#spent all weekend getting my hopes up about it because it would have been perfect

[cicadaknight]

.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

Masterlist Link

GIF by wyattjohnston

...

HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

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[lvioung]

　　　　　　　　　　 　　 🪷 　　Serenade　of　Lilies　:　The　Event

　　𓎡𓎡𓎡　　A　　 @fluiora 　　300　　 special　 ㅤଂ ♡

first things first, thank you all so so SO much for 300 🥹💗 I honestly could not have been here without all of you guys ! ! I can't believe I already reached such a milestone in a span of 2 weeks 💗 thank you all so much for your love and support ! ! you all are absolutely so kind and gorgeous and most of all talented :3 ! ! ! getting to 300 means so much to me in so many ways 🫶🏻 i know my blog is still little, but i hope to see it flourish in the future ! i want to specially thank to all my mutuals & friends that helped me grow throughout this journey and made it absolutely enjoyable ! ! ! ♡ and to celebrate this, not only i will be doing an event for reaching 300, i'll also be doing a face rev on the kmbd community :3 ! ! ! anyway, all things stated, i hope you enjoy this event since i spent a lot of time on this, now let's move on to the actual event ! !

Mindy and her family had been looking forward to their weekend getaway to a peaceful cabin near a stunning lily field. The cabin was nestled by a lake, surrounded by lush greenery, and just a short walk away from the famous Lily Valley, where lilies of all kinds bloomed in every colour imaginable.

One sunny afternoon, while her family was relaxing by the lake, Mindy decided to take a solo stroll through the valley. As she walked along the path, she admired the beauty around her—the soft breeze, the vibrant wildflowers, and, of course, the lilies. As she wandered deeper into Lily Valley, she came across a breathtaking sight: a bundle of lilies in shades of pink, yellow, white, and blue, swaying gently in the wind. They looked like something out of a dream.

Mindy was completely captivated by them. She bent down and carefully picked a few of the most beautiful lilies, making sure to gather a variety of colours. She smiled to herself, thinking how perfect these flowers would be as gifts for her friends when she got back from her trip. She imagined how happy they would be to receive such beautiful and unique flowers. With her hands full of lilies, she made her way back to the cabin, eager to share the joy she had found in Lily Valley.

Someone knocks on your door, and when you open it, there stands your good friend Mindy, grinning on your front porch.

"Hey there, friend!!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Sorry for showing up out of the blue, but I wanted to surprise you!"

Mindy steps forward, holding something behind her back. "I just got back from Lily Valley—I went with my family a couple of days ago, and it was amazing! We stayed near the most beautiful spot, and one afternoon, I decided to take a walk on my own. While I was exploring, I came across a field of lilies, and oh my gosh, I fell in love with them! There were so many different colours—pink, yellow, white, and even blue."

With a big smile, she reveals a stunning lily from behind her back and hands it to you. "I picked a bunch of them and thought, ‘Why not share them with my best friends?’ And of course, you deserve one of the prettiest ones! Here you go, a gorgeous lily for a gorgeous friend!"

She beams, waiting for your reaction. "I knew you’d love it!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 🐰ㅤㅤㅤ 🪷ㅤ ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤㅤㅤ◌ ㅤㅤ about In this event, you'll be creating a mood board centered around the beautiful lily. I chose lilies for this event because they’re one of my absolute favourite flowers. Lilies have such a peaceful and calming look, especially the white ones, and they’re all incredibly stunning ♡ these are just two of the many reasons why I love them so much, and I hope this event helps you appreciate their beauty and charm as well. Each type of lily carries a deep, unique meaning, and I can't wait for all of you to explore the different colours and their significance through this creative experience !

ㅤㅤhowㅤitㅤworks ㅤ🐰ㅤㅤㅤ 🪷ㅤ ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤㅤㅤ◌ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You are expected to dm @m-indy a number from 1 to 4, and in return, she’ll gift you a unique lily along with its meaning and color. Each lily is different, with its own special significance and vibrant hue ♡ Once you receive your lily from your lovely friend @m-indy, your task is to create a mood board featuring that flower. It doesn’t have to be the exact image she sends, but if you choose a different one, it must be the same type of lily in the color she assigned you. While @m-indy will provide the meaning behind the lily, basing your mood board on the meaning is totally up to you—it’s an optional touch of creativity!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 🐰ㅤㅤㅤ 🪷ㅤ ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤㅤㅤ◌ ㅤㅤ rules

— your moodboard has to include the lily Mindy has given you. (doesn't need to be the exact image) — moodpboard has to be completely made by you (divs, locs, pngs are fine as long as you credit the owner) — tag me in the moodboard or in the comments + use the tag #𝓢erenade of 𝓛ilies : 𝓣he 𝓔vent when submitting your entry or it wont be counted. — two entries per person max. — do not copy others, 3 pictures from another moodboard will be considered copying and will lead to a disqualification. — dm me for any extensions and concerns you might have! — last but not least, have fun!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhowㅤtoㅤjoin ㅤ🐰ㅤㅤㅤ 🪷ㅤ ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤㅤㅤ◌ ㅤ — comment joining + your favourite flower — like + reblog & tag 4 or more mutuals who you think would like to join — deadline is on november 20th

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 🐰ㅤㅤㅤ 🪷ㅤ ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤㅤㅤ◌ ㅤㅤ prizes ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤ 1st placeㅤㅤ：ㅤ 100 rblgs on 2 mbs of ur choice, 5 custom mbs, 5 custom word divs,  shout out ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤ 2nd placeㅤㅤ：ㅤ 100 rblgs on 1 mb of ur choice, 4 custom mbs 2 custom word divs, shout out ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤ 3rd placeㅤㅤ：ㅤ 80 rblgs on 1 mb of choice, 2 custom mbs, shout out ㅤㅤ˖ㅤㅤㅤㅤ◌ㅤ runner upsㅤㅤ：ㅤ 50 rblgs on 1 mb of choice and a shoutout ㅤㅤㅤ： all participants of the event will get 15 rblgs on their entry. ㅤㅤㅤ： all reblogs will be done on my rblg acc @sacrism

hai guys :3 I hope u guys enjoy and like this event AHHH and I hope it doesn’t flop… please dont make it flop sighs.. I put my blood, sweat and tears on to this (I started last night and stayed up) as for my first event I think this is really cute and im so in love nd I hope u guys feel the same T_T BUT WOOHOO 300!!! Thank u al so much again :33 I love you guys sososo much and u all the sweetest human beings ever, hugs and kisses from yours truly :3 ( also hey again,,,.. this is suni from exactly 1:27 am aest typing all of this down.. sobs anyway im gonna schedule this post at around oct 25 12pm aest or probs earlier cause im impatient!!! dont let this flop and soz for the lame prizes )

tags: @im4yeons @wonjuii @awwriri @y-urios @fairytopea

@i9hrtszn @chaeryeos @sugarish @y-unrei @loien

@x-aravv @yeossemble @aeraras @kokoch4nel @y-vna

@nikist-4-n @purinkiss @cg1rl @flaireur @n-americano

@floriseu @florichae @kissunoo @bitchey @sxgarhan

@beompercar @jimzittos @wonysmiu @fairyfaes @et2rnity

@y-une @yzhiche @miuhyein @hourlyhoon @soulari

@nepentheism @tzulipss @studiogyu @draculasdaughterrr @jimzittos

[silverhairsimp]

The dad osamu brain rot has been unbelievably real.

AN: complete and utter fluff. Osamu and reader have a daughter. Minimal dialogue.

Also: how is this my first Osamu fic/drabble??? I love this man. thinking of doing an entire dad series... lemme know if you're interested. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Find: dad!Atsumu here

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Your daughter is only four and osamu is convinced that these last four years have been some of the best of his life. Learning how to be a dad, watching you become a mom, coming up with ways to parent together, figuring out his daughter’s interests… there was such a sense of sentimental pride when his daughter begged to go to work with him on the weekends.

Which is where your husband can be found without fail. He’s got your daughter on the counter, lending a hand while she shapes her onigiri. She’s doing her best, which is why every time the two of them do this, Osamu asks his little girl “you sure you don’t wanna be like yer mama? Or find yer own thing you love?”

She might have his dark eye brows and those beautiful grey-blue eyes, but she looks like you, and it makes him love her even more. She just shakes her head and looks up at him with big eyes and a smile while she eats the sticky rice off her fingers. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

Her cheeks also have grains of rice sticking to them and osamu can’t help the way he wraps his arms around his little girl. Clinging to these moments for dear life because he knows how fast she’ll grow up. How distant these memories will seem one day...

She’ll probably change her mind about wanting to be just like him. Who knows, maybe she’ll start to look up to her uncle Atsumu and wanna be just like him. Or she really find her own interests and forget all about the times they spent in this kitchen together. He hopes that never happens and this will always be something the two can bond over, even when he starts to age and she goes off to start her own family. He knows that’s years and years away, but he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the future, then back to the past.

He thought he was getting his hopes up, but when you surprised him with that going home outfit: a dusty pink onesie decorated with tiny onigiri on it. He should’ve known then, that his baby would be a daddy’s girl through and through.

And it’s no surprise that when she could start talking and asking for things, that the first item she asked for was an apron to match her daddy. You and Atsumu had worked together to surprise them both with new ones, since your husband’s old one was more than a little worn out.

At just two and a half years old, your baby girl was jumping up and down with excitement, waving the apron in the air and running straight to her daddy so he could put it on for her. Osamu remembers looking at her with the softest smile and tears brimming his lash line while he held her close.

Her little voice pulls him out of thought once more, “daddy? Did I do good?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods his head, “you did great, sweetheart. Wanna try to wrap it now that you’ve got the shape?” She’s already reaching for the nori with a frustrated little pout when more than one piece sticks to her fingers. “Here,” he brings a wash cloth over, with a little dish of water, “let’s wipe your hands. It’ll make it easier.”

She follows his every instruction, folding the nori where Osamu pre-creased it. “Should we make mommy some for dinner? We can bring them home and surprise her?” The light in her eyes is one he remembers fondly. He and his brother used to get that same shimmer in their eyes when they’d land a perfect set in a volleyball match. And he’s caught himself even more often now that he has you, his beautiful wife, and his perfect daughter.

There’s so much in his life that he’s thankful for and it’s all started with you.

[vettelsvee]

CLIFFORD AND EMILY | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

ferrari sebastian vettel x race engineer girlfriend!reader

word count: 3195

summary: y/n tells seb that it would be a great present for his birthday to adopt a puppy, and they find the perfect one

warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff. dad ferrari!seb as i can't get rid of him. based on 2018 season and narrated on seb's pov

a/n: once again, this is part of history series (coming soon as is being heavily edited) and translated by cele! changed my layout to my comfort people so are you like it? also, as always, i'll be waiting for your feedback, as well as comments and chats on that anon button please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated guys! tysm <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Normally, I didn't have trouble getting up in the mornings, especially during Grand Prix weekends, but today it had been incredibly hard to leave Y/N and Emily sleeping.

Maybe the problem was that today was my birthday, and, in part, we couldn't spend it like a normal family. I didn't mind working on such a special day, but it did bother me when I thought it was my first birthday with Emily.

Very reluctantly, I decided to start my day, trying not to let my bad mood consume me. As soon as I set foot on the floor, I adjusted the sheets to cover my girlfriend, taking the utmost care not to wake her. Nights with our daughter were exasperating, and I didn't know how Y/N managed to be at one hundred percent during team meetings, press conferences, free practice sessions, qualifying and the race, and especially the briefings and all the data analysis her job entailed.

I trained with Eddie for just an hour and a half. According to him, my birthday present was a less strict training session; even so, we ran a lap around the block where the hotel was located, and then we went straight to the gym.

At half-past seven in the morning, to my good fortune, he told me I could go back to my room to get ready for that Friday.

I entered as quickly as I could, being very careful because it was still quite early, and I assumed my girls would be resting. Deep down, I knew that wasn't going to be the case, so I wasn't surprised to see Y/N, still in her pyjamas, walking back and forth while breastfeeding Emily and trying to eat a piece of toast.

“God!” She quickly swallowed the bite and pretended she hadn't been eating. I couldn't help but laugh at how cute the scene seemed to me. “I'm so sorry, Seb. I had ordered breakfast to be brought up and ready for when you came, but I was so hungry and wasn't sure when Eddie would let you go today…”

I shook my head and approached her. I left a short kiss on her lips and then placed another on my daughter's forehead.

“Happy birthday, sunshine,” she said, wrapping her free arm around me. “How many birthdays have we spent together now? Eight?”

“Seven,” I corrected her, remembering we didn’t get to spend the 2008 one together. “And I hope there will be more because I'm not going to let you get rid of me anytime soon.”

“Do you really think I'm going to get rid of you so soon? In case you don't remember, we not only work together: we also share a house, a cat, a daughter, and we're going to have a dog…”

After that last part, Y/N let out a small scream and covered her mouth with her hand.

If I was the one who could keep secrets perfectly, Y/N Y/L/N was the complete opposite.

“What do you mean by a dog, Y/N?”

“Oh, well, I don't know… I must have mixed up some conversation I had with Aristella about Cherry,” her nerves were quite noticeable. “I got confused, and…”

“Y/N, I know you perfectly, and I know when you're lying to me. What did you mean by we’re going to have a dog?”

Given my insistence and, why not say it, the poker face I probably had, my girlfriend sighed. She placed Emily in the crib next to our bed and, while asking me to sit down and start having breakfast, took her mobile phone and immersed herself in it.

“Well, you see…” she began, sitting in front of me and taking a strawberry in her hands. “Since you adopted Vanilla as a surprise for me, I've been thinking that I would like to do the same for you, but between the chaotic 2013 we had and Emily's birth, I found it a bit impossible. It's also true that it's something I would like to discuss before doing it because it's a matter that depends not only on me but also on you,” she clarified.

“And that means…?”

“Forget it, Seb. It doesn't matter. I haven't told you anything, okay? Forget it.”

It bothered me to see her so indecisive, though it didn’t stop me from finding her idea quite endearing deep down. I knew she was nervous; the constant fiddling with the napkin and her flushed cheeks were proof of that.

“Do you want to adopt a dog?” I asked her, loud and clear.

“It’s not that I want to adopt a dog. Well, I do, but…” she sighed, stopped eating breakfast, and looked at me directly. “The thing is, I know you’d like to have a dog, and you’ve had that idea in your head for quite some time, so I thought that, only if you want, we could adopt one,” she finally explained.

“Do you want to wait until we get back home? If you want, we can talk to Michael and have him recommend…”

“No, no, not at all! I’ve already talked to Lewis about it, and he’s informed me,” she hastened to clarify. “Since I wanted to do all this, if possible, today, I asked him where he adopted Roscoe and Coco. I thought today was the perfect day for the adoption because it’s your birthday,” she repeated.

I nodded as I got up and headed towards Emily’s crib, who had started crying once more.

“I mean, all this is only if you want, of course,” Y/N spoke again. Before I could respond, she interrupted me once more. “But if you want, we can do it when we get back home. I don’t mind, except I wouldn’t have another birthday present to give you…”

Still holding the baby in my arms, I approached her and silenced her with a long, slow kiss, one I took my time with but received no complaints about, quite the opposite.

Y/N always went out of her way with gifts, even during times when her finances weren't the best. I much preferred her giving me something symbolic over an expensive whim.

So, the fact that she wanted to adopt a dog today, as my birthday present, made this thing I had wanted for so long even more special. Plus, thinking that Emily would grow up with the new member of the family made it a thousand times better.

“If my girl says it’s happening today, then we should follow her lead,” I finished saying. “What time do you think we’ll be done with everything we have to do today?”

[...]

“I hope there aren’t too many people, because if Britta finds out we’re doing all this without telling her…”

“Y/N, relax. If there’s any problem or anything, I’ll handle the press. Besides, it’s not like they don’t know me: remember I adopted Roscoe and Coco there, so they know me quite well.”

Lewis had decided to come with us to, according to him, ensure his friends received proper treatment. Deep down, I knew it was because he didn’t want to see Aristella, Britta’s niece and Y/N's best friend, hanging around Rosberg even while they were in the middle of their divorce process.

Hamilton’s concern for the girl wasn’t just something a friend would have, and I knew he was fully aware of that.

“Do you have something in mind, Seb?”

Lewis’s voice snapped me out of my trance.

“Sorry, what?”

“If you’ve thought of a name for the dog,” the dark-haired man spoke again. “I hope it’s something different from the usual. You know, the world has too many Tobys and all those common dog name variants.”

“If we’re talking about giving common names to pets, Seb is your guy,” Y/N spoke now, almost shouting. “When he adopted Vanilla just to get me to move in with him, he told me Garfield was a better name. Garfield, like the cartoon cat! If that’s not common…”

“What do you want to call an orange cat, Y/N? Vanilla? I remind you that you wanted to name her Cheeto…”

“Because she looked like a Cheeto and I thought it was a male!” she retorted. “Later, when I realised she was female and not so orange, I named her Vanilla.”

“Vanilla, I like it. It’s an… interesting name,” Lewis intervened. “Can I ask why you named her like that?”

“Y/N's favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. That, and if you add the fact that cats are her favourite animal…” I answered in her place.

I saw Y/N's lips curve slightly in the rear-view mirror.

Then, she turned around and put a hand on my leg, stroking it.

“I hope you find the perfect name for the new family member, love. Even if it’s the same as every other dog in the world,” she said ironically.

After those words, I realised we had arrived at the shelter Lewis Hamilton seemed to admire so much.

The Brit, as he guided us towards what appeared to be the entrance, commented that we should be careful with Emily, not because the furry ones were aggressive, but because they got very excited when they had visitors, especially if they were children.

A dark-skinned woman with completely dark hair was at the door, as if she had been waiting for us for a while. Lewis gave her a hug and immediately introduced us.

“These are Sebastian Vettel, his girlfriend Y/N, and their daughter, Emily.”

She gave us a smile, and I saw she intended to shake our hands until she saw our little one. She approached to dote on her as soon as Y/N gave her permission with a glance. Emily’s laughter began to fill the room, and she started to move cheerfully in Y/N's arms.

“I’m so sorry for my lack of manners, but when I see such a beautiful baby like this little one…” the woman began to say, still playing with the child. Then, she cleared her throat and looked at both of us. “Nice to meet you, couple,” she finally shook our hands. “I’m Jade, and well, I’ve been a volunteer at this shelter since time immemorial, back in the prehistoric times.”

“Don’t say that, Jade! You look wonderful,” Lewis told her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be so flattering, young man,” she chided him. “I appreciate all kinds of compliments for my age, but that’s not why we’re here. Well, tell me: if I’m not mistaken, and as your friend here has told me, you want to expand your family, right?”

Now she was looking intently at both of us. I nodded in response; at the same time, and by inertia, my right arm wrapped around my girlfriend’s waist, which made Emily start reaching out her little arms to come to me.

“Today is Seb’s birthday, and he’s been wanting to adopt a dog for quite some time,” my girlfriend explained.

“Oh, the adoption is a birthday gift!” Jade exclaimed, beginning to clap and approaching me quickly to give me a hug that I gladly accepted. “Happy birthday, dear! How old are you now?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Oh, dear. If I could be that age again…”

I smiled at her response as Y/N handed me Emily, who had started babbling to come to me.

“A daddy’s girl, I see, huh?” Jade chimed in. Y/N was about to answer, but before she could even do so, the woman was already speaking again. “Well, since it’s your birthday, I think I have the perfect gift for you.”

Without saying anything more, the woman gestured for us to follow her, and we did. We passed through several areas with dogs of different ages roaming freely, who approached us to sniff and perhaps convince us to adopt them.

Lewis mentioned that some of them were related to Coco. I laughed at the supposed joke, which stopped being a joke when Jade confirmed it. Y/N lagged behind a few times because she stopped to play with the dogs that approached her, which were quite a few. Emily and I, however, kept a brisk pace, possibly eager to find out what the woman was talking about and why she was being so mysterious.

Finally, we arrived at a kind of room with less light than I expected and, to my surprise, full of what seemed to be soft little beds. On top of them, not only was there a dog lying down that seemed quite tired, but there were also several puppies nursing from her.

Jade indicated before we entered that we should remain silent.

“One of our dogs gave birth last night,” she told us. “I don’t want to give all her puppies up for adoption since I’d like at least one to stay with her, but considering that the puppies and you share a birthday, I’d be delighted if you adopted one of them.”

I opened my eyes wide and couldn’t say anything. Next to me, Y/N seemed to have reacted the same way I did.

Saying we were surprised would be an understatement.

“But… are you serious?” my girlfriend commented, still in surprise.

“Of course, dears!” the woman responded cheerfully. “The only issue, so to speak, though it’s not really a problem, is that it’ll take about a month and a half before you can take him home. You know, the separation process from the mother is crucial.”

“No problem, really. We’ll wait as long as it takes,” I finally spoke. “Besides, I think we have a break around that time, right?”

“Yes, about a month,” Lewis replied.

“We’ve already got our vacation destination, sunshine,” Y/N said to me, apparently much more excited than I was.

“Now, I need you to tell me something important: which one of them do you want to be your little girl’s new brother?”

Still holding Emily, Y/N and I carefully approached the puppies.

To our eyes, they all looked exactly the same. We couldn’t see their eyes, but I was almost convinced they would be similar to the colour of their fur, a light brown skin similar to beach sand. They were huddled together and didn’t seem to be doing anything other than trying to nurse for as long as possible.

“Do you know what breed or mix they are?” Y/N asked the lady with that characteristic curiosity of hers.

“If I remember correctly, their mother is a golden retriever and their father, a big labrador.”

My girlfriend thanked her, turning towards her and leaving Emily by herself for a moment. At that point, seemingly unaware that her mother wasn't watching her every move, the little one began to crawl towards the puppies. Instinctively, I quickly scooped her up in my arms to prevent her from doing so. However, she didn't seem to give up: she started kicking until, just like that, I brought her a little closer to the furry animals.

While Y/N and Lewis chatted with Jade, I remained seated on the floor next to my daughter, who seemed to have settled on a particular puppy. I tried shifting her gaze from side to side, attempting to get her to notice the rest of them, but it seemed the one farthest from its mother had caught her attention the most.

“I think Emily has chosen who’s going to be her adopted sibling, hasn’t she?” I remarked.

As soon as I said that, the three of them turned towards me, crouching down to my level. Emily was still engrossed with that little one and seemed to continue being so until we left.

“Have you chosen for Daddy, Emi?” Y/N asked, almost lying on the floor to join the game that Emily was playing with the one who seemed to be our new child. “Do you want this to be your new little brother? Or sister, of course.”

“He's a boy, actually,” Jade intervened. “And, if I’m honest and don't recall incorrectly, he’s the oldest of the whole litter.”

“Do you want to adopt this little one then, sunshine? Honestly, if you’re not convinced we can wait a bit…” Y/N whispered as if wanting it to be a secret between us.

“Clifford,” I suddenly blurted out.

They looked at me as if they had seen a ghost. Of course, I would act the same if someone dropped a name out of nowhere in a situation like this.

“I want to name him Clifford,” I clarified. “Remember the series about that big red dog you told me you watched with your sisters when they were little?” I asked my girlfriend, who nodded. “Well, if I remember correctly, you told me that the main character of the series, who was also the owner of the dog, was named Emily.”

“What’s that got to do with it, love?” she asked, curious. Did she really not know why I had suggested that name?

“Well, it just so happens that your daughter is named Emily and she seems to have chosen for us.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up and widened exaggeratedly. I swear I saw them get a little misty when she finally seemed to understand what I meant. Immediately, she stood up, took the baby in her arms, and began to talk to her while they played as if they were the only ones in the room.

“I guess I already have a birthday present, right?” I asked the redhead, standing beside her and giving her a kiss on the forehead and another to our daughter.

“Emily and Clifford…” she murmured. “I like it. I love it, actually.”

“Well, I hope that when we have the next baby, I can nail it in the same way.”

Jade, after the last sentence that I had just said, was left dumbfounded. Lewis, for his part, tried to turn a deaf ear and, instead, told me that they would be waiting for us at the entrance to do all the necessary paperwork, not without whispering to me in the least blatant way possible that he hoped that this would be my other birthday present.

Obviously, he deserved a well-deserved punch from Y/N.

“Are you already thinking about the next baby, love? Emily hasn’t even turned one yet!”

“I always think about the second baby, to be honest,” I replied. I was convinced, and I knew as well as she did that we had barely laid the foundations of our family. “A puppy brother for Emily is fine, but a human one would be a thousand times better. Don’t you think so?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned away, heading towards the shelter entrance. I quickly caught up with her, and her laughter filled my ears.

“If you're already thinking about our second baby, then we'll have to listen to Lewis and start practising tonight before dinner with my parents,” she suggested.

Her mischievous look infected me, and I couldn’t help but return it.

“As the birthday boy, I vote for squeezing in a free practice session before dinner with my parents tonight. How does that sound?”

“Whatever you wish, birthday boy,” she replied. “But I hope you come up with a good enough excuse for them not to suspect anything when we arrive late, and also when you ask if they can keep Emily overnight.”

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

First Time With Billy Loomis

Pairing: Billy Loomis x female!reader

Word count: 5.3K

Warnings/contents: Smut: Fingering, blow job, rougher sex, various sex positions, orgasms, light dirty talk, light daddy kink. Strong language. Fluff.

Notes: I wrote this… really fast. I proofread it because I finished this around 5 am last night. I enjoyed writing this one a lot and I really hope that you guys enjoy this. The chapter advances fast, but I feel like that is what sex with Billy would be like: fast, rough, hard— then having a few moments of rest before going again.

<>~<>~<> 

The weather was awful: the man on the news had previously in the day said that it was supposed to storm all night long, and so far, he was right.

The rain started at 9 PM and it hadn’t even lightened up by now at almost 11 PM. You didn’t mind much, listening happily to the loud thunder and the rain hitting hard against the windows by your front door. You yawned lightly, watching a boring movie and yet being unable to find anything interesting so you’d simply settled. It had been about five minutes since your last text from Billy. You wondered if he might’ve fallen asleep since he’d woken up early this morning.

Letting the movie continue playing, you stood and walked towards your small kitchen and raided the fridge. You really needed to go shopping, the only thing edible it seemed was the take out box of Chinese leftovers you had from two nights ago when Billy and Stu were over for movie night.

You settled when your stomach growled, grabbing the container full of orange chicken as well as the fried rice container and shut the fridge. The microwave was convenient for things such as this; late night snacking when you knew that you shouldn’t eat, but being unable to sleep and being hungry was never a good mix.

Reaching for the microwave and opening the door, you smiled at the sound of thunder booming across the sky overhead. This was the perfect weather to read. If only it wasn’t so late and your eyes were tired you might be interested in picking up the book you were currently reading.

A rapid knock on the door made you jump. Quickly checking your phone that sat face up on the counter and seeing no message from Billy, you cautiously walked towards the door and peeked out of the peephole. Billy stood there, nearly soaked. You opened the door quickly and moved aside.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, shutting and locking the door behind the man as he pushed his wet hair back from his face. “I figured you fell asleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He said simply, stripping his coat off and hanging it over the stool beneath your counter. “Smells like leftovers.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips that you easily returned. His lips were cold, worrying you.

“You’re soaked,” you said, gesturing to the man to stay while you went to get a towel from the bathroom. It was a good thing that you had just done laundry and all of your towels were clean and smelt fresh. You walked back towards your front door, watching Billy strip his shirt off. “Here, dry off so you can get warm.” You took the shirt for him, trading him the towel. He wrapped the towel around his shoulders and kicked off his shoes with a sigh.

“Thanks. I hope I’m not bothering you.” With a smile, you reached forward and wiped a drop of water that was sliding down his cheek away from his handsome face.

“You’re never a bother. I’m sorry you got so wet.” He gave a quick shrug and unbutton his jeans, nearly making you flush as you looked away and walked back around the counter towards the microwave.

“I had to park far away. I figured it would be fine. I have clothes here.”

“They’re in the top drawer of my dresser,” you said with your back turned to the man as you watched your bowl turn slowly in the microwave, stomach grumbling again at the smell. Without a word, Billy walked towards your bedroom, knowing your apartment like the back of his hand. He’d spent many days and nights here with you. Even whole weekends when neither of you were busy.

You stopped the timer at 30 seconds and pulled the hot bowl out, using your fork to stir the food up. You gave a soft sound in content, excited to taste the food that had been calling your name the previous night. You were happy now that you saved it instead of eating it.

With a soft gasp, you jumped slightly before giving a soft chuckle when Billy wrapped his cold arms around you and leaned in to kiss your neck. You shivered at his touch.

“Your nose is freezing. Go get under the blanket, silly.” You were willing to give him the blanket on the sofa that you were using throughout the night to warm him up. He gave a soft hum, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before he let you go and went to sit on the sofa, wrapping the blanket around himself. “You can put whatever you want on.” You called to the man. “I couldn’t find anything to watch and just stuck with this movie.”

Bringing your bowl to the sofa and sitting snug beside the man, you watched him scroll through the channels that you had as he wrapped an arm around your warm body. You kissed his forearm before you leaned up and took a bite of the hot food; you nearly burned your tongue, but it was too delicious for you to hold out on. With a soft huff after you swallowed, you took another bite and hummed in content.

Billy put on a movie, a comedy that he had always liked, and turned his attention to you. You felt the mans heavy stare and sent him a small smile— something he returned before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. You gave in, leaning gently into the man and returning his slow kiss. The bowl was warm on your lap, slowly starting to cool down but you decided to risk eating cold leftovers for the taste of Billy’s soft lips.

He raised his hand, gently gripping your chin and teasing your lip with his tongue. You gave a soft giggle and returned the gesture with your tongue against his mouth. Before Billy shoved his tongue past your lips, you pulled back and sent him a smile.

“Let me eat in peace,” you teased, earning a soft chuckle from the man as you turned back to your bowl.

“You leaned into it.”

“I know.” Billy’s fingers gently caressed your shoulder as he turned his gaze back to the television while you finished up your food. If he was going to get what he wanted tonight, he knew he’d have to be patient either way.

<>~<>~<>

As soon as your bowl of food was gone, you snuggled into Billy’s side, engulfed in his warmth from being dry and in your snuggly apartment. The weather was still bad— thunder booming loudly, hard enough that you swore you felt the building shake. The rain was falling hard and you were glad that Billy was here with you, holding you comfortingly and occasionally pressing a kiss to your head.

The two of you were going on 5 months of being together and you were nearly inseparable. Billy had been the best boyfriend that you’d had in the past— something you were incredibly relieved about. Having nothing but bad experiences thus far, you finally felt safe in Billy’s arms when the two of you napped together. Having him around just felt right.

With a yawn, you pulled away from Billy for a moment to stretch your body out. He quickly looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Sleepy?”

“No— I napped at like 6 o’clock. The weather is just making me think about how many naps I take when it storms.” He gave a soft hum in response, watching you as you shifted on the sofa in order to stay close to the man and let your sleeping foot stretch out onto the coffee table. You looked at Billy and smiled softly. “Are you tired?”

“Not at all.” You hummed, leaning closer to the man.

“Good.” Giving the man a soft kiss was your intention, but instead he leaned closer to you and extended your original plan. You didn’t fight it, pressing a hand to his thigh and kissing him back. The kiss was sweet— much like your previous— it was slow. Like before, you felt engulfed in the man and didn’t want it to end. You felt this way nearly every time that the two of you had made out.

He was an excellent kisser; his taste was simple and his smell was immaculate. Everything about him being so close to you made you desperate for more. He reached down, placing his hand on your leg and giving it a soft squeeze as he leaned closer into you. Shifting along with the man, you leaned gently back on the sofa with him on top of you. Your arms circled around his shoulders, keeping him close as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

You gave a soft sound in content and shifted beneath the man, seemingly only making him press closer. One of your legs dangled off the sofa, your other between his legs. Billy pressed fully against you, an obvious hardness between his legs that made your cheeks flush. It was far from the first time Billy had gotten hard when the two of you were making out. It was also far from the first time that you had helped him out and let him touch you as well.

However, the two of you have never had sex.

After being in relationships where you were used purely for your body, you wanted to wait; to let the man prove that he was with you for you, not for your waistline and breasts.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t miss sex. That didn’t mean that you weren’t excited to feel him inside of you. In fact, it was far from it. You tingled at the thought of his fingers pushing inside of you again while he sucked on your neck. You gave a quick exhale when your lips parted for Billy to turn his head, but you were as quick as he was to connect your lips again. You grabbed tight onto the mans shoulders, giving a soft hum when he shifted his hips against you.

You were easily convinced by the man to give into his sexual desires. You shared them, thinking purely of the way his cock looked and how it felt in your mouth. You didn’t want to wait any longer, and you knew that Billy didn’t want to either. It seemed unspoken at the moment while you pulled on his dark blue shirt by the collar and ached to keep him closer. Your opposite hand buried in his hair, giving it a light tug that earned a soft grunt from the man over you.

Using your grip on his head to your advantage, you leaned your own back and gently guided his head down. He didn’t hesitate, his lips moving to your neck while your pulse beat rapidly beneath him with every kiss. You closed your eyes, the sound of the movie long drawn out by the sound of the rain and your racing thoughts. Billy was quick to give you a love bite that made you yelp before he kissed your skin again.

Slowly, he licked a trail along your warm skin and up to your chin. You looked back at the man, getting a few seconds to gaze into his eyes before he pressed his lips back to yours. The sight you saw was different than other times the two of you were in this position; he was aching for you like you were aching for him. You could tell by the lustful gaze in his dark eyes that you loved so much.

Billy wasn’t always the most expressive man, but his eyes told you everything that you needed to know. His love for you, his desperation for you, and right now his lust for you.

You were certain that your eyes matched his gaze. Your actions certainly did. Your lips were feverish against his, arms grabbing him tightly as you wrapped your leg around his waist and pushed his hips down against yours. Billy gave into his urge, grinding his hips against you and earned a sweet sound in return. His teeth caught your bottom lip, gently nibbling on it and giving it a soft suck before he let you go and pulled back with heavy breaths.

“Wanna go to your room?”

“I really do.” Both of you were out of breath, but he was quick to stand and grab your hand to help you as well. He pressed another kiss to your lips, one you leaned into quickly.

The two of you stumbled towards your bedroom, nearly tripping over several things on the way. Something fell and hit the floor with a ‘thud’ but your mind was occupied on Billy’s tongue. When his back hit a wall, the one right beside your bedroom door, he turned the two of you around and pushed you back against it, earning a grunt from you in return as he shoved his knee between your legs and yanked your hips towards him.

He shoved your head up, sucking on your neck with every quick kiss to your skin. You gave a quiet moan as you shifted against Billy’s thigh that pressed between your legs. You ached deeply inside for the man, this rush of sexual tension between you two only made each kiss and every touch that much better.

You reached down to grab at him, but he caught your hand and pressed it against the wall, biting your neck and making you yelp. His fingers easily pressed to your clit over the pajama pants that you wore. You let out a soft moan just as he went to shove his lips back against yours in a teeth-clattering kiss.

Before you could even think, Billy picked you up, slamming you back against the wall with your legs around his waist. You bit his lip by accident in return to his quick movements, but he didn’t even falter as he shoved his erection against your aching clit. You couldn’t wait for the clothing to come off and feel him inside of you for the first time.

“Mmm, Billy—“ You mumbled against his lips between hot, wet kisses. Neither of you cared about the drool on your chins, instead you were too focused on each other— the way Billy’s hips grinded against you in the front of your mind. Billy moved back a bit, sliding your shirt up to your waist. You quickly leaned closer so that he could strip the clothing off before pressing you back against the wall and tossing it somewhere. You hissed at the cold wall against your warm back, but it didn’t last long.

Billy finally pulled you away from the wall, walking to your bedroom and tossing you onto your bed, he got on top of you again, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp on while you ran your fingers up his shirt and felt along his light abs and to his chest.

Before he leaned back in to kiss you, Billy stripped his shirt and let it fall off the bed, grabbing your hands and sliding them up his chest, smirking at you when you bit your lip and smiled.

“You like what you see?” He asked in a teasing tone.

“I always like what I see.”

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had ended up in this position. But you both knew tonight was going to be different. There was a certain feeling in Billy’s gut that you wanted him this time. Your kisses were more desperate than the last.

“Then let’s get this off and let me admire your body, too.” He said, sliding his hand around your back and unclipping your bra. You shifted, making it easier on the man as he slid it off and tossed it aside, eyes falling to your breasts and giving a soft sigh. He reached down, fingers giving your left nipple a soft pinch and watching your other perk up quickly as you whined at the touch. “Do you want me?” He asked quietly. He knew the answer, but something told him to ask. When you confided in Billy about your past relationships, he took it to heart. He’d fallen in love with you over the years that you’d known each other. He didn’t want you to feel like you were just a sex toy to him— no matter how horny he was.

“I want you so bad,” you said back in a low tone. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to feel you inside of me. I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming.” He gave a soft chuckle and leaned down to kiss you.

“I’ll fuck you until your legs are shaking and you’re a blubbering mess.” Your fingers tingled at his words. Nobody had ever made your body react the way that Billy did.

He reached down, his fingers sliding into your pajama pants through the loose hem and pressing to your clit over the underwear that you wore; they were nothing special, plain black that didn’t match your pink bra.

You shifted your hips against his fingers as he started rubbing an antagonizingly slow circle against you. You gave a whine that made him laugh against your lips.

“You’re desperate, aren’t you?” He teased, gently biting your bottom lip before kissing it. “Patience, baby.”

“We’ve both been patient long enough,” you spoke, but Billy gave a hum in thought.

“I think I’ll make you wait a little bit longer.” You gave a disappointed groan and let your head fall back onto the comfortable bed. “Don’t worry— I won’t give you nothing. I’ll make sure you’re just barely brimming over the edge when I shove my cock inside of you.” He moved back, his fingers pulling your pajama pants down off your hips with your help. His fingers caught your underwear at the last second, tugging them down and moving so that he could slide them off of your legs.

He lifted your legs up, grabbing them with one hand while he tossed the clothing away, leaving you bare beneath him. Billy put your ankles on his shoulders and took his time gazing across your body.

“Every time I see it, it gets better.” He spoke quietly, his fingers sliding along your inner thighs and pressing to your clit. You gave a soft whimper at the touch before Billy moved his fingers down and teased your entrance. At the feeling, he immediately laughed. “Someone sure is wet tonight.”

“I told you— I’m ready for you.” He gave a thoughtful hum and abruptly shoved two of his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, earning a moan in return as he started to pump them inside of you. “Oh, Billy—“ You whined out, wiggling your hips against his hand. He placed his other hand on your hips and pressed you into the bed. “Mmm— Billy, please… move them faster.” He did as you asked, moving his fingers quicker inside of you and giving a soft kiss to your ankle before he shoved a third inside of you and earned a glorious moan from you just as the thunder boomed overhead.

Billy moved, letting your feet lay on the bed and resting down on his stomach. He didn’t waste any time before he put his tongue on your pussy, sliding it from the wetness against his fingers all the way to your clit that he gently sucked on and earned another sweet sound in return from. The sound of you moaning his name made him throb in the sweatpants that he was wearing. He could never hear it enough.

He swirled his tongue around your clit, fingers curling deep inside of you and making you moan out his name again. Your toes curled at the sensation of his warm tongue licking quickly at your clit and his fingers teasing your g-spot. He gave a suck to your clit before he started kissing along your hips towards your leg. Billy left a bite mark on your inner thigh that made you yell out. He kissed the spot, knowing that it was going to bruise— just what he wanted. A wordless way to say that he was here between your legs like nobody else could be ever again.

Your hips struggled against his mouth when he went back to your clit. He could feel the intensity building up; he knew for sure that you were going to have an orgasm soon, so with one final suck, he pulled his mouth and fingers away.

You looked at the man with a betrayed look, one that earned a teasing laugh.

“I told you that I was going to leave you brimming to the edge.” He spoke teasingly, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips that you quickly returned. “Now get on your knees and suck my cock.” Flustered, you were quick to get up and watch the man strip his pants and boxers , letting his aching erection finally be free from the clothing. You got on your knees on the floor at the end of the bed and leaned in to take the head into your mouth.

You could taste the pre-cum that was sliding down his shaft. With a hard suck, you pulled back and let him pop free from your mouth. He gave a soft sigh, hands reaching for your head while you leaned down and licked his balls. Billy watched you quietly, knowing that you knew what you were doing with him. Your tongue slid up his shaft before you engulfed the tip of his cock back into your warm mouth and started to bob your head along him, taking as much of him as you could into your mouth and reaching down with your free hand to hold his balls, occasionally gripping at them with your fingers.

You gave a quiet hum around him, shifting on your knees and pressing your legs together; you were aching for the man, sucking on his cock only made it worse. You were imagining how it would feel inside of you when Billy suddenly thrusted his hips up a couple of times and gagged you with his cock. Following suit, you took more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head, sucking on him and earning a quiet sound from the man as he held tighter onto your hair.

He twitched in your mouth as you sucked hard and slowly worked your way towards teasing his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he mumbled quietly, tugging gently on your hair while you started to deep-throat him again. Your fingers gripped tight at his thighs as he would thrust his hips up occasionally to gag you around him. Billy gave out another sigh before he pulled your head back and his cock slipped from your mouth. Drool slid down your chin as you met his gaze. He guided you up and pressed a kiss to your lips before he pulled you up with him as he stood and turned to shove you onto the bed.

“Scoot back.” You did as he said, moving to where your head would rest on the pillows you had. He sat between your legs, cock throbbing in his hand as he pressed a kiss to your lower stomach. “Ready?” You bit your lip and nodded, eyes following his every movement as he often did with you. Billy moved closer, lifting your legs to rest loosely around his waist.

You shivered as the tip of his cock pressed against your aching entrance. Without a second to spare, Billy started to push himself inside of you, his grip on your legs tight as he watched you lay your head back and moan. He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet moan of his own as he pushed all of himself inside of you.

Billy didn’t wait long, almost immediately starting to thrust his hips and pulling almost all of the way out before shoving it all back inside of you. Your eyes seemed to roll back into your head at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you.

“Oh, f-fuck, Billy—!“ You moaned weakly, hands reaching down to hold his own against your thighs. “God, please go faster,” you finally met his gaze, eyes desperate as you squeezed his hands. “Please, daddy— please.” He sent you a small, teasing smile at the nickname you had given him long ago. It was an accident at first, but he had said that he wanted you to call him it and it had stuck quickly.

Billy started to thrust his hips faster, earning a pleasured moan from you; it was clear that you’d been aching for this as much as he had, so he decided to give you what you wanted and started to rock his hips even faster against you.

Each thrust seemed to earn him another, sometimes different, sound in pleasure. Billy lifted your legs, letting your ankles rest on his shoulder and leaning up slightly, burying himself further inside of you and earning a loud squeal in return.

He gave a soft chuckle and panted lightly, the feeling of you clenching around him was better than he thought it would be. You were so ready for him, but you were so tight. Squeezing around him with every rough thrust inside of you. Suddenly, he pulled out of you.

“Put your ass up in the air. I’m gonna fuck you in doggy.” You quickly nodded and moved onto your knees, resting down on your elbows. He pressed a soft kiss to your butt before he shoved himself inside of you without warning and nearly made you scream. Billy didn’t start slow and teasing this time. Instead he was fucking you as if he’d done this to you a thousand times, simply knowing your body by heart.

His fingers grabbed at your waist, but he pulled a hand back to give your ass a slap that made you moan as you wiggled back against him. Billy leaned over you, pressing down against your body and wrapping his arm around your neck, letting your chin rest against his forearm while he fucked you as fast as he could in the new position. You shifted beneath the man, being as close as humanly possible while moaning almost pathetically.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head and moved to grab the headboard with one hand, grabbing your ass with the other and occasionally giving it a rough slap that left it red. Billy moved you, lifting your upper body up with his arm and pressing you flush back against his chest. Your head laid back on his shoulder, your hair tickling his nose before he leaned down and kissed your shoulder where he could.

You were quickly becoming a moaning, blubbering mess against the man as he shoved deep inside of you. This time, he reached around and started to rub your clit, his lips kissing your shoulder as you moaned loudly. You could barely move back against the man as you reached your first orgasm, digging the back of your head into his shoulder.

Billy pushed you forward, pressing your hands to the headboard as he pulled back to watch himself fuck you from behind. He gave a soft moan, glancing at you as your shoulders leaned against the bed frame. You moaned again for the man, returning a few of his lagged thrusts by pushing your hips back against him. He leaned forward and bit your shoulder this time.

“Ah! Billy!” You yelled out, squeezing the mans cock tighter than before as he grabbed rough at your waist. You knew that you would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t care. The only thing on your mind was Billy’s cock slamming inside of you and the headboard starting to hit the wall along with the creaking of the bed.

Once again, Billy pulled back and let himself slide out of you, this time turning you and setting you on his legs. He pressed a kiss to your lips, slowly bringing you down with him as he laid on the bed. You shifted on the man, trying not to break the heated kiss as you pushed his cock inside of you. Billy’s hands groped at your ass, lips hot against your own as you started to rock against him.

Finally, you pulled back, leaning back onto his legs and rolling your hips on him. He met your gaze with a dark look in his eyes, fingers holding onto you as if you might disappear. You were flushed, sweaty— but he could only think about you rocking your hips against him. Billy stilled you, starting to thrust up inside of you and giving a soft moan as your breasts bounced with every movement.

You went along, starting to bounce along on his cock until he stopped and let you do the work. Your thighs started to burn quick, but watching Billy lay his head back and gulp was enough to keep you going all night if he asked you to.

A quiet moan left Billy, something you’d heard several times and were shocked by every time. Billy didn’t seem like the kind of guy to moan during sex.

The sound was like heaven to your ears.

When you started to slow your pace, Billy stopped you and leaned himself up onto his elbows, meeting your gaze as he panted along with you.

“Lay down.” Billy moved with you, pulling your hips against him and shoving himself inside of you, making you moan out loudly. He leaned in this time, down on his elbows, his nose pressed to your shoulder as he started to thrust inside of you.

Your toes curled s you wrapped your legs around his waist and clenched at his shoulders. You could feel another orgasm coming quick with every steady thrust from the man.

“Fuck, daddy I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! Please, daddy— don’t stop! Don’t stop!” He didn’t say anything, but he pressed a kiss to your shoulder and continued at his pace, giving a soft grunt as you clenched around him and pressed up against him as you reached another orgasm. “Will you cum in me?” You asked the man after a few desperate pants. He gave a soft hum and pulled back to meet your gaze.

“I sure as hell will.” He pressed his hands flat on either side of your head, watching your face as you moaned out; Billy thrusted his hips quick against you, knowing that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

For this round at least.

He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “You feel so fuckin’ good.” He met your eyes again and panted. “I’m gonna cum.” You reached up, fingers sliding through his hair.

“Cum as deep inside of me as you can so I can feel you dripping out of me.” He bit the inside of his cheek, not letting the higher moans he could give slip from his mouth; instead, he grunted with every thrust, though only giving a few before he quickly shoved all of himself inside of you and moaned quietly as he came. He gave a few slow thrusts afterwards before he let himself rest and licked his lips.

“Goddamn,” he moved away from you, laying on the bed beside you and wrapping an arm around you as you moved closer. You were both still panting, coming down from the high of sex together. “You feel even better than I thought you would.”

“Mmm, ditto.” He chuckled at your sleepy tone and pressed a kiss to your head.

“Is that all you got in you? Just one round?” He teased, but you were quick to fire back.

“Give me five minutes and I could ride your dick for hours.”

“Maybe I should hold you to that.”

“Hold me against whatever you want, baby. If it’s you, I’d certainly not mind.”

[the-guilty-writer]

Young (Tennis) Love

Request from anon: So reader(female teenager it's not a problem if she's adopted or not) plays tennis since childhood(ok tennis rules and it's self indulgent)and now there's a big championship in DC and ofc the whole team is there to cheer for her. So she wins and while everyone congratulate her with derek being so proud of his babygirl, her crush comes up to her to congratulate her. They are giggling and slightly flirting with each other while the team watches this interaction stifling their laugh at Derek's shocked reaction. And she explains to them later on and derek makes a mental note to have a "talk" with her.

Derek Morgan x daughter!reader

Summary: After winning a tennis match, your dad, Derek, and his team aren’t the only ones there to congratulate you.

A/N: First, I apologize for this being so overdue. Life has been kicking my ass. Second, I know nothing about tennis, so I hope this is okay. I changed the plot a tiny bit because I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.

CW: alcohol consumption (it’s Hotch and Rossi. Still sober), the BAU women are the best adoptive aunts, Derek is a protective dad, I think that’s it.

---

Derek Morgan had been shocked when you were five years old and chose tennis out of all the sports in the world. Seriously… why couldn't you have picked basketball (though he would have quit his job and coached you all the way to the WNBA himself) or baseball (he knew enough to get you through high school) or soccer (at least then he could have been a little league coach)? Instead, you picked a sport he, himself, had never cared for.

Truly he only had himself to blame. While in line at the store, he had spent a second too long ogling at Serena Williams on the cover of a sports magazine. He was enchanted. You were enchanted. And the next thing he knew, Derek Morgan was adding a pink children's tennis racket to the cart.

It all payed off though- the classes you took as a kid where all your dad could do was sit on the sidelines, the weekends spent on the court where he tried his best to help but kept messing up, the late-night pick ups after you’d spent hours practicing, the even longer weekends filled with tournaments watching the sport that he eventually learned to appreciate for you - because you were playing in the finals of the east coast championship.

It took every ounce of control your dad had, not to be cheering as loudly for you as possible. He watched you, his baby girl, the same one who had carried around that little pink racket like a teddy bear, prepare to do the most important serve of your life thus far. Penelope sat next to him, holding his arm to keep him from springing forward. JJ and Emily were sitting on either side of Spencer, who was very quietly explaining to them the physics of the game, though neither one of the women were paying attention to him. Hotch and Rossi were sitting back in their seats. They were sipping on some very expensive whiskey that Rossi had snuck in, looking a little too much like they were trying to recreate Wimbledon.

You swung with speed and your opponent couldn’t catch it in time. A double bounce meant another point for you. Derek held his breath, waiting for the umpire to call the score. He was too nervous and excited to remember it himself.

“40-30.” To you. One more point and you’d win the whole thing.

He saw you take in a deep breath before serving, and the game began. You and your opponent wasted no time, getting into the nitty-gritty fast. At one point, you almost missed and Penelope let out a muffled gasp. Still, you went on without getting flustered and came back faster and stronger. All those early morning workouts you had done with your dad were paying off. When your opponent began to tire, you were still light on your feet. The ball came at you at a perfect angle, and you took your chance - sending the ball back at a speed your opponent could no longer handle after going too hard at the beginning. She swung back desperately and it landed out of bounds.

The umpire called the game, with you as the clear winner, and the entire BAU team erupted. Hotch and Rossi got to their feet to clap. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet with a simple “wooo” as Emily and JJ jumped up more excitedly beside him, cheering with delight. Penelope squealed with joy. And Derek, well… he was cheering too, with happy tears streaming down his smiling face.

You beamed up at him, taking in the biggest moment of your life so far. Every late night and early morning, every party you missed to get in extra practice time, the horrible cardio workouts, and the long days spent training in the summer heat or bone-chilling winters were worth it. Your opponent came over to congratulate you, and you shook her hand politely. Your coach, who was standing by the locker room, ran over to wrap you in a hug and escorted you into the locker room.

“She’s growing up,” Hotch sighed. The rest of the team nodded in agreement, but Derek was still watching where you had disappeared behind the locker room door, his eyes filled with pride.

“Let’s go see your baby girl,” Garcia said, putting a gentle hand on his arm. Derek turned to her with a smile, and a happy tear. She hugged him tight, before they followed the rest of the team out of the stadium.

---

The team stood outside the players’ entrance with the rest of the gathering families. With such a huge event, they were having difficulty tracking you down and in their line of work, they couldn’t help but think of the worst.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Derek,” JJ said, trying to comfort him.

“Yeah yeah… I know…” But Derek could still feel the tension in his chest and hear the panic in his tone. But he wouldn’t relax until he saw you emerge from the crowd. You were looking around for them, trophy in hand and bag slung over your shoulder, scanning the mass amounts of parents talking with their kids in search of your own unconventional little family.

It was Rossi who spotted you first. “Hey! There she is!” He sounded like a proud grandpa.

Your dad smiled brightly and called to you. “Baby girl!”

The sound of your nickname caught your attention and you turned to see the entire team standing there with open arms. A beaming smile spread across your face as you ran over to them. Derek caught you in his arms, spinning you around while the rest of the team clapped and shared their congratulations with you.

“I’m so proud of you,” your dad whispered, on the verge of happy tears.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

“My turn to hug the little champion!” Garcia squealed with excitement. You received hugs from everyone on the team (including Reid, surprisingly), thanking them for coming to cheer you on.

You’d just finished giving out the last of your thank you embraces when someone called your name. The entire team turned to see a boy standing a little ways away, waving shyly in your direction. Your face heated and you turned to your dad. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, taking your bag and trophy from you before watching you walk away.

“What’s that about?” Emily asked.

Derek didn’t bother to answer. He was too busy watching the doe-eyed expression, shy smile, and rather ditzy giggle you had as you talked to the young man. All the signs of young first love.

JJ sighed. “Oh, I remember those days,” she said in a teasing manner. “And if he’s coming to her sports games you know it’s serious.”

Penelope joined them just in time to watch the young man hand you a flower, making your smile brighter.

“Oh!” she cooed. “That is so sweet!”

Emily smirked. “Looks like someone’s in lov-”

“Prentiss,” Derek cut her off. “Don’t.”

The women of the BAU giggled at your dad’s reaction, giving one another knowing looks. In their heads they were already planning a girls night out to ask you about everything. Derek, on the other hand, made a mental note to give you a different kind of talk later.

[janeyseymour]

stick season

summary: it's stick season. Hurt.

WC: ~1.85k

Feel free to listen to my cover of the Noah Kahan song!

Melissa has been your girlfriend for a year now. And she just joined you on a long weekend to go visit your hometown up in Vermont. Your parents absolutely adored Melissa, giving you the stamp of approval on your newest girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier about that. 

It was warm, it was cozy, it was perfect. Or at least that’s what you thought. But apparently you were wrong, because the drive back to Philly just felt wrong.

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined, you must have had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive, because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign; kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right.

Melissa had told you that it was entirely worth all of the miles you were putting on her car to go up there with you over the weekend, and you can’t help but smile with joy. And then she’s kissing the back of your hand and promising you that you were more than all of those miles combined.

But then, about halfway through the car ride home, there’s a shift. She takes her hand off of your thigh as she drives, and when she passes the exit that she usually would to take you back to your apartment, she goes silent, biting her lip as if she’s deep in thought.

When she pulls in to her own driveway, she looks to you sadly.

“Hun? What’s wrong?” you ask, clearly concerned about this sudden shift in attitude. 

She bites her lip nervously. “Y/N, I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

“Do what?” you ask, although deep down you know what she’s hinting at.

She gestures between the two of you. “This. I- I’m not ready for the commitment that you’re ready for… you want to get married and have kids, and move back up to Vermont, and I can’t do that. I- I’m sorry.”

You leave her house in a puddle of tears. The uber driver that gets the misfortune of taking you home gives you quite a few concerned looks through the rear-view mirror.

Now I am stuck between my anger, and the blame that I can’t face, and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace. And I’m terrified of weather cause I see you when it rains. Doc told me to travel but there’s Covid on the planes.

You’re furious. You don’t know who you’re more mad at: yourself or Melissa. She just spent the last three nights with you up in Vermont playing the part of perfect girlfriend before dumping you and leaving you to explain to your parents that you’re single again. And you’re mad at yourself because you knew she didn’t want the future you did, but you had foolishly hoped she would change her mind. You suppose you should take the blame for that one, but you don’t want to face it- admit that it was your fault for putting blind faith in her.

Deciding that you need to relax, you roll yourself a joint, but the memories of you and Melissa over the past year just continue to replay in your mind. And for the first time ever since you started smoking weed, it doesn’t help the pain you feel in your chest. The drug might be able to remedy physical aches and pains, but it sure as hell can’t fix a broken heart; you’re not sure anything can right now.

You don’t leave your house for the next few weeks unless absolutely necessary. You’re a mopey mess, and your therapist finally tells you that you should travel. And you consider going back to Vermont because being in the same city as your now ex-girlfriend hurts too much. But there’s Covid on the planes, and you can’t quite justify driving up to Vermont on Friday night just to leave again on Sunday morning. Come Friday, you really do still toy with the idea of making your way back to your parents’ house, but there’s a cold front making it’s way through the Mid-Atlantic all the way up through New England, and you’re not about to attempt to drive through seven hours of rain and wind. Besides, when it rains, you can only think of Melissa. She used to have you dance out in the rain with her before cozying up on the couch and watching movies. She claimed it was the only way to spend a rainy day.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

There’s a season that happens in New England when Fall starts to make its exit and Winter presents itself- and every year, around stick season, your life changes. Melissa came during stick season last year, and she left during this stick season. It hurts.

You end up seeing her mother at the grocery store, and you look like a wreck. You give her a shy wave just to be polite- things may have ended with her daughter, but it’s clear to you that she’s entirely forgotten about your existence or previous presence in Melissa’s life.

That stings, and you make your way to the alcohol aisle, throwing a few bottles of wine in your cart so you can mope and play the victim at home tonight. You suppose you’ll just drink until a few of your friends from college come home for Christmas.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad. No, I am no longer funny cause I miss the way you laugh.

For the childhood that you had with your father, the relationship that you have with him as a grown woman is nothing short of a miracle. Because of everything you witnessed growing up as a child with having your father for a Dad, you came out better. You knew where to draw the line with certain things. You were funny because of the trauma that he caused you though too… but you aren’t funny anymore because the off color jokes that you used to make were usually just there for Melissa- and you miss the way she laughs. So now, you’re back to the quiet and shy, reserved person that you used to be before she brought out the best (and worst) in you.

You once called me forever, now you still can’t call me back. 

You remember when she told you that she was going to be yours forever. You didn’t think that she would ever say something like that- you knew that she hadn’t ever wanted to get married again, but you continued to pursue her romantically. And it was all looking really good for you, until she broke up with you.

You’ve called her a few times, to beg and grovel for her to take you back- tell her that you didn’t care about marriage and children as long as it meant you got to keep her in your life, but she refused to pick up the phone or call you back.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

You end up flying home after a few weeks because you simply can’t bear the pain of this heartbreak alone, and you can’t quite justify driving for a weekend. It’s still stick season though, and you feel the cool air wash over you as you exit the airport and try to hail a cab back to your childhood home.

After the flight back home, you see Melissa’s mother at the airport. She has a sign that she’s holding indicating that she’s picking someone up. But she doesn’t see you, and after the last meeting with her, you doubt she remembers you… she’s definitely forgotten about your existence by now.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your breakup with the Schemmenti was half your fault at this point, but you still take the Septa to get closer to your house before stopping at a liquor store- with the intention of once again playing the victim and drowning your sorrows in a bottle of tequila.

Maybe once you’ve seen some of your old college friends, you’ll head back north to see your hometown friends when they come.

And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

That redheaded beauty has haunted your dreams since you broke up with her. And you miss her dearly. But in each of your dreams, she’s a different version of herself, and it’s quite odd. Somewhere deep inside though, you know none of the versions of Melissa that your mind had made up are her- so you didn’t really lose her in a sense.

You always wake up though and sigh. She isn’t next to you like she should be. And when you head into your living room, you see a pair of her shoes that she left here and hasn’t asked to get back yet.

Your heart splits in half every time you see those shoes. You should just throw them out at this point, but you don’t want to touch them- if they’re there, maybe she’ll come back to you one day. 

Oh that’ll have to do… My other half was you. I hope this pain’s just passing through, but I doubt it.

She really was your other half, and you hope that the pain that you feel every time you see her shoes passes eventually, but you doubt it will.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas. And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

Stick season passes by, and you’re still left on your own. Christmas time comes, and you find yourself with a bottle in your hand almost every night to try to help numb the pain. It’s becoming less and less, but you still miss her with all your heart. You know that being split in half will just have to do… maybe next stick season will bring you something happy again.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab

[bunny-lily]

Lift a Pen and Rewrite the Ending

Fluff for our broken fluffed-out hearts Dedicated to @bunny584 because ow. I promised fluff, so I’m delivering fluff

Pairing: Satoru x piano teacher!fem!reader

CW: just some fluff, man. We all need some happy, sappy moments in our lives with our beloved dumbass boy. 

You taught piano. Plain, simple, easy. At least, you thought so, before meeting an enigmatic man as your newest student. He played a little too well for a beginner, and seemed a little too familiar.

AN: I chose to post this on my side acc since this one was technically made for the exact purpose of writing JJK fics (same with the Ao3 acc (milk_bunny/chimeric-dreams for that one)). So, cheers to the first fic on this blog!

This was honestly scribbled down in a single sitting between 1-5 am. Please don’t judge any mistakes too harshly, I wanted to post it ASAP and not subject it to my endless course of corrections and re-writing.

This is also very short (lmao 6.7k words) for how my work is normally. Again, I just wanted to get it out as fast as I could ;w;

smol update: this has been (minorly) edited! nothing big, I mostly just went in and fixed up a couple mistakes + summoned my dearly beloved thesaurus. Otherwise, it's basically 98% the same as before!

Music sheets laid scattered around you, annotated in messy scribbles in various colors, fonts, and sizes. A scratched out row of bars here, corrected or adjusted notes there, mindless rambles stuffed into the margins as you tried desperately to figure out which key to put your song into so that it matched the exact tone you were going for.

Not like you were some well renowned artist whose career rode on their sole ability to create magical orchestrations. No, you had barely any presence at all. The videos of your songs you posted on YouTube hardly scratched a couple hundred viewers at most, with the occasional comment from a bot or scammer getting your hopes up, only for them to go crashing back down. 

You weren’t some notable figure in the music industry, you were just a white-collar worker that taught piano from your tiny home part-time.

It suited you, you supposed, as bitter as you could feel at times. You were just a normie, a casual passerby who liked having your fingers spring and jump across the keys of your instrument. It was one you inherited from your grandmother. She was the one that taught you how to play when you were little, while your parents were busy working and couldn’t sit and entertain you all day like she could.

She taught you some essentials, too, like how to tune the spinet – ‘It’ll save you big bucks, bunny,’ she insisted – and how to detect even the slightest issue it might have. She was correct about it saving you big bucks.

As shabby as the thing looked, with peeling white paint and floral designs chipping off the sides, the cover scraped to hell and back, and the brassy pedals having long lost their glossy sheen, it was in perfect shape.

In your expert opinion, anyway. You were biased, so what? You had every right to be.

Granny had left the world a while ago, her ashes situated on the short mantel of your tiny fireplace. You lit the candles every day, rested two softly smoking incense sticks on the shallow bowl to catch their cinders, and gave her a swift good-morning before you raced out your door, inevitably arriving at work with only minutes to spare.

In the evenings, you’d teach, then ramble to her about your day, wish her a loving goodnight, and go pass the fuck out. Rinse and repeat, except weekends, where you were teaching all day.

It was tiring, working two jobs like this, especially when some of the kids you taught were insufferable, but music was your passion. At the end of the day, you viewed it as worth every minute spent doing something you loved.

You liked to think she would have been proud of you.

A light tapping sound, a knuckle rapping against the wood of your open front door, caught your attention. It was a warm day, one that was too good to spend with the doors and windows closed. Natural light flooded in, casting the figure standing at the entrance in a brilliant glow that hid their features from you.

You glanced at the clock on the wall to your left, then leapt up from the floor in front of your coffee table, hurriedly and messily stuffing your music sheets into a folder. “Oh, shoot, sorry! I didn’t see the time, I’m so sorry about that. Are you the two o’clock?”

Today was a surprisingly free day for you. You only had one appointment, with a new student, if you remembered correctly. You must have gotten so ingrained in your rapid-fire notations that you lost track of time.

While you weren’t expecting an adult, since the email sounded like it was from a teenager, it wasn’t uncommon. You had students of all varying ages, anyways. It was a nice change, too; you found that adults tended to listen better than children.

A smooth laugh greeted your ears, the sound impossibly pleasant to your ears. “It’s fine,” the man said as he stepped into your home, breaking from the prison of light holding him. His stark-white hair caught you off guard first, followed by his height, and then the round shades resting low on the bridge of his nose. “That’s me.”

Eyes as blue as the most vivid summer sky peered straight through yours and into your soul, his hues almost appearing to shine in the tranquil environment of your living room, without the help of the overhead lamp you had turned off. His lips curled into a sparkling grin, giving him this sort of youthful luminance that had your heart skipping beats.

You swallowed and looked away before his gleaming smile blinded you, striding over to your upright eighty-eight, using it as an excuse to busy yourself and avoid eye contact with him before he made you stop breathing just by fluttering his lashes.

“Come on in,” you responded stiffly, clearing your throat to ease off the tenseness in your muscles. Why were you getting so worked up over him? Sure, he was pretty, but you’d barely spoken two sentences to him. How had he managed to get you in such a tizzy so easily, where your tongue felt tied and your pulse raced in your wrists? “How much do you know about piano?”

“Uhh,” he set down his briefcase against the wall beside your door, slipped off his shoes, and met you next to the instrument. “I know a bit.”

“Alright,” you nodded and patted the bench, then paused to think if it would be too low for him. What intensely long legs. “Do you need me to get a different stool?”

He shook his head, sliding into the seat like it was second nature to him. “Nope, this is just fine.”

“Great,” you smiled at him and tucked your skirt under your hands as you sat down on the other end. “Let’s get started, then! Are you familiar with the different notes?”

His hands took place over the ivories and he slowly pressed each one down as he labeled them. “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.”

“Excellent, that’s awesome! You’re already a few steps ahead of other beginners,” you nodded approvingly and retrieved the thin booklet you had laid on top of the upper panel. You opened it and sifted through a few of the jingle options, picking out something a bit more intermediate for him.

It was still simple, but definitely more advanced than nursery rhymes. You found teens and adults had a more enjoyable time learning when they didn’t feel like they were being patronized. Teens especially, fickle little creatures, those ones.

“Let’s start with this one, then,” you said as you set it against the music rack in front of him. “It’s pretty easy, I think you’ll pick it up quickly.”

The piece consisted of quarter-note half steps that ignored the sharp and flat keys for now. You had placed a piece of tape over the tempo indicator, finding that it put your students under too much pressure and made them stumble in their rush to follow the pacing they thought was right when they didn’t know what tempo was to begin with.

The man took a few seconds to study the sheet, then placed his fingers on the corresponding keys and began playing. 

He was a bit slow, holding some notes too long and others not long enough, but you were correct in thinking he’d get the hang of it fast. After a few runs, he was playing it decently well, and confidently, too.

“Perfect! I knew you’d get it like that,” you snapped your fingers, then picked up the booklet again, flipping the pages in search of something a little more challenging. You probably wouldn’t find it in a kiddie book like this one, so you placed it down and got up, grabbing a more advanced one from the side table nearby. “What got you wanting to learn how to play?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “My dad always wanted me to learn as a kid. I finally caved in, if only to make him stop yapping in my ear during family dinners. I’m just twenty years late to the party.”

You burst into giggles as you returned to your place on the bench, placing the new song you had chosen out for him where the previous one had been. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. You’d be surprised how many later bloomers there are.”

He chuckled along with you. “Well, that’s a relief. Had me fearing I was the only fully grown student you’d see in your life.”

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I teach a grandfather that wants to play for his grandson at his graduation next year. It’s never too late to learn.”

When you looked up at him, you found him already peering at you with those intensely cerulean irises, his sunglasses folded neatly into the collar of his shirt. You twitched, startled by his stare. He had you locked in his gaze, captivated as he observed you and you observed him.

You noticed with wonder and fascination that his lashes were as milky white as the tresses on his head.

He really was beautiful. Those same lashes were long and soft, brushing his high cheeks whenever he blinked. His lips were plush and pink, seemingly always curled up into a permanent smile regardless of size. Life and boyish playfulness darted in those mesmerizing oases that refused to shake their hold on you, and you wouldn’t wish them to.

They were the breath of fresh air you never knew you were deprived of, the nectar of life that was water to your parched throat, the flickering mirage that came to life before your very being.

You felt drawn to him, inexplicably. There was something so… familiar about him, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Like you’d seen him before, across the metro platform, or walking into the store you were just leaving, or someone walking the opposite direction as you on the crosswalk.

Where have I seen you before?

You blinked yourself out of the illusion, your lips parting, closing, then parting again before you finally managed to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot your name, could…could you remind me?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, forgiving your forgetfulness. “Just call me Satoru.”

Just Satoru? Is that really okay?

It doesn’t sound like a name I’ve heard before.

“Alright,” you agreed regardless. “Satoru it is. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you murmured your own name in return, dipping your head down in a mini bow. You returned your attention to the music sheet, lightly tapping the back of his hand with your pointer finger. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You noted how much bigger his hands were compared to yours. It was hard not to see it, your index finger would likely barely reach the topmost joint of his if you pressed your palms together.

Your hands tingled at the thought. You quickly shoved it aside, focusing on being a good instructor. 

Satoru continued to surprise and impress you as he mastered the tunes you chose for him after trying them out a few times. Each time he made a mistake, he listened attentively as you corrected it, laying your hands over his as you adjusted the positioning of his fingers.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine,” you snickered. “I’m a bit jealous. It’s hard for me to reach those far keys sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned cockily, flashing you a sultry glance between chords. “They can reach a lot of things very easily.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you stuttered, whipping your head away and acting as if he hadn’t completely flustered you.

Truthfully, the session was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but when you looked up at the clock, you were shocked to see you were nearing an hour longer than expected. It didn’t feel like much time had passed at all, maybe thirty minutes at maximum. Had it really been that long?

You pushed yourself up, stretching your legs as you felt pins and needles spark up in them. “Seems I got distracted twice today. I’ve kept you for an hour longer than I intended, I’m sorry,” you laughed meekly. “Don’t worry, I won’t charge extra for that, that’s on me.”

“It’s no worry,” Satoru reassured you as he got to his feet as well, delicately closing the fallboard with a careful hand. “Are you sure, though? I don’t mind paying for it, I did take up your time.”

He made something warm form in your chest.

“It’s fine, I love teaching. It’s not my main job, anyway, don’t stress,” you brushed away his concern. “You’re a prodigy, y’know,” you told him as you walked him to the still open door. “It’s no wonder your dad wanted you to learn how to play. I’m sure he’s proud.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded maybe a little forced. “Yeah, hope so,” he responded as he eased his shoes back on and bent down to grab his briefcase. “You’re a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” you brushed your hair behind your ear, blushing. “Ah– when would you want to see me again? I-If you do, I mean.”

The odd firmness he had a moment ago melted away, once more replaced by that handsome smirk of his. “Same time next week? Ah, hang on, why don’t I get your number, just in case? I have a bit of an unpredictable schedule.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you assented, taking his phone after he unlocked it and passed it to you. “You don’t like using email?”

He shook his head, watching you punch in your number into a new contact, add your name, then hand it back. “Nah, texting is easier for me. I’ll message you later tonight, yeah?”

“Alright,” you acquiesced.

“Oh, right, how much do I owe you?”

You blinked a few times before recalling that it was technically a paid session, though it didn’t feel like that to you. You murmured out the cost, and he gave you an odd look for a brief second. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a few bills, and folded them in half neatly before passing them off to you.

“Thanks for the lesson,” he grinned and waved goodbye, promising to text you later as he headed down your walkway, turned the corner, and vanished from sight.

You closed the door with a quiet poompf, staring blankly at your piano as you tried to remember how to function again. You glanced down at the bundle of money in your hand when you thought it felt a little too thick, brow furrowing as you unfolded it and counted and holy shit that’s way too fucking much–

You rushed out of your house, down the pathway to the sidewalk, and looked for him, though you knew it was futile. He was already gone.

You tried to think of how you were going to slip the excess money back into his pocket next time you saw him, but as soon as you were inside, you raced to the folder you left on your coffee table, practically ripping it apart as you pulled out all the papers, aggressively uncapped a pen, and got to writing at light speed.

That man, whoever he was, infected you with a painful shot of inspiration that you needed to get off your chest right then and there. Your hand flew across the pages, revising entire sections you had been stuck on for weeks in the blink of an eye. Messy verses were refined, the missing notes floated into place, and by the time the moon had risen high and the timid breeze had turned cold, you had finished your song.

You looked it over one last time, a disbelieving giggle escaping you. You finished it. You finished it. This damned piece had been giving you restless nights, a broken loop in your brain that kept skipping over the unwritten parts, but one session with Satoru had seemingly given you the one push you were missing all along.

Your phone buzzed.

You opened it and tapped on the messages icon to find a text from an unknown number.

Unknown, 9:17 PM Hey! Sorry for texting so late. It’s Satoru. Does next week still work for you, same time?

What divine timing on his end. Right as he entered your thoughts, he slid into your DMs. 

Your fingers practically trembled with giddy excitement as you texted back instantly to confirm the time, uncaring of what kind of impression that was making on him. You were elated, feeling like you could exhale in peace at last. You gave a little victory cheer as you went about closing and locking all the windows and doors, pulling the curtains shut with so much energy, you questioned if you’d be able to sleep.

The answer was yes. After you had gotten all ready, having pampered yourself as a small reward for yourself, you fell onto your bed and passed out mere minutes later. For once, everything seemed to be going right.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“How’d you learn how to play?” He asked one day as he sipped at the tea you prepared for him. He was right about his schedule being hectic at times, but he somehow managed to fit himself into having lessons with you a few times a week, rather than just the standard one.

It surprised you, but pleasantly so. He was eager to learn and improve, and you were more than happy to teach him. He made for fantastic company, too, and you found you enjoyed spending time chatting lazily with him just as much as you did instructing him.

“My grandma taught me,” you told him with a smile. “She passed away a while ago, but I like to think I’m keeping her legacy alive like this, by teaching others, and keeping that old lil’ thing alive.”

Satoru nodded in understanding. “You’re amazing at playing,” he complimented sweetly. “She did a great job.”

“Thank you,” you answered bashfully, hiding your blush behind your own mug of tea.

“What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His smile felt like the sun kissing the apples of your cheeks on a perfect spring day. Him wanting to know more about you had your heartbeat picking up in speed, chirping a new, happy melody like a canary.

You deliberated before replying. “She was a very shrewd woman, stern in her teaching, but very gentle at the same time. She was the kind of granny that snuck me pieces of candy when my parents weren’t looking. She let me stay up late playing music whenever I was staying at her place. I probably bugged my parents to let me stay there every weekend, just so I could play it and learn from her.”

“So you got into music young?”

You bobbed your head. “I fell in love the first time I heard her playing when I was a toddler. I had woken up from a nap one day, somehow escaped my crib, and crawled to the living room to watch her play for…man, I don’t even know how long. I was just…hypnotized.”

“She sounds like she was a maestro,” he snickered airily, though you knew he meant it.

You grinned widely, resting your chin on the curved cup of your palm. “She really was. I can show you some videos of her playing sometime, if you’d like to see,” you offered.

“I’d love to.”

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Satoru had been your student for a while now. 

He zoomed through the intermediate pieces into the advanced-amateur category easily, though seemed to plateau around there. Despite this, he was a wonderful student, always trying to improve himself and his skill. You knew he had it in him, he was only missing a little something he needed to tip him to the next level.

At one point, you had joked that he must have been purposefully holding himself back just so he could keep studying under you.

He laughed, and said nothing more.

By now, he reached a point where he would come in with a pep in his step, claiming he had perfected a lullaby he wanted to play for you before you started the session. You’d find yourself (politely) seated on your couch nearby, and would watch with a fond expression you didn’t know was there as he treated your piano with a touch more tender than even your own.

And you’d listen. He’d choose some of the prettiest, albeit not complicated, arrangements to play for you, and you’d find yourself slipping into a state of blissful peace. All your thoughts would drift away, and you’d absorb yourself in the music he played. 

A few sessions had been spent just like that, with him as your personal musician, and you couldn’t figure out why you felt so…happy.

You liked the emotion a lot, though, and found yourself looking forward to his every visit, anticipating the full body chills you’d get whenever he lulled you into that state of delighted serenity. You didn’t remember when you stopped charging him, and when you let him come in without knocking anymore. 

You also didn’t remember when having tea after each session became tradition, but you were grateful for the joy he brought you with his presence alone.

In fact, you decided to get him a small gift as thanks. For what exactly? His company? Patience? Entertainment? Whatever it was didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything big, either. It was a record you stumbled across while visiting a thrift shop recently.

You picked it up for two reasons. First, he divulged he had a hobby of collecting old vinyls. Second, he mentioned he had been searching for that specific record for a few years with no luck, saying it was the last one he needed to complete his collection from that particular brand. The moment you spotted it, you grabbed it and practically bolted to the cashier, uncaring of the price.

There was no way you were leaving it there for someone else to nab it before he could. It was the most reasonable option.

Which was why you were extra giddy to see him again.

You opened the door in the middle of him reaching for the handle, stunning him for a second. That bewilderment was quickly wiped away by an excited grin that surely matched your own.

“If I knew you’d be this enthusiastic to see me, I would have worn something better,” he quipped.

You snorted and waved your hand, stepping back so he could come in. “Am I not allowed to be happy to see my favorite student? You look good no matter what you’re wearing, anyway.”

“Favorite, eh?” He teased as he closed the door behind him, leaning down to give you a quick hug. “Now I really feel like I should have worn something fancy.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” you giggled, leading him to the usual spot.

“I dunno,” he hummed, a sly expression crossing his face. “Pretty big deal to hear that from my favorite teacher,” You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest weakly, to which he laughed openly. “Ready to get started, teach?”

What a gorgeous sound his laughter was.

“Actually,” you said, “I got something for you. Wait here a moment, lemme go grab it.”

He raised a brow but didn’t raise any objections as he sat down and tugged his tie to loosen it a few inches, saying that he’d be right there.

You had to resist the urge to skip to your room to locate the record and retrieve it from the drawer you had safely stored it in. It was your sock drawer, actually. You wanted to keep it somewhere protected while it tarried for its new owner. You sang the melody of your newest single quietly as you picked it up, inspecting the album cover for any indication that it had been touched since you last put it in there.

Pristine. Obviously aged, but in flawless condition otherwise.

Sounds from your living room brought pause to your actions right as you closed the drawer after dumping all your socks back into it.

…Was that music?

Frowning, you picked up the record and crept towards the source of the noise. You recognized it instantly – it was the most notable piece written by the notorious Gojo Saichi. It was considered the most difficult composition created within the last century or so. You’d listened to it on repeat occasionally, attempted it dozens of times, though you always fell short before the second movement started, which came early on.

Was Satoru watching a video? No, the melody was too clear and full to sound like it was coming out of a phone speaker.

Then…

You froze in the entrance to the hallway, stuck in place as you watched Satoru play the oeuvre flawlessly. From where you were standing, at an angle, you could see his precise actions and motions. Every note came to him as naturally as air, each shift in tempo as easy as blinking, down to the fragile, silk-like contrast that made the instrument sound as if it was a weeping widow, sitting on a window sill as she descanted to the moon, alone. 

His digits knew exactly where to go, when, how deeply to press, how to shift between fierce and floaty as if he was born to do exactly this.

As your eyes flickered from his hands to his face, you saw that his eyes were closed. He was doing what some musicians could only ever dream of achieving in their careers; he was uniting with the music, playing as one, letting it fill his heart, then pour out with every throb like the very blood in his veins.

The most complicated, difficult, astronomical concerto known to man in the modern age, and he was playing it like it was nothing.

Satoru must have sensed your burning gaping as his hues flickered open and his hands stilled over the claviature. He looked over towards you, his mien morphing into something resembling embarrassment.

You staggered closer. “That…that’s…that piece was…written by Gojo Saichi…” You mumbled, barely able to get the words out. You set down the record onto the coffee table, already having forgotten about it.

You were flabbergasted, rattled as you came to a stop at the side of the piano. He…how could he have played that so well? Wasn’t he barely in the advanced category? That was…that was professional, grade A, genius level music he played.

“Yeah,” he grinned, and you would have believed his show of being sheepish if the gleam in his eyes didn’t give him away. “He’s my dad.”

You sluggishly dropped onto your spot on the bench, peering at the keys but seeing nothing as you unpacked the bombardment of information you witnessed.

“That’s…the– that’s the hardest piece…even I can’t…”

“I know,” he rubbed his nape. “He basically forced me to stay up day and night playing it until I got it right.”

“But…how?” You tilted your head, peering up at him from the corner of your eye.

Satoru shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped a fucking bombshell on you. “I asked him to teach me when I was a teen,” You heard him say. “I’m sorry for deceiving you,” he apologized, not sounding very sorry at all.

“I…” You labored to find the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He asked. You nodded, and he let out a heavy sigh. 

Instead of answering immediately, he stood up and pulled you to your feet as well, pulling you into the kitchen, where he filled your kettle with water and put it to heat up.

You desperately wanted to know what exactly was going on, but couldn’t find it in yourself to rush him. He went about methodically picking out both your mugs from your cupboard, tossing a bag of tea into both, grabbing the bowl of sugar on the counter, and setting it all down on the table while he waited for the kettle to whistle. He seemed lost in thought, while you had many and none at all at the same time.

You could only observe him as he picked his words carefully.

He finally began when the shrill noise of boiling water filled the room. “I don’t know if you remember – probably not, since you didn’t recognize me – but we actually did meet a while ago. I was a lot different back then,” he said as he poured the water into both mugs, afterwards placing it back on the stove and holding his hand sideways at roughly chest level. “Maybe this high, scrawny, kind of a douchebag,” he admitted with a chuckle.

You were still in shock over the whole situation. All you could do was silently urge him to continue by leaning closer, accepting the cup when he passed it to you. Heat spread through your fingertips, easing away the frosty feeling you didn’t notice set in.

“You were playing the piano in the music room at the school we went to together. It was…honestly, beautiful. I grew up with a famous pianist for a dad, but even he can’t make music sound as alluring and gentle as you can,” he continued, awkwardly holding his own mug. “So, when I saw you again a few months ago, I couldn’t believe it was you. I always wanted to ask you to play something for me when we were younger, but could never get the nerve to.”

As he spoke, the memories were beginning to filter in through the thick haze in your brain. 

You were so focused on writing music and learning to be a great musician like your grandmother that you never really paid attention to your surroundings or the people around you if they weren’t your granny, parents, direct friends, or music teacher.

From what you did remember, Satoru was always a confident, cocky boy, shameless and loud. To hear he was…shy about asking you to play for him was hard to believe.

“So, I finally let my dad start teaching me,” he rambled on when you didn’t respond. “I’ve tried so many times to replicate the song you played, but I could never get it right. I know it’s probably a long shot, but you don’t happen to remember what song that was, do you?”

You thought back, scraping the dust off your highschool recollections. There was one piece you had hyperfocused on perfecting during the last year there, determined to play it exactly as your grandmother had.

You never did manage to master it.

You set down the tea you had only sipped at twice and walked past him into the living room, heading to your piano in a sort of trance. You slid onto the bench, and set your fingers on the keys. Muscle memory took over, the gentle tune coming to life in…how long had it been since you last played this?

You let the music flow through you, gave it access to your heart, allowed it to peer into the deepest parts of your soul, and simply followed the path it created.

“Was it this one?” You asked quietly.

When you looked up at him, his eyes were wide, lips parted as he stared at you with nothing less than amazement. “That– that’s the one. Which– what’s it called?”

“It’s a piece my grandma wrote for my parent’s wedding,” you answered. “She didn’t tell me what it’s called. I’m not sure if it has a name to begin with. She played it for me once, and I,” you huffed out a short, choked chuckle, “I became obsessed. I spent every day as a senior trying to get it right, to play it like she did, but…”

Your fingers slowed into a stop as you looked at them blankly, recalling your attempts, and the disappointment that followed each failure. You memorized it after playing it just twice, but it didn’t help you reach your goal in the end.

You startled when his hand rested lightly atop of yours, his body partially leaned over your shoulder so he could look you directly in the eye. This close, you felt his light breaths as they brushed your cheek. You could see the exact shade and hue of the teal composing his striking irises, match the exact pace of his heartbeat to a sonata, hear him swallow nervously.

“Keep playing,” he rasped, sounding almost desperate. “Please.”

You obliged. How could you say no to him when he looked at you like that? When he requested it so feebly in a trembling voice that was close to cracking? How could you say no when you saw and felt firsthand how his body relaxed when you filled the room with the lilting melody once again?

The music hopped and glided, playful in some parts, somber and tranquil in others. He stayed right where he was, the heat of his stomach resting against your upper back, thawing the tension in your shoulders as his hands held them gently, thumbs rubbing circles into your tight trapezius.

In every way, the ballad reminded you of your grandma, of your parents, of your childhood spent trying to reach a point where you were truly happy with how you played each note.

But, if that was the case…

How come you saw Satoru’s eyes when you closed yours and listened to your own hands dance across the keys? 

Why did his smile, his laugh, his touch, his voice, his everything, come to mind when you picked apart every stanza and bar? If you put together all the notes a specific way and decoded them, you swore they’d spell his name.

Your hands drifted and halted as you reached the end of the lilt.

Or, rather, the end as you knew it.

There was a brief pause, then he mumbled, barely above a hum, “is that it?”

“Grandma never showed me how it ended,” you told him morosely. “She said she’d tell me ‘when the time is right’, but…she died before she could.”

He sat beside you and took your right hand into his. His fingers massaged meaningless shapes into the creases of your palm and the smooth plane of the dorsum. Neither of you dared break the silence, mulling in your own worlds.

Satoru was the one to cautiously cross the line of quiet, doing his best to not disturb it. He wrapped his left arm around your back, pulling you into his side while continuing to toy with your dainty digits.

“We’ll find it together,” he whispered.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Truth be told, you never imagined you’d find yourself in this kind of place before – especially not in this position. 

Your hand hovered over your brow, shading your eyes from the brilliant sun as it shined low in the sky, kissing the horizon. Though it was setting, the approaching night was warm as ever. A pleasant breeze ruffled the fabric of your dress and caught the strands of your hair that managed to slip loose from the style your mother put them in. 

Stars were already beginning to dot the expanse above, glittering and so, so crystalline when you were this far outside the city. You never thought you’d get to see them so clearly, enough to point out individual constellations, and even identify Jupiter and Venus. 

You never had a reason to leave the bounds of the city before, so all this was a distant dream you might have had once when you were a teenager. 

But here you were, outside a lovely villa, surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, miles away from where light pollution would dare to touch. The buzzing, lively chatter of dozens of guests filled the air; the clinks of glasses, the clacks of forks and knives on plates, all of it was so animated. You felt like you were in a sort of daze, overwhelmed with happiness to the point that it almost didn’t feel real.

A pair of soft lips pressed against your temple, drawing your attention to radiant, minty-ocean hues.

Satoru gazed at you with nothing short of pure, raw, true adoration. Like every fiber in his body, each and every singular cell, was dedicated to loving you.

“I have one more present left for you,” he murmured against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss right after before he stood up and raised his glass. He tapped the back of his knife gently on the side, creating a chiming noise that settled the ongoing conversations with ease.

Once all the attention was on him, he set both objects down and began speaking.

“I know we’ve already said it a lot, but I wanted to thank you all again for coming here to celebrate this day with us,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “This is truly the happiest day of my life – so far,” he added cheekily, earning him a laugh from the crowd. “So, before all the festivities end tonight, I wanted to do one last thing, if you’d all be so kind as to grant me this moment.”

Of course they would. Satoru was just that type of person. Charisma poured off him in waterfalls, charming anyone he spoke to without effort – you included.

He pushed back his chair, moving to leave. Confused, you grasped his arm and called his name.

There was a glint of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t identify, not with the light tingle of wine sitting in the back of your mind and the overstimulation of the grand day.

“Just listen, baby,” he whispered to you, then he was weaving through the guests, snaking his way to the grand piano situated off to the side of where everyone was situated. “This is a little song I heard many, many years ago, and fell in love with from the first few notes. I’d like to dedicate it to my mother-in-law, father-in-law, their late mother, and I would like to especially dedicate it to my lovely wife.”

Your mother gasped, grabbing your arm as soon as Satoru began playing the familiar melody of the diapason you had been taught ages in the past. It was the one your grandmother played for you, just once. It was the one she played for your mother and father for their wedding. It was the one you played for Satoru, once unknowingly, and every time after that intentionally.

The one he was playing for you now.

Your mother teared up faster than you did, reaching for a clean napkin to dab her eyes with while she waved her free hand at her face, trying to stave off the tears so that they didn’t smear her mascara, though she wasn’t succeeding. Your father was gently shushing her, rubbing her shoulder while he looked between you and Satoru with pride, and you…

You recalled the first time you heard him play the composition his father had written, when you still believed he was just an advanced player. Back then, you felt entranced.

Now, you felt completely spellbound.

You lifted yourself, carefully making your way between the enchanted spectators. Some clutched and squeezed your hand as you passed, and a few others breathed out little congratulations to you, not risking breaking the delicate atmosphere. 

By the time you made it to him, your vision was blurry, and he was playing the last line of bars.

The arrangement floated into the placid, halcyon evening, each individual note rising like a star to join the thousands that looked on with bated breath, protecting this little moment of clement apotheosis.

His hands swept across the final few steps, barely touching the keys at all. The concluding tone resounded, fragile and silk-like, followed by a second of calm silence before the crowd erupted with cheers, hoots, and deafening applause.

Satoru rose from the bench, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you in for a deep kiss. It echoed in you, the sweetest lullaby, the happiest composition that could never be written down identically. It was one only the two of you could hear and feel, one only the two of you could dance, live, cry, laugh, breathe, and love to.

Of all the endings you ever tried to give that precious lullaby your grandmother had written so long ago, the one Satoru created was perfect.

Because you created it together.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[apolloscastellan]

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire | loss of my life chapter three

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig x FemaleTennisPlayer!reader

Summary: Your life had always been divided in two: before you met Tashi and after you met Tashi. The second you had laid eyes on her for the first time you knew you had been changed. You were soulmates, meant for each other Nothing could ever tear you two apart, or so you had thought. You could've pinpointed the junior U.S. Open as the night that changed everything. Now you have to juggle your hate-love relationship with tennis with your love-love relationship with Tashi and the two guys who you can't seem to stay away from. Tennis, after all, was only one of the most fucked up relationships of your life.

Warnings: challengers spoiler, challengers content warnings, super minor character death, terrible mother figure, use of y/n, polyamory.

Word count: 7.9K

A/N: sorry this took a little longer than usual, I was at the beach. This chapter is a little longer so! Let me know your thoughts! <3

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University of California, Berkeley. September 9, 2006:

“What are you doing next weekend?” Art’s voice comes through your phone, propped up on your table as you get ready to go out.

“I don’t know, we still have weekends free, at least until December, but I’ll probably go hit with some of the girls, catch up on homework, you know, the usual.”

“What if I drove up on Friday and took you out? Maybe spend a couple days with you?” He tries his best to not let his voice tremble. 

He shouldn’t be this nervous, you’ve been his girlfriend for almost two months now, he has nothing to worry about. He had asked you to be his girlfriend one of the many late nights you had spent on the phone with each other, talking about nothing for hours just to keep hearing the other’s voice. It had been sweet, his voice almost giving up from nerves when he asked you if you would, maybe, like to be his girlfriend. His heart stopping for a second when you answered that you had been waiting for him to ask. Still, he can’t help but feel on edge as he poses the question. You haven’t seen each other much since the junior open, which means that you haven’t seen each other at all, not for lack of trying. It’s not that the phone calls are not good enough, they had been perfect to make him fall for you. But he misses you, and he wants to see you. He just hopes you want to see him just as badly.

“Oh my God, are you kidding?” It is almost too good to be true. “Don’t you have practice?”

“Well our coach is giving us Friday free because he is going to his daughter’s dance recital. And I have been doing well with school, which means that I can probably work ahead and have nothing for the weekend. I thought you might want to see me.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’d love to see you. You can stay with me too, because my roommate will be out of town. Oh my God, this is perfect!” you can’t contain your excitement.

“Ok, it’s settled then.”

––––––––––––––––

You are still in practice when Art pulls into campus. You always stay over with one or two of your teammates, getting some extra reps in. He walks over to the tennis courts, too excited to be apprehensive. He leans on the side of the bleachers, not wanting to distract you. You are in your practice uniform, covered in blue from head to toe, california gold in your shoelaces and the logo on your chest. You look adorable, if Art says so himself. One of the other girls spots him first, pointing to him. You turn around immediately, Art cannot be worried about you giving yourself whiplash because before he can process what’s happening you’re jumping on him, hugging him with your entire body.

“You’re here” you say, out of breath.

“I missed you so much. You’ve tanned!” he says, pulling back to look into your eyes.

“That’s what the California sun will do to you,- sir. Well, not you, clearly” you tease him, giving him a once over.

You pull him by his t-shirt, without hesitation, unable to wait a second longer to kiss him. He reacts quickly, cradling your face with his hands and returning the kiss.

“I’ll go grab my bag and we can go. I need to grab a shower before we go to dinner” he nods, too out of breath from the kiss to think of a reasonable reply.

He watches you run over to your bag and pick it up, while your teammates laugh and whistle at you, giving you shit for the very public display of affection. You bat them off, waving goodbye at them as you make your way over back to Art. He takes your bag from you as soon as you are close enough to do so. You try to protest but there’s no use. He wraps his other arm around your shoulders and lets you lead him to your dorm room. He thinks there’s no way he could ever be happier than he is right now.

––––––––––––––––

Art lays on your bed while you shower. He calls Patrick to get himself entertained, not willing to think too much about how you are barely a wall away, showering. He has made reservations, he doesn’t want to miss them.

“Yeah we have our first preseason matches in…”

He cuts himself off as he sees you walking out the bathroom. Your hair is still wet, falling on your shoulders in soft waves and you are wearing a dress you should have never been allowed to wear, for his own sanity. Patrick yells in his ear, asking him if he’s ok, but he is too busy getting lost in you to notice.

“Who are you talking to?” You wonder, your voice finally snapping him off his trance.

“Oh, It’s Patrick.”

“Hey Patrick!” you yell, as you put on your heels.

“Tell her hello and that I miss her” Patrick calls, from the other side of the line.

“Patrick says hi” he says, instead.

“Can you put it on speaker?” he does as you say, intrigued as to what you have to say to his best friend. “Pat you need to text me back, I have to talk to you.”

“Sorry doll, I haven’t been on my phone much, I’ll check as soon as I hang up.” 

You nod, satisfied with his answer. You turn around to grab one of the purses in your closet.

“What do you need to talk to him for?” Art asks, Patrick still on the phone.

“Oh, just Tashi stuff, you know. It’s really not that important, don’t worry about it. Now, say goodnight to your boyfriend, we’re going to be late.”

––––––––––––––––

The restaurant that Art picks for your dinner is on the fancier side. It’s technically your first date, your second, if you count that night at the hotel, but there were too many people for him to count it. So it’s your first official date, and he wants to impress you. It’s a little crazy, how much you both know about each other without having really gone out together once. You don’t look even slightly out of place as you follow the waiter to your table and ask for what you want. He knows you have grown up very wealthy, probably as wealthy as Patrick, if not more. It only makes him want to work harder, to be better. He tells himself he is going to be great, to give you the life you deserve.

“I can’t believe you know how I sound when I’m about to fall asleep but you’ve never taken me out. I have to step up my game before you think I’m easy” you say, mirroring exactly what he was thinking.

“Well, seeing as you made out with me and my best friend the first night you met us, I think we’re a little bit past me thinking you’re easy” the laughter bubbles out of you unexpectedly, slightly too loud for the place you are in.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” but you don’t mean it.

You didn’t expect him to bring it up at all. You expected him to act as if it had never happened, like you had done every single time you spoke on the phone. You don’t mind it, you realize. You are still smiling when they bring out your food. You thank the waiter and wait politely until he leaves before diving into your plate.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am mostly excited that you are here and I would be satisfied with  rotting in bed with you all weekend, but this is such a wonderful break from dining hall meals.”

“Don’t you ever order in? Or go out?”

“I mean, sometimes my teammates will invite me, but no, not really.”

“Why?”

“Well my scholarship gives me 200 dollars a month for miscellaneous expenses, but I’m trying to save for when I either graduate or drop out to go pro. I’ll have to pay for coaches and other stuff so I want to be ready.”

“I thought your mum was really into you playing tennis, why is she not helping?” the smile drops off your face as soon as those words leave his mouth, he regrets it immediately, wants to take it back, but it’s too late.

“My mum and I, we.. We’re not on speaking terms right now” you realize how vague that is and sigh, encouraging yourself to just tell him, he is your boyfriend, he deserves to know. “By that I mean that I cut contact with her. I haven’t spoken to her since the summer.”

“That’s why you said yes to Berkeley” everything made sense in his head now. He put his hand on the table, palm facing upwards, there if you wanted to take it, which you did immediately. Then, with the softest voice he could muster he asked, “Can I ask why? You don’t have to tell me, but I would love to know.”

You bring your hands together, as your right hand starts to play with the ring on your left, rolling it around your finger. You know you need to tell him. You want to tell him, you want to share this part of you and your life with your boyfriend. You want to show him that you trust him

“My mum used to be a tennis player, when she was younger. She was great. She was this amazing up and comer, beat some of the biggest names really early in her career. She was supposed to be the greatest player in history, but then… She met my dad, and she got pregnant with me. It was a complicated pregnancy and she could never play again, not like she used to. So she resented me and my dad. The only reason she stayed with him was because he was very wealthy, and she had nothing for herself except her failed tennis career. And then she realized I could fulfill that failed career, so I became her project. I had half her genetics, so it was a given to her that I’d be good. I stopped being her daughter, I was just her little tennis star. That was all our relationship was about, tennis.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby” he squeezes your hand, then asks gently,  “What about your dad?”

“He was great, he… He died. I was eight. He gave me this ring” you say, showing him the ring you had been playing with all night. “It's my most prized possession.”

When you look back at Art he looks so sad you want to take it all back, say that you were joking, that you love your parents and everything is ok. You hate being this vulnerable, hate people feeling sorry for you. You hate feeling like a burden. You hate making a big deal of things that you’ve accepted, that you’ve already grieved. Somehow, Art has the perfect thing to say.

“It is a gorgeous ring” he whispers as he examines it under the restaurant’s lights trying very hard not to think about giving you a ring in a much different context, now is not the time.

“Yeah…” you hesitate for a second, debating whether or not you should say what you are thinking, but the boy in front of you looks into your eyes in a way that makes you believe you could do anything, so you continue, “I don’t want you to pretend I never told you any of this. There’s a reason why I told you, I wanted you to know, but can we move on and have fun? I don’t wanna spend the three days you’re here talking through my trauma.”

Art smiles, and you know everything is going to be ok. You feel a weight lift off your chest

as he launches off into a story about one of his new teammates falling down the stairs. You laugh, the guy is fine. It feels good to be honest. it’s not like you had been purposefully trying to keep secrets, but having things out in the open and knowing that Art doesn’t think any differently of you makes you feel much lighter.

––––––––––––––––

You stumble into your dorm room slightly tipsy, hands in Art’s hair. You fall backwards on your bed, giggling, Art following right after, settling on top of you. You stop him with a hand on his chest when he sneaks his hands under your dress, brushing dangerously close to your panties.

“I’ve never… I’m not… I’m a virgin.”

Your words seem to sober him up immediately. He backs up, sitting at the end of your bed. His eyes are wide open, his pupils blown. You follow him, sitting right in front of him.

“We don’t have to… If you’re not ready, I mean, I don’t want you to think this is the only reason why I came because it’s not true and…” you interrupt him by crushing your lips against his again.

“I want to, I really do. I want it to be you, I just thought you should know.”

“Okay” he says, out of breath, then lets you kiss him again.

You get rid of each other’s clothes slowly. He starts with your dress, gasping as it lowers to reveal a matching set of lingerie you had bought for the night. You take off his polo and he eagerly helps you take off his pants. It’s frantic but tender. He kisses you in every spot he can reach, holds your hand as he pushes in for the first time. He whispers sweet praises in your ear, and you tell him how good it feels. You warn him when you’re about to come, he smiles, burying himself on your neck and sucking a mark low enough for it to be covered by a shirt. He follows right after you, coming with moans of your name in his lips. You lay next to each other, tangled in the bedsheets and a feeling neither of you is brave enough to name. He cuddles up to you, hands in your body, legs intertwined.

“That was… Wow” you whisper.

“I know,” he says right back.

“I’m glad it was you” like it’s a secret.

“Me too” he’s never meant anything more, that’s it until the next words fall off his lips. “I love you.”

But you are already asleep, too tired by the day to keep your eyes open for another second. It’s ok, he can say it again in the morning, and repeat it over and over again, for the rest of his life. He falls asleep shortly after, dreaming of the rest of his life, you by his side.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-0-0

Patrick Zweig: 6-0-0

Both Patrick and Art are shirtless by the time Tashi comes back. As soon as she has sat down two young girls come up to her. She is kind, taking pictures with them and making conversation. You can’t help but feel sad to see people congratulating her on her job with Art. They should be impressed by her own game, the way she moves on the court, not the one she was able to force onto her husband. The all too familiar pang of guilt settles on your chest. When they turn to look at you, they are almost shaking. You will never stop being surprised that people recognize and admire you. 

“Hi Ms. Y/l/n, could we get a picture with you? We are really big fans.”

“Of course, but please call me Y/n” you say, as you flash the camera your brightest smile. “Plus, I should tell you, it's Zweig now.”

“No way!” they both screech, excited. 

You and Patrick had gotten married earlier that year. it had been a small, incredibly intimate wedding, just you, the officiant and a couple of friends to act as witnesses. You had planned to announce it in Roland Garros, having them announce you both as Zweig. However, Patrick’s injury had kind of put a damper on that, so not many people knew about it. You hadn’t even announced your engagement, the few interested people had figured it out when he started wearing your ring in his finger and you started wearing a different one. Although you are still going to be announced as the Zweigs in the U.S Open you figure there’s no harm in people knowing beforehand. Although he had a flare for the dramatics, neither of you cared much about making a spectacle of your private lives. Which is the sole reason why you aren’t millionaires yet.

“Can I ask you a question?” the younger-looking girl asks, almost shy.

You nod inmediately, flashing her a comforting smile

“Why do you only play doubles? You are so good!”

“Well I enjoy playing doubles a lot more, the singles life wasn’t really for me. Plus, I think I’ve always played my best tennis with a partner.”

Tashi scoffs next to you, playing it off by looking down at her phone. There’s no way you actually believe that, that you are better playing with Patrick Fucking Zweig than on your own. By yourself, with a good coach, you could have been the best tennis player in history, breaking every single record in the book. Hell, your first three years competing you had won a career Grand Slam. Until you had rekindled your flame with Patrick and given up on everything you had ever dreamed of.

You ignore her, continuing to chat with the two girls until the umpire calls for the second set to start. You look at Patrick and smile at him. He grins right back before standing up and taking his position on the court.

Stanford University, California. February 23, 2007:

You can’t contain your excitement as the bus pulls into Stanford. As always, you get there in the morning, with time to spare so all of you can do your own thing and not have cramped up legs from the bus. Usually, you and a couple other teammates explore whatever college you are playing. However, you’ve made it clear to everyone that you would be unavailable, too busy catching up with your best friend and your boyfriend to bother exploring. Plus, it’s not like it was your first time in Stanford. You spot Tashi as you walk down the steps of the bus. Immediately, you drop all your bags, making a beeline to hug her. She runs towards you too, meeting you in the middle. You sway back and forth, too happy to say anything. Then, you pull away. You’re both smiling, but her smile doesn’t really reach her eyes.

“Do you think Patrick is in love with me?” is the first thing out of her mouth.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick is in love with me? I know you talk to him, I'm not an idiot. Has he said anything about it?”

“Ok, so no ‘hello’? No ‘I missed you’?” that seems to snap her off, she closes her eyes, rubbing her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry, you're right” she says, hugging you again. “I missed you, how was the trip?”

“Not horrible, I slept the entire way through so…” you can tell she is not fully into the conversation, so you pick up your bags and interlace one of your arms around one of hers. “Ok, take me to your dorm. We can talk then.”

Catching up and silly banter can wait. If Tashi needs you, then you’re going to be there for her.

––––––––––––––––

It’s not the first time you’ve been to Tashi’s dorm, but it feels different. You don’t take in the books, or the pictures of the two of you on the wall, you just look at her.

“Ok, so what’s this thing you were telling me, about Patrick being in love with you? Why are you asking me?”

“I had lunch with Art the other day. He had extra lunch credits or something like that. He was being a little bitch. He said he was shocked we were still together?”

“He said that?” Tashi nods.

“Yeah so i kept pressing because the was being all coy and mysterious after saying that, like, what the hell? And then he just said that Patrick is not in love with me.” She looks back at you, clearly fuming. “So, what do you think?”

“Well I… I don’t know Patrick as well as Art, but he always seems to care a lot about you whenever I talk to him. You are literally 80% of what our conversations are about.”

“Do you think he’s seeing other girls on tour?”

“No” you say immediately, completely sure of your answer. “Poor guy’s actually losing for the first time in his life, he's traveling on his own and he is trying to juggle a long distance relationship and two long distance friendships. I promise you he has no time to fuck other girls.”

“He never talks about his feelings…” she groans, you can’t help but laugh.

“Pot, meet kettle” she looks back at you, unimpressed. “Look, he is getting here in what, an hour? Less? Just talk to him. I know it’s hard but it’s the only way to know what he’s thinking. Be honest with each other!”

She launches herself into you, making you fall backwards onto her bed.

“I hate when you’re right.”

“I know you do. Now, sleep, you need to be well rested so I can beat your ass later.” 

That finally pulls a smile from Tashi’s face. You close your eyes and smile, satisfied that you were able to make her feel better. You can only hope she follows your advice.

––––––––––––––––

You get woken up by incessant knocking on the door. You and Tashi are still tangled on the bed, your head now laying on her chest.

“Tashi!” you hear Art’s voice through the door. “I have something for you in exchange for my girlfriend!”

You go to stand up, but Tashi pulls you back against her, shushing you when you make a startled noise.

“If we don’t make any noise, they’ll think we’re not here and leave.”

However, the knocking on the door doesn’t stop.

“Y/n told me when you guys were, I’m not leaving without her. Open the door.”

“Sorry” you wince, standing up.

You don’t bother making yourself look presentable, yanking the door open as soon as you are close enough. The sight of the two boys standing there knocks the breath out of you. You don’t have time to process it because as soon as he sees you, Art is enveloping you with his arms, lifting you from the ground and kissing you.

“Ok, let her go now, man, you’re going to squeeze her to death” Patrick interrupts, pulling Art back from you and taking a step forward to hug you. “How are you doing doll? I missed you.”

“Look at you” you smile at him. “You’re getting buffed.”

The both of you laugh. When you look back at Art he has an unreadable expression in his face, lips pressed against each other, eyes fixed on you.

“Well, your girl is inside, probably back asleep, so me and Art are going to take our leave” you say, pulling his arm so he’s walking with you.

It’s only when you’ve made it back to his room and you’re sitting on his lap, facing him, that you dare bring Tashi up. You take your own advice, communication is the only way to go about things.

“Why did you tell Tashi that Patrick wasn’t in love with her?” you ask.

He looks a little confused at first. Then, realization dawns upon him.

“I don’t know, I thought she deserved to know?”

“Is it true then? Does he feel anything for her?”

“I don’t know. We’re boys, we don’t really talk about this stuff, you know us.”

“Why would you tell her, then? Why would you say something to her you don’t even know if it’s true? What were you hoping to accomplish?” you try not to raise your voice but it’s getting progressively harder.

“Why are we fighting about their relationship right now? Why do we care?”

“That’s a good question, Art, why do you care?” you say, standing up from where you were perched on his lap and sitting on his desk chair. “Why did you get involved?”

“You’re one to talk! You’re constantly talking to Patrick about it!”

“That’s different, I’m not trying to get into his head. I just ask because I care. Plus, Patrick is my friend, we don’t only talk about Tashi.”

“Well, maybe Tashi is my friend! Maybe I was asking because I care.”

“What about Patrick? Do you care about Patrick?”

“Patrick is my best friend, of course I care about him!”

“Well you’re not acting like it!” you yell.

“If you care so much about Patrick maybe you should be his girlfriend, then!” he shouts back.

You stop, he does too. He stands up, takes a step towards you. You stand up too, but you take a step back.

“Y/n… I didn’t…”

“I don’t have time to do this right now. I have a game in an hour, I need to go get ready” you say, walking towards the door, you turn around to look at him before you leave. “We’ll talk about this later. See you at the game?”

He nods, of course he is still going to your game. Then, afterwards, he is going to apologize, and all four of you will go to dinner. And everything will be ok.

––––––––––––––––

You think it’s strange, how Tashi doesn’t even look at you when you two step into the court, facing one another. Something is wrong. As the two number ones on your team you were going against one another first. You had won your first match, a doubles one. Tashi doesn’t play doubles, so this is the first time she is stepping onto the court. You look to the bleachers and spot Art immediately, sitting alone. Patrick is nowhere to be seen. You look back at your best friend, who is still frowning and refusing to meet your eye. You think she might just be in the zone, that she has developed a new game face in college. It’s still unsettling when she doesn’t smile at you before she gets ready to serve.

It is clear that she is angry the second she hits the ball. She is too good to have no precision, but it’s obvious that her focus is on the strength of the hit, rather than where she is trying to send it. It’s obvious to you thar she is not in the right mindset. She should be wiping the floor with you, because you have already played a set when she just stepped out of the locker rooms, but, somehow, you’re winning. It’s throwing you off. You’ve played with and against Tashi a million times, enough to know her game like the back of your hand and this, it’s not it. She’s playing well, but it’s not her.

That’s when it happens, you backhand the ball onto the opposite side of the court she is standing on. She is not prepared to hit it there, but she runs towards the ball anyways. She’s about to hit her when she collapses on the ground. She falls like a piece of paper blown by the wind. In a second, she is on her back, screaming for her life.

You jump over the net immediately, not caring about conduct, or rules or anything that’s not getting to Tashi as soon as possible. You couch down next to her, reaching your hand to try and rub her arm, trying to comfort her. She is screaming at you as soon as she identifies that it’s you touching her.

“Get the fuck away from me! This is all your fault!”

You don’t know what to do. You pull back, your breath catching. Art is on your side in a second. He pats your back, telling you he will go with Tashi to the hospital so she won’t be alone, that he’ll keep you updated. He probably says something else, tries to reassure you. You don’t remember. You run away from the courts as soon as you get the nod from your coach. You don’t have any more matches, and it’s not like you could play in your state, even if you did.

When Patrick finds you, you’re rolled up in an empty corner of campus. He is crying, but you don’t notice because he dries away his tears when he hears the heart wrenching sobs coming from your body. He is next to you in a second, one hand on your back. You feel it, but you can’t recognize his voice. You jerk away, breathing erratically. It feels like you’re about to die.

“Hey, hey, Y/n, it’s me. It’s Patrick. Can you hear me?” he doesn’t really know what to do, you’re still shaking, but you nod, so he places a hand on your shoulder and keeps talking. “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re not dying, I promise. Everything is ok.”

He looks around, wondering if anyone is coming. Maybe Art, a nurse, or even a random student, anyone could do a much better job at calming you down than him. But he doesn’t see anybody. He grabs your hand and places it on his chest.

“Can you feel my breathing? Can you try to copy me?” you nod as he over acts his breathing motions.

Slowly, you start breathing calmer again. You’re still crying, but your vision becomes a little bit less cloudy and you don’t feel like you’re dying anymore. You finally recognize the boy in front of you and you launch yourself into his arms immediately. He is shocked, but he wraps his arms around you  anyways.

“I ruined her career. It’s her knee, probably ACL, she’s never going to play at the same level again. I ruined her career like I ruined my mum’s and now she hates me and…”

“Hey, hey” Patrick says when he feels your breathing grow erratic again. “You’re gonna get yourself worked up again. Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks, trying to stir away the conversation from the accident, for his own sake as much as yours.

You shake your head, still burrowed in his shoulder.

“I told my coach I’d spend the night with Tashi, they didn’t book me a room.”

“Ok, what about this, I’ll take you to my room, you can shower and spend the night there. And tomorrow, when everyone is calmer, we can talk again.”

––––––––––––––––

You call Tashi a million times, each of them going straight to voicemail. You feel like that’s impersonal, so you hang up and you try again. She is out of surgery, you know that because of the updates Art has texted you. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask how or where you are, so you don’t tell him. You give up after an hour of trying to reach Tashi, and you record a voicemail.

“Hey, Tash. I know that you’re mad at me, and I’m really sorry. I just want to know how you are. Everything is going to be ok, and I’ll be here every step of the way. That’s all I want you to know. That I’m here. You’re my best friend and I love you. I’m really sorry Tashi. Please call me back.”

The next time you try to call, it says the number doesn’t exist. You cry in the bathroom, and you’re very grateful that Patrick pretends he doesn’t hear you. Art stops replying. You feel like you just lost the two most important people in your life, you don’t know how to cope.

––––––––––––––––

When Patrick wakes up the next morning, you’re gone. On his bedside table there’s a note.

“Dear Patrick,

Thank you so much for all you did for me last night. I decided to leave on the bus this morning with the team instead of staying for the weekend like I planned. It’s obvious that neither Art nor Tashi want me around and I dont have the extra money to stay around if that’s what it’s going on. I hope I’ll see you around!

Y/n”

You get an email three weeks later. An offer for an Adidas sponsorship and a campaign. The news of your dropping out and going pro go public three weeks later. Patrick doesn’t call, you don’t either.

New Rochelle, New York. August 24, 2019:

Art Donaldson: 2-3-15

Patrick Zweig: 6-1-0

Like you expected, Patrick got cocky, and now Art is slowly making his way back. It’s what he is best at, waiting for Patrick to fuck up, then making his move. Patrick reaches for the ball, it goes past him.

“Out!” he calls, immediately.

“Thirty, Love” the umpire announces.

You see Patrick turn around, shock and anger written all over his face.

“That was out! That was way out!”

“The ball was called in.”

Patrick turns around, looking at the line judge.

“Are you blind?”

You want to yell at him, tell him to get his shit together like you do when you’re on the court next to him. Unfortunately, you can’t do that from where you are, so you just watch helplessly. The Umpire warns him again but he doesn’t let up.

“Are you here to do your job or are you just excited that Art Donaldson is over there?

“”I’m going to give you a code violation if you don’t stop this.”

You know he’s not about to stop. Patrick doesn’t give up like that. He pushes and pushes and doesn’t let up. So you know it’s coming.

“Hey Art!” he yells across the net. “This lady wants your autograph!”

“Code violation. Unsportsmanlike conduct. Verbal abuse. Point penalty, Zweig.”

You roll your eyes but you’re not shocked. Without you down there to settle him, it was only a matter of time.

“Is this how you wanna get your points?” he calls towards Art again.

“I’m ready to serve, Patrick.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

You sigh at the telltale sign that he is done. He is finally letting it go. He settles back, ready to play again.

“Forty, Love” the umpire says through the speaker.

Art serves.

Manhattan, New York. March 15, 2010:

You’re at one of those galas Adidas keeps insisting you need to attend when you see him. You’re standing to the side in a long maroon dress, trying to go unnoticed. He is on the snack table, stuffing his mouth almost embarrassingly. His suit is a little small on him, a little crumbled up. He has his back towards you and he looks a little different, but you would recognize him anywhere. You have missed him too much to let the pang of guilt on your chest stop you from walking over to him.

“Patrick” you say, tapping his shoulder twice, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He freezes, then turns around. His mouth wide open with no regards for the food he just stuffed there. He closes his mouth, swallows, then blinks a couple times. Like he is trying to fiigure out if you’re really there or if he’s making it up.

“Y/n?” he asks, you nod. “What are you doing here? Oh my God, you look gorgeous!” his arms wrap around your shoulders, yours make their way around his waist.

“This is a brand event for my sponsors, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, it’s an Adidas event? I had no idea. To be perfectly honest I snuck in, but don’t tell anyone.”

“They have security on the door, how the hell did you sneak in?”

“I am pretty charming.”

You are out of breath just by looking at him. It’s been three years.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here? I’ve done my appearance and I can’t stand this anymore. I’ll get you dinner.”

He was going to say yes without you offering to buy him food, disregarding completely the reason why he is here in the first place. The offer of food just sweetens the deal.

“Yes, let’s go, right now” his eagerness makes you laugh, it reminds you of that first night.

––––––––––––––––

You and Patrick sit in a booth across from each other, too overdressed for the shitty restaurant on the side of the road you’ve ended up in. 

“So… Are you going to tell me why you’re going around sneaking into brand events in a shitty suit and trying to eat all their food?”

He almost chokes on the sip of water he was drinking. It shouldn’t shock him, the way you read him immediately and how you have no qualms on making your thoughts known. However, he hoped he would have a little more time before he had to explain his shitty life to you. It’s a little intimidating, you have everything and you look gorgeous. on the other hand, he is sleeping on his car and weaning the suit he wore to his cousin’s Bar Mitzvah five years ago. You don’t relent, looking at him expectantly but letting him gather his own thoughts. Letting him speak at his own time.

“Well, if it wasn’t obvious, I’m not doing great. I haven’t won in a long time, so” he shrugs his shoulders, you’re still looking at him, not saying anything, so he keeps going, “I’m kind of living off my car and signing up to all the shitty tournaments I can make it to to gather the participation money.”

“What about your parents? Could they not help?” Patrick never talked about his parents, but it was never a secret that they were very well off.

“I haven’t talked to my parents for about as long as you haven’t talked to your mum” you nod, understanding the feeling. “Apparently, having a son like me was a disgrace.”

You frown, shaking your head rapidly.

“That’s bullshit. You’re great.”

“Yeah well, say that to them, and Art, and Tashi. And every single person who’s ever played me. They might disagree,” the self deprecation in his voice is such a stark contrast from the confident, slightly cocky guy you were friends with. “Enough about me tho, what’s up with you?”

“I wanna quit,” you say, blunt, his mouth drops open.

“You’re joking. You’re winning tournaments and slams left and right, and you haven’t even reached the peak of your career!” he knew, because he had been following you, your career, the same way he had with Art and Tashi. “You have a career Grand Slam!”

“Yeah and I already hate it,” you sigh, looking around, checking if anyone could overhear you, but the place was empty. “Every time I step into the court I feel so… Guilty. It’s like I took her career from her. This was supposed to be her, breaking records, getting slams, even the Adidas sponsorship. It’s like I took her life. I was never meant to be the one who made it.”

“Well, your mum would be proud,” his comment makes you giggle and he smiles. “Why did you go pro, then? Why didn’t you just stop playing after college?”

“I thought about it. I didn’t feel like I deserved to play after I injured her.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he protests. 

“Well she wouldn't agree.”

“It was an accident.”

You shrug your shoulders, you know he is right, but you will never be able to let go of the guilt you feel when you think about your ex best friend. 

“I was going to quit, but after everything happened… I started failing everything. I was so alone. Tennis was the only thing I could get myself to do. It made me feel close to her, to both of them. I spent hours on the court and, somehow, everything in Berkeley reminded me of them. So when Adidas offered to sponsor me if I went pro I didn’t have to think about it. I needed to leave. And now… It pays the bills.”

“Why do you wanna quit then?”

“My name means something now, which could push me enough to open an academy or something. I could move to some rich neighborhood in New York City and spend the rest of my life making decent players out of spoiled rich girls. The only reason why I haven’t quit yet is because I was always hoping I would run into Art or Tashi at a tournament, but I’m starting to lose hope. And even if I saw either of them, I don’t think they’d speak to me at all.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels. I should probably give up too. Get a real job as a waiter or something. But… I can’t”

“‘Cause you love tennis.”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods, then looks straight into your eyes. “But you do too.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never played for myself, or by myself. I played for my mum first, then I played for Tashi. I love tennis but it’s never felt so lonely as it does now. On my own, it’s just not as fun. I love tennis because I loved playing with Tashi. Like how you loved playing with Art. There’s something about falling in love with your doubles partner, am I right?” you say, adding a humorous tone to your voice, but it’s not funny.

Patrick’s head shoots around, then turns to look at you. His mouth and eyes are wide open, the shock is written all over his face.

“How did you know…?

“About you being in love with Art? Patrick that first night, at the Junior U.S Open, it was like I was looking in a mirror. The pining, the eagerness, the awkward first experience you need to say out loud because you want to make sure it actually happened. It was almost freaky. And I’m sure you felt the same way looking back at me.”

“I mean… Yeah, me and Art both thought that you had a thing for Tashi, but then you started dating him so we just thought we had made it up. I thought you were in love with Art?”

“I was, probably still am. With both of them. My love for Tashi didn't take away anything from my love for Art, it’s something I’ve learned about myself.”

“How did you not hate me?” he asks, curious. “Because I kinda hated you a little, just a little bit. I kept flirting with you on front of Art to piss him off, which was as shitty move, thinking about it now.”

“I did hate you very slightly. I was living vicariously through the things you told me about Tashi, but to be fair, I was also quite infatuated by you so, it went away quickly,” you laugh, he does too. You don’t know where you are finding the courage to be so honest with him, but you guess you always kind of felt that way around Patrick, like you could bare your soul in front of him without fear. “I used to hope the four of us would figure it out somehow, a way to make it work. I thought Art and Tashi might have been harder to sway, but I always thought you’d agree if I ever brought it up. It doesn’t matter anymore, but…”

“I would have” he says immediately, nodding, looking at you in a way that tells you he understands you completely. “I was also quite infatuated by you.”

It should be scary to be seen so openly by someone. But with Patrick, it just feels safe.

“Have you ever thought about playing doubles?” you ask, as you’re walking back to his car.

He has offered to bring you back to your house. You are trying to gather the nerves to invite him to spend the night.

“I mean, yeah, it means more tournaments, but I am not the best team player with most people and the one guy I’d like to play with hates me, so I don’t know who I’d possibly play with.”

“What about me?” you ask, his hand stops midair, on the way to open the door of his car for you.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not winning, and I hate playing by myself. It’s perfect. My team could manage us both, you could live with me until you get back on your feet…”

“I can’t afford your team, or to pay you rent, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. And you wouldn’t have to pay until we start making money. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“What about your career?”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to hate what I do for the rest of my life. I need to fall back in love with tennis. You could still play singles if you really want to, but it could be our brand. We only play mixed singles with each other. I’m sure Adidas would buy it if we sold them a love story.”

“A love story?”

You’re too confident in your idea to feel shy right now. You’ve been thinking about this since you sat down for dinner, the conversation you had only proving how good of an idea it was.

“I mean, you did say you were quite infatuated by me. And the other people we’re both in love with hate us both so… I just thought we could shoot two birds with one gun.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how the saying goes.”

“Patrick,” you warn, his refusal to acknowledge your proposal head on is making you grow more nervous by the minute.

He opens the door to his car and you jump in. He drives to your house in silence, the only noise coming from the GPS giving directions. You think that’s your answer, and you wonder if there’s a way you can come back from this, if the two of you can still be friends. You’ve missed him, after all. He parks his car in front of your house, which is not as big as he was expecting. You’re about to tell him the offer for a place to sleep is still on the table when he turns to look at you, dead serious.

“So what’s the plan, then?” 

You squeal in excitement, jumping over the console to hug him, you’ve never felt happier. You help him take his things from the back of his car to your guest bedroom.

“I am willing to try this. All of it,” he says, more decided that you’ve ever heard him sound. “But I don’t wanna rush it. I wanna do things right. And I don’t give a shit about playing singles, I’d love just playing with you.”

You both sit on the kitchen table as you go down the plan you’ve made in your head with him. The call you’ll have to make to Adidas, the practice times, how you’re going to make it public, the possible media reactions, etc. Patrick listens attentively, nodding and humming and asking questions in all the right places. He kisses your cheek as you both separate for the night, and for the first time in three years, you think you might be alright.

[topguncortez]

Mission Accomplished | Bob Floyd

Masterlist | One Year TG Celebration

synopsis: It's Bob's 30th birthday and the boys set up a mission for him to conquer.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: it's porn with a dash of plot. Virginity, Oral sex (f&M receiving), unprotected sex, PIV, pet names, hair pulling, cockwarming, cursing.

“You just need to do it, no one’s gonna wanna fuck a 30-year-old virgin,” Fanboy said as he sipped his drink. 

Bob groaned and put his head in his hands. Rooster laughed and shook his head, placing his hand on his friend’s back. It was Bob’s 30th birthday, and he just wanted a quiet night and to share a few drinks with his friend. Sadly, Phoenix was out of town so Bob was left to the devices of Fanboy, Rooster, and Hangman. The conversation of his virginity always seemed to rise after Fanboy had a couple of drinks in him.

“I mean, what are you waiting for?” Fanboy asked.

Bob honestly didn’t know. His teenage years were spent studying chemistry, working for Old Man Leuellen, and riding bulls on the weekend. He was the quieter type, not loud and outgoing as some of the other guys he rode bulls with. They were loud and crass and caught the attention of all the girls walking by. While most of them went out after the rodeo, Bob went home with his cash envelope and gave it to his momma to help pay the electricity bill. Sure, he had his fair share of girlfriends and there were always girls hanging around after the rodeo. He’d been involved in heavy makeout sessions and dry humping, but it never went farther than that. Fanboy joked that Bob was bringing down the sex appeal of the squad because he was still a virgin. 

“The right moment, I guess,” Bob mumbled, messing with the tab of his root beer 

“That shit never fucking happens,” Hangman laughed, “That only happens in the movies. I lost mine in a barn on my family’s ranch. Rooster lost his in the back of the Bronco.” 

“I sat back there,” Bob said with a disgusted look on his face. 

“If you think that was bad. . . Fanboy, where did you lose yours?” 

“My parents’ bed,” Fanboy smirked and Bob gagged, “Hey! I changed the sheets after. Besides they had condoms in the bedside table, readily available. Robert,” Fanboy sighed and put his arm around his friend, “You turned thirty today. . . it’s time to grow up. And as your best friend and confidant, I have someone for you.” 

“I-I don’t want a. . .” Bob looked around the bar and lowered his voice, “A prostitute.” 

“We wouldn’t do that to you,” Jake shook his head, “Here, go to this hotel and this room. We’ll send her over soon.” Jake took a white business card out of his pocket. Bob looked at his three friends and took the card, running his fingers over the writing. 

“You guys have really thought about this, huh?” Bob said his heartbeat racing. 

“Do you want to do this or not? If you don’t want to, we understand,” Fanboy said to his friend. Bob took a deep breath and nodded. He trusted them with his life and knew they wouldn’t set him up or put him in a situation he didn’t want to be in. If anything, they probably already had someone in mind for Bob, “Good, we’ll text you when she’s on her way.” 

Bob nodded again and downed the rest of his drink before heading to the hotel written on the card. He shook with nerves as he walked down the street. He rolled his eyes, they really did think this shit through. Bob kept his head down as he sped walked through the lobby. He felt like everyone in the building could tell what he was about to do. He punched the button for the 24th floor and tapped his foot on the floor. He just hoped whoever they picked was nice. 

Rooster, Jake, and Fanboy had really thought everything through, even picking out the right girl to spend the night with their quiet friend. Y/N was a friend of Jake’s and worked at the Hard Deck. Jake was the one who pointed out the googly eyes Bob would get every time he saw her. Bob suddenly forgot what English was anytime she walked into the room. She was the perfect person to hook up with Bob. 

“You think she’ll do it?” Fanboy asked, as he down the rest of his drink, “I mean, she didn’t seem against it when we talked to her the other day. She’s as googly-eyed for Bob as he is for her.” 

“Hope so, otherwise, Bobby Boy is gonna spend another night using his right hand,” Jake said as he texted Y/N to meet them at the hotel, “Alright, the plan is set. She’s already there waiting for him.” 

Fanboy raised his empty glass and clinked it against Jake’s, “We should buy him a cake.” 

— — — 

Bob took a deep breath, shaking out his nervous hands as he scanned the key card to the room. When he opened it, his wide eyes scanned the room, noticing the soft lights and the music playing softly in the background. He was cursing his friends, they had already set him up and didn’t even tell him with whom. 

“You’re here,” Bob turned to look at you, sitting in a chair by the bed, a glass of Rose in your hand, “They said you left 20 minutes ago. . . did you get lost?” 

“Y/N? A-Are you lost?” Bob asked you. You smiled and set your drink down on the table, pushing yourself up from your spot, “Th-they uh. . . they didn’t mention you’d be here.” 

“I know,” You said, as you walked over to Bob. He froze slightly as your dainty hands came and touched his clothed chest, “Happy Birthday,” You whispered. He took a deep breath as you moved your hands to push his jacket off his arms. Bob opened his mouth to ask how you knew, when you answered for him, “They told me everything.”

“Oh, okay,” Bob said nervously. He jumped at the feeling of you pressing your body against his. His hands flew to your waist, “I-is this okay?” 

“You really haven’t done this before have you?” 

“I-I have j-just not with someone as p-pretty a-as you,” Bob said and cursed himself out in his mind for stuttering, “You make me nervous.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing,” You smiled and caressed his jaw. You brought your lips to ghost over his neck, your hot breath making goosebumps rise on his skin, “Relax, baby. I got you, okay?” 

“O-okay,” Bob said, as you placed a kiss on his pulse point. Bob let out a moan, as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling it softly, as you kissed up his neck to his jaw. You grabbed his jaw in your hand and made him look at you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” You said, “I know the boys are behind this, Jake seemed a bit too happy when I said yes to meeting you here. But if you don’t want to, you can tell me.” 

“I-I want to. Please, Y/N,” Bob said shyly and he innocently bucked his hips. He was painfully hard. He didn’t even know he could get that hard. He was silently begging for more, but he wanted to play it cool. As far as he knew, Y/N didn’t know he was a virgin. He wanted her to believe that. 

“Take your pants off.” You said. 

You smiled and kissed his lips. Bob pulled your body into him more and walked you over to the bed. This part he had done before. He pushed you onto the bed, and you smirked at him. You climbed back on the bed as Bob got on top of you, attaching your lips together again. One of your hands found his jaw and the other tangled back in his hair. You loved Bob’s hair and he clearly loved having you pull on it. Bob grinded his hips into yours and you moaned at the feeling of his hard-on grinding against your core. 

His lips went from yours to your jaw, kissing and biting softly. The dress you were wearing was low cut, giving Bob the perfect view of the tops of your breasts. He left kisses on your collarbone before kissing the top of your cleavage. His large rough hands were warm against your thighs, as he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his lip, so he grinds into you more. 

“Oh fuck, Bobby,” You moaned. 

“I want to make you feel good,” He whispered against your skin. 

“Another time,” You said, “I’m here to make you feel good.” 

You pushed Bob off of you and scurried out from beneath him. He shuffled so he was laying in the middle of the bed. You stood at the foot of the bed and shed your dress. Bob sucked in a breath seeing your naked body. You climbed back on top of him and kissed him again. His shaky hands went to your hips and lightly guided you to grind on his cock. You grabbed his wrists and gently pinned them above his head. Your lips went back to his, as you took control. You moved your hips slowly, feeling the growing wet spot in his boxers. Bob withered under you as you kissed your way down his jaw. Your hands went to his t-shirt and slowly pulled it up over his head and off his body. 

“W-wait! I-I’m a virgin,” Bob said and felt his face get hot with embarrassment. 

“I know,” You responded. 

“H-how?” 

“Cause you look ready to cum and I haven’t even done anything. . . And Fanboy told me.”

“Oh,” He blushed. 

You smirked and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “We don’t have to do this. I am perfectly okay with making out and ordering some cake via room service.” 

“I want to do this,” Bob assured you, grabbing both of your hands in his, “I trust you.” 

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. Your hands went to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. He got the hint and sat up to shuck it off. Bob was beautiful. His tall slender frame was always the perfect sun-kissed tan color. You kissed down his chest, swirling your tongue over his nipples as you worked your way down his body. The moan Bob let out as you delivered a kiss to his clothed dick was absolutely pornographic. 

“I’ve barely touched you,” You smirked. 

“I know,” Bob said breathlessly. He already looked fucked out and you hadn’t done anything besides grind and make out, “Touch me? Please?” 

“Anything for you baby boy,” You said and placed a kiss right above the waistband of his boxers. You dragged them down his legs slowly, watching as his dick slapped against his stomach, rock hard and red. A small drop of pre-cum fell from the tip, which you licked up. Bob thought he was going to cum just at the sight of you in between his legs. 

“Oh. . . fucking shit, oh my god, oh my god,” Bob mumbled as you placed a kiss right on the tip. He was squirming around and about lost it when you licked from his balls to the tip, “Please. . . please, please, please.” 

“Bob shut up.” You demanded and he bit his lip nodding. You spit on his dick, before slowly taking him in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” Bob moaned loudly, flopping his head back against the pillows. You lowkey felt bad for who was next door, because Bob was loud. His hand went to your hair, not entirely sure what to do, he held it softly out of your face. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, relaxing your throat to take him in deep. You bobbed your head up and down, using your hand for whatever didn’t fit. Bob guided your motions lightly, but couldn’t help but thrust into your mouth. 

Bob couldn’t focus on anything but the bliss he was feeling. He couldn’t stop the moans that left his mouth. He was thankful that no one he knew was nearby or could hear the noises Bob was making, he’d never live it down. But to you, it was like music. You swallowed around him and Bob’s thighs started to shake, the grip on your hair tightening. 

“Y/N, I think, oh my god, oh my god,” Bob started saying as you pulled off of him, “What?” He looked like you just told him you killed a dog, “I-I. . . what?” 

“I want you to cum inside me,” You whispered against his lips, kissing him. You gently climbed into his lap. 

“W-what about you?” Bob asked, “Are y-you w-wet?” 

“I’ve been dripping since the moment you walked through the door,” You ran a finger through your folds, collecting your slick on your finger, “Open,” Bob’s jaw opened and you stuck your finger in his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. 

“C-can I t-taste you?” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to- no, I need to,” Bob said and you nodded, “Lay down, sweetheart.” 

You nodded and rolled over to switch places with Bob. You lay down and opened your legs as Bob crawled between them. You could see the blush on his face, as he placed a kiss on your thigh. You moaned as he placed another kiss right on your clit. Your moans were his encouragement as he licked your entrance. 

“Use your fingers too, baby,” You encouraged. 

Bob nodded and lifted his hand up to you. You sucked his fingers into your mouth, getting them wet. Bob took his hand away and ran his pointer finger up your folds before gently pushing it into your core. You threw your head back as he pumped his finger in and out of you gently. His tongue went to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and licking it. Your hand pulled on his hair, pulling him closer to you. Your legs went over his shoulders as he laid down flat to grind his own hips into the mattress to get some kind of friction. 

“More, Bob, add another finger,” You said and Bob did as told, “God, you listen so well. Do you want to make me cum? Keep going, just like that. . .” 

You couldn’t help but grind against his face. Bob moaned at the feeling as he was eating you out like it was his last meal. His fingers curled up against your g-spot and you let out an encouragement for him to keep doing that. He felt you clench around his fingers and didn’t stop moving them and sucking on your clit until he felt your release. He looked up at you with wide eyes as your head was thrown back, you riding out your high. Bob placed a soft kiss on your thigh as he slowly pulled away from you, his mouth and jaw glistening with your release. 

“Lay back down,” You said, your eyes darker with lust, “I’m gonna ride you.” 

Bob nodded silently, flopping down next to you. He made grabby hands towards you as you climbed on top of him. You spit on his dick and pumped him a couple of times, before holding it at your entrance. Bob let out a low groan as you sunk down on him, filling you up to the brim. 

“Oh Jesus, Bobby, you fill me up so fucking well,” You said as you started to move up and down slowly. You grabbed Bob’s hands and pinned them above his head. You rode him slowly, taking your time to watch Bob’s face contorted in pleasure. 

“Y/N. . .” He breathed out, “I-I’m n-not going to last.” 

“That’s okay, baby,” You whispered, kissing right below his ear, “Tell me how it feels?”

“So fucking good,” He shuddered. The feeling was nothing compared to Bob using his hand or pocketpussy. You were tight and warm, and Bob wanted to soak up everything felt. The pleasure was clouding his mind as he thrust up into you. He broke free from your grip, to wrap his arms around you and thrust up into you. You moaned at the feeling as Bob was chasing his own release. His vision was going white as he held back a moan in his throat. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum!” He whined. You pushed his arms down, taking back over, keeping the pace he had set. The loud cry of pure pleasure that broke through his lips was pure music. He was like a masterpiece, arching off the bed as he came in you. You moved your hips up and down, milking his orgasm. He shuddered with every movement, already feeling sensitive, “Baby. . . I-I can’t.” 

“Overstimulated, Bobby?” You smirked, still moving your hips. He grabbed your hips, causing you to still. He was breathing hard and nodded shyly. He sat up so he was chest to chest with you, and wrapped his arms around you again, “You did so good for me.” 

“I-I like being in you,” Bob whispered, “Feels good.” 

“I like the feeling of you in me too,” You said back, placing a kiss on his lips, “Do you want to take a bath or a shower?” 

“Can we just cuddle?” Bob asked you softly. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” You answered, “I gotta clean up first, okay.” 

He nodded and laid back gently. You slowly lifted off of him, and he groaned at both the feeling of overstimulation and the loss of heat from you. You grabbed Bob’s t-shirt as you walked into the bathroom to put it on. You did your usual after-sex routine and washed your hands. You sighed at the sight in front of you when you walked back out. 

Bob had put his boxers on and curled up on the mattress, snoring softly. You smiled and climbed into bed next to him. You were ultimately stuck as the big spoon and wrapped your arms the best you could around his giant frame. You could feel him relax into your touch and you smiled. You easily drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace. 

— — — 

“Be quiet,” Jake hushed his fellow aviators the next morning. They hadn’t heard from you or Bob the whole night, so they were praying they didn’t just waste fifteen bucks on a cake and frosting for nothing.

“What if they didn’t even do anything?” Rooster asked him. 

“Then we smash the cake in his face,” Fanboy said, pulling an extra key card out of his pocket, “They totally did something, there’s no way they didn’t.” 

“He did say he was waiting for the right moment,” Rooster shrugged and Jake rolled his eyes unlocking the door. Fanboy’s words were quickly proven to be false as they were both greeted by the sight of Bob having you on all fours as he fucked you from behind. 

“Oh my god! I told you!” Fanboy yelled, a smirk on his face. Bob froze and looked up at the door. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, chucking it at his friends. 

“Get out!” You yelled. 

“Congrats!” Rooster said, putting the cake on the table and quickly pushing the other two out the door. The door slammed shut behind them and they all looked at each other and high-fived. 

Mission accomplished.

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[hoshologies]

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes. 

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma. 

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better. 

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” 

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year. 

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs. 

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light. 

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn��t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only. 

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun. 

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong. 

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so. 

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold. 

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you. 

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways. 

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.” 

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself). 

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away. 

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach. 

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin. 

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop. 

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[thepersonnamedsam]

carlos‘ song - cs55

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

summary: you wrote a song about carlos

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, mentions of death, anxiety, sad stuff

note: i have been obsessed with carlo‘s song lately and i just had to write something for carlos, bc obv carlo‘s - carlos

masterlist / taglist

Standing on the rooftop of this bar in Madrid, your short hair blew in the cold air. Apparently it’s not just any bar, the bar is placed on a fire tower.

The sun was just about to set and you tried to keep your hair under control. „You know, I liked it more when it was long.“ Carlos looked at you with his big brown round eyes and it reminded you of a deer caught in a headlight.

„Oh really?“, you grinned. When you two first met you were only 12 years old, little best friend of Isa. You never taught you would one day stay on this roof top with her brother.

„Yeah, do you remember drinking in the parking lot? By the trail head? Yeah, I liked your hair that day.“

You felt heat rush to your head, you blamed it on the cold. „Okay, I can grow it out long, if you’d like that?“

You only just moved back to Madrid. Ida was supposed to pick you up from the airport but instead there stood a bright red Ferrari with not Isa but her brother Carlos instead. And he didn’t take you to his sisters, no he treated you to a drink on the fire tower.

Only the good die young was playing on the speakers.

„You know, I never understood what Billy Joel meant with those lyrics“, you thought out loud. „Didn’t you just study english literature?“ - „Yeah, and?“ Your eyebrows raised at him, silently questioning his thoughts.

„Like, aren’t you just supposed to know what he meant with his lyrics?“

„I mean, I have my own meaning, but it’s ridiculous.“ - „No, please tell me, because I always laugh at the lyrics“, Carlos said.

„I mean, obviously in the first verse he wants to have sex with virgin catholic girls. And ‚only the good die young‘ you can argue about that - young people who die didn’t deserve it, therefore they were good. Or old people aren’t good anymore, or many more.“

„Not ridiculous“, he smiled. „Huh?“ - „Your meaning of the song isn’t ridiculous, not in the slightest.“

You smiled, hard. Carlos was an interesting man and you wondered what more grew under that perfect skin of his.

„I think we are going to be good friends, Carlos“, you told him. „You think so?“, was his answer. You nodded and grinned at him.

Over the time you grew closer together, Carlos showed you parts of Madrid you only remembered vaguely from your childhood. But the distance of his job hurt more and more. You knew what a relationship with him meant. You knew only too good, heard Isa over the phone crying over missing her brother.

But the days he spent in between were the best you ever experienced.

„I want a big house out in the open. Where the sun always shines and all the light gets into the house!“, Carlos gushed. You were laying on the couch together and planned how your future would look like if money didn’t matter - not that it did anyway.

„Whys that?“, you asked him. „I don’t like the way my skin feels when it’s not shown on by the sun. I like the warmth, never liked the cold, brrr“, his arms snaked around your upper body and shook it like you were freezing.

Your laugh was heard throughout the apartment. Carlos grinned at you, his skin warming with the sound of your happiness.

„Why don’t you like the way your skin feels without the sun?“

„It makes me feel like I need to escape my own body. Like I don’t belong, it just feels wrong.“

„Well I hope you can escape your skin with me“, you smiled at the man you were falling more and more in love with.

But you still never went to a grand prix with him. And when he asked you why, you came up with a new excuse as not to.

You started to pick up more work, started to work over the weekends. You had less and less time to call Carlos over the weekend, making him question your feelings for him.

Until it happened. It happened on a Saturday at FP2. It was quickly over. You only heard about the incident the next day, as you wondered why Carlos didn’t start.

Isa called you. 48 seconds. That’s how long the phone call lasted. The news shattered your heart. Broken into millions of pieces. You couldn’t believe it, no, Isa was definitely playing pranks with you.

You fell, you fell deep into a hole. A hole you never knew you sighed it yourself. Deeper and deeper. Until Isa visited you. She brought you his clothes he still had at home. She brought his necklace that he was about to gift you. His initials graved into the back of the pendant.

But still, everyone who started talking about him being gone, you shut out. You shut them right out, because in your mind he was still alive, he was still racking and he was winning.

But the reality was none of that. And reality hit you, it hit you hard. His memorial was held at the end of the season. And Isa asked you to talk about him. You had to admit he was dead.

„I can’t do it, Isa.“ - „Please, you were his everything, he talked so much about you! Did you know he had been crushing on you since he was 16?“

„Did you set us up? The day you didn’t pick me up from the airport and instead sent him?“

Isa looked at you, just like Carlos had when he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have. This big brown eyes. Glistening with mischief - it was something that all of the Sainz family possessed.

„You caught me“, she shamelessly shrugged with her shoulders and smirked at you. „It was time? He was pining on you for so long, but you were away studying and he was so sad, I had to do it, it was his only chance!“

His memorial was beautiful, the whole grid present. Charles and Frédéric spoke about his time at Ferrari, Lando held a speech about their friendship and Isa sung a beautiful song. She still tried to convince you to speak, but you just couldn’t.

Isa and you still regularly talked to each other. She was doing good, better than her anyway. You almost never talked about Carlos. You weren’t bringing him up, neither did she.

The one thing Isa told you was: „Grief is just love letting go. It’s okay to let go.“

You almost cried - how could she say that like it was just spilled milk?

„Look at yourself, when’s the last time you cut your hair? You always kept it short, but now?“

You did visit him at his grave. Brought flowers and letters for him to read. Eventually you wrote a song. A song to remember him - Carlos‘ Song.

And one day you stood on a stage, at the bar they had their first date at and sung Carlos‘ Song.

Isa was there, smiling up at you and filming the whole thing. „I’m going to show it to my parents“, she smiled.

And you knew Carlos was smiling down on you and kept you alive.

°°°

@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @darleneslane , @mikauraur , @heartmetaphor , @darleneslane , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Omg would you please write something smutty-close friends yearning each other-there was only one bed-thing 🥹

omg i forgot about the typical tropes, i’d love to write this one. i think i’m gonna go more fluffy then smutty tho unfortch (still smut tho don’t worry) bc i need a break from writing it. i’m afraid i’m getting too repetitive so i hope this suits your needs hehe but thank you for the request!

For Sure

rhea x fem!reader

content: slight angst?? kissing, def some fingering, def some praise for SURE

Working with Rhea had been a dream. She was so sweet and genuinely cared about you. You had been her assistant for a about a year now and the friendship was really tight. She wanted someone she could talk about anything with, especially something other than wrestling.

You two usually stayed in adjoining rooms when you would travel for the shows, sometimes in the same room, with different beds of course. She had joked many times that one day they would mess up and give the two of you one bed but it hasn’t happened yet, luckily.

Your job as her assistant was to make sure she stayed on schedule, booked her hotel rooms and was the liaison for people who wanted to do interviews with her. Safe to say, you spent a lot of time with her, but you didn’t mind. To say that though, was an understatement. You loved spending time with her because these past few weeks, you’ve been wanting something more than just a friendship.

You and her would always flirt playfully as girl friends would do, but you never thought she was serious. “You look so scrumptious today,” she would say, or would joke around sometimes when you would accidentally brush against her hand with the “if you wanna hold my hand just ask,” and you wanted to so badly but you knew it would be too much.

The weekend came and you booked for the two of you to stay in a room with two beds at the hotel WWE chose.

“For Bennett please,” you said to the lady at the front desk. You use her real last name in case any crazed fans try to find her.

“Okay, one second,” as she typed away at the computer.

Rhea made eye contact with you and gave you a wink. Butterflies hit your stomach and you could feel your face getting red so you turned away after you winked back. You tapped your fingers on the counter hoping the lady would hurry up.

“Unfortunately, it looks like all our double beds have been booked for this weekend,” she said hoping you wouldn’t be mad.

“Are there any adjoining rooms?” you were scared to ask the question.

“We don’t have those here, sadly, I apologize,” she frowned.

“Looks like we’re cuddling, babygirl,” Rhea interjected.

Shit. “Do you have a pullout-”

“We’ll take a single bed then,” the wrestler interrupted you.

The lady flicked her eyes between the two of you and smiled. She began clicking away at her computer again, “here’s one with a king bed and a small kitchenette, that okay?”

“Perfect,” Rhea smiled devilishly.

She handed you the keycards and you headed to the room. You were so nervous about this whole thing, you couldn’t contain your wringing hands.

Rhea opened the door and there it was, the king bed. Your heart skipped a beat but you tried your best to stay calm.

She placed her luggage on the floor, throwing her duffle on the chair. You did the same but placed yours neatly on the desk near the window.

“Finally,” she said dropping her body on to the bed face down.

You giggle, “I’ve needed to go to the bathroom since we landed,” and you head in.

It wasn’t a lie but you did need to splash some water on your face to calm down. So you used the bathroom and washed your hands but kept the water running to cool you off as you washed your face.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, nothings even gonna happen,” you whisper to your reflection. “And if it does…no, no, it’s not going to so there’s nothing to worry about so…” you shrug to yourself. You finally turn off the water and walk back out to find the muscular woman changing into her pajamas. You cowered away at first when you realized but she was turned away from you just right. Her back muscles were, oh, so perfect and her arms are just so big and-

“Should we do each other’s makeup and watch scary movies?” she turned around finicking with her shirt.

“What… oh!” you laugh, “that’s sounds like fun, but I’m so tired and it’s already midnight and we have to get up.”

She sighed dramatically, “if you say so boss,” as she slipped under the covers, “oh this is sooo comfy, you should try it.”

“Lemme change first,” you said nervously, “and no peeking.”

“Aawww,” she joked as she covered her eyes. She peeked through her fingers at you as she giggled then covered them completely.

You quickly changed into your pajamas which was just a big tshirt and biker shorts. “Done,” you said as you turned around to her already looking at you. Your face immediately got hot.

“(y/n),” she said quietly, “you’re so beautiful,” her face staring in awe.

You crossed your arms to cover as much as you could, “I told you no peeking and thank you but you should look in a mirror sometime.”

She immediately got out of the bed, “no, I’m serious,” she pulled your arms apart, “like so incredibly.”

“Stop,” you chuckle, “you’re gonna make me fall in love with you,” you said in a joking tone but it was completely serious as you walked to your side of the bed.

“You’d love to have me as a girlfriend,” she started with a teasing tone, “I’d take you out, show you off, buy you flowers… I’m a great girlfriend actually.”

“Ha ha, very funny, but seriously we have to go to sleep,” you get into your side of the bed.

She sighed once more, “I guess so,” she followed you into the bed. “So cuddling’s off the table?” she turned to her side with her head resting on her hand.

“Unless you subconsciously do it in your sleep,” but you wanted to so badly.

“Suit yourself, I’m a great big spoon,” she turned over and turned off her light.

“I bet you are,” you turned off your light too, “goodnight Rhea.”

“Sleep well,” she huffed.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was running, thinking about all the things she could do as a girlfriend and how easy it would be, how fun it would be. The places you could go eat in the new cities, holding hands walking down sidewalks, coming over whenever, not having to book double beds anymore, the possibilities were endless, you thought. And the sex… you shook the thought away, she’s your friend, best friend even. You couldn’t get her off your mind for at least fifteen minutes.

You turned over on your back, “Rhea?” you whispered so quietly, but there was no response. So you tried again, “Rhea,” a little louder this time.

She turned her head towards you, “you okay?” she whispered back.

“Yeah I’m fine, just had a question,” your heart was beating out of your chest it felt like.

She turned completely over facing you, “what’s up?”

“Were you serious?”

You could feel her staring at you in the darkness, “I’m gonna need more context, love.”

“When you said I was beautiful,” you couldn’t stop now even if you tried.

“Of course. I’ve always thought you were.”

“Yeah?”

You could tell she was smiling at you, “yeah.”

“Okay,” a few long seconds passed, “and about the girlfriend thing?”

“So you are in love with me! I knew it!” she said a little too excitedly.

“Woah woah, I never said that,” you face her.

She turned over and turned her light back on. The both of you winced at the sudden brightness. She turned back towards you seeing now that your face was red with embarrassment, “but I know you’ve thought it! Like I haven’t noticed the glances, the extra giggles at my jokes, the nervousness of the one bed. Oh no, what if she cuddles me?” she mocked.

You huffed as you tried to turn away from her.

“Uh uh,” she grabbed your chin and pulled you back, “you can’t even deny it!”

That movement sent chills down your body. Unfortunately, you didn’t have an answer.

“Well,” she let go of your face and pushed a loose strand behind your ear, “if it makes you feel better, I feel the same way,” she said softly.

Your eyes widened, “you can’t be serious.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes, actually multiple times about stupid stuff,” you sat up and situated yourself to face her.

“Okay, yeah maybe, but this is serious,” she sat up and mirrored your position.

“I don’t believe you,” you crossed you arms once more.

“Will you stop doing that,” she pulled your arms apart again, “and I am. I have been since I hired you. I couldn’t find the right time to tell you and I was worried that you wouldn’t feel the same and then it would be awkward.”

“I still feel like you’re kidding,” you said sadly.

She rolled her eyes as she huffed then suddenly cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in for kiss, “does that seem like joking to you?”

You were so shocked you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was open and you sat frozen trying to think of anything to say.

Now she was becoming embarrassed, “please say something because now I look crazy.”

But you still couldn’t, so you decided on something else. You grabbed her face and pulled her back in for another kiss. Her hands were on your thighs bracing herself. She quietly moaned into the kiss sending shivers down to your core. You didn’t know you needed to hear her do that, but you were grateful she did.

Your lips danced against hers like they were meant to be, you knew exactly what to do and exactly when to do it. Her breath was hot against your face, but you didn’t care. Her hand tangled itself in your hair and before you knew it, she was guiding your body to lay down beneath her. She easily straddled you, never breaking contact with your lips, until, “This okay?”

“Perfect,” you smile as she goes back to kissing you.

Small moans came from the both of you. Your hands felt your way down her back not wanting to go too far, but found themselves under her shirt feeling the muscles contract as her body moved against yours. And moving it was, she was slightly grinding against you which was driving you crazy. Your nails slightly dug into her back before grazing down to her thighs.

One of her hands caressed its way down your torso and under your waist band, teasing at going farther.

“Can I-” she breathed.

“Yes,” you whined a little too desperately.

She grinned as she slipped her hand under. Gently rubbing your center up and down, you moaned into her kiss.

You suddenly gained consciousness, and pushed her away, “wait wait…”

She immediately took her hand out and sat up with a look of concern, “did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just…” you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. You rubbed your eyes, “are you sure? or are you just doing this to…I don’t know,” you displayed your hands out shaking them to signify that you didn’t know what you were trying to say.

“Yes, I’m a thousand percent sure,” she sighed with relief, “when I first met you, I thought you were so pretty. As time went on though, we clicked so well that I couldn’t help falling in love with you. I just needed that push to tell you and weirdly, it was the ‘only one bed’ that helped me out,” her hands were placed on her thighs, trying to not shake with nervousness.

“And there was no other time?” you joked.

“Babes, if I coulda I woulda,” she joked back, “but yes, I’m sure.”

You lay in thought for a second scanning her face for any sign of uncertainty, luckily you couldn’t find any.

“Can we go back to what we were doing or are you going to ponder some more?” she mocked.

You giggled, “yes, sorry. Please continue.”

“Thank you,” with a huge smile, she bends over you again and kisses your neck. Her hands finds its way back to your waistband, sneaking its way in, “Still okay?”

“A thousand percent.”

Her hand caressed your center just right, drawing small circles making moans and whines fall out of you with ease.

“What do you like?” she whispered in your ear before going back to kissing your neck.

Your face immediately got hotter than it already was, so you didn’t answer in fear of embarrassment.

“I won’t continue unless you tell me,” she stopped her motions with her hand.

You huff, “Uhm…” you racked your brain to remember. It had been so long since someone even thought about kissing you, “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she started moving her fingers again but ever so gently, “maybe some praise?”

“You can try that,” you were too embarrassed to say that it was what you wanted now that she said it.

“Yeah?” her hand felt down your wet folds before she continued on your clit, “I can do that.”

She kissed her way back up to your lips as her hand worked its magic. Your hands were tangled in her dark hair before one slid down her arm and told her hand to go inside. It followed orders and gently pushed inside of you.

You moaned loudly into her mouth when she began to slowly pump in and out of you.

“You feel so good, baby,” she smiled against your kiss.

That could’ve sent you over then edge right then but you didn’t want to seem too desperate, so you opted for a whine instead.

“Oh, you really liked that, should I say more?” she cooed.

You nodded your head biting your lip, “yess, fuck,” you forced out.

Her pace quickened so the moans became more frequent. Your eyes were already rolling to the back of your head, you couldn’t believe it.

“You’re doing so well, taking my fingers,” she growled this one out. You could tell Mami was coming out and you couldn’t wait much longer.

“God,” you breathed. Her fingers still plunging into you, you rode her hand and the pressure was quickly rising.

She smiled into the kiss once more when she quickened her pace so fast that you were rocking the bed.

“I can tell you’re close,” she huffed. Her head was slightly sweaty but it made her look even hotter. “So be a good girl, princess and cum for me.”

Your back arched, your toes curled, your eyes rolled, and the pressure finally released, “fffffuuuuck,” you whined.

She let you ride it out as long as it took, which was a few long seconds of you writhing underneath her. Her hand slowed as your breathing became more regular.

“That’s it,” she kissed your neck once more, “good girl.”

“Holy fuck,” you gasped as she pulled her hand out of your pants. She continued to kiss up your neck until meeting your lips for the last time.

“Was that okay?” she slipped off of you.

“That was…” you couldn’t really think, “crazy.”

“Yeah? Well we really have to go to bed now,” she sighed.

You looked at the clock and sighed with her, but then you immediately shot her a look, “we can nap instead of lunch tomorrow,” and you sprung up and straddled her.

“Oh shit,” she caught your thighs, then smiled at you devilishly, “deal.”

[junekissed]

packages, boxes and bags

day eight of junkissed's svt season's greetings event

member — boyfriend!seokmin x reader genre — the sweetest and purest fluff word count — 3.1k synopsis — you’re having trouble finding the perfect gift for your boyfriend on your first christmas together. maybe his friends can help. warnings — a little cursing, reader is called seokmin's girlfriend, pet names (baby, honey), they are so damn cute it hurts, when can i have my own seokmin god please i'm begging notes — lowercase intended. i apologize this is late but i was busy the past couple days and i also didn't have much inspo for this. so imagine my surprise when today i sit down at my laptop and boom three thousand words just. appear. but i am so happy with how this turned out and i hope you will be too. i must warn you all this is disgustingly sweet and precious and i definitely screamed into my pillow more than once while writing this. i hope you enjoy :) p.s. i promise this isn't an ad for kay jewelers— blame @duhnova for that

one reblog = one (almost) engagement ring

you shut your laptop closed and groan, putting your head in your hands. this was never going to work.

you’ve spent the better part of your day off on websites like amazon, macy’s, even walmart, trying to find the perfect gift for seokmin.

despite being together almost seven months now, it’s the first time you’ll be spending christmas together. and… you have absolutely no idea what to get him.

first you thought about getting him some little gadget for his computer at work, maybe a new keyboard or a cute new mouse pad. but then you remembered how he told you in passing the other day how he couldn’t stand how his job had him hunched over his computer all day, and he was thinking about looking for a new one where he wouldn’t have to be on it so much.

then you thought you might get him a nice framed picture of the two of you, something small to keep in his apartment for when you’re not there. but when you came over last weekend, the first thing he did was show you the digital photo frame he found in his closet that his mom got him for his birthday that he’d forgotten about. he was stoked to “finally be able to put it to good use” and had programmed it with dozens of pictures of the two of you.

you’d tried google. you’d looked at every gift-giving website under the sun. you’d even asked your best friend what she was getting for her boyfriend for christmas to see if it might spark an idea. 

but everything you come across is either something he already has, something he doesn’t need, or something he could easily get on his own.

so… you were stuck. thoroughly and completely stuck.

meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, seokmin is currently on the other side of town, running through the mall in a panic, trying to figure out what to get you.

he knows he shouldn’t have waited until three days before christmas to get his holiday shopping done, but he’s been busy– there’s a huge promotion up at his job, and he’s doing everything he can to get it. not only would it mean less sitting at his desk all day and more moving around, it would also mean a big raise, so you can finally move in together like you both have been wanting to. now that would be a perfect christmas present if he gets the position, but he won’t find out if he has or not until the new year, so that rules that out. 

it’s your first christmas together, so he really wants to go all out. winter is his favorite season, and now he gets to spend it with his favorite person, so why wouldn’t he make it something extravagant? except… he can’t find anything to get you.

so here he is at the mall downtown, ducking into every store and searching for something, anything that might give him an idea of a gift you might like.

he doesn’t wanna buy you clothes, because that’s lame, and also because he doesn’t wanna get something that’s not guaranteed you’ll like. what if you think the fabric is too itchy, or you don’t like the pattern? returning or even exchanging his gift would mean a big failure.

he doesn’t wanna buy you the trinkets he found at that one gift shop, because even though they are cute, they’re not special enough to get for you. these are the type of things he’d pick up for you on his way home from work as an everyday treat, or at the very most, a stocking stuffer; you deserve more than some cheap little thing he found on a whim.

he thought about getting you a new purse, because you said you’ve been needing one since the strap on your current one broke, but he’s pretty sure you already bought yourself one when your boss gave you an amazon gift card as a thank-you for all the overtime you’ve been doing lately.

it seems like everything he thinks of to get you is a dumb idea. so now he’s stuck. thoroughly and completely stuck.

you sigh, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your gallery, praying that one of the photos is hiding some kind of sign that’ll tell you exactly what to buy him. but as expected, there’s no magic word or wish list or qr code that leads to the perfect gift.

you’re just about to give up and call him and just ask him what he wants, when an idea hits you. calling him would be admitting to him you can’t think of something special to give him, but calling his friends… now that, that might get you somewhere. they’ve known him for way longer than you have, they must have some idea of things he likes or might want.

you quickly dial the number of his friend minghao. you’ve only met him a few times at some get-togethers, but he seems like the most responsible out of his group, and the most likely to give you a helpful answer.

he picks up on the first ring, but the voice that answers… isn’t minghao?

“hello seokmin’s girlfriend! this is minghao’s phone, how can i help you!”

“junhui, i told you to stop touching my phone!” you hear a voice in the background that you guess is minghao.

“fi-ine,” the first voice—junhui?—grumbles, and you hear a shuffling noise as you assume the phone is being passed back to its owner.

minghao sighs. “hi. sorry about him. what’s up?”

you try not to laugh at the phone mix-up. “just, uh, have a question for you.”

“mhm?” he prods.

“has… seok mentioned anything he wants for christmas? or, like, is there anything you know he needs?” you ask, hoping it sounds nonchalant.

he hums. “mm, not really. are you trying to come up with a christmas gift for him?”

you whine. “yeah. but i’ve tried everything, i can’t think of a single good thing to give him.”

minghao pauses. “he’s really sentimental, but you probably already figured that out by now. the best i can suggest is something homemade, or something related to some kind of memory you have together. he’d like that.”

you freeze. “i… i think i’ve got an idea,” you say jumping up from your chair. “you’re the best, minghao, i owe you big time for this.”

“don’t worry about it. merry christmas.”

you hang up the phone and open your laptop again. this just might work.

you hadn’t planned on spending this much on seokmin’s present, but why not go all out? sure, you’ll have to cut back on your morning coffee for a couple weeks, but it’ll be worth it to see the look on his face on christmas morning.

at the same time, across town seokmin’s just walking out of the jewelry store, a shiny velvet box tucked into his jacket pocket. it’s a lot more than he wanted to pay for it, but it’s better than showing up empty-handed. besides, if that promotion comes through like he hopes, he’ll pay it off in no time. it might have cost a small fortune, but he just knows it’ll look so pretty on you. he can’t wait to see you wear it.

christmas eve finally rolls around and you’re standing outside the door to seokmin’s apartment, your arms full of bags for the weekend you’re spending with him.

his entire face lights up the second he opens the door, and he squeezes you in a tight hug before giving you a soft kiss. “hi baby,” he says, almost shyly. “merry christmas.”

he grabs the bags from you to carry them inside, and you give him another kiss. ���merry christmas.”

he takes your things back to his room to set them down, then comes back out into the living room, wrapping his arms around you again. “i’m so glad you get to be here,” he says quietly.

“mm. me too.”

the room is quiet, besides the faint honking of cars outside. you snuggle up on the couch together, picking out a movie to watch, the dim lights casting a soft glow around the apartment.

“do you wanna open your present now?” he asks when the screen turns black and the credits slowly roll past.

“seok, you have to wait until christmas! we can’t open all our presents tonight!” you giggle, and he pouts.

“please?” he says, looking up at you with those big, pleading eyes you adore so much. 

“fine,” you concede. “but only one! or else we won’t have anything to open in the morning.”

he grins and gets down on the floor beside the couch, crawling over to the tree to grab a small wrapped box nestled into the bottom branches. he comes back over and sits at the base of the couch, putting one knee up as he hands you the box.

he grins up at you as you tear open the wrapping paper, revealing the soft velvet jewelry box.

you look down at him, and he nods eagerly, motioning for you to open it. you hesitate. it definitely looks expensive, way more than you would’ve wanted him to spend on you. but you did pay almost $300 renting the place for his gift, so you write it off as being even.

you delicately pry the box open with your fingernail, revealing a breathtaking ring absolutely covered in diamonds and intricate silver gilding. it gleams even in the low light, sitting in its little velvet box, staring up at you.

you gasp, throwing your hand over your mouth. “seokmin, what the fuck is this!?”

his smile instantly drops, the color draining from his cheeks. “do you not like it? i can probably still return it, i have the receipt–”

“no!” you shout, and he jumps, eyes wide. “no,” you repeat, calmer this time. “no, i love it. it’s gorgeous. i just– i thought we were doing… small presents first?” you stutter, still in shock at the beautiful piece of jewelry in your shaking hands.

he blushes. “i… wanted you to wear it now,” he murmurs.

you study him, and suddenly you realize he’s still down on the carpet on one knee. and everything finally clicks.

you scream as you jump up from the couch. “seokmin, you’re not proposing, are you?” you gasp.

“no?” he stammers, confused why you’d think he is, before realizing himself that he looks… well, he definitely looks like he’s proposing.

he hurriedly puts his knee down, sitting flat on the carpet. “i’m not! i’m not. this is just a really nice ring, i swear,” he rushes to explain. “at least, not yet,” he mumbles under his breath, but you don’t hear him. you’re still focused on the fact that there’s more diamonds in this ring than you can count on one hand.

you’re still standing in front of him, mouth hanging open, and he’s starting to get worried because you haven’t said a word in a few minutes. “do you want me to propose?” he asks hesitantly. because, screw it, he’s already got the nice ring; if you’re ready, then he’s ready, might as well—

“no! i mean, yes, i do, i really do, but not right now, i…” you trail off, not sure how to continue.

the room is silent, both of you staring at each other. after a minute he stands up, taking his seat back on the couch. “oh no,” he says, finally breaking the silence with a groan. “i ruined this, didn’t i?”

“no,” you sigh, having recovered enough from the shock to sit next to him again. “no, of course not. i’m just… surprised. i wasn’t expecting this. it must’ve cost a fortune.”

“it’s rude to ask someone the price of a gift, you know,” he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“trust me, i’m not asking,” you laugh. “i don’t even wanna know.”

“can… can i put it on you?” he asks, his voice getting soft again.

you look at him, and then at the glittering diamond ring in his hand, and you can’t not accept it. you nod, letting out a quiet “mhm” in agreement.

your eyes start to water as he slides it onto your finger, and he looks up worriedly when you sniffle. “it’s so pretty, oh my god,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

“please don’t cry,” he says softly, and he looks so upset that you have to reassure him you’re not mad and you just really, really like your gift. 

you admire how it looks on your finger for a second before you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around him.

“i love it, baby,” you murmur. “you really didn’t have to do this.”

he hums. “but i wanted to. i wanted to show you how much i love you.”

tears well up in your eyes again, and you bury your face in his neck to hide them. “you already show me. every single day.”

he sighs, a happy sigh, relaxing into your arms. “i’m glad you like it.”

you stay like that for a while, gently rocking back and forth on the couch, peacefully enjoying everything. the scent of his cologne wafts around you, a comforting, familiar smell, and the colorful lights of the christmas tree shine softly in the background. you wouldn’t want to spend christmas anywhere else.

you pull away a little, breaking the silence with a short laugh. “mine’s gonna look so stupid compared to yours,” you pout as you snuggle into his side, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“are you gonna make me wait until tomorrow to open it?” he asks, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“no,” you sigh. “it’s probably after midnight by now, anyway.” you lift yourself out of his arms, going back into his room to get his present from one of your bags.

it’s a lightweight little box, and you hand it down to him. the gift itself isn’t big in size, but you know he likes taking the wrapping off, so you put it in a box and wrapped it for him.

he waits for you to come sit beside him again, and he opens it, carefully tearing the red and green paper with a grin on his face.

he opens the box, revealing a small piece of paper. he looks back at you. “baby? what’s this?”

your cheeks heat up as you begin to explain, suddenly feeling shy about your gift. “well, i… i rented out the movie theater we went to on our first date, and i thought it would be fun to, just… spend the day there, i don’t know.” you trail off, looking down at your hands, until seokmin takes them in his own.

when you look back up at him, his smile is so wide, it almost looks like it hurts. “i love it,” he beams, his voice breaking a little. “that’s so thoughtful, honey. i really love it.”

he leans forward to squeeze you in a hug, and you can’t help but smile, too.

“this is the best christmas ever,” he sighs into your neck, holding you tightly against him. “love you so much.”

he sits back, pulling you onto his lap facing him. “do you know where i got the ring from?” he asks suddenly, locking his hands behind your lower back.

you look at him. “um, kay? it says it on the box.”

he grins. “and?”

you frown in confusion. “and… what?”

the tips of his ears turn pink. “y’know, their slogan? ‘every kiss begins with kay’? from the commercials?”

you blink at him.

he groans, rolling his head back. “can i just kiss you now, please?”

you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and rubbing your nose against his. “fine.”

and just as he’s about to, his pocket vibrates, and he pulls out his phone.

“my… boss?” he says, confused, showing you the screen.

you whine, resting your chin on his shoulder. “what does he want that can’t wait? it’s one in the morning on christmas eve– well, technically christmas morning, now.”

he looks at you with pleading eyes, and you sigh. “you can answer it. quickly, though, please?”

he presses a kiss to your cheek in thanks before sliding the button to accept the call, holding the phone up to his other ear. “hello?”

you can’t hear what’s being said on the other line, so you close your eyes, worn out from the night’s big surprises. you have a lot to do tomorrow—today—and you’ll need sleep if you want to spend the whole day with him like you want to.

seokmin sits up suddenly, startling you. you lean back, looking at him, wordlessly asking if something’s wrong. but he’s beaming, his smile so bright you’d think he’d just been told he won the lottery, and you crease your eyebrows in confusion.

he stays on the phone for another minute, listening intently. “thank you so much. merry christmas,” he says finally, then hangs up, tossing his phone to the other end of the couch.

“what? what is it?” you ask, still concerned despite his giddy expression.

he settles back, his hands sliding to your waist and holding you up on his lap. “i just got some news,” he says, and you know he’s being vague on purpose to draw out the suspense.

you pout. “well, are you gonna tell me, or not!”

he giggles, unable to hold it back any longer. “i got the promotion!” he yells.

your mouth falls open. “what promotion?” you ask, tentative.

“i didn’t wanna say anything unless i was sure, but there’s been a position available at the company, and they wanted to hire someone from within,” he says excitedly. “it wasn’t guaranteed that i’d get it, but i did! i got the promotion!”

“aw, seok! i’m so proud of you, baby,” you smile, leaning down to kiss him.

he pulls away after a second, and you look at him expectantly. “i have more news,” he says with a grin.

“and?”

“and… it comes with a big raise, so we’ll finally be able to afford a place together,” he beams, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling, and feel your eyes well up with tears, spilling down your cheeks.

he calls your name softly, and you look up at him. “are you… what do you think?” he asks, his big eyes searching your watery ones.

“i– i’m just so happy,” you stammer, leaning down to hug him again. “i love you so much. this is more than i could’ve ever asked for.” you bury your face in his neck, letting your tears of joy fall onto his sweater.

“merry christmas, honey.”

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[justagalwhowrites]

HI BESTIE !!! 🫂

i was wondering how Joel would react to Doc spoiling him ROTTEN after she got that big girl money 🫦 (in the lavender au)

(because i know she will spoil him so much as a thank you for his unwavering support throughout her career 🥹)

OMG Hi Bestie!

I love this ask so so SO much. Joel is so soft with his girls and he deserves all the good things, including his wife treating him to all the best things once she's a big time surgeon.

This is just the perfect prompt for our favorite man's birthday, too! I hope this is just what you were hoping for. Love you!

Spoiled

After years of Joel taking care of you, you take care of Joel. A one shot set in the Lavender AU timeline.

Yes I know it's not a Joel gif but it fits the fic so well I had to.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Joel and Doc from the Lavender AU)

Warnings: Fluff and smut, smut and fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.4K

It started with a shopping trip in Houston for Sarah’s wedding. 

She needed a dress for the rehearsal and her bachelorette party and the malls in Austin just weren’t cutting it. 

“I’m telling you,” she said after coming up empty handed on another Saturday spent shopping as the two of you ate salads and drank sweet tea at a patio cafe. “We need to go to Houston. We haven’t found anything for you, either.”

“I can just…” you began, but Sarah cut you off. 

“Mom,” she raised her brows. “You do not get to say ‘just’ anything about my wedding, come on.” 

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled. 

“Alright,” you put your hands up in surrender. “I’ve got the weekend off again in two weeks, I’ll get us a hotel room in Houston and we can shop til we drop.” 

“I’m going to get you comfortable with spending some of those big surgeon bucks one of these days,” she said. “You need to treat yourself! Live a little!” 

“I live plenty, thank you,” you replied. “And I do it just fine in my Goodwill jeans.” 

“Whatever you say,” she smirked a little, flagging down the server and grabbing the bill before you had a chance to fight her on it. 

Sarah might have had a point. You’d been an attending for the better part of a year now and the jump in pay had been staggering. You were making more now in a year than you had your entire life - or it felt that way, anyway. You’d already made good progress paying off your student loans but you made quick work of the rest. Joel had asked if you wanted to move - something bigger or better somehow - now that you could easily afford it but you’d just frowned at him, almost hurt. 

“This is our home,” you said. “I fell in love with you here, Sarah grew up here, we made Evie here. This is the first place I ever really felt like I belonged, I don’t want to leave.” 

Joel just smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“Then we’ll stay,” he said. “Moving’s a fuckin’ hassle anyway.” 

You’d just been saving money, not really sure what to do with it. You donated some of it, stopped spending time clipping coupons, finally bought a car that was from this decade (but still used). But actually spending it made you anxious. You’d never had money before. You weren’t poor, exactly. You’d always had enough to eat and a roof over your head but you almost never bought new clothes, had never really traveled outside of places that you could easily get to by car. You were pretty sure you’d never even been in a car that wasn’t at least 10 years old before you came to college and your friend Cassie gave you a ride to the store in her new BMW. It was hard to get used to the idea that money could be spent at all, that it wasn’t already earmarked for some bill or, if there was any left, that it had to be saved for a rainy day. 

“You gotta actually spend some of that hard earned money on yourself, Baby,” Joel said as you headed outside to meet Sarah for your weekend in Houston. “Buy some ridiculously expensive dress that I’m gonna want to rip off you in seconds or some purse that’s $1,000 for reasons I don’t understand.” 

“That’s two mortgage payments,” you said, eyes wide. 

“Baby.” 

“Right, right,” you nodded. “On a mission, spend money. Got it.” 

“On yourself,” he added. “Not Sarah. Or not just Sarah, anyway. You two have fun.” 

“You too,” you said, stretching up to kiss him goodbye. “Don’t let Evie con you into giving her candy when she gets home from school.” 

“What wild thing and I get up to when you’re not around is none of your business,” he gave you one last peck on the lips. “Now go, stop worryin’, live a little.” 

The mall in Houston was almost overwhelming. Not in the crowds way malls sometimes were for you, thank goodness, but with the kinds of stores. There were names you recognized from Cassie’s closet and from some of the trust fund girls in your med school program but you realized quickly you had no concept of what things like this actually cost. 

Sarah picked a dress for the rehearsal that was nearly $600 and you choked on the champagne the sales person had given you to sip while Sarah tried on options. 

“You really buy $600 dresses?” You gaped at her as you wandered back into the store from the dressing rooms. 

“Not all the time,” she shrugged. “But we make good money and sometimes it’s fun to buy something nice.” 

She held up a floor length gown to you, the bottom pooling on the ground. 

“That’s too long,” you said. 

“Well we’d get it tailored,” she laughed a little. “Come on, try it on.” 

Another sales person wandered over and offered to set up a fitting room and you snuck a peek at the price tag. Your eyes went wide. 

“That dress is $1200!” You whispered at Sarah as you trailed after the attendant. 

“And it’s for my wedding,” she replied. “And don’t you have that gala thing every spring for work? You can wear it for that, you need a new dress for that anyway. Plus I’m the bride and I say you have to try it on. You can’t disappoint the bride.” 

You sighed and went into the fitting room, feeling utterly out of place in your second hand Levis and vintage top you’d picked up on a shopping trip a few weeks back that felt much more your speed. 

But the dress - outside of the length - looked like it had been made for you. The silk hugged your every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to display just enough cleavage to be sexy but not so much that it would be scandalous. It was simple, no embellishments beyond the structure of the dress and the deep emerald green of the fabric. Normally you’d have scoffed at something so basic fetching such a high price but, now that it was on your body, you understood it. It was like you’d put on a work of art and, in doing so, become art yourself. 

“OK you can’t laugh,” you said. “But I’m coming out.” 

Sarah was waiting patiently in the little show room attached to your fitting room and you had to hold up the hem of the dress to not trip but she gasped all the same. 

“Oh Mom,” her hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. “You look incredible.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning in the mirrors to look at yourself from every angle. “I don’t look like I’m playing dress up?” 

“Not at all,” she spoke with almost a sense of reverence, looking you up and down. “You’re getting that dress. I’ll buy it for you if you won’t…” 

“No, Sarah,” you protested but she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture before you had a chance to really realize what she was doing. “What was that for?” 

“I’m sending this to Dad…” her voice trailed off and she took a sip of champagne just as her phone rang. She smirked and answered, putting it on speaker phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey old man, your wife is trying to tell me this dress costs too much.” 

“I don’t care if that dress costs $200,000 she’s bringing it home,” Joel said. “She hear me?” 

“Yes,” Sarah smiled, a shit eating grin if there ever was one. 

“Good,” he said. “Baby, you look so damn amazing I’m about to jump in the truck and drive over there just to see you in that thing in person sooner. Save me a trip, bring it home, alright?” 

“Alright,” you sighed. 

“Didn’t quite hear that,” Joel said. 

“I said alright you dork,” you said a little, grinning in spite of yourself. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You bought the dress. And a bag that Sarah insisted you needed for work because she was tired of seeing you haul around a canvas tote. And shoes for the dress. 

When you passed the jeweler window, you were on the way to the car after spending so much money you were surprised you hadn’t fainted. You stopped, the hanger with the garment bag for the dress hooked in your fingers over your shoulder, and looked at the watch sitting in the window. 

It was large and silver but not too ornate, no diamonds or anything like that. The face of the watch was black with elegant white roman numerals on the face. 

“What?” Sarah asked, stopping next to you. 

“Do you think your dad would like that?” You asked, head cocked a little, still looking at the timepiece through the glass. 

“Yeah,” Sarah said after a moment. “Seems like a him watch, if he were going to wear a nice watch, anyway.” 

Joel did already have a watch. A simple one with a green strap and silver colored case and a black face. You and Sarah had picked it out together for his birthday one year. She’d been giddy about it, you had to all but beg her to keep it a secret for a few days until it came time to give it to him. He loved the thing, wore it every day, even more than a decade later. 

But your career wasn’t the only one that had advanced. Joel was no longer doing the manual labor of a contractor every day. More often than not, he was going to meet with clients and arrange contracts and make plans. For a lot of those meetings, he wore a suit and, for a lot of those meetings, you saw him stick his watch in his pocket before leaving the house instead of putting it on. 

“Hard sometimes,” he said when you’d asked him about it. “Fittin’ in with these clients.” 

“Let me just…” you doubled back to the entrance to the store and went inside. 

The watch was more than you thought it would be. A lot more. So, so much more. You watched as the sale’s person’s eyes went from encouraging and hopeful to let down when you reacted to the price. 

“One second,” you smiled sheepishly and pulled out your phone, going into your banking app. Even after spending an arm and a leg on yourself that day, the number in your personal checking account seemed obscenely high. More money than you’d ever had at once until very, very recently. You could afford the watch. You looked at the sales person and smiled. 

“I’ll take it.” 

You had several very strong cocktails when out to dinner with Sarah that night to make yourself feel a little better about spending thousands of dollars on things like clothes and a watch and she just smiled. 

“See, Mom? You spent some money on yourself and the apocalypse did not happen, I think you can actually buy yourself things from time to time.” 

“And things for your dad,” you said. “Because he needs nice things, too.” 

When you got home, Joel insisted that you model the dress for him. 

“It needs to be tailored,” you tried to protest. 

“Not for me to take it off you it doesn’t,” he smiled from his spot on the couch, beer in hand. 

“Fine,” you said. “But only if you let me model everything I bought and you can’t return any of it.” 

“Deal.” 

You went to your bedroom and put on the dress and the shoes and took the watch out of the bag, the face almost comically large on your wrist, before going back to the living room, hem of the dress in hand. 

“Jesus Christ Baby,” he looked at you, his eyes wide. “You look… fuck me.” 

“That is the idea,” you winked. “You like it?” 

“Like is a fuckin’ understatement,” he said, getting up and walking around you slowly, his eyes going up and down your body. “You know, Evie’s at a friend’s for two more hours…” 

“So you’re not going to make me return anything I have on?” You asked. 

“Fuck no.” 

“Not this dress?” You started unzipping the side before sliding the straps down your arms. 

“Dress stays,” he said, gently tugging it down and exposing your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts. 

“What about the shoes?” You asked, putting a sandaled foot out from below the hem. He glanced down, eyes ranging over the straps. 

“Those stay, too,” he said, going back to kissing your chest. “Everything you’ve got on stays, already agreed to that.” 

“Good,” you said as he made it to your neck. “Even this?” 

You held up your wrist, the watch sliding down your arm. 

He frowned, looking at it. 

“Don’t look like you’re style,” he said. “But if it makes you happy, Baby, keep it.” 

“Never said it was for me, Joel,” you smiled a little. You watched him piece it together, taking a moment for him to dawn on him. 

“No,” he shook his head, looking from your arm to your face. “No, you were supposed to get stuff for yourself for a change not…” 

“I did get stuff for me,” you said. “And I got this for you. Because you’re wearing suits more now and I wanted you to have the watch for that. So really, it is for me.” 

He took your wrist gently in one hand, elbow in the other, tilting your arm this way and that to look at the watch in different lights. 

“Baby, this…” he shook his head again. “This is too much, this is…” 

“Not for you,” you cut him off. “Not after everything you’ve given me. This is not enough. But it’s a start. Besides, you said I got to keep everything I was wearing. You already agreed to it, Miller.” 

“Baby,” he sighed. 

“Joel,” you smiled a little. “You’re my husband. Let me give you something nice. Please.” 

He brought the inside of your wrist to his lips and kissed you there, making your pulse flutter against his mouth. 

“Already gave me the best thing there is,” he said. “Anything more feels like I’m stealin’ it.” 

“Steal whatever you want, Miller,” you teased. “But you’re keeping the watch.” 

Joel ended up wearing the watch often. Not as much as the Sarah watch - and he stuck with the Sarah watch for her wedding - but at least once a week for meetings where he needed to dress up for. Every time you gave him a little knowing smile and every time he rolled his eyes a little before kissing you goodbye. But you had yet to get him to accept anything like it in the years since, Joel trying to dodge everything every time you spent money on him. 

So when his birthday was around the corner, you were bound and determined to get him something good. 

“Anything you want for your birthday?” You asked as you, Joel and Ellie wandered around a street fair, meandering towards the car show. “Anything you want to do?” 

“S’not like it’s a big one,” he shrugged. “Just 56. Would love to see all my girls, of course. Could use some new tongs for the grill.” 

“Tongs?” Ellie said, brows raised. “Seriously? Old people are so WEIRD.” 

“You know what kiddo?” Joel smiled a little, faking exasperation. “We’ll see how you’re doin’ when you’re pushin’ 60.” 

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose and wandered to the first car in the row of vehicles on display. You laughed, strolling along with Joel until he stopped at a beautiful old convertible, giving a low whistle. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Just a pretty fuckin’ car,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly around it. “Always wanted one of these when I was a kid.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, getting an idea. 

“Neighbor had one,” he nodded. “Let me ride in the back once. Coolest fuckin’ car.” 

He looked over every inch of the thing and Ellie caught up with you while he did, pouting a little as she leaned on the door of the car, her chin propped on her folded arms. 

“I’m starving,” she groaned. “Can I go get some fries at least?” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “Grab me a lemonade, too?” 

You watched as she went to the food stands and you and Joel moved on, walking slowly down the row of cars when Ellie caught up with you again, passing you the lemonade. Joel stole a fry from her cup. 

“Hey!” She protested. “Go get your own!” 

“Might have to,” he said, giving her a wink. “Back in a sec.” 

You waited until he was out of earshot before you grabbed Ellie. 

“Do me a favor,” you said. “That car we were looking at? The blue one? Can you go talk to the owner and find out what make, model and year it is?” 

“I guess,” she frowned. “Why?” 

“Because,” you said. “I found something your dad wants besides tongs.” 

You went and stood in line with Joel, keeping him distracted while Ellie did recon. She took some pictures of the car and texted you all the information which you texted to Andrew as Joel drove home from the fair. 

“Can you help me find this car?” You asked him. “One that’s for sale?”

“Becoming a collector?” He texted back. 

“Joel’s birthday,” you added a smilie face emoji. 

“Excellent,” he replied. “I’ll find you something, don’t worry.” 

It took a few weeks but Andrew found the car. A blue 1967 Mustang Convertible that was being sold down in San Antonio. He went down with you to help you test drive it - you didn’t know a damn thing about cars - and you bought it on the spot. 

“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Andrew said, driving it home since you couldn’t drive stick. “Seriously, you might give the man a heart attack…” 

You rolled your eyes but laughed all the same. 

“I really hope he loves it,” you said, running your fingers over the dash. 

“I’ll take it off your hands if he doesn’t,” Andrew smiled. “Just don’t tell Jess.” 

Tommy agreed to store the car in his garage until Joel’s party at his house in two weeks and you were giddy as you drove home, feeling like a kid at Christmas as you tried to keep the car a secret. 

By the time the party rolled around, even Ellie was excited and having a hard time holding it together. 

“It’s really just a cookout at Tommy’s,” Joel said as the three of you piled in the car to head over. “Not sure why you two are actin’ like we’re going to fuckin’ Six Flags…” 

“Tommy’s cooler than you,” Ellie said. “Nice to spend time with someone who isn’t a total dinosaur…” 

“Alright, in the car kiddo,” Joel smiled and shook his head a little. “Can’t take you anywhere ’til seatbelts are on, let’s go!” 

You texted Tommy that you were on the way and he responded with a picture of the car, shiny in his driveway with a big, red bow on the hood. 

“He’s going to lose his mind, Kid,” he texted back. “Please tell Maria I want this same treatment when I’m old.” 

“Better put in some work to deserve it, Miller,” you replied, smiling a little. 

Joel parked on the street, frowning at the car in Tommy’s driveway. 

“When the hell’d Tommy get a Mustang?” He got out, his frown deepening. You almost laughed. 

“He didn’t,” you smiled, so big it was like your face was going to crack. 

Joel looked confused for half a moment before his mouth dropped open in shock. 

“No,” he shook his head. Ellie leaned between the front seats, grinning hugely, “No, no that’s… Baby. No.” 

“Suck it up, old man,” Ellie smirked as Sarah and Brandon came out of the house, little Carson making a beeline for the car. Sarah and Brandon waved as Tommy and Maria joined them in the yard. Ellie pulled the keys out of her pocket and dangled them between you and Joel. He took them, staring at them in his hand for a second.

“Should take it before I do,” Tommy hollered and you laughed as you got out of the car and followed an almost dazed Joel toward the Mustang. 

He walked, in awe, around the car twice. 

“I…” he said but stopped, staring at the convertible for a moment. “I don’t….” 

“Do you like it?” You asked, coming up beside him and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Fuckin’ love it,” he said, immediately looking at you. “But Baby, this is too much, way too much, I can’t…” 

“Yes you can,” you smiled up at him. He looked down at you, the awed expression still on his face. “After everything you’ve done for me? For us? Everything you’ve sacrificed, all the ways you take care of me and our girls? The life you gave me? Still not enough, Joel. Not for you.” 

He pulled you tight to him and kissed the top of your head. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice wet. “So goddamn much, Baby.” 

Tommy set up chairs and a table in the front yard so everyone could sit near the car while celebrating Joel. He kept looking over at it in disbelief before looking at you with eyes filled with gratitude and wonder. You couldn’t remember the last time your heart felt quite so full. 

You drove Ellie home, following slowly behind Joel in the new convertible. 

“OK I know what this shit means,” Ellie said, gesturing between you and Joel after you got home, your husband clutching you to his side. “Try to keep it down and not be gross about it because ugh.” 

“Was actually going to see if you wanted to take the car for a spin,” you smiled up at Joel. “Just you and me. Assuming Ellie will behave herself and actually go to bed at a reasonable time.” 

“Anything to get away from whatever that is,” Ellie said, smiling a little as she went to her room. You laughed. 

“So,” you said, once she closed the door to her room. You looked up at Joel, smiling. “Care to take me for a ride, Mr. Miller?” 

He grinned.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Miller.” 

He took you through town slowly, down quiet side streets filled with sleeping people and past businesses that had closed for the night, until the two of you ended up at a large park on the edge of town where things were a little darker and you could see some of the stars. 

“I can’t believe you got me a car, Baby,” he said, his hands running over the steering wheel. His smile was so big you could see it even in the dim light of the moon. “It’s really…” 

“If you say it’s too much again, Joel, I will go and buy you a second one on principle.” 

He laughed at that. 

“I was gonna say it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, turning to look at you. “Besides you and the girls of course.” 

“Oh, of course,” you smiled. 

He leaned in and kissed you gently. 

“Not sure what I did to deserve you,” he said. “But I sure am grateful for it.” 

Your kiss shifted and you started climbing over the center console, Joel taking a second to move his seat all the way back. You bunched your skirt around your hips and settled over him, kissing him harder, more eager. 

“I’m pretty damn grateful for you,” you whispered against his mouth, his hands going to your hips. You ground down on him and he moaned, pressing his hard length up against you through his jeans. “And I think the birthday boy should get laid in his dream car.” 

“Dream car,” he said, kissing you. “Dream woman.” He kissed you again. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday.” 

You unzipped his fly as you kissed him and tucked your panties to the side, notching his cock against your entrance. He moaned as you sank slowly down onto him, taking all of him inside of you, savoring how he filled you. 

You started slowly, just grinding him deeper into you as you kissed him, his tongue licking into your mouth. 

“You feel fuckin’ amazing Baby,” he moaned, kissing down your throat until he reached your breasts, cleavage bared in your v-neck top. “Always feel so damn good…” 

He was thrusting up into you, trying to set his own pace, and you decided to allow that, matching him stroke for stroke as he groaned below you. His hands ranged up your back, pawing at your shirt until be was able to raise it enough to slide below it and get at your skin with a satisfied moan. He clutched you close, so close that you could hardly move over him anymore. Instead, he fucked up into you, making you whimper and your channel tighten around him. 

“C’mon Baby,” he grunted, voice strained. “Want you to come for me. All I want now is you to come for me, come all over me, fuck Baby…” 

You bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet, the sounds of crickets and cicadas on the air as you came, your sex throbbed around him. You whimpered against him as you came down from your high and he kept working you, his grip on you tightening. 

“Fuck Baby,” he gasped. “Feel too good, I’m gonna… fuck… I’m…” 

He cut himself off with a groan, thrusting deep and filling you, his grip on you relaxing enough that you could sit up a little. You looked at him in the moonlight his eyes closed, a blissed out look on his face. You smiled a little, brushing his more unruly curls back from his forehead. 

“I love you so much, Baby,” he smiled a little, eyes still closed. 

“So I did alright for your birthday?” You teased lightly, his softening cock still buried inside you. 

He laughed. 

“Did perfect,” he tugged you close enough that he could kiss you again, careful to not push you back against the horn. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday, perfect fuckin’ woman, perfect fuckin’ wife.” 

“Good,” you smiled, kissing him. “You deserve it, Joel. You deserve the world.”