was back to her charming self.

"Yeahhh sure, after 6 right? I'll see you then angel ♡"

✰ Your first date was a memorable one. She had picked up after your shift like she had promised. Se-mi gave you a text message an hour before to give you a heads up of the dates location and that she'd be arriving soon.

✰ Hearing the sound of an engine revving in the distance you see Se-mi approach you. She took her helmet off and you reached up to fix her messy raven hair, which she gladly appreciated.

✰ Se-mi eyed you up and down with her dark eyes to take in what you were wearing. It was a cold winter night but here you were sporting a white ruffled dress that cut just above your knees with no tights. The intense staring got you flustered so you quickly scrambled onto the back of her bike after putting on your helmet.

✰ Being the humble woman she was, she handed you her jacket to wrap around your waist so you would feel comfortable during the ride.

" Thanks, but aren't you going to feel cold?" Shrugging her shoulders she looked back at you and shook her head.

"Nahh I'll be fine, I'm wearing thermal clothing. It's you that I should be worried about princess ~" you bit back a smile as you wrap your arms around her waist and leaned against her back. She smelt just like you had imagined, cherries and cigarettes.

✰ It took almost an hour to get to the beach just outside seoul. After doing some stretches once you got off the bike, you both headed down to the beach.

✰ The sun had begun to set across the horizon, giving the sky beautiful hues of oranges and pinks. Se-mi being the little shit that she was, hauled you onto her shoulder and sprinted towards the waves while you squealed.

✰After you had fun splashing in the waves, the night slowly crept in. Strolling down the beach at this time of the night wasn't something unusual for the pair. It was a special place that Se-mi would take you to calm your mind and to relieve stress. Which always worked.

✰ Your ex-boyfriend had emotionally and mentally drained you last year. Se-mi was the one who beat up your ex when you caught him and another girl making out in an alley way behind a cafe while you were still dating. That was a day that you would never forget.

" I can't believe how fast this year has gone.." , Se-mi hummed in response. You both were sitting down on the sand, looking towards the crashing waves against the rocky shore. They were surprisingly calm tonight despite yesterday's weather warnings.

"Hmm I'm proud of you. It takes alot of courage to get out of a toxic relationship and move on...", she turned to face you and reached out to move a loose strand of hair away from your face. Gently rubbing her thumb across your cheek while you nuzzled into her warm touch.

" You're the one who helped me the most Se-mi , and I have no idea how to repay you.."

✰ Se-mi was the first to lean in and brush her lips against yours, testing the waters. Not knowing if you wanted this or not. Without a second thought you pressed your lips fully against hers. They molded together perfectly, you don't know why you waited so long to feel this, to feel her.

✰ The rest of the world faded behind you as you both got lost in time. It was beginning to get hard to breathe as  she pulls you against her to deepen the kiss. You felt a rush of fireworks go off in your stomach that you never felt before with your ex, and it was exhilarating.

✰Se-mi could taste the slight hint of strawberry on your tongue from the candy you ate at the gas station and it just fueled her to ravish you even more. She nibbled softly on your bottom lip and tugged on it pulling out a quiet moan from you. Her hands were all over you and she had a hard time keeping herself under control. Giving your hips a gentle squeeze while you sat on her lap. Having no shame of being caught like this in public.

✰ But eventually you both had to pull away for air, your cheeks were flushed but you were content. Smiling softly down at the ravenette below you.Se-mi lightly nuzzled her nose against yours and both your breaths became foggy due to the cold air.

"So.. can I finally call you mine?" 

Ps. I'm sorry that this was super short but please repost and like the fic if you enjoyed it! ♡

[sultrysparkles]

"I'D UNDERSTAND "

[•~college!au, aged!up kirshima x reader~•]fluff/slight angst/smut

[•~synopsis: you find out your boyfriend was just using you, don't worry ejiro will help you forget all about that~•]

[•~a/n: inspired by a situation my friend was js in, send requests!!~•]

you couldn't believe it. after all that time? all those memories you two had together. it was all for nothing.

you and your (ex) boyfriend had been dating for a couple weeks. even though it was merely a couple weeks, you were convinced that he was the love of your life. you knew that he was the one. or at least you thought so-

gradually things got distant, he stopped making an effort overall, while you put in everything you had. you were confused and frustrated. you didn't do anything to him? so what was going on?...

then earlier this afternoon, you were catching up on some nearly-late homework assignments. as you scribbled your way through some equations a light buzz vibrated against your thigh.

curiously, you took out your phone and glanced over at the notification. you had got a message from your boyfriend.

you open his chats eagerly, for once he started a conversation with you. but your moment of glee soon came to an abrupt end as you read the first couple words.

"y/n. we need to break up"

you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. your stomach dropped making the guilty and panicky feeling overtake your senses even more.

you continue reading the paragraph, each word making that sick feeling grow in you. you couldn't believe that this was happening. it had to be a nightmare.

"tbh i was desperate for a prom date cs all my friends going had one and i didn't wanna be left out and at that point they were making fun of me so yea i shoulda js told the truth from the start instead of lying"

emotions flooded your mind. betrayal. disappointment. anger. were just to name a few. you were at a loss for words. you thought he actually loved you. he treated you better than any other guy you were previously with. and you get played?

you drop your phone, tears flooding your eyes as you fall onto your bed, head buried in the pillow below you. the only thing you felt like doing now was to cry your eyes out dry. sob until you got better if that was possible anymore. you felt stupid.

teardrops dampened the pillowcase below you face as you say there in sorrow. but your moment of mourning was soon interrupted by a series of knocks. a familiar voice following.

"y/n? you left your textbooks in the library-"

you quickly fix yourself up, taking in a couple deep breaths and wiping the tears off your cheeks. you swiftly get up from your bed, praying that the faint pink tint plastered all over your face wasn't too obvious.

your hand curls over the doorknob and you open the door slowly. being greeted with a familiar red haired boy. eijiro kirishima, your best friend. one of his arms holding up a stack of books, while the other was shoved in his jacket pocket.

"h-hey eijiro... thanks for bringing me these" you whispered, hiding your shaky rattled voice. eijiro looked down at you with a small frown. "you okay, y/n?" he asks, handing you the books, worry and concern evident in his tone.

those three words were all it took to make you crack. you erupted back into that familiar sorrow, eyes overfilling with water.

you then feel strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a warm and comforting embrace. without any thought you cry into his chest, a spot in his hoodie getting soaked.

a hand strokes your back softly as his soothing voice whispers in your ear "let it out, it's all gonna be okay y/n, I promise..." you hug him back even tighter, too lost in your emotions.

a couple moments pass before eijiro pulls away for a quick moment, arms still wrapped around you.

"you wanna tell me what's wrong?..."

you explain to kirishima everything that had just happened. he knew about this boyfriend you had and wasn't too trusting of him to begin with. he has a gut feeling something was off but he didn't want to burst your bubble so he kept quiet.

at least that's what he told himself. in actuality he couldn't tell if he was just jealous of him or if he actually had a guy feeling. something eijiro had never told you was that he had the biggest crush on you ever since you two had met. and every time you mentioned or introduced him to a new guy the only thing he could think of was how much better he was.

this moment was no different either. you told him in the past about how your boyfriend was treating you. from all the dry and lackluster conversations to the lack of attention. he heard it all. and he tried his best to comfort you, to try to look out for the both of you. when in reality he wanted you all for himself. he wanted to tell you how much of a better boyfriend he could be.

his blood boiled and his heart was full of fury. "that is so messed up." he grumbled arm wrapped around one of your shoulders as he held you in close, inhaling tye sweet scent of your shampoo.

"I know... im so tired of this ejiro. am I really that unlovable?.." you ask, glancing back up at the red haired male, eyelashes decorated with tiny teardrops. kirishima feels his cheeks reddened and blush as he thinks carefully about his reply. he could ruin your friendship if this doesn't go his way. but if it does workout, his dreams will come true. a moment passes before he replies.

"y/n, honestly I can't even hide this anymore from you. I love you. I mean it I swear. it drives me mad seeing you let these guys take advantage of you like this, you're too pretty and perfect to be treated like this. please- let me show you how good I could treat you-"

and that's how it all started. you were laid down on your back, thighs pushed all the way to your chest as kirishima towered over you.

"relax for me mamas... ima make you feel so good..." he cooes into your ear, hand caressing your cheek. you listen to him and let go of all the tension you were holding in, a breathy exhale leaving your lips.

kirishima teases his tip in between your fold and clit, making the both of you let out a small moan. soon enough he gently pushes himself in, groaning at the way your wet walls clam down on his length. you grip the bedsheets next to you as the feeling of the pleasureable yet painful stretch engulfs your senses.

"you okay princess? can I start?..." he asks, checking in for any signs of discomfort on your face. it took everything in him to not start moving and pound the life out of you, he had fantasized about this moment since forever and it was finally in his hands.

you nod, and kirishima starts moving at a slow pace, making sure you were okay, after all the last thing he would ever want to do, is to hurt you. but soon enough he picks up the pace gradually, making you cry out for more. "your takin it so well for me mamas..." he praises, his hips bucking into your cunt even quicker.

"f-fuck she was made for me hm? bet that lameass boyfriend couldn't get ya like this" he mumbles, pointing your chin down to make sure you maintain eye contact with him.

he begins to get rougher, hands quickly shifting your legs from pressed against your torso to now your calves on his shoulders. the new position made him ram into that spongy spot, making your moans even louder.

it all felt so good, from the way his cock was now even deeper in you, the way his thrust became harsh and passionate you could only shut your eyes from the ecstasy.

"don't close your eyes on me mama, keep them open or I'll stop." he commands, drilling into your hole even faster now, the sound of skin slapping follow suit. you open your eyes, listening to his warning. he smirks and whispers down into your ear "good girl... you're so obedient for me mamas" he grins.

he pounds into you harshly, faint mumbles of " so-so sorry mamas... can't hold back anymore" as he drills into you, his grip on your hips was sure to leave a purplish bruise the next morning.

you feel the familiar know in your stomach tighten. "m'so close eijiro please!-" you mewl. "cmon baby... tell me who fucks you better? me or him?" he teases. "y-you do..." you mutter out, somewhat inaudible. he lightly slaps your cheek "the fuck was that?. tell me who the fuck you belong to-" he grunts out. "y-you, I only belong to you eijiro-" you cry out

"good girl, listenin to me so well..." eijiro grins and places a hand on your bud, digits rubbing quick circles all over it. bringing you over the edge.

your back arches and your thighs tremble. you let a loud moan as you feel the pleasure overwhelm you. the sight alone was enough to make kirishima reach his own high. he pulls out and begins to stroke his cock, letting out pretty groans as his lips part slightly.

long ropes of cum decorate your stomach as you both pant out heavily. you close your eyes, as you catch your breath. while you do so kirishima notices your phone on the other side of the bed, open.

he grabs it quickly without you noticing and snaps a quick photo. hurriedly tapping on your exes icon and sending him the photo.

"kinda sad that you let such a pretty girl like her go. it's okay i'd understand, you didn't deserve her anyways"

[sanemistar]

TAKE ME BACK

contents ★ ex!geto x fem!reader, angst to fluff, exes then back to lovers, slightly ooc geto (?), 1.2k+ wc. requested for my milestone event. author's message ★ trying a new layout for this one :3 i honestly love this color combo plus these are my favorite colors ever <333

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

seeing your ex boyfriend suguru for the first time after the breakup left you with mixed feelings of both familiarity and unfamiliarity. in terms of appearance, he hadn’t really changed. he looked pretty much the same way as you left him except his jet black hair had gotten longer. however, something about his aura had changed. you weren’t exactly sure what it was, you just had a feeling that it wasn’t the same as before, it was a tad bit softer, more gentle, and it made you feel as if you were being in the presence of a completely different person.

tension began to rise as awkward silence filled the atmosphere around you. it was excruciating and you had a hard time breathing, your heart clenched painfully. you were anxious and nervous.

yet despite all that, deep down inside your heart was a part of you that wanted to see suguru again, which grew bigger when it actually happened, you were quite happy to see him again after all that time.

if you were being completely honest, you had never been able to move on from him. so in other words, you still had feelings for him. and if he ever asked you to get back together, you would do it in a heartbeat without a single hint of hesitation.

you knew he wouldn’t though, and these were only wishful thoughts on your part. because you were pretty sure things between you and him had ended once and for good that day. showing no signs of a reconciliation.

“you haven’t changed at all.” your eyes widened slightly, it was as if he was reading your mind. was it some sort of telepathy or something? you didn’t know. his voice pierced through your ears, and it got you thinking that his tone hadn’t changed in the slightest. his voice was still as soft as it could be.

“you too, sug—geto.” you almost called him by the nickname you gave him back when he was your boyfriend, but quickly realized and changed to his last name. however, it didn’t feel right to you. it felt so forced, simply because his nickname used to roll off your lips ever so effortlessly, your tongue was so used to the sound of ‘sugu’ as it rolled out naturally. so when you forced it to say his last name instead, it came off weird.

suguru chuckled, a somewhat sad smile made its way onto his face upon hearing his last name rolling over your lips. the sound of it felt foreign to his ears as it reminded him that you two weren’t in the kind of relationship that allowed you to be on a nickname basis anymore. it hurt him, and it hurt him deep.

because truth be told, he too, still loved you. he tried his hardest to move on with his life, he went out with many girls, and he even went as far as to sleep with them in desperate attempts to forget all about you as if he’d never met you. but to his misfortune, his attempts never worked out. you were simply unforgettable to him, he could never erase you from his heart even if he wanted to.

he had left his heart with you on the day you called it quits, and couldn’t manage to get it back to give it to someone else.

you felt as if time was frozen, and you were stuck in yet another prolonged moment of silence. with just you and suguru together, no one else.

your mind was constantly telling you to run away, to not look back and leave him behind. that you were better off without him. but your emotions took control over your actions as your heart refused to let your body move, and you remained still in your spot.

“i can’t believe i let you go,” suguru spoke for the first time in what seemed like forever, breaking that thick layer of silence. “i was such a fool, wasn’t i?”

his regretful tone caught you by surprise, you couldn’t believe that it was possible for suguru to regret a decision he made. yet there he was, spilling out his regrets in front of you.

you slowly parted your lips open, thinking of what to say back to him.

“isn’t it a little too late for that?”

that wasn’t what you wanted to say, you wanted to say that you missed him, that you still loved him, that you wanted to get back together with him.

but your mind was too quick to react. you wished you could take back what you said, but it was too late for that.

“maybe… but if i’m being honest with myself, i still love you. actually, i don’t think i’ve ever stopped loving you once.” you watched suguru admit that he still had feelings for you in utter disbelief. it was the last thing you expected to hear from him. how he looked at you while he was talking and how earnest he sounded were enough proof that he was being sincere and genuine, he meant every single word he said.

suguru on the other hand, felt some sort of relief washing over him after finally letting his suppressed feelings for you out of his chest. he didn’t know if he would ever get another chance to see you again, so he was more than determined to win you back. it wasn’t guaranteed that you would allow him in your life once again, but he was still willing to give it his all.

“so please just,” he paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before proceeding. “take me back to you.” it sounded as if he was pleading, perhaps he was indeed pleading. he was just desperate at that point as this was his last resort. but he didn’t care if he seemed desperate, he was able to put his pride aside and show you his weak side. to suguru, if showing his vulnerability to you was the price he had to pay for him to get you back, then so be it.

“you idiot, of course i’d take you back. i wouldn’t want to be with anyone who wasn’t you, i will always love you.”

that sole sentence was enough to bring you to tears because of how moving it was. you immediately run towards him and throw yourself in his arms as you wrapped your arms tightly around him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him for dear life. his body slightly flinched under your touch, but quickly reacted as his strong arms pulled you closer to him. your bodies were so close that you could feel the warmth of one another.

“welcome back, sugu.” you said in between your sobbing, finally allowing his name roll off your lips ever so easily. he smiled upon hearing his nickname being said as he gave the top of your head a series of small, tender pecks.

“yeah, i’m back home.” he hummed softly against your ear.

suguru had been lost for so long, but at last he was finally back to where he belonged, to you, his home.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies @suguru-getos ( @gothsuguru + @hiraethwrote special tags for you my loves since you asked me about it )

[lovebugism]

hi, bug! i’ve been one of your many avid readers for a long time but it’s my first time submitting a request for your summer fic fest 🥹 could i pretty please request for jealous!mean!eddie x ditzy/sunshine!reader where he sees her ex trying to win her back? ahhh thank you ily! ❤️

thank you for requesting angel, ily :D here's a sorta part 2 to this fic! — eddie doesn't realize he's been taking you on dates until your ex shows up (jealous!grumpy!eddie, friends to lovers, brief allusions to smut | 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

When Eddie took you to Benny’s Burgers that Saturday evening after your heart got broken, he fully intended for it to be the last. That was until the next Saturday came around, anyway, and he found himself hungry and thinking of you. So, sharing a milkshake at the diner became a two-time deal, begrudgingly so.

The third time was a total accident, and he’d like that on record. Eddie had come alone that day. You made a stupid joke about him stalking you when you just happened to be there, too. (Both of you were secretly hoping the other would show, of course, but neither of you would admit it out loud.)

After that, it just started to feel like tradition. Eddie didn’t feel right going to the diner without you, so he never did. Instead, he buys you dinner once a week, sits with you in your designated booth by the window, and pretends all of it is something he has to do. Because it’s much easier than acknowledging that a lifetime of Saturday evenings with you still wouldn’t be enough.

“Can I have some of your fries?” you wonder through a distressingly large mouthful of cheeseburger.

Eddie scowls. “You said you didn’t want any.”

“I didn’t,” you shrug innocently then swallow down the too-big bite. “But yours look really good…”

“Too bad,” he scoffs and chucks a fry into his mouth. “Get your own.”

You slouch against the pleather seat with your features screwed in a gentle pout. It takes Eddie a record-breaking three seconds to slide his basket of fries across the table to you.

He huffs all dramatically about ‘cause he wants you to know he’s annoyed. You rise again, beaming anyway, because you know most of it’s just for show.

Eddie watches with his brows pinched in confusion as you methodically pick a single fry from the batch. His frown deepens when you dip it into your milkshake. 

“Don’t taint the ice cream, weirdo,” he protests, exhaling sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.

You giggle through your mouthful at the screwed look on his face. “It’s good!” you insist. “Here— Try one.”

Eddie grimaces when you pluck another fry from the basket and scoop it into the milkshake. He flinches when you threaten to hand the monstrosity over to him. “I think I’m good, actually.”

“Try it.”

Your giddiness makes him smile despite himself. He concedes with a heaving sigh. “This is the last time I take you anywhere, you know that?” he grouses, mostly muffled as you feed him the ice cream-covered fry.

You smile to yourself, wider than you realize, and swipe your palms together. You’re pretty sure he’s said that to you every time he’s brought you here — yet, for some reason, he still shows up at your doorstep at seven o’clock every week. 

“Yeah, I know,” you hum with a fond sigh. “But it tastes good, right?”

Eddie’s pretty face is swirled and largely emotionless. You can’t tell if he’s disgusted or amused. “It tastes like… a potato covered in chocolate ice cream,” he deadpans.

“Wow. You’re a genius, Eds,” you muse from across the table. You cross your arms along the top of it and fight back a smile. “Can’t believe it took you two whole years to graduate.”

“Don’t push it—”

He’s interrupted, first, by the overwhelming smell of cologne (pine and lavender, achingly so) — and then by a deep and obviously forced laugh. “It didn’t take you long, did it?” a strangely familiar voice wonders aloud, deep and smooth like honey.

Your head whips at the same time as Eddie’s, both of you wearing similar looks of confusion. A tall boy with nice hair and expensive clothes (an obvious King Steve clone) stands at the head of the table. Your table.

Josh O. from fucking Mr. Mundy’s.

You force a breathy laugh of palpable confusion. “What?”

“Nothing. I was just… wondering why you never called me back,” the boy shrugs and crosses his toned arms over his equally toned chest. His smile is lopsided and perfect; his teeth are slightly crooked and perfect, too. It’s fucking annoying.

“But I guess I have my answer now, right?” Josh O. from Mr. Mundy’s continues with another hearty chuckle. “Trying all the flavors of Hawkins, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s chest burns, and not in a metaphorical way. The red-hot embers there set his ribcage aflame, turning himself into a wildfire of withheld rage. His nostrils flare with it as his dark eyes flit from the asshole towering over the booth, to your cowering form, and then back to the asshole again. 

He seethes quietly and waits for you to stand up for yourself. The moment never comes.

“She didn’t call you back because you’re a fuckin’ douchebag,” Eddie blurts for the both of you, still chewing at the monstrosity he’s wildly unsure of — which he can barely taste now, through his blinding anger and all.

Josh O. from Mr. Mundy’s pretty smile ebbs only slightly. He squints his glittering eyes and long lashes, fluffy brows pinching softly in confusion. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?” he wonders with a cynical laugh.

Eddie’s answer is immediate and equally venomous. “The asshole taking your girlfriend on a date, tough guy,” he mocks.

The boy scoffs. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Were you sayin’ that the night you were tryin’ to cop a feel in your car?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth. The cracked pleather sticks to your clammy skin. You feel the tension pressing on both sides of you until you can hardly breathe. “Eddie, stop—”

“—You know, it’s real impolite to touch people without permission,” Eddie continues despite your plea, features pinched in a faux-sympathetic pout. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you that?”

Josh O. from Mr. Mundy’s scoffs, both amused and distantly muddled. He laughs softly to himself and steps back from the table. “You’re a fuckin’ freak, man,” the boy murmurs as he leaves.

“That’s funny,” Eddie calls after him anyway. “Your mom says that, too.” 

“Eddie.”

The boy relaxes in the booth once he’s gone. His rigid shoulders deflate slowly with a drawn-out sigh. He motions across the table with a pale, ringed hand. “Can I have my fries back, or are you gonna eat ‘em all.”

His effortless deflection is almost admirable.

“I’m gonna eat ‘em all,” you joke in an instant.

“Figured,” Eddie deadpans. He reaches for the basket in front of you and plucks a couple from the dwindling pile. He pinches them into his mouth, wipes his salty hands on his jeans, and pretends nothing ever happened.

You swallow hard and avert your gaze. You cradle the cold glass of your milkshake with one hand and stir at its melting contents with the other. “Thanks for that… By the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie shrugs. “Like, seriously. Don’t. It’s gonna make everything weird if you do.”

“Okay,” you nod firmly, then glance at the boy beneath your lashes. A mischievous smirk curls at the very corner of your mouth. “So… This is a date now, huh?”

“Shut up,” Eddie frowns and takes his fries back. “It just slipped out.”

“So what? That’d make this our… Fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth,” he corrects.

Your smile widens. “Most guys usually get laid by then, don’t they?”

Eddie scoffs through his mouthful. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he quips in an audibly sarcastic monotone.

The rest of the quote-unquote date plays out like normal. You make mindless conversation while you finish your burgers, sharing a milkshake between you while you steal Eddie’s fries. 

You don’t tell him that you wouldn’t mind if he felt you up in his van — that you’d happily let him, if he asked; and Eddie doesn’t tell you that he goes to sleep dreaming about it most nights. 

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕖𝕟

last christmas, i gave you my heart

ex!joe x fem!reader

note: (& kinda summary) SURPRISE! i said cindy lou didn’t have a part two but…. how could i spoil it for you? here’s what happened after the instagram dm, from joe’s perspective.

word count: 1.3k.

warnings: more sadness, hurt feelings, joe isn’t really an ass but he has poor decision making skills… etc. this fic is sfw but minors please do not interact with my page.

song inspo: cindy lou who by sabrina carpenter and lips of an angel by hinder.

joe didn’t really care about likes or comments on instagram.

he didn’t care to post too much either, regardless of what it was, because he preferred staying private and in his own lane. sure, he posted brand deals on there, the occasional game day fit or victory post, but he wasn’t one to flaunt a relationship around… not until today.

the christmas eve festivities were in full swing, and joe and his new girlfriend, along with his parents, were spending the evening together. they’d been to dinner, stopped by a few local places and eventually ended up at a rec center to watch a local christmas play.

when it was over they decided to take photos out in the hall, where the archway was decorated to the nines and the lighting was absolutely perfect for those warm, christmas-y shots.

joe and his girlfriend posed together alone, and then with his parents, and then they each took photos alone. once the photos were sent to him, he vetted through them carefully, selecting which ones he should post.

in his mind, he knew what he was doing was wrong… but in his heart, he wanted to know if you still cared. he wondered what you were up to this christmas. he assumed home with your family, maybe out with your sister. that’s something he knew you’d missed doing since you’d spent the last few christmases with him. he hoped you were able to go with her, that your holiday still felt special.

it didn’t. he didn’t know you didn’t go home to your family, that you were sat on your couch ready to drown in your wine glass and cry over a heart-breaking christmas movie. he didn’t know you were all alone there with him on your mind.

but in a sick, sick way… he also hoped that you were thinking of him, too.

joe posted the photos to his instagram with no caption, but he made sure to tag his girl. he slid his phone into his back pocket before joining back in the conversation she was having with his parents. his mind lingered on you.

joe wasn’t a cheater - nor would he ever be. he really enjoyed having his new girl around, and he didn’t know if he was in love yet, but he knew she felt like she could be right for him.

he sat with his thoughts for another hour before he checked his phone again. in the time since he posted the photos he laughed and talked with his company, holding his girlfriend’s hand and smoothing his thumb over her palm soothingly.

when he slid his phone from his back pocket and opened instagram, he had a multitude of notifications. family, fans friends.

but he looked at the likes anyway. it was wrong of him, toxic of him to hope you’d seen it… but you had. and you liked it. his chest began to feel tight.

why did he do that to you?

when you and joe broke up, it was all him. he knew it, you knew it. you were still completely in love with him. it made him physically sick to think about.

joe’s issue was… he still loved you too.

around the time of your break-up, things were incredibly tense. he was injured, he was in the roughest mental place he’d ever been in, and despite your valiant efforts to help him work through it, all he ever did was push you away. he continued to treat you poorly out of anger, and out of love you stuck by him.

he should have thanked you for that.

joe didn’t think he was falling out of love with you per se, but he wanted a break. he wanted space to find himself again, and though it completely broke you, you agreed. you would never force yourself into his life, not if he didn’t want you there.

he knew you thought you were the problem, and no matter how much he tried to explain you weren’t, you didn’t listen. he knew his actions weren’t conveying that he loved you, and that’s what forced the wedge between you… so when you split, there was never a reconciliation.

joe never reached out to you because he was afraid you’d reject him after all the pain he put you through. you didn’t reach out to him because you were convinced he was done with you, that he didn’t love you anymore.

when he met his new girl he was in a better place, and she was sweet. she was kind, beautiful, she had a heart of gold. she took his breath away, he hadn’t felt that in a while.

they started seeing each other casually before diving in head first, and he knew she loved him. he was getting there. but he still needed to let you go. the air in the room was getting hot, and although it felt like he’d been on his phone for an eternity, it was just a few minutes.

the hallway was full now, people who were in the play and family friends gathered around. his parents were chatting with the neighbors, his girlfriend was talking to one of the stars of the play. he looked around his periphery to make sure nobody could see him click your profile, and quickly he tapped your message button and typed something out.

joeyb_9: merry christmas, y/n.

he pressed send. his heart was hammering against his chest. his parents and his girl didn’t seem to notice. he didn’t expect you to answer so quickly. his breathing felt shaky as he saw you typing.

y/n: merry christmas, joe. i’m so happy for you.

the room began to spin. joe was getting hot. why why why. why did he do this?

he made a quick impulsive decision, against his better judgement. the voice in his head told him to stop, don’t do this. but his heart had to know. he excused himself quickly, claiming he had to make a work call.

he stepped outside of the rec center, the cool december air felt hot on his newly flushed skin. he closed the instagram app, clicking on the phone app and dialing your number. ring ring ring.

you answered.

“um… joe?” you asked. your voice sounded groggy, like you’d just fallen asleep.

“fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i called.” he admitted. he ran his hand over his face.

“are you— is everything okay?”

“it’s fine. i’m… fuck. i’m sorry. i hope you’re having a good holiday. i guess it just feels weird not to be with you.” he doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. in the building behind him, his girlfriend is laughing with his parents. she’s having a lovely holiday. and joe’s outside, on the phone with his ex.

“it is weird. but it seemed like you were having a good night based on your post. go back to whatever you were doing, please. i can’t do this.” he heard your voice crack. he imagined your face. he knew your hand was probably clamped over your mouth, he heard you start to cry.

“fuck, y/n. i’m so sorry.” he says. he feels like he’s going to cry too.

“don’t be upset for me, joey. you’ve got a beautiful girl in there. i saw the love in your eyes in those photos. don’t fumble this one, okay 9?” you told him through tears. hearing you call him that felt like a slap right across the cheek. he missed what you used to have.

he felt sickly. he knew he was probably as white as a ghost. you were right… but he needed the closure.

“thank you, y/n. i hope you’re doing well… and uh, it was good to hear your voice.” he said, scratching at the back of his head lightly.

“yours too, joe.” you said, and then you hung up. he heard the door to the rec center open and turned around, coming face to face with his girlfriend.

“you alright?” she asked, coming down the short steps to caress his cheek. “i’m okay.” he said. he put on a smile and let her link their arms before he walked back inside with her, leaving the last of his feelings for you outside in the freezing winter air. he was thankful that you let him go, and now he could finally let you go too.

all photos and dividers used are not mine. cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

[magics-neptunes-things]

Cheetah

Hello everyone!

So for once this isn't a request, but more something who was walking in my head rent free and I just had to write it.

I don't know a lot about motorcycle to be honest but i made some research, so if there is some incoherence, I'm sorry!

Also I start to translate the English in Spanish before stopping, because in the end almost everyone is supposed to talk in Spanish and I'm really bad at it (I only can command something to eat and drink).

Please let me know what you think about it and enjoy ♥

TW : Moto accident, Angst, Injuries and a little bit of autodestruction maybe.

“Come on Cheetah, everyone’s waiting for you!”

You sigh softly, putting the picture you were looking at in your bag. It’s a picture of your ex-girlfriend and yourself, during your happy days. It’s been three months since the breakup and you are still mourning the end of your relationship like if it was the first hours. You still feel numb and if like someone is constantly crushing your heart in their iron grip. It’s not getting better, and it probably never will. Ona was, is, the love of your life and it’s just impossible for you to recover from it.

Falling for Ona was easy. You met her when you were both 20, even if you come from Palma de Mallorca and not Barcelona. You are a athlete too, so it wasn’t hard to cross her path at one of the Spanish awards. Patri Guijarro was there too and like you she comes from Mallorca, so she introduced you both and the rest is history.

When Ona moved to Manchester, you follow her. You find a team to train your motorcycle and your skills there. You were still young but promising on the circuit and you didn’t have trouble the find someone to help you getting better. And better you get. Just like Ona in Manchester United, you easily improve your skills and became one of the best in the world. Sure, you were sometimes away from home and Ona for your competitions, but everything was perfect.

When Ona came back to Barcelona, you flow back with her too. Some of your team came with you, some other didn’t but you can’t hold it against them. You find people to replace them and continue to race on the top of the leader boards.

The breakup didn’t come from nowhere, you can’t say that. You knew how much Ona was worried when you race, scared that you hurt yourself. You never had a big injury until now. But just after Christmas, you were implicated in an accident and Ona had trouble to concentrate in something else than that since that day.

It wasn’t your fault honestly; you just weren’t able to avoid the motorcycles already lying on the road. So, you made a gliding flight and had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, nothing too serious. But Ona was in Barcelona while you were in Qatar, and it took almost two hours for you to be able to call her, even if you make everything possible to have your phone back.

That’s what pushed Ona to break up with you.

“I can’t keep focusing on your future death while I’m in training or supposed to be concentrated on something important, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.” was what she told you.

Can you blame her? No. Did she told you it was because she doesn’t love you anymore? No. Did you try everything to make her change her mind? Yes. You even told her that you will stop your sport. But she’s not with you anymore and it hurt like hell.

“Hi Cheetah!” make one of your opponent when you arrive in the garage, where the motorcycles are stored.

“Hola” you mumble back.

Cheetah is your nickname, because of your speed and the feline way you stand on your bike. But it’s especially Ona’s favorite animal. You wonder if she’s still looking at your race sometimes. Probably not. You never asked Patri who became your friend with the years, the girl never talked about your breakup either. You like it that way.

One hour after, you are on your bike, ready to start your race. Your helmet is a notch off from what security recommends, but you prefer to wear it like that. Ona had forbidden you to do so and you had accepted her request without flinching. But Ona isn’t here anymore, and you have no one to care about.

Well, your brother who is in your team maybe. And probably your parents, but even if you love them, they aren’t Ona.

The qualifying rounds put you in fourth place at the start, but after a daring overtaking you manage to get gain the third place. The weather is great honestly, a little bit sunny maybe but it’s better than the rain. You are in Italy after all.

The fight for the second place is hard, your opponent always manages to stand in your way to keep you from reaching it. It starts to frustrate you, even if your team keeps telling you in the helmet to take no risks. You don’t listen to them, still being careful not to make faults though, you don’t want to have any penalty against you.

“Lenta, hermanita por favor!” (Slower, my little sister please!)

You hear your brother’s voice but don’t listen to him either. He will probably kill you for it after the race , but if you manage to get the second place, it’s worth it right? Winning is the only thing that you have left. The only thing that makes you feel a little alive.

That’s why you don’t hesitate to take other risks to get the second place. Plot twist, you shouldn’t have.

It’s the first time since you’re a teenager that you lose the control of your motorcycle, but it’s a strange feeling. You feel yourself flying and the helmet getting ripped off your head during the crash. After that it’s all black, you just have little moments of consciousness from time to time.

“No no no no no! ¡ Y/N No me hagas esto! Respira por favor!” (Don’t do that! Breath please!”)

That’s your brother voice. You don’t know where you are, you hear people screaming and probably running next to you. But you are too tired. Falling asleep now probably will help you feel better, right?

“Sigue luchando. Piensa en Ona." (Keep fighting. Think about Ona.)

Ona? You think about her every single second of the day. You are surprised by this statement, but it has the advantage to wake you up a little. Your brother usually never mention your ex-girlfriend, knowing how much the breakup is destroying you.

“Alright we take her to the ambulance, now!”

If you were able, you probably would have rolled your eyes because of the strength that this man screamed with. You are not even able to open your eyes though, and you hate the way you feel your body not responding to what you want. But your head hurt and soon you are asleep again.

The next time you are awake, it was way quiet. You hear your parents and your brother, but you have to make a big effort to understand what they are saying.

“She called her name several times in the ambulance, but she’s asleep since”

Well, that’s embarrassing. It’s useless to wonder which name you called, there only is one woman in your head after all.

“Did you call her?”

Your mother.

“No. Y/N would have probably hated me if I did.”

Is he right? Maybe. You’ll think about it later.

“She has the right to know how Y/N is.”

Point for your father.

“I’ll call Patri instead.”

Well, it’s probably better that way. Patri is one of your best friends and if Ona wants to have news of you, she will ask Patri. But once again, she probably has no interest about your health anymore.

You fall back asleep again soon after that.

Patri’s face is white when she reaches the gym of FC Barcelona Femeni. It’s not Ona who realized it first, your ex-girlfriend is focused on her exercises next to Mariona.

“Patri you alright?” Pina asks, looking at her friend with worry.

Everyone raises their gaze on the girl, but she’s only looking at Ona. And Ona knows, right there. She gulps and stand up, her hand shaking.

“What happened?” Ona asks quietly.

But Patri takes her by the hand to take her out. She doesn’t want to explain to Ona what happened in front of the others. She doesn’t know how the younger one will react at the news, and she’s scared of her reaction to be honest. Every single person in the team know how much Ona is sad about your breakup, even if she’s the one who chose to have it that way.

“Y/N had an accident during the race” Patri starts, looking at Ona with attention. “I don’t know what her injuries are or anything else. But she has that awful crash, and they came with the ambulance and those kinds of white curtains.”

Ona knows what the curtains are for. It’s to protect the dignity of the runner in the case of a serious injury… or worse. Very worse. Her face passes from white to green.

“Is there a video from the crash?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

But Ona doesn’t listen. Like you, she’s stubborn. She wants to know. She needs to know. She doesn’t know when the accident happened, but the video of it is easy to find on social media. She doesn’t react at all during several seconds and Patri wondered if Ona’s mind crashed, too.

“She loosened her helmet” Ona whispers at first.

“What?” Patri frowned.

“She loosened her helmet! She loosened her helmet and now she’s probably dead!”

Ona’s shouting and Patri prefer that, but it’s surprising. Ona isn’t the kind of girl who shout usually. She puts a comforting hand on Ona’s arm before talking.

“We don’t know that for now” she tries, with a comforting voice.

“Haven’t you seen the crash? Haven’t you seen of hard her head hit the ground? She didn’t move after that! At all!”

Patri doesn’t know what to answer at that. Ona’s right and she regrets to have inform her so soon, without having news of you. Or your brother, who had kind of a crush for Patri before realizing that she’s as gay as you are. You still tease him about it years later.

“I’ll try to call her brother, ok? But for now, let’s get out of here.”

When you wake up next time, you have enough strength to be able to open your eyes. You don’t know what time it is, but the sun is shining behind almost closed blinds. There is someone on a chair next to you, but you are disappointed to realize that it’s only your brother. Not Ona.

“Hola” he whispers when he realizes that your awake.

You only answer with a grunt, unable to talk for now. You feel sleepy again, but you want to talk with him a little bit.

“We are at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You close your eyes briefly to make him understand that you remember. Your throat feels too scratchy to talk for now. You’ll learn later that they have to intubate you to keep you alive.

“You’re lucky you’re alive, I’ll kill you a second time if you weren’t. They want to get you back in Barcelona tonight, are you okay with that?”

You don’t answer right away. Why can’t they keep you here?

“The team think it would be easier to be somewhere where they speak Spanish. And we will be closer to Mama and Papi.”

Your brother seems to understand your questions. It’s a great thing that you are both so close. You close your eyes again now and he nods before taking your hand in his. You don’t really care where you are taking care off after all.

“You can sleep now. You need to rest to get better, ok?”

You squeeze his finger softly before closing your eyes for good now, falling asleep again. You are still asleep during the transfer to Barcelona and when you wake up again you are in the Spanish’s city hospital.

Once again, it’s your brother who is here when you open your eyes. He changed his clothes but he’s still here, reading a newspaper with his feet on your bed.

“Don’t you have a house?” you groan.

He rolls his eyes after having looked at you for two seconds. Maybe to realize that he wasn’t dreaming. He threw carefully the journal next to you without putting his feet down, but everything is still blur.

“I can’t read it” you whisper.

“The Spanish’ motorcycle prodigy almost died in an awful crash yesterday. Her condition remains alarming” your brother read for you.

He’s angry. You don’t answer anything, what should you say anyway? You know that it’s your fault, if you were a little more careful nothing of that would have happened. You know too that you aren’t on the point to die, your brother wouldn’t have scolded you if that was the case.

“What are my injuries?” you ask without looking at him.

He sighs loudly before answering.

“You have broken ribs, a broken tibia, your cheekbone too, your elbow is in pieces, your shoulder has been dislocated again and you have a massive concussion. They thought that you have something broken in your spine, but it’s just a massive bruise. Oh, and you have other bruises almost on every part of your body, when it’s not burn because of the asphalt. They had to put stitches somewhere on your head and your brow bone too.”

you stay silence for several seconds, completely stunned. These are massive injuries, you know it. It will probably need a lot of time to heal all of them and that mean that you will miss the end of the championship. You were on the top 3, and it’s an awful disillusionment for you. You were already picturing yourself on the podium at the end of the season.

“How many time am I supposed to stay in bed? Before starting my rehab?”

He frowns softly, not expecting this question.

“They don’t know for now if you elbow will be well enough to start racing again”

“Of course it will be” you snort.

“No” your brother answer. “It’s serious, Y/N. You maybe won’t be able to drive a motorcycle again. On a circuit at least.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t have the choice. This is all I have left now.”

Your breakup was awful for you, but it was for your family too. You weren’t always careful with you, but Ona pushed you to be reasonable and stayed in the track. Now you don’t have anyone to hold you back. Ona was the only one you were listening. You don’t listen to anyone now. Only your Abuela when she when she emotional blackmails you. But your loved ones try not to use that card too much to not burn it.

“You have to stop that. You still have people who care for you. The Oldies do, I do, your friends do. I know that the breakup sucks, but you can’t play with your life like you do.”

“Piss off” is all you mumble back.

Because you know he’s right, but what are you supposed to do now that he’s here with you and you would give ten years of your life to swap him with Ona? He doesn’t answer anything, knowing that you’re out of arguments and that you know he’s right.

“Did she… Did she call you?”

“She didn’t have to” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I called Patri as soon as we were in your hospital room in Italy.”

This hurt a little more, to be honest. You are not aware that Ona was with Patri every time she received a call or a message from your brother. You sight softly before closing your eyes. Your head starts to hurt like hell, which is probably normal for a concussion.

You wake up several hours later and you already know that it’s the night. There isn’t any noise coming from outside your room and no light from outside. But there is someone sitting on the chair next to you.

“Ona?”

It’s seems almost impossible, but it’s definitively Ona. You are able to recognize her silhouette in the dark after all these years passed with her. Even if you haven’t seen her in the last three months.

“It’s worse than anything” she mumbles, looking somewhere near your broken leg.

“What?”

“Not knowing how you are. I thought that break up with you will help me to stop worrying about your races, but it’s worse every time. I almost called you or messaged you before every race just to hear your voice, but I just couldn’t. And then I learned about your accident, and I have to live with the thought that you were dead for several hours.”

She raises her eyes on you, and you have trouble to support her gaze, even if you are in the dark.

“I’m sorry” you finally say.

“Really?”

She seems unconvinced and she has every right to be. She knows you, better than anyone.

“Well, I’m sorry that you were worried because of me. But as you see, I’m alive.”

She rolls her eyes and let her back go against the chair she is sitting on. You still feel strange, without knowing if it’s because of the drugs or because you are dreaming. You don’t have really anything to lose, so you ask.

“Is it real life?”

Ona looked at you with an obvious surprise on her beautiful face. God you missed her so damn much.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it real or am I dreaming?”

“Are you making the move where you ask me if I am an angel?”

You stupidly laugh before regretting it, your ribs protesting hardly. Ona seems alarmed when you groan in pain, putting your non-injured hand on it.

“I’m ok” you whisper, taking several small breaths, the big one would have been too hurtful.

“You are not” Ona mumbles.

She’s right.

“It’s less painful than the thought that I lost you.”

She sighs once again and looks at her fingers before shaking her head softly. You wanted to grab her hand, but she’s on your bad side and your arm is in that awful cast.

“Tell me what I have to do to have a second chance, Oni. I’ll do every single thing you’ll ask me. I swear. Please” you beg when she stays silence for several seconds.

“What if I ask you to stop your stupid moto?”

There is a challenge in her voice, and you know why. One time, she told you that she’s not even sure that if she asks you to choose between her and your sport, you’ll chose her. At that time, you didn’t know that she was serious, you thought that it was something she wasn’t thinking and said due to the fight. How wrong you were.

“I’ll do it” you answer without any doubt.

She seems surprised, looking at you with two big eyes. You have always loved Ona’s eyes, some people said that brown eyes are the most common and expressionless. They never have crossed Ona’s gaze.

“I saw what a life without you is Ona and I don’t want that life. I want you and if I have to stop my sport, I’ll do it if you still want me.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes. She seems tired to be honest, but maybe because it’s the middle of the night and that she’s supposed to be asleep right now.

“I didn’t break up with you because I don’t love you anymore. I still do and I think I will for all my life. I need you to be a part of my life too.”

Her words are melody in your ears, but you feel like there still is something else. Like if something was restraining her.

“But…?” you mumble, looking for her eyes.

“But I can’t continue like this. I thought you were dead.”

She’s crying now and your heart hurt like if someone just punch it. You move in the bed, trying desperately to touch her or anything to try to comfort her. Your ribs and your legs burn awfully, and you ignore your elbow hurting in protest.

“Ona I’m so sorry, I swear” you say, managing to take her hand in yours.

The position is awful, and you wonder briefly if you can throw up even if you haven’t eaten anything since almost two days.

“I didn’t think it will hurt you that way. Please don’t cry” you continue.

She shakes her head softly, kind of laughing between her tears.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you left me. And you blocked me everywhere.”

That point hurts, too. You weren’t even able to look at her social media to have news of her, you were reduced to follow fan’s account of her.

“I just couldn’t live with you popping randomly on my timelines. It hurts too much every time.”

You nod and that the gesture who make your position too hurtful. You roll on your back, trying to hold your whine of pain. But Ona sees it anyway and frown almost instantly.

“Do you want me to call them to have more painkillers?”

“Are they ok with you being here? I don’t want them to make you leave” you admit with a law voice.

There is a beam of silence.

“I won’t leave your side” she says in a comforting voice.

You want to believe that she means it for like all your life. But having her tonight is what you have best for now. So, you nod, closing shortly your eyes when she rings the nurses. The door is open only a minute after and you open your eyes again when you hear Ona’s voice.

“I think she’s ready for more painkillers” the brunette says.

“I will give some to you” the nurse says to you before adding something in your intravenous. “What hurts?”

“Everything” you admit softly.

She nods and gives you a smile in sympathy. You look at her doing her things, missing Ona’s small winces at your admission. The nurse starts to talk again when she’s at the door, ready to leave.

“You will feel better like this. After that it will be great if you try to eat something. You will be sleepy for now though.”

Your eyes fly to Ona who is already looking at you. She said that she will stay by your side, but does she meant while you sleep too? She probably has training or somewhere to go. A match to play? You don’t know which day is it anymore, the painkillers are starting to kick already, making you confuse.

“Ona” you manage to say.

“Sleep, Hermosa. I’ll be here when you wake up, ok?”

Two weeks after, you are finally leaving the hospital. You still have to leave in a wheelchair, much to your disappointment. But with almost half of your body injured, there is no way that you are able to walk with crutches.

The only positive thing is that the person who is pushing the wheelchair is Ona and that she managed to make it funny, sliding on it in the hospital’s floor. Your brother is following with your suitcases, smiling softly while watching both of you.

After learning that you will be alright, you parents went home in Mallorca two days before you were authorized to go home. They proposed to you to come back to Mallorca with them and you have to admit that you miss your island, but there is no way that you are somewhere Ona isn’t.

When you felt better, you had a very intense and long discussion about your relationship, both of your feelings, what you both expect from that said relationship and where you want it to go.

Ona is the one who will look after you on daily basis, but sometimes your brother will need to take you to your appointment when Ona is away or training. The end of the season is soon here, but there still is the Olympics this Summer so she has to prepare herself intensively.

Your girlfriend’s here, one month after, when you are in the doctor’s office for the worst moment of your professional life. Sitting next to you, she’s holding your hand when the doctor looks at you with an awful sorry face.

“I don’t know where to start” he begins, playing with the sheets on his desk.

“Just go straight into it, Doc” you sigh softly.

You know already that you will hate what is going to be say. Ona’s fingers stroking your hand help, but your heart is still beating faster than ever.

“You are making good progress, I saw that they removed your cast on your feet, but we are really concerned about your elbow. We don’t think it will be fit enough for you to be able to start motorcycle in a professional way anymore.”

You were waiting for it, but it’s still hurt to hear that. Motorcycle is the only thing you knew since you were a teenager, you never thought about doing anything else in your life. You swallow softly before passing a hand on your face. You did everything you can to be able to start again, followed every advice your team gave you. But it’s not enough.  

“I don’t know what to say” you finally mumble, looking at an imaginary point somewhere on the desk. “It’s all I know; I don't know how to do anything else.”

“I can pick you an appointment with our psychotherapist if you want to. It can help.”

“Can we leave? I’ll tell you if I want one”

For now, you just want to get out of this office and be able to breath some fresh air. Ona helps you to get up even if you don’t need help anymore. You suppose it’s a way to comfort you. You are glad for her. She doesn’t say anything while you are getting out of the building, but she doesn’t let your hand go when you lean against the railing once outside.

“What am I going to do, Ona?” you whisper softly.

She let go of your hand now, but it’s only to pass her arm around your waist and hold you close.

“Whatever you want mi Amor. It’s ok not to know now, but you still have a bunch of possibilities. We will figure it out together, yeah?”

She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes, letting yourself being cuddle a little more. It’s not the same feeling that the one when you lost Ona. You know there is different exit doors, you just have to find the good one. Ona will be your light in the dark.

Several weeks later, you are in France. Not for a race, but for playing the WAG for your girlfriend who is playing the final today. She introduces you to others girlfriends/wife of her teammates and you get along great with everyone. You watched every single game in the stadium, and you were able to see Ona several times in between. You missed her and she was worried sick to let you alone at home, but you are pretty fine.

You are famous in the world of sport so it’s not a surprise that you are not able to skip some interviews while going to the stand to attend the finale.

“Y/N” said one journalist when he puts her microphone under your mouth, with an awful French accent. “You announced your retirement sooner this month because of your massive injuries. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still sad about it, of course. It wasn’t my choice and I think it makes it harder but I didn’t have the choice. I’m sad not to be able to finish the championship this year, I was really well ranked, but you know…”

You shrug, thinking that’s between his accent and yours, people on social media will have a great fun.

“Do you think you will come back in the motorcycle world one day?”

“Not as a racer obviously, but why not. I still need to figure what to do with my life, but first I have to heal correctly.”

“Thanks for your answers” he smiles. “Do you have a favorite for today?”

“Spain, obviously” you smile back.

“Have you a favorite player?”

You almost roll your eyes at that. Your relationship with Ona is a common knowledge for everyone, you are not hiding yourself. You both weren’t as famous before and you were posting without really thinking about it.

“Oh, I don’t know… Number two is pretty great” you smirk, looking at the jersey you are wearing.

You hear someone giggle in the background, and you are pretty sure to recognize Irene’s wife waiting for you with Mateo. You soon say goodbye to the journalist to find your place in the stand. You are sitting next to Ona’s family obviously and your family made the travel too. They are sitting next to other Majorcans people, Cata’s family and Mariona’s brother and mother aren’t far away neither.

When Ona smiles at you during the national anthem after looking around to find you, you smile back and say “T’estimo” to her. You know that she can’t hear you, but she easily can read it on your lips.

You don’t know what the results of this game will be, like you don’t know what you will do in several months. But you know you will be fine, because you will be with her.

Ona is your forever and you don’t want another.

[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don���t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[getalltheb1tches]

TWO WEEKS, ONE NIGHT | LN4, OP81

when your ex hurt you so bad, his teammate is always there for you.

lando norris x y/n, oscar piastri x y/n

After discovering her boyfriend Lando’s devastating betrayal, she is left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart in the glittering city of Monaco. As gifts and apologies flood her doorstep, she struggles to let go of the man she once loved—until an unexpected ally steps forward. Oscar, Lando’s teammate, reveals the truths that cut deeper than she could imagine, but with his honesty comes a surprising confession. Torn between heartbreak and the hope of something new, and she must decide whether to confront her past or embrace an uncertain future.

TW: CHEATING, mention of Y/N! I hope you enjoy this short au, and please remember this is my first ever au, so excuse any mistakes!! this is purely fiction, and please do feel free to leave a comment! hope u enjoy <33

The dim hum of the city outside her window was the only company she allowed herself as she sat in the quiet of her apartment. The soft glow of streetlights of Monaco seeped through the curtains, casting faint shadows on the unopened boxes scattered around her living room. Her eyes lingered on the largest one, wrapped in a sleek black ribbon, its sender’s name unmistakable on the gilded card attached.

Lando Norris.

It had been two weeks since the storm—the night everything fell apart. When she got a text from his teammate, confirming her suspicions. She could still hear the echoes of their arguments, his voice strained as he stumbled over apologies that didn’t match the betrayal etched into her memory. The headlines had done their part too, parading his indiscretion across every screen until there was no denying what he had done.

He had cheated on her.

Lando, with his boyish charm and the grin that once felt like home, had torn through the trust they had built together. The man who had promised her the world under Monaco’s glittering stars had shattered her heart in a single, reckless moment.

Since then, the gifts had started arriving. First, it was a bouquet of her favorite flowers, each petal seemingly plucked with care. Then came the handwritten letters, pages filled with words that tried—and failed—to piece together his remorse. Then expensive clothing, the Givenchy boots she always wanted, extravagant jeweler, anything she could think of and more. Tonight, it was something bigger, heavier, as though the weight of the box could match the gravity of his mistakes.

The texts came with the gifts. The apologies she received every day, among phone calls, were starting to annoy her. There was no point of changing her number or blocking him, he always found a way to contact her. But at least, he hadn’t appeared to her house yet. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate that.

But none of it could undo the ache lodged in her chest.

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the ribbon, hesitating. What could he possibly give her that would make her forget the way her heart had splintered? A grand gesture to overshadow the simplicity of loyalty he had broken?

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she leaned back against the couch, the ribbon untouched. She had loved him, truly and deeply. The kind of love that left no room for doubt. They have been through a lot, he had helped her in many ways, and so did she. She was always there for him, and all it took for him to break everything was a win in Singapore. And yet, here she was, staring at another attempt to buy her forgiveness.

She’d thought about reaching out to him, about confronting the man she’d once trusted with her whole heart. But every time she considered it, the memory of him with someone else burned brighter, and the courage faltered. No amount of gifts could erase that image, nor could it restore the trust that had been so carelessly discarded.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚

She leaned back on the couch, her hands trembling slightly as her phone buzzed on the table once more. She had ignored countless messages and phone calls from him over the past two weeks, but this one was different. A video notification from an unknown number lit up her screen.

And then she saw him. Lando.

He was leaning close to another woman, her face obscured by shadows, but her hand was unmistakable as it trailed along his arm, lingering.

Y/N’s heart pounded, the weight of his audacity crushing her. Two weeks of apologies, endless gifts, and promises of remorse—only to find out he hadn’t even stopped. The sting of betrayal felt fresh all over again, more painful than she could have anticipated.

A video. Of him. With another woman. Now she was sure, he was just trying to buy her into his life again, for his own enjoyment and only. The gifts meant nothing, she meant nothing, the only thing he cared about was just to fuck around behind her back.

 

 

She has been watching the video for several minutes, unable to stop the ugly feeling in her stomach growing. She felt disgusted and humiliated. A year and a half, all meant nothing to him?

Her phone started ringing, once again. She wanted to pick up, she wanted to scream at him, to curse him, to make him feel even worse. She needed that. That's why she found herself accepting the call, his voice coming through the speaker after two weeks.

"Baby, finally. Please, let me explain-"

“This better be good,” she cut him off, her voice sharp. “Because I’m done playing games, Lando. I just got sent a video of you making out with a random girl, while you were claiming to be sorry"

“That video—it was staged. Someone’s trying to hurt me. To hurt us.” He tried to say quickly, trying to defend himself once again over the phone.

“Staged? That’s the best you’ve got? You expect me to believe that?”

“Baby, think about it. Who sent you the video? Why would they do that? I’ve been trying to fix this, to fix us,and someone doesn’t want me to.”

The sincerity in his voice wavered her resolve, but the anger inside her burned hotter. “Do you even hear yourself? You cheated on me, Lando. You don’t get to play the victim.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m begging you to believe me this time. There’s more going on here than you think.”

The words hung in the air, leaving her torn between disbelief and the lingering hope that maybe—just maybe—he was telling the truth.

"No. I hate you. You hurt me so bad, and you don't even care. You can't just buy your way back to my life. I don't want this anymore! You need to stop, and leave me alone, not keep hurting me" she said quietly, so tired of everything, before hanging up the phone on his face.

Her phone buzzed again, and again, and again. But the damage was already done.

The unknown number kept texting her, saying that her ex wasn't the man he claimed to be. She laughed bitterly, tossing her phone onto the couch. The words felt like a cruel joke. She paced the room, her mind racing. The image of him with another woman was seared into her thoughts, erasing any remnants of the man she had once loved.

Her pulse quickened. The pier? She glanced at the clock. It was 10:16. Every instinct screamed at her to ignore the message, to block the number and move on. Move on from this life, forget Lando, forget everything. But curiosity and the need for answers gnawed at her resolve. What if this was the closure she needed? And if Lando was hiding something, it was time for the truth to come to light. As she stepped into the cool night air, her heart pounded with anticipation and dread. Whatever awaited her at the pier, she knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same again.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚

The pier was quiet, bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight and the soft lapping of waves against the docks. Her footsteps echoed faintly as she approached, her breath visible in the cool night air. She scanned her surroundings, searching for the unknown person who sent her the messages.

A figure stepped out of the shadows near the end of the pier, their silhouette sharp against the water’s reflection. Her heart quickened. As she drew closer, she realized it wasn’t Lando—it was someone else entirely.

“Y/N?” the figure called softly.

She recognized him immediately. It was Oscar, Lando’s teammate. His face was drawn, his expression a mixture of concern and regret. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

“Oscar?” she said, her voice edged with confusion. “You’re the one who sent me those messages?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. You deserve to know the truth.”

Her chest tightened as the man in front of her spoke. “What truth? About what I already saw? About Lando?”

Oscar hesitated, glancing around as if to ensure they were truly alone. “There’s more to what happened in Singapore. And it’s worse than what you think.”

The girl's stomach churned. “Just say it. Please."

He took a deep breath, his voice low. “Lando wasn’t just with that girl once. It wasn’t a one-time mistake. They’ve been seeing each other for months. Some of us—his friends, the team—we knew, but no one wanted to get involved.”

Her knees felt weak, the weight of his words threatening to crush her. “Why are you telling me this now?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Because I saw how much he hurt you, how he treated you.” Oscar said, his eyes earnest. “And because he’s still lying to you. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness if he can’t even be honest.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She took a shaky step back, trying to process everything. “Why would you do this? You’re his teammate, his friend.”

Oscar’s gaze softened. “Because I don’t think it’s right to let him manipulate you anymore. You deserve better than this. Than him.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She looked out at the water, the cold wind biting at her skin. The image of Lando, the man she had once trusted completely, was crumbling into something unrecognizable.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Oscar replied. “I just thought you should know the full truth. What you do with it is up to you.”

She stood there for a long moment, her thoughts a chaotic mess. Finally, she nodded, her resolve hardening. “Thank you, Oscar. For telling me.” He gave her a small, understanding smile. “Take care of yourself. You deserve so much more than this.”

As he turned to leave, she stayed behind, staring out at the dark waters. The truth was heavier than she had imagined, but in a strange way, it felt like a release—a step toward finally letting go.

She heard his footsteps pause behind her. He called her name softly, his voice hesitant. She turned to find him standing just a few steps away, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it held something different this time—something raw. She turned, her gaze meeting his.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice steadier now.

Oscar hesitated, then took a step closer. “I… I didn’t just come here for him. I mean, I did, but…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply. “I’ve seen how he treated you, even before all this. And I… I hated it. Because I knew you deserved better. And I…”

Her breath caught. “Oscar…”

“I shouldn’t be saying this,” he muttered, almost to himself. “But seeing you hurt like this, knowing he’s still lying to you… I couldn’t stay quiet. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you more than I should. You deserve someone who sees you. Who actually puts you first. And I—I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to process his words. She hadn’t seen this coming, not from Oscar, the quiet and steady presence who had always seemed like the opposite of Lando’s brash energy.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, misinterpreting her silence. “I just… I needed you to know. I’m not saying this to confuse you or to make things harder,” he added quickly, his tone almost desperate. “I just… I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. Not after seeing what he did to you. Not after watching you hurt like this. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that you—”

Before he could finish, the girl stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “Oscar,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “Thank you. For being honest with me. For telling me the truth.”

His eyes searched hers, a flicker of hope lighting his expression. “You don’t have to decide anything now,” he said gently. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

For the first time in weeks, she felt a sliver of something she hadn’t thought possible: hope. It wasn’t a promise of a new beginning, but it was a reminder that she didn’t have to face the hurt alone. And as she stood there on the pier, the weight of the past slowly giving way to the possibilities of the future, she realized she wasn’t quite ready to close the door on everything just yet.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆. 𐙚 ˚⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚

thank you so much for reading this!! if you want part two feel free to comment!

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten

Part Five.

“I—I’m sorry?”

Emoni was baffled by what Dove had casually asked.

“You heard exactly what I said, Emoni. You choose to hear what you want to hear.” Dove says, leaning over the bar with a playful expression, “Ten years is a very long time. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to become his Princess? I can see it. Feel it actually.”

Emoni suddenly felt compelled to drink, taking a sip and feeling lifted. She instantly felt comfortable enough to talk to Dove. She felt an overwhelming urge to dump all of her pent up feelings and frustrations onto this beautiful stranger. As if a weight had been lifted off of her, she exhaled and started shaking with nerves.

“I…I want him so bad that it hurts…”

Dove simply stared at Emoni intensely, as if putting her under a spell.

“…I see him with another woman and it breaks my fucking heart but it’s also so hard for me because he’s such a womanizer and how can I trust him? He’s a Prince, a boss, he’s crazy hot, smart, funny—”

“Emoni, breathe…”

She took a deep breath in, and blew it out.

“You’re afraid he’ll do to you what your ex did.”

“Exactly,” Emoni exhaled a shaky breath, “But there’s also this part of me that wants him to beg for it. Get down on his knees and beg me to be with him…”

“Hmm. Well, you’ll get that sooner than you think. I can feel it. Let’s say…in less than an hour…”

Emoni scuffed, “yeah, I highly doubt that.”

She finishes off her drink, giving a surprised hum at how pleasant it tastes…and how light it makes her feel by the time she hits the bottom of the glass.

“Another?” Dove took her empty glass from her hands eagerly.

“Hell yeah, keep them coming! I want to be so pleasantly intoxicated with a fine ass man drilling me into the mattress—woah.”

Dove giggled while Emoni tried to fathom where that came from. Her inner thoughts became outward. Dove slid another drink in front of her and like a magnet, Emoni started drinking. Somehow, this round it was slightly stronger.

“Take your time with it, maybe Erik might want some…”

Dove touched Emoni’s hand delicately. Emoni looked up at her gorgeous face in a trance-like state, focused and relaxed, while still being aware of her surroundings. Her irises became a bright pink color with her heightened concentration. She felt as if she were in a distorted sense of time, everyone and everything around her moving in slow motion. Although she didn’t have any control over her body and emotions, she was in a pleasant state.

“By the powers I am wielding, I tap into your loving feeling. To fix your broken heart, I tap into that initial spark. Glue together your heart that’s broken, with these words being spoken. With this spell I now decree, as I will it so shall it be…”

Dove lifted her soft yet powerful hand from Emoni’s and slipped away. After five seconds, Emoni came back to, blinking her eyes rapidly. Her chocolate brown eyes fell to her cup and she faintly remembered Dove making her a new drink. Slightly shrugging her shoulders, she brought the martini to her lips and took a sip.

“Emoni.”

Back stiffening from an unwanted touch, Emoni turned and came face to face with her ex. Exhausted, she stepped to the side to walk away, but he stopped her again.

“Be honest with me, Emoni,” Troy says, eyeing the lovely woman in front of him with something akin to lust. He’s drinking something purple out of a martini glass, chewing on its blackberry and strawberry garnish. “Are you avoiding me because you miss me?”

“Miss you? Nigga, why would I even bother.”

Emoni turned her back to him. Troy grabbed her arm again and Emoni almost snapped her neck with the way she looked back at him.

“Troy, get your hand off my arm. Not once have I given you a sign that I wanted you back in any way. What we had was a mistake. I refuse to make the same mistake twice. Play with some other bitch, I’m not the one—”

His smug, handsome face with tawny skin frowned.

“We both know who you belong to. Stop acting all bold off that drink and be honest with yourself.”

“I think that purple shit in your glass is making you confused. I belong to no one. And I’m being so honest it’s not even funny.” Emoni quipped with a vengeful look in her eyes.

“Baby, everything okay over here?”

The sound of his voice activated something inside of her. Her breath hitched and her stomach did flips. The Golden Jaguar and Prince of Wakanda approached them with his usual gait and royal aura. Troy’s hand slowly released Emoni’s arm and he glared at Erik.

“Why the fuck are you touching my woman?”

Erik pushed up on Troy, his chest puffed out and his head tilted in a threatening manner. His obsidian eyes were slightly squinting as he sized Troy up with an unwavering stare.

“She tell you not to touch her, right? And she told you to leave her alone. Don’t make me rough you up in front of all these good people, Troy. Take yo’ ass back over there.”

Troy glowered at Erik, the grip on his glass almost shattering it. Erik’s eyes widened a fraction, pressing up on Troy again. He was giving him a silent warning. Emoni’s heart almost sank to her stomach. She knows Erik’s temper. He’s nothing to fuck with.

“Erik,” Emoni placed a gentle hand on his bicep. Her fingertips tingled from the feeling of his muscles through his tux jacket, “It’s okay. Troy was just leaving, right?”

Erik’s right brow ticked up. Troy snorted, shaking his head before walking away. As he walked, he would look back at Erik over his shoulder with a death glare. Erik held his gaze, a menacing smirk on his handsome face. Emoni squeezed Erik’s bicep, drawing his attention back down to her.

“Thank you for that. You didn’t have to step in and help me get rid of him. I appreciate it.”

Erik’s face softened and he chuckled, “Anything for you, Moni. I’ve been itching to say something to that nigga ever since he showed up and kept bothering you. It won’t happen anymore.”

Emoni realized that her hand hadn’t left Erik’s arm. He looked from her small hand to her face with a slight crease in his brow and a hint of a smile.

“What’s in that drink of yours, pretty mama? Because that hand hasn’t left my arm. Hmmm…”

He takes the drink from her hand once more, downs what's left of it from the side where her lipgloss mark rests, and hands her back the empty glass. He licks his lips a few times, as if he really enjoyed her drink.

“I wasn’t finished drinking that!” She argued.

“I’ll get you a new one, Emoni. Can’t help it that I want what you’ve got…”

Erik leaned over her, causing Emoni to tilt back against the bar. The major height difference between them with Erik being 6’5 made her feel helpless and horny at the same time. Speaking of horny, whatever was in that drink shot straight to her erogenous zones. It must have for Erik too, because Emoni could have sworn she saw the faintest glow of magenta in his onyx orbs. He stared down at Emoni with a primal look in his eyes like he wanted to push every glass off of the surface of the bar, lay her on her back, and eat her until her legs were shaking.

Emoni couldn’t explain what had shifted within her, but Erik’s offer was starting to look pretty damn good. across the room, Brent is dancing with two women. Everyone else seems paired off now, and from where Emoni stands at the bar, she makes the conscious decision to go home with Erik Stevens.

Wow, Dove has definitely outdone herself this time! In fact, the drink's unique flavours complimented everything else she's had so far, almost as if each martini has been a lead-in to the next, and the next, until it has culminated in this one. Her whole body tingles, flushes hot with anticipation as she tilted the glass. It slid down her throat, cool and smooth, heating her belly and warming her blood.

Imagine how it would feel for Erik’s dick to slide down your throat and reward you with a creamy treat.

Jittery with nerves and intoxicated from the smell of Erik’s cologne and those delicious drinks, Emoni contemplates joining the crowd out on the dance floor to hail in the married couple who will be joining them at any moment. The alcohol is really flooding through her now, loosening her rigid control just enough.

Suddenly, Erik tilts her chin up to look at him.

“We're dancing,” he tells her without fanfare.

With a tilt of his head, he grabbed her wrist, yanking her into his arms. The hand holding hers is firm, the footsteps guiding them sure. Everything about her partner seems confident and at ease, but there is a look in his eye she knows well, having seen it in the mirror more than her fair share of times over the years, especially before she's about to go to bed with someone. He's nervous, anxious for this to mean more than it should.

In truth, so is she.

Yet there's something to be said about physically dancing with a man you've verbally, mentally, and emotionally crossed swords with on more than one occasion. As there is with their trading insults, there's a natural choreography to their movements around each other, an instinctive knowledge of push and pull to their rhythm. It is easy being in his arms, she discovers, twirled around like a debutante at her first ball by a handsome beau.

Daniel Caesar–Who Hurt You? Is playing.

It's seductive.

With slight pressure on the sway of her spine, he pulled her pelvis into his, their thighs cradling each other's as they swayed back and forth. He pulled their joined hands in, resting her right fingers over his heart so she could feel it beating, and pressed his nose into her hairline, inhaling deeply, exhaling with a sigh of pleasure at her rose-cinnamon-cardamom scent.

Strange new addictions picked up on the road

Changed my opinions and changed up my flows

Changed my approach, no more lovin' these hoes

And when it rains it pours, hey

You make me feel

So primal and

That's what I am

I'm just a man

“I love the way you smell,” he whispered into her ear during the small lull between refrain and chorus.

She buried her nose into his collar. “You, too,” she admitted, rubbing their cheeks together.

Take that pussy, drop it in my lap

I love it when you move like that

Now turn around and throw it back

It back, it back

“Do you like this? Dancing with me?” he asked.

Emoni nodded, her hand on his shoulder curving up and around his neck to find a home right at the back of his hairline, where he loved to be touched. “Very much.”

He kissed her temple. "Good."

That caused her breath to hitch. Not even an hour ago would she find herself letting Erik kiss her. At least now he knew they would do this again after tonight... if he could convince her to date him.

The DJ changed the music over with another smooth transition. A trance-like, slow R&B beat harmonized with piano and guitar, and this time, he moved the way he wanted to make love to her, his hands pressed on her hips, grinding against her sultrily. He pressed soft kisses all along the shell of her right ear, flicking the small gold earring – a heart with a butterfly – in passing as his lips traveled lower.

When you feel it in your body you found somebody who

Makes you change your ways like hanging with your crew

Said you act like you're ready but you don't really know

And everything in your past, you wanna let it go

He ran his mouth over her pulse, letting his right hand skim around her back and up over her spine to tangle in her soft curls, pulling back gently to open her up for him…

I've been there, done it, humped around, ha

After all that this is what I found

Nobody wants to be alone

If you're touched by the words in this song

Then maybe

You got it, you got it bad

When you're on the phone

Hang up and you call right back (oh, you)

You got it, you got it bad

If you miss a day without your friend, your whole life's off track…

Suckling upon her throat, he wrapped her in his embrace, letting his other relearn the curvature of her ass. He envisioned his fingers traveling over the outline of her panties, and then through the center.

In his arms, Emoni shivered. The hand stationary over his heart moved then to join its twin at the back of his hair, and with a low, sexy moan, she pulled him closer. They were definitely causing a scene. Emoni could feel eyes on her, causing her to pull away. Erik chuckles, the sound shooting straight to her wet, quivering pussy.

“The bride is about to appear soon to toss the bouquet,” Emoni murmurs the reminder, aware of the others all around them and how the level of excitement in the room has ratcheted up as the seconds count down, “It's strange, but I just realized… I've never stayed this long at one of these events to see what happens next. I mean…I’ve seen it in movies but…”

With a matching incredulous expression, her partner admits, “Me either, actually.”

That sends them equally into a bout of snickering and chuckling.

“A first for both of us, it seems.”

He flashes a grin that's as white as snow, “One of many together, I'm sure.”

His words make things inside her flutter.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this but…you look really nice. The whole mask thing suits you.” she blurts out. "It’s fitting.”

He whirls her around faster and laughs as her grip on him tightens. “Why, Daniels, are you finally admitting that I'm devilishly handsome?”

No need to deny it.

She shrugs with a roll of her eyes, “You know you are.”

“Yes, but you've never said it,” he teases. “You're a notorious hold-out when it comes to me.”

There's a double-entendre in there, and she feels its meaning and intent to her toes when he turns the full force of his obsidian-eyed gaze upon her.

“Perhaps if you actually were more sweet, and less wicked I might be inclined to stroke your ego more often,” she tosses back with a sultry grin, blaming Dove’s alcoholic genius for such sassiness.

Erik’s gaze heats as he lowers his mouth to her ear. “I can be equal parts nice to naughty, love. Care to find out?”

Ooh, FUCK, would she love to! She’d wanted so many moments with him. A small voice in her head echoed for her to just give in to her desires and feel.

“…I suppose I should have an escort back to my hotel tonight,” she agrees with a thoughtful air, pretending to misunderstand. “I’m staying at The Luxor…it’s known for being pretty haunted there…the most haunted out of all the hotels in Sin City. Might be too dangerous to go alone.”

“Mmm, safety first,” he agrees, lips twitching with amusement.

They pause as the music switches and the beautiful bride walks forward with her bouquet. The rest of the room clears the center of the ballroom, making a space as Beyoncé–Single Ladies plays.

“ALLRIGHT LADIES! LETS GET TO THE DANCE FLOOR!”

Emoni finds a spot amongst the crowd of eager women. She endures being shoved and bumped into, her eyes glued to her friend and bride twirling in a circle with the bouquet of roses swaying in her hand.

Now put your hands up!

The bouquet was thrown back and something in Emoni told her to leap for it like she was playing football. She threw herself forward and at the last second she grasped the bouquet, falling flat on her stomach clumsily. The room erupted with applause and laughter. Instantly, the women rushed over to help her up. Emoni was too stunned and excited to care about falling in front of over a hundred people.

“I caught it! I caught it!” She squealed.

“ALL RIGHT LADIES! TIME FOR THE MEN!”

Michael Jackson–P.Y.T had the room grooving.

The men two-stepped to the floor, and Emoni was happy with the amount of attractive, eligible men stepped up. Of course, Erik stood out to her. She caught his eye and became bashful when he winked at her. Not even Troy trying to win her back was enough to get her attention. The groom was too busy lip syncing and snapping his fingers while twirling the garter around his finger. It took for the bride to snap him out of it before he tossed the garter high in the air.

What happened next shocked everyone. Erik did an impressive parkour roll and caught the garter in his hand before it even touched the floor. The other men behind him had to stop themselves from tumbling over on top of Erik with how fast they moved. While the others looked uncoordinated, Erik stood tall and proud, his eyes never leaving Emoni’s. The bride shared a look with her and then she giggled.

“TIME TO PUT THAT GARTER ON!”

Emoni was pushed towards a chair strategically placed in the center of the dance floor. She flopped down and someone took the bouquet from her hands. She couldn’t contain her nerves. He was going to slip the garter up her leg. She was afraid that his touch on one of her most sensitive areas would trigger the inner slut in her. She chewed on her bottom lip and twirled a curl as Erik took his place before her. They locked eyes, and the connection was so strong she could vividly see him struggling just as much as her.

I'm just a bachelor

I'm looking for a partner

Someone who knows how to ride

Without even falling off

Gotta be compatible

Takes me to my limits

Girl, when I break you off

I promise that you won't want to get off

If you're horny, let's do it

Ride it, my pony

My saddle's waitin'

Come and jump on it

Standing before her without shame, Erik placed his hands on the back of his head, rolling his hips, closing his eyes, and biting his bottom lip at the same moment. The action caused his chest to thrust forwards. Emoni covered her mouth in shock and the noise around them from everyone cheering them on almost drowned out the music.

It was hard to keep her heart from tearing through her skin, especially as his tux jacket came off and his soft, cotton shirt slowly crawled over his solid abs, pecs, and arms. She could only imagine how that body looked beneath those clothes. her breathing kicked into high gear. The bulge in his slacks was definitely hard, begging to be suckled. Her nails bit into the edge of the chair as she clenched her hands to keep her body grounded in place.

With an assured saunter, he closed the distance between them. Stopping less than a foot away, his pelvis level with her face, he slid those thick fingers of his over his smoothed abdomen just as the vocals of the song sang a rather provocative tune…

If we're gonna get nasty, baby

First we'll show and tell

'Til I reach your ponytail

Lurk all over and through you baby

Until we reach your stream

You'll be on my jockey team

He got down on his knees slowly, his eyes still connected with hers. He skillfully brought her leg up so that her ankle dangled over his shoulder. Hooting and hollering along with clapping surrounded them but all of it was white noise. It felt like it was just the two of them. Erik pressed his nose into her ankle, inhaling her scent before taking her heeled foot, pressing it against his solid chest. He took his time placing the garter over her foot and up her leg.

She'd never been so turned on in her life!

His hands disappeared beneath her dress and she almost moaned. Meanwhile, Dove watched from the bar with a sly smile.

Emoni watched with a fixated fascination the expressions crossing his face as he secured the garter around her thigh and inches away from her pussy. She just knew he could feel the heat radiating from between her legs with how turned on she is. Erik was enraptured by her, enslaved to her whim, freely expressing his pleasure with parted lips, heaving chest and bucking muscles.

“Spend the rest of the day with me,” he begged. “I need you.”

Dove did say he would be on his knees begging within an hour.

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 8✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Fuff, Angst

Word Count: 7663

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Eight years.

It was both a lifetime and an instant, a stretch of days and nights where you had convinced yourself to move forward, one step at a time, learning how to let go of someone who had left, without letting go of the memory. And now, with your thirtieth birthday approaching, the ache you’d buried so deeply seemed to surface with each text from your ex-fiancé—the one who, mere weeks before the wedding, had shattered every vow he had promised to make. He was asking you to forgive him, to take him back, but the messages only served to reopen wounds you thought you’d managed to close.

You spent that night, as you had so many Thursdays since Dean left, at the bar with your best friend. It had become your quiet ritual, your way of remembering a part of yourself that had stayed frozen in time. For years, there had been a sliver of hope each time you walked in, a faint, persistent thought that maybe—just maybe—he’d be there, that he’d come back. But as the years passed, the hope dulled, replaced by a kind of bittersweet acceptance that this would always be your memory alone. Dean had become like a quiet ghost in your life, someone who was woven into every moment even when he was nowhere to be found. Again.

It was as if he was a part of every breath you took, his shadow cast over every milestone. The memory of him lingered, surfacing in the moments that should have felt the most whole: on first dates that left you hollow, on the day you said yes to a man you thought you could build a life with, even in the small, fluttering joy of seeing yourself in a wedding dress. He was a thread stitched into your life, his presence felt in every quiet moment, every whispered “what if?” you couldn’t quite ignore.

Your friend watched you, her gaze soft as she took in the look in your eyes. “You know, it’s okay if he’s still there”, she said gently, her voice barely audible above the bar’s din. “Some people leave marks on us that don’t fade. Doesn’t mean you’re broken”.

You took a shaky breath, the weight of your friend’s words settling over you, pressing into places you’d tried so hard to keep safe. “But I am”, you whispered, the admission slipping out, raw and unguarded. The words surprised even you, like a truth you’d been holding back for too long, finally surfacing. “I thought I’d healed, that I’d moved on. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’ve just learned how to live with a broken heart”.

Your friend sighed softly, her eyes filled with a gentle empathy. She reached over, giving your hand a comforting squeeze. “Someday, your person will come along”, she said, her tone both hopeful and certain, like she was trying to will it into existence for you. “Someone who will stay. Someone who’s meant for you”.

You shook your head, a sad, wistful smile touching your lips as you looked down at the rim of your glass, tracing it with your finger. “I already met him”, you murmured, your voice barely audible over the noise of the bar, as if saying it too loudly might break something inside you all over again. “I met him, and he slipped away. Two times”.

The words felt like letting go of a truth you’d carried all these years, a truth so heavy it had woven itself into your very being. You’d tried to move forward, to build a life around the empty space he’d left, but no matter how much time passed, Dean was always there, a quiet ache in your heart, a memory you couldn’t erase.

Your friend’s eyes softened, understanding settling in as she squeezed your hand once more. “Maybe he was a chapter”, she said gently, her voice thick with empathy. “A chapter that helped shape who you are. And maybe there’s another chapter waiting for you”.

But as she spoke, you knew that some chapters never truly end, no matter how many pages you turn. Some people come into your life and leave marks that can’t be erased, no matter how hard you try.

Dean was that for you—the person who taught you love in its truest form, and in losing him, you’d learned heartbreak in the deepest way possible.

You lowered your gaze, voice barely more than a whisper. “No one will ever come close”, you murmured, each word heavy with the weight of years. Saying it out loud felt strange, almost like an admission, as if by putting it into words, you were sealing off a part of your heart forever.

Your friend’s eyes softened, her expression both understanding and sorrowful. “I wish I’d met him”, she said softly, the words carrying a weight of their own, as if meeting him might have helped her understand why he still haunted you after all this time.

You gave her a faint, bittersweet smile. “I wish you had too”. Your voice wavered, and you took a steadying breath before continuing, almost as if the words themselves needed coaxing to surface. “He… he´s just… so much. More than I thought I’d ever find in someone. He saw parts of me no one else ever did. I think a part of me thought it would always be that way. And now…”. You shook your head slightly, the pain raw, open. “It’s like every person I meet is just an echo, a shadow of what we had. And it doesn’t matter how hard I try—no one will ever fill that space”.

Your friend’s hand squeezed your arm gently, her silence full of compassion. “A love like that…”, she began, her voice low, almost reverent. “It doesn’t just disappear. It doesn’t just fade. It becomes part of who you are”.

A tear escaped, and you brushed it away quickly, feeling both embarrassed and strangely grateful to say it out loud. “Sometimes I wish I could just let him go, like I’d let go of a memory, you know? But he’s… he’s not just a memory. It’s like he’s in everything. And everyone else just… falls short”.

Your friend pulled you into a quiet hug, her arms warm and steady around you as she held you close. She didn’t say anything else—she didn’t need to. Just being there, sharing the silence, grounding you, was enough. And you stayed like that for a while, your sadness finding a place to rest, comforted by the quiet presence of someone who understood that even if Dean was gone, his love had left a mark on you that would never truly fade.

A few days later, you found yourself standing in your bookstore, running your fingers over the spines of old ghost stories and folklore collections, the comforting, worn feel of the covers grounding you. You’d blocked your ex, finally severing that last fraying thread, though pity texts from friends and family still trickled in, each one a small, bittersweet reminder of the future you’d once thought was set in stone. You tried your best to let it all go, focusing on the life you had here, in the quiet refuge of your shop.

But standing there, lost in thought, you could almost swear you smelled Dean—a faint, familiar trace of his cologne that lingered like a whisper in the air, bringing with it a flood of memories. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift into that feeling for a moment, imagining him here beside you, as though he’d just walked through the door with that half-smile that made your heart race.

The door chime rang, and you opened your eyes, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced up, half-expecting to see him standing there. But it was just a customer, nodding politely as he browsed the shelves. You let out a quiet sigh, reminding yourself that ghosts didn’t come back—no matter how deeply they lingered in your memory.

Still, as you moved through the shop, the feeling wouldn’t leave. It was as if his presence was woven into the walls, each corner of the room holding some fragment of him, some unspoken reminder of a love you’d never fully let go. And you realized that, despite everything, Dean had become more than just a memory; he was a part of you, woven into every quiet moment and lingering thought.

As the evening drifted into night, you found yourself in your old apartment, the one place that felt like a time capsule of your life before everything began to change. You hadn’t even intended to keep it; when you’d moved in with your ex-fiancé, it had seemed redundant, an echo of a life you thought you were leaving behind. But now, with the failed engagement and a lifetime of memories wrapped up in these walls, you were grateful you’d held onto it.

The quiet hum of the city night drifted through your windows as you moved around the small kitchen, where every drawer and shelf held stories and memories you couldn’t quite part with. You’d set a pot to boil, watching the bubbles rise and fall absently, your mind drifting. Your phone buzzed on the counter, another message from a friend who’d been slated to attend the wedding, a quiet expression of sympathy. You turned the screen over, trying to ignore it, instead focusing on the simple task of making pasta. Something about this ritual—the warm scent of garlic, the gentle clinking of silverware—had a grounding quality that steadied you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

The minutes slipped by as you filled your plate, glancing up at the clock. Five minutes left. Just five more minutes, and this birthday would be behind you. Thirty. You’d imagined this moment so differently, once upon a time, picturing yourself settled and content, surrounded by love and the promise of a future. But reality had been messier, filled with sharp corners and unexpected losses. The silence of your apartment felt especially heavy tonight, every creak and hum magnified in the stillness.

As you lifted your fork, about to take that first bite, a knock at the door cut through the quiet, startling you. You froze, fork in mid-air, your gaze fixed on the door as if it held a mystery you hadn’t yet prepared yourself to solve. It was almost midnight—an odd time for visitors—and a part of you knew you should be cautious. But despite the voice in your head reminding you to leave it alone, something else, something deep and instinctive, urged you forward.

You set the fork down, slowly rising from your chair and crossing the small space to the door. Each step felt weighted, like you were moving through water, the anticipation building as you reached for the handle. Taking a breath, you turned it, bracing yourself for whatever lay on the other side.

Dean stood outside your door, his heart pounding in a way that felt foreign, unsettling. It had been eight years—a stretch of time he had spent moving from town to town, living in motels, the Impala his one constant. But here he was, back in a place he never thought he’d see again, staring at your door like it held the answer to every question he hadn’t dared to ask himself.

It was the wedding invitation that had done it.

He’d found it a few days ago, tucked in with some other things at Bobby’s place, the only adress you had from Dean, as if fate had decided to throw one last curveball his way. He remembered the flood of emotions that hit him as he held it in his hands, reading your name alongside someone else’s. The thought of you in a white dress, a life planned with another man—it made his chest ache in a way that went beyond regret.

It was loss, pure and simple, an emptiness he hadn’t wanted to confront.

He’d spent the next few days trying to talk himself out of coming, but no matter where he went, no matter how much he tried to push it aside, the idea gnawed at him. He couldn’t bear the thought of you walking down the aisle without at least telling you… something. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn’t let you slip away without one last goodbye. It felt selfish, maybe even foolish, but he needed to see you.

As he raised his hand to knock, every insecurity he had ever buried bubbled to the surface. He imagined you opening the door and slamming it shut in his face, telling him that his time had passed, that he was nothing more than a distant memory, a ghost of a life you’d left behind. And maybe he deserved that. He’d left, after all, made choices that took him far away from any semblance of normalcy, from any chance of a life with you.

When he finally knocked, his hand was trembling, a vulnerability he hadn’t felt in years laid bare in that one, simple action. He told himself he’d leave if you didn’t answer right away, but as he heard faint footsteps approaching from the other side, he felt rooted in place, a strange mix of hope and dread tying him there.

The door opened, and the light from your apartment spilled onto him, illuminating every unspoken feeling that had lingered between you. The moment your eyes met, a torrent of memories flooded back—nights spent in whispered conversations, the feel of your laughter filling the air, the warmth of holding you close. He could see the surprise, the shock, and then something else he couldn’t quite name in your gaze as you took him in.

Eight years had passed, and yet standing there in front of Dean, it felt like only days.

He looked older, more worn, the lines on his face deeper, like the years had left their mark in ways you couldn’t imagine. His hair was a little shorter, the familiar scruff darker, and his eyes held a weight you hadn’t seen before, a quiet burden that made your chest tighten. You could feel your heart beating faster, your throat dry, and as you held onto the door for support, your hand trembled, the gravity of the moment pressing in around you.

Dean’s gaze flickered as he took in your reaction, a slight hesitation in his movements, like he wasn’t sure if he should turn and leave or stay. His mouth opened, then closed, and finally, he forced a quiet, almost hesitant smile, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“It’s… it’s late”, he started, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t be here, I know that. I… I tried to talk myself out of it a dozen times”. He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he forced himself to look back up at you. “But I got the invitation. Saw your name on it… and I just—”. He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “I just wanted to wish you the best”.

The words fell heavy between you, and you could feel his heart breaking with each one, as though each syllable was a piece of him he was giving up, a part of himself he was laying bare. Dean had always been the strong one, the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without a second thought. But standing here, you could see the cracks, the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide.

Your throat tightened further, and you swallowed, struggling to find your voice. But all you could do was stare, caught between the overwhelming emotions of seeing him again and the reality of what he was saying. The thought of him simply wishing you well, like a distant memory, cut deeper than you’d anticipated.

The silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable, as Dean stood there, waiting for anything—a word, a glance, some sign that this wasn’t the end he feared it might be. But your voice was caught in your throat, the shock and surge of emotions rendering you speechless. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the unspoken words you couldn’t manage to say, but after a long moment, the light in his eyes dimmed, a look of quiet defeat settling into his face.

He cleared his throat, looking down as if to gather the last shreds of his strength. “I just… I just hope you’re happy”, he whispered, his voice breaking with an ache so deep it was almost palpable. “I hope tomorrow goes exactly the way you’ve always dreamed it would”. He hesitated, searching your face one last time as though he were trying to memorize every detail. “You deserve that life you always wanted”.

There was a bitter smile, barely a shadow of his usual smirk, but it held a vulnerability he couldn’t hide. He turned, each step toward the hall feeling like he was walking away from the last piece of himself. But as he began to leave, something inside you broke, the words finally escaping, not in sounds but in movement.

Before he could take another step, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his wrist, tugging him back to you. He turned, eyes wide, surprise mingling with a glimmer of hope that he tried so hard to bury. But you didn’t need words—you didn’t have any. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close in a way that held everything you couldn’t say.

The hug was fierce, desperate, as though you were holding onto him to keep the last eight years from slipping away. Your fingers dug into his back, your face pressed against his shoulder, and the tears you’d held in for so long finally broke free, trailing silently down your cheeks. The scent of him—the familiar mix of leather, whiskey, and that faint, lingering cologne—wrapped around you, grounding you in a way that felt more real than anything you’d known.

Dean stood frozen for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were really there, holding him. But then his arms wrapped around you just as tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he closed his eyes, letting the moment sink into him. His hand traced gentle circles on your back, a silent apology, a quiet promise, and as he pulled you closer, you felt the subtle shudder of his own unspoken grief.

You clung to him as if letting go would mean losing him all over again. In his arms, every year, every quiet ache and memory, every whispered wish that you’d both buried so deeply came rushing back, filling the silence between you with the weight of all the words left unsaid. His hand ran up and down your back in a comforting, steady rhythm, grounding you as your tears soaked into his shirt.

Neither of you spoke; words would have shattered the fragile beauty of the moment, made everything feel too real, too final. The silence carried everything—an understanding that went deeper than any explanation ever could, the kind that grows only from loss and longing, from the ache of wanting someone in the spaces life wouldn’t allow.

Dean held you as if you were the last thing tethering him to this world, his own breaths uneven, his hand clutching the back of your shirt in a desperate bid to keep this moment alive. His chin rested atop your head, and you could feel him take in deep, unsteady breaths, as though he were trying to commit your scent, your warmth, to memory. You knew he was hurting just as much, and that knowledge both broke and healed you, stitching together the pieces of your heart in the quiet intimacy of his embrace.

The embrace seemed to suspend time, the two of you wrapped in a cocoon of shared grief and unsaid words, until finally, something in you snapped. You pulled back, eyes brimming with unshed tears as a new wave of anger surged up inside you—a fury at all the years lost, at the pain of him leaving, at the emptiness you’d carried for so long. Without thinking, you shoved him hard against his chest, not knowing the bruises and barely-healed ribs hidden beneath his shirt.

Dean winced, a brief flicker of pain crossing his face, but he didn’t stop you, just let you push him back, his expression open and remorseful. Your fists came down again, landing on his chest, small but relentless. More tears broke free, streaming down your face as you struck him.

Dean stood there, taking each hit, his face twisted with regret and a pain that mirrored your own. He didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t even flinch; he just held his ground, letting you release every ounce of hurt and anger that you’d bottled up over the years. Your fists slowed, the strength leaving you and finally, you stopped, your hands falling to your sides, trembling.

You looked up at him through wet lashes, your lip trembling, anger and heartbreak mingling in your gaze. The silence between you was deafening, filled with the weight of every year he’d been gone, every moment you’d thought of him, every word left unsaid. And before you could even begin to process it, he reached out, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you back tightly against his chest.

You resisted, tried to push him away, your hands pressing against him as you struggled to break free. But despite the bruises and pain he felt with every movement, Dean held you tighter, his grip unyielding, almost desperate. He seemed willing to bear the physical hurt just to keep you there, close enough that he could feel your heartbeat against his own. His touch was a plea, silent and raw, as if holding you could somehow make up for the years lost.

Finally, your strength waned, the fight slipping from you as you surrendered to the comfort of his arms. The anger softened into sorrow, and you let yourself collapse into him, your tears soaking into his shirt once more as you clung to him. The weight of every heartache and every unanswered question pressed down on you, but in his embrace, there was something almost soothing, as if he were absorbing the pain alongside you.

After a while, Dean’s voice broke the silence, a slight tremor running through it, whether from the physical pain of your head pressing against his bruised chest or the emotional weight of everything you’d both just shared. “You done?”, he mumbled softly, a hint of teasing in his tone, though it was laced with raw vulnerability. “That little tantrum of yours… you got it all out?”.

You let out a shaky breath. “Maybe”. The word came out quietly, almost sheepish, but there was a warmth beneath it.

The two of you chuckled softly, the sound barely more than a whisper but enough to lighten the air between you, if only for a moment. The laughter was fragile, shared with a sense of relief and a touch of self-awareness—an acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all, of how even now, in the midst of all this pain and longing, you could still find comfort in each other.

Dean looked down at you, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his thumb brushing a gentle, reassuring line across your shoulder. “Good”, he murmured, his voice warm but still thick with emotion. “’Cause I don’t think I could take much more of that”. His hand lingered, his touch soft, grounding, as if anchoring himself in this moment with you.

You looked up at him, feeling the last remnants of anger and hurt begin to fade, replaced by a sense of peace that felt both unfamiliar and deeply needed.

As you slowly pulled back, giving him a little space, Dean instinctively brought his hand up to his chest, wincing slightly as he rubbed the spot where your fists had landed. He gave you a wry smile, muttering, “You’re still good at punching, you know that?”.

You laughed, the sound soft and light, though it carried an edge of vulnerability. “Well, you deserved it”, you replied, crossing your arms, though a small, lingering smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

Dean’s face softened, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of regret and quiet understanding. “Yeah… yeah, I know”. He took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he were grounding himself in the moment, in the reality that you were here, still standing before him despite everything.

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a few moments, there was only silence. But it wasn’t the painful silence of years past; instead, it was one of healing, of finally letting go of all the anger, all the missed chances and lost time. In that space, there was a gentle warmth, a comfort you hadn’t felt in so long.

Finally, he reached out, tentatively brushing a hand over your arm, his fingers lingering as if he were trying to reassure himself that you were real. “Thank you… for not slamming the door in my face”, he said with a hint of his old humor, though his voice held a vulnerability that made you realize how much he’d truly feared you would.

You looked at him, that familiar face etched with a little more wear, a few more scars, but still undeniably Dean. “I thought about it”, you teased softly, though your voice shook slightly with emotion. Then, more seriously, you added, “But I’m glad I didn’t”.

A smile ghosted across his lips, a rare, genuine expression that held both relief and gratitude. For the first time in years, it felt like the past didn’t weigh quite so heavily between you.

"Come in, Winchester”, you mumbled, your voice still trembling slightly, but there was a softness in it that felt like a bridge back to everything that had once been between you. Dean hesitated for just a moment, his hand slipping into his jeans pocket, a familiar gesture of nervousness. He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the room, and you saw a glint of something unspoken in his expression as he took in the space.

It was as if time had barely touched it. The furniture, the little trinkets you’d collected, the books lining the shelves—it all looked like he’d left it, like the ghost of his presence still lingered in every corner. He took a slow breath, letting it all sink in, his gaze lingering on the small details as though they were fragments of a memory he couldn’t quite piece together.

His eyes flickered to the table where a single plate of pasta sat next to a glass of wine, the setting as quiet and solitary as the night itself. Dean’s expression softened, a faint shadow of concern crossing his face as he turned to you, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Your… fiancée around?”.

Your heart clenched at his question, and for a moment, the weight of the years settled heavily between you. The word “fiancé” seemed to hang in the air, a reminder of the life you’d almost built with someone else, of all the ways you’d tried to move on and build a future that Dean had no part of. You took a shaky breath, meeting his eyes with a mixture of sadness and something else—a faint glimmer of hope you hadn’t dared to feel in years.

“No”, you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “There is no fiancé, Dean. Not anymore”.

Dean’s eyes widened, the surprise clear on his face as he took in what you’d said. The realization seemed to hit him slowly, the pieces coming together in his mind, and you could see the disbelief written in every line of his expression. He had spent days trying to make peace with the idea of you marrying someone else, had convinced himself that you’d found a love worth holding on to—something solid, something he thought he could never give you. But now, standing here in the quiet of your apartment, hearing those words from your lips, the shock was almost palpable.

“But… the wedding was supposed to be tomorrow”, he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief. He looked at you, searching your face, as if waiting for you to tell him this was some kind of mistake. You could see the mixture of confusion and a hint of regret in his eyes as he tried to process what you were saying.

You let out a bitter, almost humorless laugh, the sound raw and filled with the sting of betrayal. “Yeah, well… that was the plan”. You looked down, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield from the ache that still lingered. “But… he cheated on me”. The words felt heavy, laced with anger, but underneath it all, there was a sadness, a weariness that had become all too familiar.

Dean’s face darkened, his entire body tensing as he absorbed what you’d said. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening with a barely-contained fury. He looked away for a moment, as if trying to stop himself from exploding right there. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a growl. “He did what?”. His words came out clipped, his eyes flashing with a fierce, protective anger.

Without thinking, he took a step closer to you, one hand raking through his hair as he muttered to himself, “I swear, if I ever get my hands on that son of a—”. He cut himself off, taking a shaky breath, but you could see it in his posture, the tension rolling off him in waves, his body vibrating with the urge to protect you—even if it was too late.

He turned back to you, his gaze softening when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the heartbreak that you were trying to mask with bitterness. His hand reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing your arm, as though he needed to ground himself in you, to remind himself that you were here, safe, even if you were carrying a hurt he couldn’t erase.

At your slight flinch, Dean immediately withdrew his hand, his eyes clouding with regret as he mumbled, “I’m… sorry”. There was a gentleness in his voice that was almost heartbreaking, an awareness of the pain you were carrying, the weight of a betrayal he couldn’t fix. “You didn’t deserve something like that”, he said, his voice low, filled with a quiet determination as though he wished he could undo it for you.

You nodded absently, biting your lip, eyes tracing a path to the floor as the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “He wasn’t… you, anyway”. It was a quiet confession, barely above a whisper, but the truth of it had lingered in your heart for so long that even saying it felt like letting go of a part of yourself you’d hidden away.

Dean’s gaze softened, and for a moment, silence filled the room, thick and charged. He looked at you with something between hope and disbelief, as if he hadn’t dared to imagine you’d feel the same way after all these years. He swallowed, his hand hovering between you, unsure, before finally finding his voice.

“I… didn’t think you’d still feel like that”, he murmured, his tone raw and vulnerable. “Not after everything I put you through”. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer, his own emotions barely concealed. “I thought… I thought you’d moved on”.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes, the years of unspoken words and unhealed scars between you suddenly laid bare. “I tried”, you admitted, your voice thick with emotion.

You felt yourself sink into the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling small and exposed as the weight of everything settled over you. The years, the attempts to move on, the heartbreak—it all felt raw and fresh again, leaving you questioning every decision, every feeling you’d held onto for so long. You were almost afraid to meet his eyes, worried he’d see the vulnerability you’d worked so hard to bury.

Dean moved forward, his expression softened by a mixture of tenderness and regret. He crouched down in front of you, the faintest hint of a bittersweet smile touching his lips as he reached out, tilting your chin up gently, coaxing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed softly along your jaw, grounding you in the moment.

“Hey”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, steady but filled with so much he couldn’t quite say. “Don’t… don’t do that”, Dean said softly, his thumb still tracing soothing circles on your cheek. He held your gaze, his eyes filled with an intensity that made you feel like the only person in the world. You knew he meant the way you were pulling back, withdrawing into yourself, as if building a wall around the rawness you’d just exposed.

He took a breath, a flicker of awkwardness passing over his face as he fumbled for the right words. “You know, I’m not exactly good at… well, talking about my feelings and all that”. He let out a nervous chuckle, looking down for a moment. “But I do know one thing: I hate seeing you retreat into that little bubble. I mean… I know I’m pretty great to be around, so come on. Don’t leave me hanging”. He cracked a smile, his attempt at lightening the mood endearingly clumsy.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped, and he relaxed, clearly relieved that his attempt to cheer you up had worked, even just a little. “There she is”, he said with a warmth that seemed to soften the distance between you.

"Eight years, Dean”, you mumbled, shoving him lightly against the chest, a mix of hurt and frustration in your tone. But instead of reacting with that familiar guilty expression, Dean let out a strained laugh, wincing as he clutched his side. “I swear, if you shove me one more time…”. His voice trailed off, and though he tried to sound lighthearted, there was a tightness to his words.

You froze, your mouth falling open in sudden realization. “Are you… hurt?”, you asked, your voice laced with guilt as you looked down at the spot he was holding. The thought that you’d been pushing against a bruise or something made your stomach twist.

Dean gave a half-shrug, his smile soft but his voice still a little strained. “Just… a couple of fresh stitches”, he admitted, trying to play it off as no big deal. “Came straight here from… well, let’s just say it’s been a hell of a few days”.

Your hand flew to your mouth, eyes widening as the guilt settled deep in your chest. “Oh my god, Dean, I’m so sorry”, you whispered, your face flushed with worry. “Why didn’t you say anything?”.

Dean shrugged, trying to keep that casual air despite the discomfort etched into his face. “Didn’t seem important, you know?”, he muttered, his eyes softening as he took in your reaction. “Besides, it’s not exactly the kind of thing you lead with after eight years”. He managed a lopsided grin, but you could see through it—see the pain and the exhaustion he was trying so hard to hide.

“Not important?”, you repeated, shaking your head. You took a careful step forward, your hands hovering uncertainly near his side. “Dean, you’ve been hurt, and I… I’ve just been shoving you around”.

Dean’s grin softened, the faintest hint of vulnerability breaking through as he met your gaze. “Hey, it’s alright”, he said, his voice gentle. “Besides”, he murmured, a faint smile curving his lips, “if it means I get to feel your hand on my chest again, I’ll gladly take the pain”.

You felt your heart skip, a rush of emotions filling the quiet space between you. There was a tenderness in his words that made the room feel smaller, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. He looked at you with that familiar gaze, equal parts vulnerability and strength, and for a moment, the past didn’t seem so distant. It was as if every memory, every shared laugh, and every ache lingered in the air, bringing you back to the way things used to be.

You reached up, your hand hovering just above his chest, still unsure but drawn by the need to reassure yourself that he was here, real and solid. “But I don’t want to hurt you”, you whispered, your fingers finally settling over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath.

His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against him. “You’re not”, he said, his voice thick with something unspoken. “Trust me, you’re doing the opposite”.

You let your gaze linger on him, taking in every detail—the lines that had deepened around his eyes, the slight roughness of stubble along his jaw, the way his shoulders carried both strength and weariness. It was a face that had seen too much, been through too much, but still held that familiar, rugged warmth that had once made you feel so at home.

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you lifted your hand, gently brushing it along his jaw. “You’re getting old, Winchester”, you teased, your tone dry but softened by the affection in your eyes.

Dean chuckled, a low, genuine sound that reverberated through the room. “Yeah, well, can’t all be twenty forever, can we?”. He tilted his head into your hand slightly, his expression becoming a mix of playful and tender. “But you’re one to talk”, he shot back, though his voice was laced with something gentle, something deeper. “I don’t think you’ve changed a bit”.

Your smile softened, his words sending a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Guess I held up a little better than you”, you murmured, trying to keep up the playful tone, but the emotion in his eyes made it hard to joke.

He met your gaze, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a little too long. “Maybe”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, “but some things… they only get better with time”.

The words hung between you, fragile and unspoken for years. You felt yourself drawn closer to him, the space between you disappearing as every unresolved feeling, every shared memory, seemed to converge in this one quiet moment.

You let your hand fall slowly from his face, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself, a hint of something unguarded in your tone. “Any girl waiting down in the Impala?”.

Dean straightened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reached out his hand to you. “Nah”, he said, his tone light but his eyes warm. “Dropped her off at the motel and told her not to wait up for me”.

You could tell he was messing with you, but you just raised an eyebrow, playing along as though you were genuinely unimpressed by his antics.

Dean rolled his eyes, chuckling as he gave you a playful pinch at your waist. “I’m talking about Sammy”, he said, his grin widening. “Dropped him off at the motel. Figured he’d be asleep by now, but knowing him, he’s probably got the whole place wired with EMF detectors”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of Sam trying to get comfortable in a strange motel room with his equipment surrounding him vividly clear in your mind. “Poor guy”, you said, shaking your head with a smirk. “Always the third wheel”.

Dean shrugged, still holding your hand, and his expression softened. “He’ll survive”, he murmured, his voice dipping low. “For now, it’s just you and me”.

The words hung in the air, settling warmly between you both. The playfulness faded into something deeper. His gaze held yours, unspoken questions and hopes reflected in his eyes, a softness that reminded you of all the years and all the memories that lingered just beneath the surface.

Your words came out barely above a whisper, but they hung heavy in the space between you, raw and unfiltered. “Dean, I… I can’t do this again”. Your voice cracked, the weight of every night you’d spent wondering about him, waiting, hoping he’d come back, pressing down on you. “Spending a few nights with you, having the most beautiful time of my life… just for you to disappear again. Ten years, maybe, this time? I can’t, Dean”.

The vulnerability in your voice shattered the playful air between you, the truth of your words making the moment feel achingly real. Dean’s face fell, his fingers instinctively tightening around yours as if holding you in that instant could somehow anchor you both. He looked away for a moment, his jaw tight, his own voice barely steady when he finally found the courage to speak.

“I know”, he said softly, his voice thick with the weight of his own regrets. “I know I’ve messed this up more times than I can count. And I can’t stand the thought of hurting you again… I don’t want to be the reason you’re left waiting, wondering”. His gaze returned to yours, his eyes raw and filled with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I never wanted to leave you like that".

The tension between you seemed to thicken as Dean’s words hung in the air. He held your gaze, his expression twisted with regret, his posture tense as if ready to turn and walk away if that’s what you wanted. “Maybe… maybe I should just go”, he mumbled, voice barely steady. “You could forget I was even here”.

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head, grabbing your wine glass to steady yourself. “As if that would be possible”. You could feel the weight of everything you’d tried to bury—every ache, every question, every lingering memory—boiling up inside of you, but instead of lashing out, you took a calming breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Sit down, Winchester”, you said after a long moment, nodding toward the untouched plate of pasta on the table. “At least give me the courtesy of filling me in on the last damn eight years of yours”.

Dean hesitated, glancing from you to the table and back again, before letting out a sigh. He took a step forward, shoulders relaxing just a bit, as he slipped into the seat across from you. You could see the flicker of a reluctant smile as he looked at the pasta, as though the simple sight of a home-cooked meal felt foreign yet comforting.

“Still know me well enough to know I’m always hungry”, he muttered, picking up the fork and twirling it between his fingers before finally taking a bite. A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he gave a soft, appreciative groan before rolling his eyes in a way that was both exasperated and amused. “Damn”, he muttered, gesturing at the plate. “I swear, no matter where I’ve been or what I’ve had, your cooking’s still the best”.

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your chest tighten, and despite yourself, a small smile broke through. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so close to him, as if the years had dissolved, leaving only the familiarity of shared meals and quiet conversations.

Dean’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, a bit of that old spark coming back. “So, what, you cook like this every night now?”. He smirked, a teasing glint in his gaze.

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual even as the weight of your words settled between you. “Not much to do with a broken heart, you know? Besides work, hitting the gym… and, well, eating”. You managed a small, wry smile, but the truth of it lingered, the quiet ache of the years you’d spent trying to piece yourself back together.

Dean’s smirk softened, the teasing light in his eyes replaced by something deeper, something that seemed to mirror your own hurt. He looked down at his plate, his fork stilled mid-air, as if he needed a moment to absorb the weight of what you’d just said. “Yeah”, he murmured, almost to himself, “I get that”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 9

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @globetrotter28 @ladykitana90

[ahhnini]

better things - cheater!ex! rafe cameron x reader one shot

part two / part three

synopsis - after rafe cheats on you, he wants a second chance. unfortunately for him, you’re onto better things now

warnings - rafe is lowkey an asshole here, arguing, cheating ( i don’t condone it!! )

word count - 1.2k

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

ask box is open!

tbh i love when my interests mix so here’s some aespa with a fic lol

divider credits - aqualogia on tumblr

initially, you had a rough time after the breakup with rafe. tissues from crying were littered all over your room, you ghosted your friends, and you’re pretty sure you sold out the ice cream from the local grocery store.

turns out, he had cheated. you should’ve known something was up when his text responses became dry, didn’t want to go out in public for dates, and was always on his phone.

when you received the text from him saying, “I need to talk to you,” you panicked. your text response however, remained calm. you both met up, he confessed he cheated on you and wanted to break things off. you tried your best keeping a poker face but he knew you too well, knowing you were about to break down. he then had the audacity to give you “one final hug” before speeding off on his bike, leaving you wallowing in your tears. he never even apologized.

now, here you are, sunbathing with a couple of your friends. it’s a small island, so you occasionally see rafe with his new girlfriend, sofia. or was it sofie? you honestly can’t remember, and that was good. you’ve moved on, healed, realized that you were only with rafe because he saw you at your weakest.

as you watch your friends go in the water to cool off from the heat, you notice a familiar blond boy walking along the beach, alone. you take a glance and lay down on your beach towel again, not paying attention to him. until he calls out your name.

you sit up, and rafe stands over you. you want to see if you can ignore him, so you just wave him off, but you hear him scoff. it was awkward, of course, your ex was standing right in front of of you after almost a year of no contact. you decide to speak up, breaking the silence, “yeah?” and he bluntly says “we…broke up,” your eyebrows furrow. “okay? what does that have to do with me?” you respond. he sighs, “can we talk in private?” “alright, make it quick”

you both walk to a more secluded area, and he begins speaking, “we broke up because of you,” he sighs. “because of me? what part do I play in your relationship?” you cross your arms, scoffing. “sofia thought I was still hung up on you, and she was right, I was,” he looks at you, there’s shame in his eyes, and guilt in his words. you couldn’t believe what he was saying. he continued, “listen, I know I cheated on you, it was a shitty thing for me to do. my head wasn’t right, and…I took you for granted.”

you roll your eyes and scoff again, “yeah, you did take me for granted rafe…you knew how much I loved you, you knew how much I cherished our relationship…for you to throw that away-” he interrupts, “I know, and i’m willing to give it another shot. if you would just let me-” it was now your turn to interrupt, “excuse me? do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? you were the one who broke my heart in the first place, and now you’re crawling back to me? i’m sorry rafe, I won’t ever get back with you. never in a million years.” he sighed, defeated.

he hated seeing you like this, so happy. after that day on the beach, he tried to talk to you again via text. and again, and again, and again, until you finally hit the block button on his contact.

your paths crossed again at the wreck, you were talking with someone, a new friend perhaps. you were smiling and giggling as you ate one of your fries. of course he noticed you first, and his heart leaped. he wanted to come up to you and strike a conversation again, but he knew he would just get shut out by you once more. he wanted to get out of the restaurant as soon as possible, so he ordered and anxiously tapped his foot while mr. carrera fulfilled his order. as soon as his number was announced, he took the bag of food and rushed to his car, not caring that he was being stared at.

it hurt his pride, of course. he knows he shouldn’t be reacting this way, he has no right to be acting this way. but god, did he miss you. he missed the way he basically had you wrapped around your finger, you were so willing to drop everything for him at the snap of his fingers. sofia wasn't the same. she set him straight, didn't enable his behavior, and he hated that. rafe always got things his way, he couldn't control sofia the way he controlled you.

word gets around fast in kildare country. it didn't take long for rafe to find out that you have someone new. he quickly came to terms that you've finally moved on. however, he wasn't prepared to see you and your new boyfriend in person so soon.

you were living your best life, your skin was glowing, and you had the best boyfriend in the world, jason. he was the juxtaposition of rafe, a breath of fresh air. you two were having brunch at the country club, watching some of the members out on the field, playing golf or also having a nice meal. as you take another bite out of your avocado toast, you see a familiar trio walk in. you really wish this island wasn't so small so you wouldn't see him that often. it annoyed you more than it bothered you. you put your toast down on the plate, then spoke to your boyfriend, "i'm gonna use the restroom," he nodded his head. you stood up from your chair and went inside the building.

while on your way to the restroom, you ran into rafe. it had been six months after you blocked him, and you resisted rolling your eyes when he waved and smiled at you. he started walking towards you, and you hoped he knew how much of a stupid decision he was making. probably not, you thought. he was now across you, and you hear him speak up, "how are you?" "fine," you say, dryly. "heard some things goin' around town." rafe says, trying to keep the conversation going. "yeah, I have a new boyfriend," your voice is monotone. "oh, does he treat you better than me?" he asks. you roll your eyes and try your best to not just walk away from the conversation.

"yes, he does, rafe. why haven't you moved on?" your voice was slightly raised, and he sighs, "you know why I haven't moved on. I need you, y/n. please-" "rafe. i've moved on. you should too." you start walking away to the restroom, and he looks at you, defeated. you knew your worth, and you knew you deserved someone better than rafe.

he took one last glance at you before going back to topper and kelce. he sighed as your words hung over him. you moved onto better things now.

[reimaybe]

🎧: every breath you take — the police

for as long as he could remember, yukimiya had always been watching you. from the moment you slid into the seat beside him in class, to the countless times your laughter echoed in his ears. the way you would rest your head on his shoulder during the bus rides home, and the way you always instinctively reached for him everytime something scared you.

and now, he watched you dressed in white, a vision of perfection, with a smile so radiant it felt like it could burn him alive.

he should’ve been happy for you—he told himself he was. but the truth clawed at him, ripping him apart from the inside out. it could’ve been him. it should’ve been him. if only he had pulled you closer instead of pushing you away. if only he had stayed, but instead, he walked away. and now he stood here, holding the title of the best man when he felt like the worst.

“i’m glad you came, yuki,” you said softly, approaching him. your white-gloved hands holding two glasses of champagne. your voice holding that same gentle warmth that used to be just for him.

his breath hitched, his practiced smile faltering as he took the glass you offered.

“congrats, [name],” he said, his voice strained. his fingers brushed against yours, lingering a second too long before you pulled away.

he coughed, trying to breath through the tension. “sorry.”

you leaned back against the wall beside him, sipping on the sparkly drink, your gaze drifting to your husband across the room. he was entertaining guests with ease, his laughter rising above the chatter and music. but for yukimiya, the world faded into silence the moment you stood next to him.

“i hesitated inviting you,” you admitted, breaking the silence between you two.

yukimiya hummed, his grip tightening on the glass. “i understand.”

of course, he understood. inviting your ex-boyfriend to your wedding was weird, to say the least. but your husband had insisted. he’d been the one to reach out a hand, to ensure yukimiya felt included. that was just the kind of man he was—kind, patient, selfless.

the same man who had been there for you when yukimiya wasn’t.

“he insisted,” you said, your voice wavering as you watched your husband. “he’s so kind, yuki.”

yukimiya’s chest tightened as he heard the break in your voice.

“but it kills me,” you whispered. “it kills me to know that some part of me still longs for what we could've been.”

his breath caught. for a moment, the room blurred, and all he could see was you. the raw vulnerability in your eyes, the ache in your voice.

“i have my regrets too,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “but it’s too late, isn’t it? what can we do now?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. the truth hung between you, heavy and unspoken.

“live happily, [name],” he said with a half-hearted smile.

you mirror his expression, “i should go. they’re about to cut the cake.”

you turned to him fully, and you opened your arms. he stepped into your embrace, holding you tightly as if this moment could last forever.

“i love you,” you whispered against his ear, the words trembling, but true.

his heart shattered as he whispered back, “i love you too.”

when you pulled away, he caught a tear sliding down your cheek and wiped it gently with his thumb. you smiled, bittersweet and beautiful, before walking away backwards, toward your husband.

“goodbye, yuki,” you whispered.

but he knew the goodbye wasn’t meant for him. it was for the love you once shared, for the fleeting hope that it could’ve been him standing beside you at the altar.

as he watched you join your husband, yukimiya exhaled, the weight of regret pressing heavily on his chest. he wonders what would have happened if he told you the real reason as to why he broke up with you. but he knew you deserved better, so he chose to keep quiet and watch you for as long as he can, from the sidelines.

from now on, he'll be watching—that’s the only thing he can do. every breath you take, and every move you make. every bond you break, every step you take, he'll be watching. just like how it was meant to be, from afar.

“i’ll be watching you, for as long as my eyes let me.”

[junislqve]

⟡ stay in my memories

when you had finally started to accept your past, it comes back to haunt you

pairs ex!jake + reader content angst kissing jake being toxic wordcount 1404 — find my other works

note ending is highkey rushed and was supposed to be happy, but this is self indulgent, so! i also listened to memories an ungodly amount while writing this

YOU HUFFED AS YOUR DOORBELL RANG FOR THE SECOND TIME. it was 11pm. a few minutes ago, your friend had just left after picking up her cat from the week-long vacation she had with her boyfriend. you had sensed she’d forgotten something.

when it rang once more, you begrudgingly stood up dragging your legs to the front door. the lights to your small living room was already off save for one that was only enough to illuminate the front door.

you sigh as the door click open, “you really need to stop forget-” 

“hi, babyy” 

your heart dropped. not because of how the man in front of you accidentally stumbled and now practically has his boy weight supported by you, and also somehow not because of how his hands circle your body and rest on your waist like how it used to.

it was his voice that did. 

his voice that you swore on everything you would never want to hear again. hating how it sounded so much you’d bail on any man that sounded similar to him or had his accent.

how could you not when only a few simple words uttered with that voice had your mind reeling? repeating the same heart wrenching sentence in your head over and over again, it engraved itself.

it was pouring outside. you’ve been very stuffed with schoolwork and your finals coming up. papers spread out everywhere on your table and books scattered on your bedsides and floor. 

you felt a tickle on your ankle and watched as your dog rubbed its side on your body, begging for attention. you chuckle, dropping your pen and bending down to pick her up. sitting her on your lap as you rubbed its back. 

“i’m sorry, i just need to finish this paper and i’ll promise i’ll give you some attention, okay?” you coo at her, it hung her head low but complied, laying her head on your lap. 

a moment later, your phone lit up. you stared at the caller and with no hesitation immediately picked it up, a smile growing on your face, “hi, babe-”

“let’s break up”

you stopped. the pouring rain seemed to have hushed in a matter of seconds, the air around you felt constricted. your dog stayed silent, looking up at you in confusion.

“what?” 

“it’s just going to be hard keeping up our relationship in the long run. i’m graduating and you still have two years” 

“so?”

“so i don’t want to hold each other back” he sounded frustrated. 

“so that’s it?” you ask, voice heavy. “you’re going to leave me because you don’t want to wait two years for me?”

“you’re twisting my words”

“that’s exactly what you said, jake” 

“i’m sorry”

no he’s not. 

“no, you’re not” you say, you wait for a second too long before hanging up. you damn well know he’s not, because if he was you wouldn’t be crying as hard as you are right now. your chest wouldn’t have felt as painful as it does.

there was nothing but confusion that clouded your mind the following days. you were trying to reason with yourself why he’d ever break up with you. 

your boyfriend is the sweetest yet most comforting guy you’ve ever known. or at least, was. you thought there must be something wrong with you.

everything reminded you of him. back then, you thought you hit the lottery when he landed as your first love as well as your first boyfriend. you never doubted your relationship, he was always there for you whenever you needed him and you never turned him down if he needed a shoulder. 

every waking moment after the breakup felt plain to you. habits and hobbies turned more of a chore, some of the things you did were picked up from his habits.

you were quiet about your breakup. it took a total of 13 days until anyone found out. your friends having to fish it out of you when they felt how quiet and more zoned out you’ve become.

for three months, jake’s name was not allowed to be uttered. it was a rule your friend made. she knew anything correlated to him could tip you off, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

she didn’t know that you’d still visit his old album from time to time just to feel something. to remember all the ways he loved you and all the ways he wasn’t there to, anymore.

you can’t let go the feeling of how he would hug you, all the times he would kiss you giggles filling out every corner of the room. the moments he’d lay on the bed with you, whispering sweet nothings lulling you to sleep.

you still can feel all of that, a ghost of the past you were never willing to let go.

you wished time could heal all of you completely. because now when you swore you have finally started to move on, he has his body slumped on yours, breath fanning your neck.

“jake?” you curse yourself from how quiet it came out. your voice wavering, your breath shallow before you slowly walk in, his body still slumped on yours.

he hummed, “i missed you” he dug his head deeper into your neck, making you physically sick.

you tug him off, stabling him by his shoulders and you wished you didn’t. you could see his state now. his hair was all messed up, face tinted red from drinking and he had that pout. his eyes attempting to blink itself awake as he looks at you through sleepy eyes.

“jake” you say again, finding your voice. that pout of his grew at your tone.

“don’t you miss me?” he asks, voice so soft you almost gave in. his hands still hover on your waist and you’d lie if you said you weren’t fully aware of it. 

“i’ll grab you some water” you say, walking out of his reach. the heat from his body slowly seeping away as you walk to grab a glass of water.

you turn back to see him sat on the couch, his head laying on the arm rest, legs sprawled sideways. tapping him on the shoulder, his eyes crease open along with that smile of his. your heart clenched.

he grabs the cup and downs it in one gulp, “thank you” he says quietly.

when you were about to grab it and walk back to the kitchen, jake had tugged your shirt causing you to topple on top of him on the couch. 

“you haven’t said you missed me back” he said, head buried in your hair, breathing you in. 

you gathered all of you to push against him and stand up, “jake, stop”

“i know you’re sober”

it barely showed, but you could see the slight waver of his smile.

“i miss you” he says for the third time tonight, eyes open but still slightly glazed.

“you’re being selfish” tears start to well up. it’s overwhelming to say the least. how could he just show up at your doorstep months later giving you false hope? after everything he’s made you go through.

“i know” he starts, sitting up slightly, “and i know i have no right to come back here begging for you to come back. but i miss you”

“you should leave” you look away.

“please”

“jake”

“i’m sorry” he says, “but i’ll do better this time”

maybe it was those eyes that convinced you, or the sliver of sincerity you pretended to see in his eyes or maybe once again it was that voice that allured you. but you gave in. 

he brought you in for a kiss. one that you’ve undoubtedly miss all these months of being apart. jake just knew how to bring you back into his arms. he held you all night long and between the kiss and the cuddling, you dozed into a sleep you haven’t felt for months.

you shifted, you peek at the light hitting your eyes from the slip of the curtains. 

you rolled over, the space beside you, cold. 

you sat up, the blanket falling off your body as you looked around the living room. trying to grasp at the hazy memory of last night.

the table in front of the couch is neat. when your eyes focused there was a scrap of paper placed on it.

‘i don’t deserve you, i’m sorry

-love, j’

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[frakts1ya]

let you break my heart again ft. xu minghao

💔 -> or, minghao realizes what he did wrong and wants to try again || wc : 1k.

☆ song recs! : let you break my heart again - laufey ; cold love - the8 ; darl + ing - seventeen ; real man - beabadoobee ; try again - jaehyun, d.ear

You and your ex both remember the break-up day like it was yesterday. A year together, 365 plus days filled with laughter and tears, which were all gone. Your ex, Minghao didn't know why he really did it, why he broke up with you. He just woke up one day and lost feelings.

You spent a week crying in the arms of your friends. You loved Minghao, and even if you tell yourself you had gotten over him, a little piece of you still wants him.

"...after that I literally- y/n? you good?" Danielle asks, noticing your shift in demeanor. There, out of the corner of your eye, you see Minghao, your one and only ex, the love of your life, hanging out with his friends. “That bitch.”

“Dani, it's… it's fine,” You say, still staring at him. His gaze meets yours, and your eyes widen. 

You sheepishly wave to him, which he hesitates before raising his hand back at you. 

Your phone then buzzes. Minghao is on the phone, so you're guessing it was from him.

 come over here.

“He's telling me to come over, I'll be back.” You run over to Minghao, and the friends he's with take this as a sign to leave.

“Hello, y/n.” Words you haven't heard in so long. It warms your heart, even if he doesn't like you anymore.

“Hi, Hao. How are you?” The conversations you've had all those years ago, forgotten about. From the early getting-to-know-each-other icebreaker talks to the late night deep conversations, you miss all of it.

“I'm good. You?” Minghao's heart skipped a beat. It's been so long since you've called him Hao.

“I've been good. Why do you still want to talk to me?” Such a mood killer, y/n. You know, but something inside you needed a conclusion.

“I need you.” Even Minghao wasn't expecting those words to exit his mouth.

“Huh? Hao, what do you mean?”

He exhales, already unsure if he wants to say what he has in mind. “I regret everything. It's been 6 months since we broke up, yet I can't stop thinking about you. I thought I lost feelings, but seeing you again today made me realize how much of an asshole I was to you. So please, y/n, give me another chance.” 

After he finishes, he watches your expression shift, eyes softening and darting away from his figure. “I don't know. You already broke my heart once. I was sad for weeks, Hao. I don't know if I could do this again.”

“I'll do better. I won't hurt you like I did last time.”

You stop for a second to think. Minghao was looking at you with the same expression he had when he first confessed to you. 

“Let's go get some coffee together, okay? We'll see what happens.”

“That drink looks disgustingly sweet. You're going to have a heart attack.” Minghao comments on the caramel frappuccino you ordered.

“You’re the one who ordered plain tea! Let me taste,” You took his cup and sipped the tea, scrunching your face up at the bitter taste.

In response to your reaction, Minghao took your drink and tried it, also making a disgusted face after swallowing. The two of you both laugh like you were still together. 

“I missed you,” You mutter ashamedly. 

“Yeah, I did too. I'm really sorry for breaking up with you. I-” Minghao stops mid sentence.

“You..?”

“I tried dating someone else for a bit. It didn't last. She said I was too hung up on my ex. I told her she was wrong, but I don't think she was.” Minghao holds your hand, his thumb tracing circles in the space behind your pointer.

“Oh, Minghao…” You pout, using your free hand to brush stray strands of hair out of his face. “Then, why did you do it?”

“I didn't think I was good enough,” He admits, barely audible for you to hear, “You deserved better than me, and I don't think I was ready then. It's different now. I've improved. Started meditating, taking better care of myself, you know.”

“You were always good for me, baby.” The whole café disappears as your lips approach his, bringing him in a soft kiss. 

“Shit, I didn't mean to-” You apologize, running off before Minghao could say anything. 

“Yeah, I fucked up bad!” You rant to Danielle, who's intently listening the entire time you recap your encounter.

“Did you see his face?” Danielle inquires, “Maybe he liked it?”

“I don't think so. He's going to hate me now. I thought we could restart, but, fuck!” You exclaim exactly as thunder hits the ground, making you jump. “This world hates me.”

The doorbell of yours and Danielle’s shared apartment rings, and Danielle glances over at you. “Want to go get it?” You shake your head, and Danielle goes to open the door. You hear incomprehensible chatter before Danielle goes back to your room to tell you: “Y/n, someone's waiting for you.”

You go to the door, where a very wet Minghao stands.

“Um-”

You can't get any words out before his hands are harshly gripping your cheeks and he's kissing you.

“Payback for leaving me in the café after you kissed me,” Minghao pants.

“Why? You're soaking wet, did you not bring an umbrella?” You fret, hands grabbing onto his damp button-up.

“Didn't have one. I needed to see you as soon as possible, my love. Let's start over.”

His forehead is pressed against yours, you could feel your heart beating out of its chest. “No, let's pick up from where we left off. I loved you then, I love you now, and I'll love you in the future.”

“Okay…” The two of you are quiet for a hot second, before Minghao asks, “Can I come in and dry myself?”

“Of course. You know where the bathroom is.” You let him in and close the door behind you. As he makes his way over to the bathroom, you watch with the same eyes you watched him with when he first came over, or when you had your first kiss with him.

Though you knew (or, at least hoped) he wouldn't repeat his mistake, you would let Xu Minghao break your heart again.