#the jacket is based on my real life coat (the difference being that my coat is olive green and a bit longer)

[continuousmeowing]

haven't rlly finalized anything but i've made some fun little sketches!!!! hoping to finish this up tomorrow!!!!

i should make a killjoysona.......(<- guy who has sooo many things to get done)

[adachimoe]

Adachi and Bayside Shakedown / Odoru Daisosasen

On the 12th ep of Persona Stalker Club, Atlus responded to a question about Adachi being familiar with the Moonlight Bridge, which I posted about before.

To recap: Adachi mentions the Moonlight Bridge in P4AU because he used to be stationed in the Iwatodai city center, lived near, and would drive back to HQ over the Moonlight Bridge to imitate a character from a cop show that was popular back in the day.

After, the hosts of PSC talk about the cop show he's imitating being "that" show. They don't name it, but bring up a slide of Adachi wearing his jacket from P4AU that's labelled Odoru Keisatsu?! meaning Dancing Police, but they aren't talking about Adachi dancing lol (I mean, on the other hand, P4D *does* exist).

The "odoru" part makes it clear this is referring to something else.

As Soejima says in the Design Works, this is *not* a classic yellow PVC raincoat, but actually a mods coat. The bit I circled here in pink says mods coat.

Anyway, after showing Adachi in his coat, one of the PSC hosts, Isocchi, talks about Adachi taking off his coat, and hearing him say "You can't close the Moonlight Bridge!" in Madono's voice.

To go back to why they labeled him in his mods coat as Odoru Keisatsu -- the label and Isocchi's quote are references to Odoru Daisosasen, also known in English as Bayside Shakedown.

The specific line she's referencing can be seen here in this clip at 37 seconds where the character Aoshima says, "You can't lockdown the Rainbow Bridge!"

What all does this have to do with Adachi? In Bayside Shakedown, the character of Aoshima is a detective who works on Odaiba (one of the inspirations for Port Island in P3). The Moonlight Bridge in P3 is based on the real life Rainbow Bridge, altho it's in a bit of a different location. Additionally, Aoshima is a detective. He wears a mods coat (but his is green) and a red tie (!) and he also happens to collect model guns. (‾◡◝)

(To my knowledge, Aoshima hasn't killed anyone.)

Btw, I looked up yellow mod coat on Japanese fashion websites and found ones that cost like $600. No wonder Adachi can only afford cabbage...

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(Riddle) Headmage, were you just snacking/sleeping in class?! You need to set a better example for the other students! Furthermore, is this truly the best use of your time to be attending lessons instead of running the school?

Crowley does, in fact, have magic history lesson lines in which he is falling asleep in class and/or sneaking some of his lunch during the lecture 🤡 A real inspiration to us all...

I chose to give Crowley some chicken here because some have pointed out that Sage's Island looks like a drumstick 🍗 and he’s in a different class because I have another Crowley-staff interaction coming up that is Trein-based. I want to give the other teachers some of the spotlight!

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

"Wh-What...?!"

At Riddle's stern accusation, Crowley's consciousness snapped back into place like a rubber band. He bolted up on his seat and swiveled to face the boy.

It was difficult to take him seriously when a piece of fried chicken was lodged in his mouth—the result of trying to snack while falling asleep mid-lecture. (Thankfully, Crowley removed it before he spoke. Not so thankfully, he waved the drumstick at Riddle as though it added to his rebuttal.)

“I will have you know that I am nothing short of being the exemplary pupil. You understand that a mage must look after their health to be at maximum spellcasting potential, correct? Therefore, it is imperative that we receive adequate nutrition and rest—of which I am demonstrating!"

Riddle openly grimaced, but kept his volume low. "Self-care activities are not meant to be carried out during classes, but outside of them."

"Oh, how little you know, Rosehearts-kun!" Crowley sighed. "The life of a headmaster is a demanding one, I'm afraid. My schedule is packed to the brim with meetings and administrative tasls, I can scarcely catch a wink or sleep or a reliable meal.”

Riddle stared hard at the uneaten chicken leg. Crowley slowly hid it inside of his cape.

“A-Anyway! Even now, I am hard at work observing you students so that we may utilize your experiences to improve school curriculum and facilities. If I wished for a small reprieve, could you truly hold that against me?!"

"Headmaster!”

The bark came from the front of the lecture hall, belonging to a man in a black and white striped fur coat. He thrusted his pointer in Crowley’s direction, the crimson dog’s collar and white gemstone affixed to it catching the classroom lights. His students followed where it led: to Crowley.

“Do you have something to share with the class,” Crewel inquired tightly, “since it seems you are preoccupied with chattering during my lesson?“

“Erm… N-No, not at all, Professor Crewel! I simply found myself so engrossed in your materials, I was overcome with a myriad of emotions!!”

His colleague arched a brow.

Crowley loudly cleared his throat. “Y-You may carry on as you were!”

“Contain yourself next time. My patience can only be worn so thin,” Crewel warned. “Now then, if you’ll turn to page 225 in your textbooks…”

When the teacher looked away, Crowley practically melted, becoming one with his chair.

“Whew…! Professor Crewel looked as though he was going to flay me and then turn my lovely feathers into a new jacket!!” he lamented. This time, softly. “Oooh, why must these tragedies and misunderstandings continue to plague me?”

Riddle shook his head. The smirk on his mouth made no attempts to be sad, only satisfactory. “I did try to caution you.”

He returned to following along with the lecture, leaving Crowley to his slacking.

[emotionally-charged-arson]

Character lineup, Transitus historical redesign edition. In their sepia tone versions, in actual artwork they’d be drawn against some pretty vibrant painted backgrounds. Come back to me on that. Been meaning to do this for a while!

Have some design notes:

Daniel - Third from left. In @hawthorn-crow’s words: "like a stiff breeze would blow him over." His shoulders/upper body have deliberately been scaled down from that of real-life Tommy Karevik. I don’t know how else to say this but if I were Henry I wouldn’t be easing around in my brother’s personal life if he could drop kick me directly into the sun. Looks pretty normal, all things considered. The "standout" trait comes from the trust fund kid status: his clothes have a LOT of variety. Literally a different jacket, vest and tie almost every single scene in a period where that was not something easily attainable. Common thing between all of the ‘normal’ outfits is the little watch chain, somewhat prominently displayed.

Abby - Third from right. The exact opposite as Daniel; cycles through two or three outfits maximum outside of her work uniform before 1884. Her box braids are thicker than the original design. Has a pair of emerald drop earrings; gift from the himbo. As for the shoes, homegirl is working minimum 13-hour days, for Christ’s sake, put some treads on those industrial strength high heels. She likes quilting Why? Cause I said so and wanted her to have hobbies like human beings do. The dress shown here is one fabric/color all the way down, but the seams form a fun little pattern that looks nothing like fire haha what.

Henry - Second from left. Lots of age lines, grey streaks. Visibly much older than Daniel. Loads of aggressive angles, you want a sense of the douchebag aura from a distance. Literally Andrew Carnegie but with none of the redeeming qualities. Really narcissistic and intent on showing off his status and is thus obsessed with outward appearance. Sharply dressed and deliberately so. Flashy, patterned waistcoats and one very expensive and painstakingly tended to pair of sideburns.

Lavinia - Second from right. Same as Abby, just a few outfits to her name and sturdier shoes. Though she comes off to me as someone who has expensive tastes that can’t be pursued to their fullest extent. Don’t we all. Pays close attention to new fashion and alters her existing clothes (and hair) accordingly under budget. Is keen on appearing above her station, though not with any malicious intent. More just a desire to fit in and look nice.

Abraham - Far right. The beta version of Abraham of from the earbook bonus pages is peak and this is very heavily inspired by that. Has not purchased any major clothing items for himself since the mid 1860s; he’s got other priorities. Any new stuff is smaller, and usually cut from the same material as Lavinia’s skirts. Fabrics are worn out (along with their dyes) and lots of layers are worn as a result. Outermost layer that he wears pretty much everywhere on account of it being the only coat he has is a bleached and dyed Union army jacket.

Dee - Far left. Entire character is defined by being stuck in the past. Like Abraham his clothes are very 1860s based but in a more fashion forward and emotionally stunted, "I never got over my wife dying a d am making it my kids’ problem" way, as opposed to the much more reasonable "being impoverished" route. Hair is also very much mid-century and meant to look out of place next the shorter, clean-cut 70s/80s style that Henry has. ….old. Like basically on death’s door, he kicks the bucket almost immediately after Daniel does.

[chrispy3]

THE LEGION OF STATIONERY!!

human edition :)

sooo i had designs of them before but since i have replayed the game recently i thought i would revamp them!

design thoughts! (and pronouns)

Colored Pencils (he/him):

- Red case translated to red coat! I also wanted to include the pencil design on the ends of his coat since thats something i did in the og design and still thought was super fun!

- i added sort of a pencil shaving ‘spats’ onto his boots bc i had it at the top of the old boots but changed how the boots looked and didn’t want to lose that little detail!

- his hair is ringlets dyed different colors ofc to mimic colored pencils :)

Rubber Band (she/he/they):

- mostly i just tried to mimic the shape of rubber band in the game! so the hair loops up top, and the shape of his garments!

- i did add a cape attached to the choker around their neck, because it felt fitting for her to have a cape to whip around dramatically (and it adds to the silhouette nicely i think!)

Hole Punch (he/him):

- probably the most similar to my og design! i mostly wanted to change up the colors a bit

- i wanted to give him like a very classic looking disco outfit, because i think if someone is as into disco as hole punch is, they will go hard on the aesthetic! (btw i think his fit is probably also super shiny/glittery in some way i just didnt do that here! (omg i should do a version with tassles))

- but obviously with the twist of lots of (i forget what theyre actually called but the holes punched into his outfit)(this word always escapes me… gibberts?? gibbets… widgets? w…something…)

Tape (they/she):

- i thought it would be cool if they had a sort of biker gangster vibe so i incorporated some of that look into their design (their hairstyle, taped chest/jacket combo, loose baggy pants)

- they do have gold knuckles that are supposed to be like the tape ripper thingy :)

- i do also enjoy the idea of tape having a bike! i just didnt draw one fjfjfj

Scissors (she/her):

- i wanted her to be the tallest and Most Intimidating looking

- the ballet sort of look is something i picked up from the way scissors moved in the fight, i translated the fact scissors basically stands on a point into someone standing on their tiptoes and then i kind of based most of the rest of her look on that (which gave me some good excuses to add bows that look like the handle of a pair of scissors hehe!)

- she also has two blades that are basically If U Ripped A Pair Of Scissors In Half i just didnt draw them

Stapler (he/him):

- i picked a dog breed that i thought would fit the way stapler looks in game! so a longer bigger kind of dog with a shiny black coat :)

- he is a doberman pinscher! idk i think hes just a little guy. i may have drawn him a lil small idk i didnt properly reference like scale or anything

oh speaking of scale! in reference to real life im thinking that these guys are actually around the size you would imagine most craft supplies to be (so like scissors being several inches at the most (some of them in craft supply form are obviously more long than tall so i just improvised what i thought would be fitting)) and then mario would just probably be eeny in comparison like he is in the game haha

[mimiiis]

Again (Steven Grant x fem!reader )

(photo not mine, will remove if asked!)

Summary: After going on many failed dates, you give Steven a chance.

Warnings: Not-proofread, Fluff? idk what to call this, mentions of bad past relationships, men r trash but Steven

A/n: This is like not my best so please be nice 😭 Idk where I was going with this but i kinda like how it turned out. Loosely based off of the song We’ll Never Have Sex. I hope yall like it and if you have any tips on how i can improve my writing PLEASE be kind and leave them down below :)

The wind howled outside as you sat at the table, staring at the falling rain from the window. The leaves flying in the wind as your eyes followed them made nothing in the moment seem real.

I’m screwed.

You thought, acknowledging the fact you didn’t have an umbrella nor coat suitable enough to protect you from the harsh winds. The sudden storm caught you off guard, reminding you that you forgot to check the weather before leaving home. You cursed yourself as you slumped down, laying your head in your hands, asking yourself why you were even in this god forsaken restaurant in the first place.

It’s because men are horrible beings , you reminded yourself. Or are you just too weak? You were always getting into relationships and situations where they’d throw you around, use you when they wanted to be satisfied , always only called upon when it met their own convenience. And you never once said anything, always glad you were the slightest bit wanted.

Then one day you got sick of it, casted out every man who you deemed unworthy and disgusting. But that lead you to soon realize it was easier to get out of these situations rather than stopping yourself from getting in them.

Poor old Y/n, always too nice to say no to a guy. ‘He might be better than the last!’ you always tell yourself. Only to be left high and dry in the end , like always.

Today was no different.

You were being set up with some guy through a friend, she said he seemed nice enough for you so you took a chance and you agreed to a blind date. Now you were sitting alone, in a restaurant far from home, stuck in a storm.

“Knew I shouldn’t have come.” You whispered to yourself. Grabbing your things to go before the bell of the door suddenly rung. The winds outside roared as someone pushed himself through and into the quite establishment.

“Woah!” He half yelled, half awkwardly chuckled at the same time. Dripping from head to toe, he stood at the entrance and started to shake his hair off. Grabbing napkins, he began to pat himself down as best as he could.

You stared in astonishment, realizing that that was the man you had been waiting for. Looking exactly like the pictures your friend had sent you. For some reason, you had half the mind to want to yell. But the other half wanted to laugh loudly at him. All you did was sit in place, contemplating on what you should do or say to the wet man at the door when or if he walks up to you.

And just on cue, he looked up and around the restaurant as you thought of him. Your mind starting to race as you grabbed your phone, pretending to be on it and praying he had not seen you staring.

The squelching of his shoes was heard as he made his way to you. Your heart beating faster and faster as he got closer. Then the wet noises finally stopped, and you looked up.

There he stood in front of you. A man with an awkward but handsome smile whose jacket and jeans were dripping wet. His hands fidgeting with the paper he was previously using to dry himself with, he asked “A-Are you Y/n?”

You stared at him, surprised at how attractive he actually was in real life. Something about him and his aura almost put you in a trance as you took him and his entireness in. You wanted to look away but couldn’t. The noise of a nearby notification going off is what brought you back to reality.

“Oh! Uhm yes, I am. Steven right? Please, sit! I’m sure it was freezing outside, let’s order you something warm yeah?” You finally responded , extending your hand out to the seat across from yours, urging him to sit down.

“Yes! and a-alright then.” He said in a slightly shocked and nervous tone. He slowly took a seat, taking off his jacket to reveal a complete dry shirt.

“Quite the weather we’re having, huh?” You commented, glancing outside and back at him, trying to set up a conversation.

“Yeah, came outta of nowhere! Was waitin’ for my bus and before I knew it i was drippin’” He started, “thankfully I had my jacket and was able to keep the better half of me dry.”

The way he spoke so excitedly made you want to giggle. ‘ Cute’ you thought. “Yeah, I hadn’t seen today’s forecast so I was caught off guard, horrible.” You said.

“It’s not quite horrible, let’s you remember that nature can always surprise you even if you think you know it all.” He tells you in a somewhat solemn manner.

“You big about that stuff? Nature and how life works?” You ask, curious on his slight change in tone.

“Oh me? Not really, I just yknow- Somethin’ I like to think about some times.” A ghost of a smile appears on his lips at the end.

Something about the action and manner of how he spoke made you want him to talk forever, even though you’d just met him. Strange, you thought . But payed it no mind.

You stayed quiet for longer than you’d intended, realizing an awkward silence was slowly creeping into the conversation you wanted to build.

“Oh so , Museum! My friend knows you from her job there right? Why’d you start working there?” You spoke ,wanting to know more about the man in front of you hoping that he would answer with some type of energy he previously had brought.

“Well you see, I actually love Egyptian Mythology! And the place I work at has an exhibition of all that sorts of stuff, I enjoy telling people about the stories of each artifact and how the ancient civilization used them. I find it to be interesting.” Steven said, so enthusiastically it almost stunned you. You’d never met a man who answered that question correctly, let alone so happily.

“Really? Personally, I don’t know much about that stuff but I’ve always admired how advanced such an ancient civilization was.” You wanted to urge him on, to have him to express his interest more to you. Seemed like a good conversation starter. “I usually like the stories in all that type of stuff, what’s your favorite?” You asked.

Steven looked shocked that you asked that question. He starred at you almost dumbfoundedly,and a spark in his eyes lit up. The slouched position of his shoulders soon perked up, his back straightening as he brought his hands up when he began to talk.

He spoke with such excitement , every word and description he told lured you in and made you feel as if you were there. He told you stories after stories and how they all connected to each other. He explained how a certain artifact was used during the mummification process, how or why they stored certain things, inventions and their uses.

This man in front if you shared so much information you didn’t even know one person could hold. The way every word flowed so easily out of his mouth seemed as if he had rehearsed how he was going to say them hours beforehand. It all drew you closer and closer to him, the entire time you listened to his rambling. More than half an hour had past and you still wanted more.

-

When Steven had arrived and you two had gotten to talking, it was around sunset. But now, the wind and rain settled, and the moon had come out. Shining behind parting clouds and illuminating the outside , the two of you continued to talk. About anything and everything.

You had found out Steven actually worked the gift shop, and was not a tour guide like you had originally thought . You told him that he’d be an amazing one, how he should stick up for himself and tell his boss he deserved that position! This lead to a conversation about annoying supervisors from old jobs, then to favorite restaurants, to old childhood memories, and the list went on and on.

He was unlike any man you had met. He actively engaged in the conversation, never once bragged about himself, respected when it was your turn to speak. In the few short hours you’d known him, you felt as if you’d actually known him forever.

When it was time for you both to leave, you thought he’d go his own separate way but he stayed with you. On the bus, every walk to the next stop. He held the doors for you, payed for both of your fairs every ride, he had even given you his jacket when you had commented on how cold it was. He was such a gentleman and you felt a fool to have fallen so fast. Every word you continued to exchange made you happier and feel as if you could explode from it.

-

“My stop is the next one actually, I had a great time Steven, honestly .” You told him, getting up and beginning walking to the doors to soon exit.

“Really? Mine is too! Mind if I walk with you?” He soon followed after you. Running along like a puppy after it’s owner.

A giddy feeling arose as you giggled at his action, now more comfortable around him. “Of course” You replied, a smile on you lips.

Steven blushed, he found your laugh to be cute.

The two of you continued your walk home. After finding out Steven lived to the right and you the left, you told him to go ahead and go home. That you could walk by yourself and be safe, but he insisted that he should drop you off because “one never knows.”

The action made you beyond happy. Realizing a date had never walked you home before. Steven was beyond kind and charming that you had completely forgotten about your past , how a man who did want to walk you home just wanted one thing after.

You almost stopped at the realization, anxiety beginning to creep up and consume you. The thought that Steven might only be putting on the whole nice guy act was to make you swoon and probably allow him to sleep with you made you sick . You hated the fact you’d have to turn him down, after he had been so kind the entire evening.

He seemed so nice too, you thought. But then again, you had just met him.

You sighed as you arrived to your flat, standing outside the doors and looking up to the sky. The guilt of having to reject Steven became too real and it made you want to cry.

“Y/n? You alright, love?” He asked, noticing you were away in your thoughts. He noticed your now uncomfortable manner and became worried. The nickname he gave you stung, you had to stop yourself from wanting to forget about your pride and wrap your arms around him. It almost physical pained you with the fact you had to use harsh words to turn down what you thought to be a kind man.

“Did I do somethin’, I haven’t been talking too much have I? “

Taking a deep breathe, you turn towards him and begin to do something you knew you would regret for the rest of your life.

“Okay look, tonight has been amazing. I really enjoyed your company. Hearing about all of your interests, your job, and you just being so kind in general really made me think we could go out again. But then you asked to walk me home and.. I don’t think I can allow anything beyond talking right now.” You paused, waiting for a reaction from him. But nothing, he didn’t rage at your rejection and start to scream. In fact, he’d seemed confused, worried, and interested in what you had to say. So you continued.

“A while ago I told myself to stop getting into these situations, to not allow them to continue any further where I can’t stop it. So this is me standing my ground. I’m really sorry Steven, but I can’t let you come in.” You finished.

Silence.

He starred at you, almost dumbfoundedly for the second time tonight. He was confused and didn’t understand why you’d tell him such a thing. But he repeated your words in his head, trying to piece them out and solve the meaning behind them. And he did.

Shock colored his face, and he became embarrassed.

“Oh, no! Please, I swear it is nothin’ like that! I would never do anything to disrespect you or think of you in such a way that’s improper, I mean I’ve only just met you! I would really love to talk more and get to know you much better before I could attempt such a thing.” Steven stammered over his words, trying his best to make his intentions clear. His nice and innocent intentions that you had mistaken for horrible and evil ones.

Now it was your turned to be shocked and embarrassed. You wanted to scream at yourself for being so dumb!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Really, oh my god. I didn’t mean to offend you if i did, I just- assumed because its happened so many times!” You half yelled, trying to explain to him your actions. You were on the verge of tears and wanted nothing more to crawl into a hole and die.

“No, no,no it’s alright, I swear I understand. It’s horrible that you and other women have to think like this. I just want to assure you I could never. And you might not trust me but I swear, you seem like a wonderful girl and I’d love to know more about you. Really.” He said, trying to reassure you.

You took deep breaths to try and settle down, a blush high on your cheeks as you managed to look back at the man in front of you.

“I- Thank you for.. that. I’m really terribly sorry I assumed such a thing. But, if this whole incident wasn’t too much of a red flag, maybe we can continue to talk more?” You finally were able to speak again, trying to get away from the embarrassing topic you had brought up. Though a cloud of shame still continued to hang over you.

Steven’s face lit up, “Of course, would love to.” He bashfully accepted your offered.

“Well I uh- best be on my way up, thank you, Steven. For everything.”

“Oh yeah, I need to be gettin’ home as well.”

A moment of silence. Neither of you seemed to make a move to leave. Staring into each others eyes, you felt as if something was missing. As if you left, you were to leave something unfinished.

So you made a bold move. Taking a step forward, hoping that if you did something might happen. And something did happen. He took a step too.

Now, you two were almost chest to chest. All but a few centimeters apart. Bubbles rising in your stomach as you knew the moment you were waiting for was coming closer and closer. Hope filled your chest as Steven extended his hand to your cheek, immediately melting into it as he did.

Titling your head up and forward to him, you close your eyes. Waiting. Hoping. For something, someone, to come to you.

And he did.

Soft, sweet, lips met yours.

Bliss.

The sweetest kiss a man had ever given you. You didn’t know how you’d live if you pulled away.

You melted deeper into the kiss, wanting more. Wanting him to continue further, abandoning all morals you previously had. But Steven pushed away.

You almost sighed in disappointment when he did. Opening your eyes you looked at him in confusion. He continued to hold you face in his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

He did his best to resist you. Looking up at him with plump and pouty lips, he deeply wanted to respect your wishes and fought with all his power to not kiss you again and more passionately.

“Let’s wait a bit more, yeah?” He managed to whisper, his voice now raspy. It made you weak in the knees to hear him. Nodding your head, you managed to whimper out an “uh-huh.”

Steven lets go of your cheek, the warmth of his hands stays on your face as the cold wind hits you. You expect him to leave it at that, to bid you farewell and leave you there as you watch him go. But you’re wrong.

He grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips as he bows down. You face flushes, becomes hotter than you think you can handle to the point where you might pass out. Such a simple action, but it made you almost swoon harder than the kiss.

“I’ll see you then?” He asks. Letting go of your hand, placing his own inside of his pockets.

“Yeah.” You reply, the word barely a whisper as you say it.

You don’t know how, but you managed to carry yourself inside. Opening the door without looking back, you enter the apartment complex, get inside the elevator, and inside of your home. All while a wide smile stayed on your face.

You thought about him, the kiss, and his touch. You tried to remember and keep the memory of his smell fresh in your mind, soon realizing you were still wearing his jacket.

“Oh,” You gasped, you had forgotten about it.

-

Outside, Steven Grant stayed where he was. Standing there, remembering the softness of your skin.

He smiles to himself and thinks about you. A sudden chills passes over him, the wind begins to howl as it did earlier that evening.

He suddenly becomes aware that he left his coat with you. But he doesn’t worry, nor call you and ask for it back. Instead he smiles, thinking about how he has an excuse to see you again.

[frenchtipacrylics]

Winter wardrobe aesthetics

here are breakdowns of my favorite winter aesthetics that have been popular this past season that i’ll be incorporating this upcoming winter!

winter bimbo

the winter bimbo aesthetic, also known as the russian or slavic bimbo aesthetic, is an aesthetic that is partially based on the idea of russian or slavic women, particularly stereotypes about them being gold diggers, how well they value taking care of themselves, and their resistance to cold weather. because of the sort of problematic origins, i just call it the winter bimbo aesthetic. this aesthetic is all about embracing your femininity and looking so hot that the cold can’t faze you. as cardi b said, “a hoe never gets cold.”

staples of this aesthetic include:

mini skirts

fur trimmed clothing

thigh high boots

eyeliner

mini dresses

monochromatic white outfits

platform shoes

blush

fur coats

glitter highlight

big hair

fluffy hats and fur headbands

bustiers

demonia camel 311s

fishnet tights

shimmery eye makeup

earmuffs

cat eye silhouette eye makeup

ushankas

thigh high socks

y2k

the y2k aesthetic is very underrated during the winter, but i feel like you can have some of the best looks with it. for this, many take inspiration from the bratz wintertime wonderland collection, and from real life examples of celebrities during this time. 

staples of this aesthetic include:

tracksuits

denim mini skirts

platform shoes

fur headbands and fur round hats

beige/white eyeliner in the waterline

fluffy slippers

diamante accessories

shield sunglasses, especially ones in different colors

big hoop earrings

statement liner and lip gloss combo

afghan coats

knee high boots

fur trim jackets and cardigans

puffer jackets

uggs, especially uggs that have some sort of embellishments

off the shoulder dresses and sweaters

pointed or square toe boots

low rise bottoms

ski bunny

the ski bunny, or snow bunny, aesthetic is definitely the easiest to pull together, and definitely one of the best ways to “dress down” while still looking hot during the winter. as the name suggests, it is based on traditional “skiing in aspen” type clothing, but mixed with the stereotypical atlanta style. 

staples of this aesthetic include:

bodycon bodysuits

moon boots

puffer jackets

beanies

goggle sunglasses

leggings

cropped fur jackets

fur trimmed leather gloves

pom pom beanies

designer purses

turtlenecks

slick hairstyles

waist belts

ushankas

designer accessories

ski trousers

flare leggings

[ibis-gt]

*slides you 37 pennies* how would luther handle trying to go on a public date with cam (movie, restaurant, etc.) with the whole… affection turns height to no.

had two requests for this one so here u go! luther does his best to keep it together for date night. 2750 words, warning for brief mention of violence in a movie and some hanky panky between consenting adults. not explicit, just a little spicy.

~~~

Four months into their relationship, and Luther has more of a handle on things now.

He’s got the size thing totally under control. He hardly ever shrinks just because Cam looked at him anymore. He can take a compliment like a champion. Those soft, sweet, gentle smiles that spread across Cam’s face like molasses? Barely make him lose an inch. Physical contact? He’s… still working on that one.

But at the very least they can have date nights in public now, as long as Cam behaves himself, and Cam is quite willing to behave himself. Most of the time.

It’s a snowy Saturday night in December, and they’ve got a date planned. Cam will pick Luther up at eight, they’ll go have dinner at a local sushi place, watch a late night special feature from the 80s, and then come back home for some wine and light snuggling before bed. An absolutely perfect night, if Luther can make it through enough of it full-size.

He’s still debating his outfit when a gentle knock at his front door heralds his beloved’s arrival. Five minutes early as usual.

“It’s open!” Luther calls. “C’mon in and help me choose, will you?” He’s standing in his bedroom in a pair of black slacks with the horrid green jumpsuit undone and tied around his waist, staring critically at his two choices of top. A lovely turquoise turtleneck, or a stylish electric blue button-up. The floor creaks behind him as Cam ambles in. “Which one do you think is better? I guess it depends on what you’re wear - eep!”

Luther squeaks and jumps as Cam presses his lips to Luther’s neck, big warm hands sliding up his arms to rest on his bare shoulders, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

“Both look nice,” Cam murmurs in his ear. “But I think I like the blue one better.”

“C-cam,” Luther whines, his face going pink. “If you keep this up we’re not even going to get out the door.” The hands remove themselves, and Cam pulls back, chuckling.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. All that exposed real estate, you know.” He lets out a perfect wolf whistle. God damn him. Luther glares over his shoulder and folds his arms, letting annoyance take over.

“We’ve been planning this for weeks, and you’re going to ruin it,” he pouts. “Go on, out. Wait in the living room if you’re going to be like this.” Cam puts his hands up in a placating gesture and retreats, but that damn smile doesn’t leave his face. Luther tosses his hair and huffs, secretly proud of himself. He didn’t even lose a half inch. He turns back to consider his options.

Well, if Cam is so focused on his neck tonight, that sweater might be the better option to afford him some protection. But he said he liked the button-up better… It’s lighter than the sweater so it won’t keep him as warm, but that means he can steal Cam’s big coat later on. The turtleneck would completely cover the green jumpsuit, but the blue of the button-up actually compliments it nicely. Luther nods decisively. The button-up will be perfect.

He dresses quickly, gives himself a final once-over in the mirror, unbuttons his top button, and heads out to see Cam. His boyfriend - his boyfriend! The thought still sends a thrill through him - has picked up the cat, Scrunge, and is stroking her head, making little baby noises at her. She purrs in her usual way, fast and loud, like a revving motorcycle. Cam sets her down when he sees Luther and sighs happily.

“You look fantastic,” he says.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself.” Luther crosses the room and fondly brushes a loose strand of hair behind Cam’s ear. Cam’s in a dark grey v-neck shirt and black suit jacket, slightly tarnished silver cufflinks adorning the sleeves. He’s got his big heavy winter coat draped over one arm so he doesn’t overheat in the relative warmth of the apartment. Luther sneaks a covetous little glance at it before grabbing his own shabby coat off a hook near the door.

He bends down to give Scrunge a goodbye scritch behind the ears. “Behave yourself while I’m out,” he tells her. “No tearing around the place and knocking things over.” She meows plaintively. Luther retrieves her bag of treats and gives her two as a bribe, which she accepts happily.

“Okay,” Luther says, straightening and shrugging on his coat. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Cam says, and takes his hand.

They walk to the restaurant. No point in searching for parking, it’d take longer than just hoofing it anyway. It’s been snowing on and off throughout the week and piles of dirty slush cover the sidewalk. It’s cold, but Luther’s coat is keeping him warm enough for now. He and Cam hold hands as they walk to the restaurant, and Luther doesn’t even shrink a little bit. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks his feet might leave the ground.

The place is only a little busy, so they have a short wait before they’re shown to their table. They get their usual orders. Luther prefers simple rolls and nigiri so the taste of the fish is front and center, while Cam likes to get the complicated, loaded rolls for the variety of texture and flavor. While they wait for their food to arrive, Luther fills Cam in on Scrunge’s latest reign of terror in his apartment, and how much it’ll cost to fix the cracked frame of the painting she’d somehow managed to knock off the wall in her frenzy to catch the fabled red laser dot.

The food arrives. Cam offers Luther a taste of his rolls - he’s gotten something deep fried with cream cheese, cucumber, and crab, and another loaded high with four kinds of fish, topped with roe. Luther tries the one with all the fish, but passes on the deep fried one. He trades Cam a piece of mackerel nigiri. Then he continues on talking, telling Cam about his week, how work’s been, the new guy they hired, and the annoying new habit his coworker’s formed of singing along with the music on the jukebox, regardless of whether she knows the lyrics or not.

Luther suddenly catches the look in Cam’s eyes. There’s something… hungry in them. It’s the only way he can describe it. It’s not regular hungry, because he’s practically ignoring his food in favor of listening intently to Luther’s rambling story. He’s leaning forward, arms folded on the table in front of him, drinking in every word Luther has to say. He’s hungry for him. The realization hits Luther like a truck and he stops mid-sentence, jaw dropping, a blush starting to spread across his face.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asks, innocent as ever. How could he even know the effect he has on Luther? How could Luther ever explain?

“N-nothing, um, I… I’ve been talking a lot, why don’t you take over for a bit? What’s keeping you busy at work?” It was delightful to listen to Cam ramble on about his job. Luther barely understood a word of it, but his enthusiasm was adorable and, importantly, not about Luther. He could keep it together and breathe a bit, work on calming down the scramble of emotion in his gut.

Sure enough, he wins himself a good fifteen minutes of calm while Cam talks on about carburetors and mufflers and manifolds. He could be making it up for all Luther knows. It’s not until Cam realizes his deep fried roll has gone cold that he breaks off to eat. They finish their food, decide to pass on dessert, pay, and head for the theater.

It’s only a few blocks away, a fifteen minute walk at most. The night has gotten a little colder and darker, and now stray snowflakes drift and spin through the air, catching the streetlights and twinkling like stars. Cam has a lot of fun pretending he’s a dragon, his warm breath turning to steaming clouds in the freezing air. Luther’s shivering now, his old secondhand coat doing little to protect him from the chill. Cam notices, of course, and whips his own coat off in an instant.

“Oh, please,” Luther demurs, “You’re so chivalrous, but really, I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking like a weathervane in a hurricane, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, I’m my own space heater.” Cam arranges the coat over Luther’s shoulders neatly and slips his arm around Luther’s waist, pulling him in close. It’s so warm and so nice, and so very, very close. Luther’s shivers slacken and cease, and then one more shakes him, different from the rest.

“Oh no,” Luther whispers, “I was doing so well, please…”

Luckily, he only loses about three inches. His clothes are a little looser, and he’s engulfed a little more by Cam’s huge coat, but he’s still a perfectly normal height. He sighs in relief.

“So what’s this movie we’re seeing?” Luther asks, trying to take his mind off of things.

“Oh, so it’s this old sci fi cult classic based on a book no one’s ever read. I saw it the first time when I was like… eight? And it scarred me for life, really, and now I’m obsessed with this shit. The special effects are super gnarly, and they hold up okay, even though you can totally see the tube for the fake blood in the decapitation scene. Don’t worry too much about following the plot, it’s not really the point of the movie, but what you should know ahead of time is…”

Cam rambles on like that, filling the night with fog. Luther snuggles in closer and listens happily, totally at ease. He made it through the most important part of the night, and once they get in the theater, he can relax. It doesn’t matter if he shrinks in the theater - from what Cam’s said, the only people watching this late-night special feature will be die-hard fans who’ll be glued to the screen, and in the darkness they won’t have to worry about anyone catching sight of them.

That also means, of course, that Cam might get a little handsy once the lights dim. If he’s being honest, Luther would be disappointed if he didn’t.

They get a seat in the back row. As the previews start up, Cam reaches over and takes Luther’s chin in his hand, turning it gently so they face each other. For a moment, he just holds them there, staring into Luther’s eyes with an adoring softness that makes Luther’s heart sing. Then he leans in and kisses him, just once, softly on the mouth. Luther shivers and loses another few inches. Cam lets him go, but Luther’s not satisfied. He grabs Cam’s collar and pulls him down for another kiss, this one deeper and hungrier. Cam chuckles against his mouth and nips at his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth for just a moment. Luther sits back heavily in his seat, breath coming in shallow gasps. He grips his armrests tight, trying to pay attention to the trailer for the newest slasher flick as it blares out through the theater. No dice. He’s losing height fast now, shrinking down to four feet tall, his normal clothes hanging off his frame.

They stay apart for all of a minute before Cam’s hand sneaks across the seat and slides into place on Luther’s thigh. He strokes his thumb back and forth in a slow rhythm, humming happily. Luther gasps and shrinks more, staring wide-eyed as Cam’s hand covers more and more of him, soon easily encompassing his entire thigh.

He’s maybe two feet tall now and he can’t see the screen over the seat in front of him. Cam glances down, catching the pouting, grumpy look on Luther’s face, and presses a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Here, sweetheart,” Cam murmurs, and picks Luther up with one hand. With the other, he frees him from his clothing so that he’s only clad in the jumpsuit. Cam settles Luther gently on his lap. This has fixed the problem of not being able to see the screen, but only momentarily. Luther goes bright red and dwindles down even further. By the time the previews have finished, he’s only eight inches tall.

As the opening theme blares with discordant trumpets, Cam pinches the back of Luther’s jumpsuit between thumb and forefinger and lifts him up. He dangles Luther in front of his face for a moment, expression torn between adoring and apologetic, then brings him in close for a gentle kiss. He sets Luther on his shoulder and hands him a piece of popcorn.

Luther hides his burning face behind the buttery morsel. He’d been expecting a little hanky panky, but nothing so direct. Stolen kisses, maybe a fake yawn that disguised Cam putting his arm around Luther, a little playing with his hair. Going for the thigh like that… that was entirely unexpected. He’s beginning to suspect Cam was trying to get him tiny.

The movie is just as gory and weird as promised. Luther isn’t super squeamish, but more than once he turns and ducks his face into Cam’s neck, squealing in disgust, his voice quiet enough at this size that he doesn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else. Every time, he feels Cam shake under him with silent laughter, enjoying Luther’s reactions.

The movie ends before too long, and the other theatergoers file out, chatting animatedly with one another about the flick. Cam holds his hand up to his chest, and Luther pushes himself off Cam’s shoulder, landing gracefully in his palm. Cam sets him down on the armrest while he folds up Luther’s discarded clothing and tucks it in an inner pocket of his big coat. He looks down at Luther and tilts his head to one side, lips pursed in a calculating expression.

“You’re just a little too big to hide comfortably… here, let’s fix that.” Cam puts his elbows on either side of Luther on the armrest and looms over him, completely blocking the dim theater lights overhead. Luther takes a few involuntary steps back and bumps up against Cam’s hands, linked together behind him to form a ring penning him in. “You’re all mine now,” Cam breathes, quiet as a whisper. “So tiny and cute. I’m going to put you in my pocket and carry you home, and then… well, then we’ll see what I’ll do with you, hm?” A crooked, meaningful grin spreads across Cam’s face, and that hungry look comes back into his eyes.

It works like a charm. Luther’s legs shake, his heart pounds, and he shivers. He dwindles down to half his height, a mere four inches.

“There we go,” Cam croons, and scoops him up in one hand. Cam stows him safely in his coat pocket, held in a loose fist to keep him safe from jostling and the cold. He exits the theater and moves through the crowds easily. People tend to make way when they see a man his size coming towards them.

Luther curls up against Cam’s fingers and sighs happily. Cam’s hand is warm, calloused in places but soft in others, and the pocket sways gently with his gait. It’s so safe and cozy, combined with the late hour and the exhaustion of the day, it’s the perfect recipe to knock him out. He fights the heaviness of his eyelids as long as he can, but only makes it a few blocks before he’s fast asleep.

~~~

“Whew, cold one out tonight,” Cam says as he unlocks the door to Luther’s apartment. He can already hear Scrunge wailing on the other side. “I hope you weren’t too frozen in there.” He pushes the door open and addresses the cat. “Yes, we’re home, hello darling, we missed you too.” She winds around his legs and purr-meows at top volume. “Okay, okay, other people are trying to sleep,” Cam hisses. “You’re gonna wake up the whole floor, shitty kitty.” She mrrps in disapproval.

He pulls Luther out of his pocket. “So, babe, do you wanna - oh.” The little dear is asleep, snoring softly. Cam smiles and presses a kiss to his chest. He takes a seat on the couch, sighing as he plops himself down. Scrunge leaps up into his lap immediately and puts her front legs up on his chest, sniffing at Luther in his hand.

“Poor dear’s all tuckered out,” Cam murmurs, giving her a scritch. “Let’s let him rest.”

[captain-barnes-writes]

Addiction [2/2]

Summary: Lee Bodecker got one taste of her and couldn’t get enough.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Warnings: Age gap, language, mentions of alcoholism, sexual content, some good ol’ BJ, unprotected sex (y’all better wrap it in real life tho bc this is fiction.) SMUT. 18+

Word Count: 5k [NOT PROOFREAD. Any comments, tips, suggestions are greatly appreciated. My Ask Box is always open.] 

Lee Bodecker found himself distracted at the sheriff’s department. His name would be called multiple times to get his attention, eyes strained towards the cream-colored wall with his plaques on it, mind elsewhere. His mind lingered on a particular girl who was driving him crazy. It was a Saturday and his girl was off work meaning he’d be unable to pick her up, unable to see her. In turn Boyd, her father, was her replacement at the store. He was a grouch of a man whose brown eyes always seemed to be half closed. He was slow in his speech, slightly slurred and harsh, as his body still ran under the effect of liquor. He was far worse than Lee in that aspect. Absolutely no self control. Lee thought how the old man should’ve been doing like he had, scouring the town for a different type of rush. One that, fortunately, he’d found in his daughter. One that wouldn’t slowly kill him, yet the old man had already completely succumbed to the liquor’s hold on him.

Boyd was a downright drunk who’d fallen down the slopes of greatness, down to the very bottom of grace, when his wife passed many years ago. He’d been a good man when she was alive, friendly and ever so kind. His store always tidy, shiny new fresh coat of paint every year because it was his pride and joy. He’d care after his customers, bagging their purchases attentively and even sparked up conversations with them whenever he could. Now the store was rundown, paint chipped and his service deplorable. His pretty girl was the only one keeping it afloat, maintaining the inside as best as she could with little to no help from her father.

Boyd’s shifts ran slow for him, snapping at customers with such impatience they didn’t even know why they kept coming back to his damn store. Though it came down to the town’s lack of services, Boyd’s store was at the center of town and the most convenient. But when Y/N was there, the beautiful girl with the usual pastel dresses and pale flats, it was a stark contrast to him. Her illuminating joy and youth was lively, smile large as she handed back change to customers, tending to them with utmost care. It was in her nature, her way of being that made her so delectable. She was the very life of that store, the only one worthy of it.

It was for that reason, that Lee felt himself drowning in his thoughts. Completely inundated not only with the events that had transpired on the back of his cruiser with Y/N, taking her virginity in a sweaty haste, but also of what her home life was like. He was unsure, but he deduced that it mustn’t have been great. His pretty girl had to deal with a drunk at home. God knows how he treated her. And it angered him so badly, the mystery of what went down in that household, inside those four walls. How he spoke to her, if he was kind, if he raised his voice at her. When his mind took the eloquent route of thinking that the drunk bastard could probably as well raise his hand to her, it angered him even more. It made his blood boil to realize that she most likely didn’t have a way out of the toxicity of that place, of the hold her father had on her. And probably of what she felt she owed him, utmost loyalty and company. She was his only daughter and if it wasn’t for her the man would be alone.

Lee didn’t know when he’d turned so damn soft. He’d never been that way, never thought he’d ever fall at the feet of a young girl. He never thought one taste of a girl would have him acting like this, heart beating frantically against his chest with one simple look of hers. He wanted nothing more than to please her, make her the happiest in the whole of Knockemstiff. Most of all he wanted her to be his. Not just physically, but even in the eyes of the law. Her belly swollen with his seed, growing, a part of them both inside her. Yet for the first time in his life he felt dumbfounded as to what steps to take to make that happen. He wanted to take her from his father, pluck her from his grasp.

He huffed to himself, thinking of how to make Boyd coward into giving him the one thing he wanted most. His daughter. Instead of tending to the pile of paperwork on his desk, Lee tried to draft out a plan on how to do so without hurting what he had worked so hard for the last months with Y/N. She seemed to share his affections—kissing him, holding his hand in the car as he drove her home. She’d opened up to him in ways he thought would never have been possible. She was his wildest fantasy come true.

When the clock read 7 PM, Lee placed his brown wide-brim hat back on his head, and stormed out of his office in a haste. He couldn’t think of a damn thing and he’d wasted too much time on absolutely nothing instead of tending to the pile of documents on his messy desk. He needed a cigarette badly, the nicotine of it to bring him some mild comfort. He grunted at the officers letting them know he was off for the day.

When Lee got inside his cruiser, taking off the heavy leather jacket off himself and throwing it on the backseat. It landed right where he’d taken his girl just a few days prior. Despite the sour mood he found himself with, a smirk appeared on his face at the thought of her.

His pretty girl had sucked his cock right at the front seat just the day before. That same abandoned lot only a few minutes out of town had already helped them create unforgettable memories. Stained his backseat with their arousal when he took her most cherished purity just a few days prior and the front seat with his hot cum only the night before. Her hands had been so gentle, inexperienced and soft. She’d wrapped those dainty fingers around his length, applying slight pressure as if afraid she’d hurt him. Grip it a bit tighter doll, Lee had instructed her. Her hands had tightened around him and began to move, the motion of her heavy breathing and movements of hands gaining groans from him.

It seemed as if she did everything he wanted, especially when he’d told her to spit on his shaft and she’d done so almost immediately. The line of saliva had connected with his sensitive head and it made her hands slide up and down a lot easier, a lot smoother. Her eyes were wide at the sight of the bulby head of his cock, covered in her spit and she thought it looked so delicious to taste when she dropped her head down to get a mere sample of him. Her actions had made Lee’s breath hitch at his throat, completely taken aback by her lips wrapped around him. Even her tongue was utterly soft, lapping at the head as if savoring him. Her lips had already been so swollen from his rough kisses and they slid down halfway and came back up again. Her mouth felt so warm to him, a new home for his throbbing dick. Suck it baby yeah just like that, Lee had panted above her. He couldn’t believe he didn’t have to urge her to taste him, she’d done so on her very own and it made his heart swell. He was corrupting her and only he knew what she could do with her hips, what her mouth tasted like and how silky her skin felt underneath his fingers. He felt so fortunate.

Y/N continued slowly licking the shaft, tongue lapping at him before her mouth continued to take him inside. Her hand had taken to stroking the base of him because she just couldn’t take him all. She was so new to it all, choking on him a few times and feeling completely desperate to try to please him as best as she could. Her mind had shifted from the task to thoughts of how the sheriff was already an older man, experienced beyond belief in all areas of his life. Especially that of intimacy and she barely knew a thing. He’d been with many women, at least according to all the gossip of the town, and she’d barely even kissed one boy. Hadn’t gone further with anybody but with the sheriff. It made her frantic to do her best with him, to show him that she could learn with him. That she could satisfy him just as much, and hopefully even more, than any other woman could.

Lee was loud, groaning and panting at the feel of her mouth. His hands had gravitated to the crown of her head, grabbing handfuls of her hair there to alleviate the immense commotion that was swirling inside him. Pooling wildly inside his stomach until he’d warned her that he was cumming, the hot liquid spurting from the tip of his shaft into her mouth. She was taken aback by the racking orgasm Lee had, some of his seed dripping on the side of her lips. Lee had coaxed her to swallow it and she had done so without having to be told twice. He was salty and warm, but she’d swallowed his seed whole so gracefully it made Lee pull her up by the hair and smash their lips together in complete amazement. His girl was too good.

Lee would have been lying if he said he didn’t want to bury himself inside her again the night before. Her virginal cunt had wrapped him in such warmth, her moans and sweet embrace had brought him an immense amount of comfort. He felt delirious with just her presence. He fought the urge to hitch her dress up and take her in his car again because he’d promised himself the next time he felt her walls engulf his cock, it would be in the comfort of his home. Yet he continued kissing her, teasing her until she’d moaned into his lips. He couldn’t shake off the hardness the whole night because being inside her, having his dick lapped in her juices, had been the commencement of an obsession. All his thoughts were her; and he knew. Knew that he wholeheartedly belonged to the young girl. Lee also came to the realization that he’d do absolutely anything for her.

-------

Lee drove to his home in Brewer Heights to the sound of the radio and the darkness of night. Years prior he’d made a promise to himself that if elected, he’d get himself a cushy place on the better side of town. When he won the election, he did just that. His yellow 3-bedroom home was far too big for just him but it also brought him a sense of satisfaction, a reminder that he’d achieved something far greater than himself. Yet it was still too large, too lonely. He was alone in the space of it every damn day and felt it suffocating him, the solitude of it encircling around his throat and closing in. It was for that reason he came to rely on the arduous taste of liquor, craving it as his thoughts got the best of him in the vastness of his house.

When Lee pulled up to his driveway, puffing on a cigarette, his eyes immediately made the figure of the girl he’d been thinking about all day standing on the steps of his home. The sight of her alone had his wheels skidding on a stop, engine off in a haste as he slammed the door to the cruiser shut. He immediately got rid of the half-smoked cigarette by throwing it on the cement floor and rushed to her wondering why she was there.

“Darlin’ what are you doing here?” Lee inquired. Despite being puzzled at her being there, he also felt his heart beating frantically in his chest at the mere sight of her. He drank her in as she gathered her thoughts. She wore a baby blue pleated skirt with a cream chiffon blouse tucked inside the waistline. Her face seemed saddened, eyes glassy and face flushed. It wasn’t until his eyes raked down her body that he noticed the brown suitcase at her feet and his forehead creased in confusion.

“Lee…” Y/N started, eyes peering up at the sheriff. “My d-daddy found out about us...He kicked me out the house. I’m sorry for showing up here, sheriff. I just--I just have nowhere to go.”

Lee’s jaw tightened at her words, hands fisting to his sides before they relaxed again at the way the young girl seemed so broken in front of him. Tears were cascading down her cheeks and bottom lip quivering. He took a step closer and pulled her into his strong arms. Her shuddering body came into contact with the fullness of his chest.

“Let’s get you inside first, yeah?” Lee muttered onto the top of her head, taking in the scent of vanilla.

She nodded, moving from his embrace to grasp her single suitcase when Lee bent down and took it from the floor. It wasn’t even heavy and he wondered if she’d even taken anything from her home, if she had the necessities to begin a life without her father. But something inside Lee leaped at the fact that her father finally knew that his daughter was with him. He was so taken with her that the rupture of the father-daughter relationship had him elated, completely and utterly pleased that their indiscretions were no longer so. That he didn’t have to take matters into his own hands anymore to get her away from the claws of her father, he’d done it all on his own. Pushed her away into his very arms.

Lee walked her into his home and her eyes scanned the rooms of it, noting that it didn’t provide a homey feel with it lacking wall art, pictures or even flowers. He urged her to sit on the couch and she did, hands clasped together on her lap. He sat next to her, one of his hands placed itself on her shoulder trying to comfort her in some way.

“Now, doll, what’d your father say?”

“Someone from town must’ve told him, Lee. Must’ve seen us or something. He came home today and he was…” She choked on her words. She closed her eyes tightly while taking a deep breath wanting to continue. “He was so horrible to me. Screamed at me, called me a whore and told me to never come back home. Not even to the store.”

“Did that bastard put his hands on you?” Lee pressed, voice grating as he awaited for her answer. God, he was going to make him pay if he even put on a finger on his sweet girl. She seemed so broken with eyes red from shedding too many tears.

“No. He just called me so many names...I can’t go back home now. I’m sorry I just showed up here without even calling you, I couldn’t think of anybody else who could help me.”

“I’m glad you decided to come here, doll.” Lee let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and felt a sense of satisfaction that Y/N had come to him out of all people. She confided in him, trusted him to some extent to care for her. It made him surge with utter bliss.

“You sure?” Doe eyes looking up at him. Despite her frail emotional state and tear-stained face, she still looked so alluring. He couldn’t believe she was in his house.

“Of course darlin’. I’m gon’ take real good care of you, you got that? You won’t be needing a thing here. I’ll give you everything you can ever need, doll.”

A tranquil tone had taken to her face at his words. His arms wrapped around her again, placed a kiss on top of her head and she leaned into his embrace. She didn’t know exactly what he meant or how their dynamic would be at the sudden turn of events that had them under the same household, yet she felt a gleaming hope become alight. As if in some sick way, being away from her alcoholic father was a relief to her. She'd dealt with his antics, losing money to gambling far too often, having to run the store on her own more and more as the years passed.

Her father was only a shell now, nothing of what he once was. He was no longer caring, no longer the hard-working man she’d admired. It felt as if her father had died with her mother all those years ago, he’d changed from one day to the next and left her to fend for herself. She realized she harbored so much resentment inside her, building up throughout the years for the man who’d failed to really properly care for her. To help her fully heal from the trauma of losing the most special person in her life, instead he’d added onto that wound. There was no better place for her than being with Lee now, being in his firm embrace. He clearly adored her, seemed as if he only breathed because of her and it might’ve been selfish but the need he had for her made her feel alive. It gave her some miniscule hope that things would be alright.

That night, Lee had shown her to his room. Seeing no need for her to take the guest bedroom when he’d already filled her sweet cunt just days before, he placed her suitcase in his room. She seemed so bashful stepping into his room, eyes grazing about it and the way it suited Lee so well with the green paint and the large bed that sat in the middle. A nightstand on both sides of the bed and large wooden dressers on the far wall. 

He had immediately emptied a few drawers for her even though he knew she hadn’t brought all her things just yet. He could break down Boyd’s door to get his girl’s belongings back if he wanted to, just to show him who had the upperhand in the situation. To rub it in his face that a man like him had fucked his daughter and she now resided in his home, was completely and utterly his. Yet the sheriff knew he couldn’t do that, not if he wanted to keep his position as the most powerful man in the town, to keep his hefty salary. Not if he wanted to spoil the living daylights out of his girl with roses and those soft-hued dresses she loved so much.

With the gleam of the moon oozing inside the space is his bedroom, Lee undressed her that warm night in a slow manner. His calloused hands delicately removed every article of her clothing and threw it on the floor of his bedroom. Her body met the sheets of his bed, cold against her skin. And he’d felt such pride at seeing the girl who’d clouded every single one of his thoughts for the last months sprawled on his bed. She was in his house, his bedroom. Completely at his disposal. God, he couldn’t wait to sink into her warmth.

He undressed himself in sheer urgency before he crawled up to her glistening pussy, she was already wet for him but he wanted to taste her. Wanted to savor the sweetness, become bathed in it. His lips met her folds, giving it a proper kiss before his tongue delved out and lapped at her. She did taste delicious, so much he felt crazed as his tongue continued its assault. He’d gone down on her to get a taste of her arousal, to get her wet and slick with his saliva for his cock. She was gasping for air, body squirming as Lee continued to lick and suck on her little nub, teasing her in the way only he knew how to.

She was completely helpless, succumbing to his experienced tongue. He was so good at it, bringing her to the brink in minutes. It wasn’t long before two of his fingers had replaced his lips and she’d yelped at the intrusion. He began easing them in and out of her pussy, the sounds of her arousal and moans loud inside the room. When he pulled away from her, he leaned down one last time to kiss her silky folds before he crawled up to be face to face. She seemed winded, face glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as he’d made a mess of her. She smiled shyly at him when she felt the heat of his gaze on her.

“You liked that, baby?” He leaned down to kiss her, already knowing the answer when her cheeks heated up within seconds. She was still too reluctant to voice how she felt, how he made her feel. His lips were still covered with her arousal and she tasted herself on him, feeling even more daring as she placed her hands on the back of his head to deepen their kiss. His cock was prodding at her entrance already, throbbing as if begging to be engulfed within her walls already. His soft belly was on top of hers, warm and heavy.

She scratched his back when he began to tease her entrance and had weaned his way inside her without much of a warning. Her tight cunt took inch by inch, his thickness already savoring the heat of it. Her pretty eyes had pooled with tears again, welling up around the edges. And his heart swelled at the sight. His hand had subconsciously met the side of her face in a gentle graze, tucking away a piece of unruly hair. He kissed her soft lips, traced them with his own in the most delicate manner he could muster before he began a rocking rhythm with his hips. She was broken before him, her moans echoing throughout the four walls of his room.

The wooden headboard of his bed collided with the walls of his bedroom, leaving dark marks on it as the thumping sound mixed with their moans and slapping skin resounded throughout it. He wasn’t giving her everything he could, her pussy still sensitive, still too inexperienced for a man like him to pound into her. She was still so innocent, irrevocably pure despite having given him her very essence. Despite having given herself to the sheriff, she still held those doe eyes with a type of purity that had him pining for her even more. She had him in the palm of her hands and she wasn’t even aware of it. All the chocolates, all the flowers and long conversations, those longing looks and pangs of desperation that felt like it was consuming him had been worth it because he was drowning in her.

“This pussy belongs to me right baby?” Lee questioned, hips still snapping against hers. Filling her up with his cock in a desperate manner knowing he was damn lucky to be fucking her, to have her writhing underneath him and moaning his name in a euphoric manner.

“Only you, sheriff.” She breathed, meaning it wholeheartedly. Her body was wracking in ecstasy at the intrusion of his shaft. He was rocking his hips against her harder than before and his lips were pressed against hers in a sloppy kiss.

Lee hitched her legs up, placing them on his broad shoulders. He felt deeper, if possible, and her eyes shut so tightly at the new position. It brought a new sensation for her. She was unbelievably loud, panting while gripping the bunched up sheets in her hands. His hand was clasped against both her legs, keeping them in place on his shoulder to fuck into her at a faster pace. He felt so desperate, the wild sensation bubbling inside him, he was chasing his orgasm already. But he wanted her to cream on his dick first, for her to come undone before him.

Still holding onto her legs with one of his hands, his other hand came down to her clit. He began rubbing it in circular motions, knowing she’d like it just like that. He watched as a string of strangled moans left her lips at the newly added stimulation, hands messing up the sheets even more with her grip. Within seconds her back was arching off the bed in spasms, pussy clamping his dick. The strong orgasm shattered her into a beautiful mess, crying out his name again and again. Lee thrusted frantically into her, his own orgasm catching up to him. His milky cum seeped inside her as he groaned loudly.

He collapsed next to her, breathing labored as he stared at the young girl who was breathing just as harshly at him. He leaned in to give her a small kiss, feeling utter bliss not only that he'd just came inside her but that she was laying beside him. And that she’d be doing the same for god knows how long. At that thought, he supposed it was a good time to bring up something that had been eating away at him.

“You know, people been talking ‘bout us darling. I don’t want them to get the wrong impression, can’t have that being the sheriff and all.” Lee began, fingers caressing the sides of her cheek. “How about we get hitched? What do you think ‘bout that?”

Y/N became pensive. Eyes widening and mouth falling shut seeing as no words were even connecting to her brain. Lee had come to hold her heart in such a short time. The brute of a man, with his scowling face and protruding belly, had leered her in. Yet one of the most obvious things about the pair had surely crossed her mind once or twice. She wasn’t dense about their heavy age difference. She was still colored in youth, skin soft and smooth with not a wrinkle in sight. Lee was close to being twenty years older than her. He also had his unhealthy habits of eating his weight in candy and with the way his breath always seemed to be ladened with the bitter smell of liquor it seemed as if he drank his weight in that too.

She noticed the stark similarities her father and Lee shared. The two most important men in her life, one who’d just filled her with disappointment and kicked her out of his life and the other who looked at her as if she was the only girl left on earth. They were men who relied on liquor to stop whatever it was that consumed their minds; the liquid the only thing that stopped their nightmares, their many languished thoughts.

“I told you I’m gon’ take real good care of you. Spoil the living hell out of you, baby. Just say yes.” Lee almost felt pathetic that he seemed to be begging her to agree. To say the definitive yes that would seal their fate together, that would see her as his even in the eyes of the law. He wanted that so badly, yearned for it. Hell, Lee thought, he’d even throw away the stash of liquor from his pantry. He’d rid himself of anything she didn’t like, do absolutely anything she wanted just to get her to agree. To get her to adore him just as much as he did her.

She came to understand that Lee was the only person in town, quite honestly the only man in the world, who really cared about her. He would drive her home even on his most tiring work days, take her out to different diners, coffee shops. He always gifted her with her favorite dark chocolates, blooming red roses and most importantly, with his undivided attention. That was one of the most important gifts of his, his utter adoration of her and the amount of effort he seemed to put into trying to impress her. In the way he tried to take care of her and protect her. It seemed as though he loved her already despite it not being that long since the beginning of it all. Lee would do anything for her and she found comfort in that. He’d wormed his way into her heart and she realized it as she felt his hands on her face.

Lee gripped the side of her jaw, azure eyes clouded with torment as he stared into her glossy ones. He was holding onto whatever word she’d utter, waiting for her to say it. To comply. He’d be so good to her, he promised himself, so good to her she’d never have to look the other way. That she’d never think about their age gap, or about the softness of his belly that seemed to grow with time or even the way his breath always seemed to be ladened with alcohol and cigarettes. He’d give it all up for her.

“Just say yes, doll.” Lee said again, voice rougher this time. The grip on her jaw a little tighter.

“Yes.” Y/N whispered, sealing her fate.

Someone like him with a girl who was almost half his age—he should’ve felt pathetic, embarrassed even. Yet he felt none of those things. Instead he felt high off of her, intensely enamored with her. He was intoxicated off her very presence. He’d gotten a taste of her already, wasn’t dreaming of it any longer. Didn’t have to make himself cum inside pepsi cups at mere thoughts of her anymore. She was tangled in his sheets and he’d made her his.

Tomorrow he’d make her his in the eyes of the law too.

I’m such a hoe for Lee 😫🥵 I’ve watched the devil all the time so many times already I should be ashamed lmao! And I already have another fic planned for him, I’m a fkin mess 🤭

I’m so happy you guys liked my first Lee one shot that I decided to write a second part! Hope you guys enjoy this one as well ✨

[First time doing a taglist so let me know if I missed you! ]

@jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @captainkitteh @gloriouspersonbanditrascal​ @sillygamingartghost​ @han-xe​ @awesomerextyphoon​ @princessofdarkwinter @kenzieam​ @lalaparker

[lunar-lair]

hello one and all to the submas soul eater au post courtesy of my silly brain. note it's midnight and uh. im a lil crazey but hopefully this vibes anyways :o)

Ingo and Emmet

Starting with the Stars of The Show,,

Say hello to twin weapons Ingo and Emmet!! Ta-daaaa

Ingo and Emmet can wield each other but Elesa is also their meister bc due to their weapon type they're more effective being used at the same time anyways

Ingo is a sword and Emmet is a curved dagger! (Ingo was formally a broadsword but I just looked it up and those are used w/ two hands. No thnx)

Both of their hilts are exactly the same, silver, with Arceus' symbol etched in the top and the symbols from their in-game hats etched into the base (the first-later explanation. The second-family insignia)

Ingo has a very stealthy fighting style; his weapon is Emmet, so he has to rely on short range attacks and trickery.

Emmet goes in guns blazing; his weapon is Ingo, so there's no real point in stealth.

Both have sheaths to hide the other in (a weapon is easier to hide than a human), and rely on a lot of trickery.

When they go into battle, they both wear calf length, grey jackets that are far too big. Ingo wears a black hat and Emmet wears a white one, but that's more for allies than anything else.

They also wear dress shoes, but they always wear dress shoes. (Elesa thinks they're crazy. They give half a shit.)

They also have earrings! Sort of.

Both wear a small gem as an earring; Ingo on his right, Emmet on his left, so they face each other when they stand next to each other.

This gem amplifies their weapon abilities. (Again, an explanation for,,,probably another post at this point this is getting long.)

And on their other ear, they wear an earring with a chain and a clamp that goes on the shell of their ear.

In their weapon form, this translates to a chain; for Emmet, it allows a more ranged attack where he's semi thrown, and for both of them, it's more a way to ensure they aren't dropped. (Like the strap on a Wii remote.)

(also don't ask me how this works it just sounds cool lmao)

Drayden got them a pair of them, probably. He's their uncle in this au cause I said so and it's a cool thought. Maybe Clay helped make them/mine the materials louder shrug I haven't figured out most of the other gym leaders yet tbth

Ingo has chips taken out of his blade, and it reflects on his body as a few deep scars on his right side.

More on this in Elesa's post ;)

uhhh. other thoughts umm

They learned they were weapons when, while Ingo was fending off bullies, Emmet transformed on instinct (to which the kids ran away because THAT'S A FUCKING DAGGER????)

Their parents, a weapon and meister duo, quickly supported sending them off to the DWMA (which is still called that cause it still makes sense)

Once they hit about 20, they start teaching there, as well!

They joint teach one class, teaching different subjects one or the other knows more about, but the base idea of the class is 'A class taught by twin weapons for weapon duos!', as weapon duos are relatively rare.

(When they were looking for one meister, 13 and fresh to the DWMA, it took them awhile.

Luckily, Elesa was actually looking for a weapon duo; she enjoyed the thought of fluidity in fighting.)

In normal everyday life, they wear the same thing they do in battle, but just. Less confusing coats

They're way too formal. At least, when they're at the school. (Who knows, maybe they dress like normal people outside of it...Elesa will never tell.) Dress pants, shirt, tie (red for Ingo and yellow for Emmet), the works. And yes, they still wear the dress shoes while teaching, don't ask why, they won't give you a real answer. (Elesa has stopped trying.) They wear their black-and-white hats, but their jackets reflect that, as well.

Though they're a little different. Ingo wears black, Emmet wears white, of course. They're more thigh length than calf length, and they can close, but unlike their battle jackets, which are meant to stay closed, it's more for winter weather than anything else. They're more close-cut, but still decently comfy and too-big.

Emmet's is absolutely covered in pins. This goes for his hat, too, though he's a little more conservative with them when it comes to that.

Ingo doesn't mind pins, but has far less than Emmet does.

Both wear identical pins on the front of their hats, though. They were gifts from Elesa when they first became her weapons, and they've gone through a good few hats and many, many years, but they're still holding up.

and uhhh. i think thats it for basics w/ the boys! elesa post coming soon i Promise (and then a general post w/ a section on team plasma and the mcs. or maybe ill chunk that one up well see)

[waitimcomingtoo]

Tis the Damn Season

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Based off Tis The Damn Season

Masterlist

It was his jacket.

It was 100% his jacket, the red plaid one he only wore for the holidays.

And there it was, that stupid red jacket, standing in front of the tea section of your local grocery store.

He used to drape that jacket over your shoulders when you got cold on dates. Now, you wore a coat he had never seen before and you had no idea who’s shoulders had taken your please.

It had to be him. It just had to be your ex boyfriend in the one grocery store in town on the very day you decided to run some errands.

He just had to be there.

You immediately turned around, hoping to avoid a reunion with who that jacket belonged to. You looked over your shoulder at him and accidentally made eye contact, making you whip around and flush. You cursed yourself as you heard Tom approaching you, wishing you could disappear into this air.

“Y/n?” His voice sounded behind you. “Is that you?”

“Tom!” You pretended to see him for the first time as you turned around. He looked different, but after all, it had been four years since you’d seen him. Just from the look of him, you could tell there was an ache in him put there by the ache in you. But despite the ache, he pulled you into a hug.

“Hey.” He sighed as he rubbed your back. “It’s been a long time.”

“I know. I haven’t seen you since high school.” You chuckled nervously as you pulled away.

“Wow.” Tom was taken aback. “Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah.” You told him. “The night of our graduation was the last time I ever saw you.”

“Right.” Tom smiled sadly. “You just graduated college right? In June?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, feeling the tension between you. “How’d you know about that?”

“Your mum and I kept in touch.” He admitted. “She sent me pictures. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks.” You laughed awkwardly. “I’m gonna have to talk to her about sending pictures to my high school boyfriend.”

“Yeah.” He laughed as well, before clearing his throat. “You know, I looked for you every time I came home for the holidays. All fours years of college.”

“I know. And I made sure you never found me.” You forced a smile, an uncomfortable silence settling between you avoided eye contact.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry about that night. Graduation night, I mean.” Tom said suddenly. “I didn’t know you were gonna react like that.”

“You didn’t know I was gonna be upset when you waited to tell me you were leaving town to pursue acting until the week before you were leaving?” You cocked your head but kept a smile on your face so you wouldn’t seem reproachful.

“I didn’t know you were gonna break up with me and stop speaking to me.” He corrected you, also keeping a slight smile on his face.

“I was mad at you.” You admitted. “I was mad you waited so long to tell me.”

“Are you still mad?” He teased, making you chuckle. “Am I the subject of a bunch of break up songs I don’t know about?”

“No.” You smiled coyly. “I stopped being mad by the time school started up again. Then I just missed you.”

“You did? I missed you too.” Toms eyes softened. “I called you all summer. You never picked up.”

“Like I said, I was mad.” Your lips tightened into a line as you looked around awkwardly.

“Yeah.” Tom laughed sadly and looked down. “You broke my heart.”

“You broke mine first.” You countered. “So I guess we broke each other’s.”

Tom looked at you for a moment before shrugging, seemingly making a decision.

“We could call it even.” He suggested. “We could put all of that behind us and just enjoy each other’s company while we’re here.”

“You wanna do that?” You raised an eyebrow. “You want to wipe the slate clean?”

“If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.” Tom nodded, making you smile. You had to admit, you missed him terribly. The past was far behind you now and you saw no reason to cling to it.

“All right.” You decided. “I’m staying at my parents house. You should come by sometime.”

“I will. I miss them. I miss adults.” Tom shook his head. “The people in LA are so boring. Actors, especially.”

“Actors, huh?” You snorted. “If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would've asked you.”

“I wasn’t trying to be boastful.” Tom rolled his eyes playfully. “I was just saying.”

“I’m only teasing you.” You assured him. “I had to make sure the stardom didn’t go to your head.”

“I promise you, it didn’t. I’m still the guy who took you to prom and tripped over your dress.” He reminded you of the simpler times, making you smile.

“What are you doing today?” You asked suddenly, not wanting the reunion to end.

“Nothing. Why?”

“I’m parked over by the Methodist and the high school.” You jerked your head in that direction. “We could just ride around, if you want.”

“Do you still drive that big red truck?” Tom smiled like a child.

“I do indeed.” You nodded.

“Then yeah.” He chuckled. “Let’s go.”

You paid for your groceries and led Tom back to your truck, easily spotting it’s bright red color in the falling snow.

“It’ll be so weird to be back by the school.” Tom shuddered as he looked back at your old high school. “I never wanted to come back here after we graduated.”

“I know.” You agreed. “But the memories aren’t all bad. We kissed for the first time under those bleachers, if I remember correctly.”

“I remember it too.” Tom smiled sheepishly as he went around to the passenger side. “Didn’t you just get here? How did you get this much mud on your tires?”

“We were in Drivers Ed together.” You reminded him. “You know exactly how my tires got muddy.”

“Right.” Tom laughed as he buckled up. “I believe Mr. Zion called you a pleasure to have in class but reckless behind the wheel.”

“You know me, baby. Always taking the road less traveled.”

“Yeah well, that road was apparently full of mud.” Tom said sarcastically as he got in.

You laughed and started up the car, the cold fogging up your windshield, making you reach for the heat. Tom had the same idea, and your hands touched accidentally. You both smiled as you withdrew them, blushing as you turned away.

“Sorry.” You said as you reached for the heat again, an embarrassed smile still on your face.

“It’s okay.” Tom nodded. “I’ve missed your smile.”

“I’m only smiling because I’m in my old car with my high school boyfriend and I’m internally panicking.” You admitted as you began to drive.

“Why are you panicking?” He asked. “We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“Your life is in LA now.” You shrugged as you kept your eyes ahead. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“I want to.” Tom confessed. “I hated that we fell out of touch. I didn’t know giving this small town meant I had to give up you.”

“Tom, I told you. I’m not mad at you anymore.” You assured him. “And honestly, I don’t even blame you for leaving. We weren’t meant for a life in a small town. As soon as I could, I escaped it too. You just escaped first.”

“I think about that night a lot.” Tom admitted. “You were so excited to graduate. I had to go and ruin it by telling you I was leaving.”

“You were never great with timing.” You laughed softly. “You literally asked me to be your girlfriend right after I told you my cat died.”

Tom laughed as well, but when you looked at his face in the rear view mirror, he still looked upset.

“I’m surprised you even remember that night.” You kept talking to fill the silence. “I thought all the premiers and movie scripts would have replaced any memories of me.”

“Of course I remember you, darling.” He said certainly. “I remember every thing. All the kisses and dates and fights. I even remember your stupid cat.”

“He never liked you.” You laughed as you turned the corner.

“I know.” Tom rolled his eyes. He quieted down after a moment and returned his gaze to the window.

“God, that feels like so long ago.” You sighed with nostalgia. “What else do you remember about this place?”

“I remember your face when I told you I was leaving.” He said quietly, making you look at him briefly. “I remember how your makeup running down your face. And then I remember you watching me leave. I blocked everything else out.”

Upon hearing Toms words and the strain in his voice, you pulled your car over and looked at him.

“Look, you left. It sucked and it broke my heart but it happened. But you know what? It happened four years ago. I’m over it. So all this guilt you’re feeling is unwarranted. We said we were going to call it even, didn’t we?”

“Yeah. We did.” He nodded but his guilt didn’t let up.

“So stop with the pouting and the guilty eyes and the apologies. I forgave you four years ago.” You laughed, and he finally smiled. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it is the season for forgiveness.” He said sheepishly as his smile widened.

“There you go.” You cupped his chin. “I’ve missed your smile too, you know. And it’s tis the season. It sounds more festive that way.”

“Fine. Tis the season.” He obliged.

“Tis the damn season, indeed.” You nodded curtly. “Plus, this will be our first holiday together since high school. We should be focusing on that. The past doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Do you ever think about what would have happened to us if I stayed?” Tom asked as he kept his eyes on the falling snow. “Or how different our lives would be now if we went down the same path all those years ago?”

“Of course I do.” You said softly. “I thought about you all the time in college. I wondered what it would be like if I had taken your road instead of driving off on my own.”

“I thought about you too.” A sad look set into Toms eyes. “Honestly, darling, I never stopped loving you. Not even for a day.”

“I didn’t know that.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “I didn’t stop either.”

“You know what else?” Tom swallowed as he stared at you. “I think the road not taken looks real good now.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow and leaned across the transmission. “And where does that road lead?”

“To you.” He smiled coyly. “It always leads to you and my hometown.”

“How long are you in town?” You spoke softly as you pulled him closer by the jacket of his collar.

“I’m here until Monday.” He told you as your noses brushed. “Why?”

“I’m staying at my parents house.” You reminded him. “You should stay there too.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head. “And do what?”

“You could call me “babe” for the weekend.” You shrugged, lips grazing his. “Or anything else you’d like. I believe “darling” was a favorite of yours.”

“You’d want to do that? Even though I’m leaving?” His eyes darkened.

“Why not? I’ll be yours for the weekend. No strings attached.” You told him before connecting your lips to his. Tom kissed you back, putting his palm on your cheek to keep you close. It was your first kiss since high school, and it felt exactly how you remembered. Tom pulled away to catch his breath and rested his forehead against yours.

“So.” His lips twitched into a smile. “When does that weekend start?”

Time flew and Monday came all too quickly. You and Tom spent the weekend making up for the four years you’d been apart. On the day of his fight, you slept in half the day for old times sake. The sunlight hit you, waking you up and malign you curse your teenage self for not putting up thicker curtains. Tom rolling over beside you startled you but his warm hand on your hip calmed you down.

“Morning, babe.” His voice was husky from just waking.

“Good morning.” You rolled over so you were facing him. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Surprisingly yes, considering we’re two adults sharing your twin sized bed.” Tom chuckled sleepily.

“Must’ve been the company.” You shrugged coyly.

“Must be.” Tom grinned before leaning in to kiss you. You kissed him back before nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“This is how the past four years should have been. I should have been waking up next to you every morning.” Tom sighed as he rubbed your back.

“I know.” You responded before letting a silence settle in. You both knew the weekend was over, and neither of you wanted it to end.

“We should get up.” You said reluctantly. “Your flight is soon.”

“Yeah.” Tom sighed and untangled himself from you. He got out of bed and pulled his shirt on that had been discarded somewhere on the floor. You found your pajama shirt at the edge of the bed and pulled it on, the cold material sending a chill down your spine. You solemnly watched Tom get dressed, noticing how he kept his back to you. He did this to hide his despair as he got ready to leave the warmest bed he’d ever known.

“Tom?” You asked, making him turn around almost immediately.

“Yes?” He asked, hopeful eyes on you.

“Nothing.” You lost your nerve and sat back into the bed. “Never mind.”

“I don’t have to go yet.” He said quickly. “I could stay a few more days.”

“Why?” You asked sadly. “So I can wait around while you decide if this is worth it or not?”

“Well I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.” Tom answered. “Because I would. If you asked me to, I would stay.”

“What about your life back in LA?” You asked as you got off the bed. “What about your career?”

“I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “Suddenly that doesn’t matter to me anymore. The last time I left you, all I could think about was making it big. Now all I think about is you.”

You didn’t answer and pulled a sweater over your head, rubbing your arms to assuage you from the chill.

“I messed up last time.” Tom continued. “I never should have left you. Or I should have at least taken you with me.”

“We could have figured something out.” You finally spoke. “I could have looked at schools in LA. You just didn’t give me any time to prepare. Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I was so scared that you wouldn’t want to come with me that I just kept putting it off until you couldn’t come anymore.” Tom admitted, tears coming to his eyes as he relived the break up.

“It felt like you were leaving me behind.” You relived it too. “I thought you were running away from me.”

“Darling, I would never run from you.” He promised as he came to your side and put his hands on your face. “Only towards or beside you.”

“You were right.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you touched his face. “The road not taken looks real good now.”

“We could make this more than a just a weekend.” He mumbled as his thumb grazed your bottom lip. “I’ll stay here or you could come back with me.”

You let your eyes flutter shut before he pulled you into a kiss, one different from the ones shared the night before. You felt your emotions bubble to the surface and pulled away to rest your forehead on his chest.

“Tom, it’s not realistic.” You sniffled. “It worked for the weekend but it wouldn’t work long term. You know that.”

“Just hear me out.” Tom protested as you pulled away.

“We didn’t work when we were kids. What makes you think we’d work now?”

“We’re different now.” He pleaded. “I’m different now.”

“So what, you think I’m just gonna upend my life to follow you? Or you’re just gonna give up yours to stay with me?” You asked. “Are you even thinking at all?”

���I think you’re the only soul who can tell which smiles I’m faking.” Tom said solemnly. “And I think I’m a damn fool if I let you slip away again.”

You sucked in a sharp breath and cradled yourself as you turned away from him, unable to look at him without caving to his request. Tom slowly came up behind you and rested a hand on your shoulder, gently moving the hair that had been resting there.

“I also think that if a part of you didn’t want this too, you would have left a long time ago.” He whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

“You didn’t want this, remember?” You asked bitterly as you whipped around. “You didn’t want the small town life and the picket fence. You wanted bright lights and Hollywood and that’s what you got. That’s what’s waiting for you in LA.”

“Whats waiting for me in LA are fake friends who hang on the edges of their seats to see if I make it or fail. I saw the bright lights and I don’t want it anymore.”

“Then what do you want?” You asked desperately.

“You.” He said simply. “And if you say no, I’ll know that this time, the only heart I’m breaking is my own.”

You chewed your bottom lip as you stared at him, your whole life looking back at you.

“So, what do you say?” He whispered, desperation heavy in his voice. You rested your hands on his chest and gave him a gentle nod, telling him everything he needed to know.

“You said it yourself.” You smiled softly. “Tis the damn season.”

Tag List 🏷

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[juniorgman187]

Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past.  Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital. 

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer. 

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid. 

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing. 

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner. 

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England. 

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place. 

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.” 

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s. 

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do. 

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order. 

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore. 

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream. 

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia. 

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would. 

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was. 

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out. 

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second. 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned. 

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all. 

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand. 

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind. 

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too. 

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive. 

My eyes. 

“Here, take my jacket.” 

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping. 

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for. 

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then? 

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.” 

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me. 

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.” 

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid. 

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look. 

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing. 

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first. 

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.” 

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer. 

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body. 

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.” 

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories. 

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities. 

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me. 

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy. 

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been. 

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did. 

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands. 

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion. 

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine. 

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years. 

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain. 

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me. 

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time. 

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that. 

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us. 

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it. 

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.” 

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties. 

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.” 

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?” 

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive? 

“Jeez, you must be really smart.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went. 

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.” 

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more. 

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was. 

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there. 

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me. 

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored. 

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring. 

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted. 

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there. 

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist. 

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him. 

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!” 

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!” 

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name. 

“What’s yours?” He yelled back. 

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time. 

“Next time?” 

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away. 

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me. 

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order. 

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal. 

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?” 

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.” 

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize. 

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes. 

But that’s not the worst part. 

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her. 

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.” 

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage. 

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace. 

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that. 

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.” 

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer. 

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back. 

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence. 

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.” 

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded. 

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.” 

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed. 

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.” 

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition. 

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.” 

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further. 

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-” 

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.” 

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.” 

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?” 

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about. 

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions. 

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends. 

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away. 

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily. 

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?” 

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.” 

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.” 

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.” 

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell. 

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed. 

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued. 

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.” 

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed. 

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).” 

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently. 

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something. 

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off. 

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything. 

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear. 

I love Spencer. 

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair. 

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!” 

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?” 

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession. 

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter. 

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door. 

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-” 

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him. 

I learned, that day, that you do only live once. 

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was. 

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else. 

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.” 

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.” 

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago. 

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing. 

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own. 

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust. 

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back. 

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.” 

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard. 

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you. 

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion. 

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it. 

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine. 

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy. 

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle. 

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it. 

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking. 

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat. 

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.” 

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was. 

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out. 

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom. 

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back. 

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him. 

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask? 

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself. 

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth. 

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable. 

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.” 

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip. 

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory. 

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.” 

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again. 

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did. 

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?” 

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.” 

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently. 

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago. 

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself. 

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly. 

I was pregnant. 

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater. 

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess. 

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them. 

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection. 

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain. 

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth. 

“I think I might be pregnant.” 

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head. 

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy. 

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too. 

“Well, have you taken a test?” 

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?” 

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing. 

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.” 

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now. 

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently. 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time. 

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked. 

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.” 

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face. 

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?” 

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?” 

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire. 

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.” 

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace. 

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.” 

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.” 

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face. 

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!” 

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed. 

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade. 

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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[wizkiddx]

ruining the plan isn't always so bad

you can tell whenever I have really important things to be doing in my life - bcos instead I will spend hours writing for no apparent reason ah kmn ;///

tomhollandxreader - pure fluffffff

Summary: tried to base off when Dom and Sam surprised Tom shooting a couple of years back- but this time they got Y/n with them too

(I don't own the pic nor claim to ...idk how to do this crediting bit sorry :/)

The plan was in place. Tom was really struggling with homesickness on set of his newest film. No real reason why; just long hours, living out of a hotel room, half the world away from ‘home’. Harry was always flying out to join Tom as his ‘assistant’ however after a pretty heart-wrenching phone call Tom had made to Y/n, while she was hanging around with Haz and Harry at the Holland’s house... the plans had changed somewhat. He just seemed so distant and run down, when Nikki got her turn on the  phone she instantly knew that they had to do something. Naturally then, putting her superior organising skills to good use she arranged for Dom, Sam and Y/n to accompany Harry to Atlanta; and surprise Tom there. 

The way the last minute booking happened meant that Harry, Sam and Dom were all flying out on the same flight (though Harry was in first class, while the surprise guests were in economy). Y/n, because of her university timetable, couldn’t leave till a bit later, so was on a plane 2 hours after the Hollands - it wouldn’t make that much difference and if anything would prolong the joy of the excitement for Tom. They, meaning Harry who was oddly invested in the intracacies and details, had been brainstorming different ways to do the reveal- not sure whether to just do it in the hotel when Harry would be meeting Tom anyway, or waiting and surprising him when they were out for dinner or in a bar. Eventually they’d decided it would just be easier to have Harry, Dom and Sam just meet him at the hotel- then take him out to dinner, allowing time for Y/n’s later expected time of arrival, where she would then appear at the restaurant. 

Ever since Harry had let Tom know that he’d landed (if half an hour late), Tom had been excitedly texting him back constantly. The pair had agreed that Tom would simply meet him in Harrys hotel room when he got back from set. Yet when the time came, Sam and Dom were hiding just further down the corridor- waiting in the corridor. From their hideaway a couple of metres down the way from Tom and Harry, the obvious exctiement they could hear when Tom arrived and the two reunited warmed Dom’s heart. He just loved his sons all being so close- it was perhaps what  he was most proud of as a parent. Especially after witnessing both Harrison and Y/n loose a parent, he knew if god forbid anything happened to him and Nikki - they had each others backs completely. Sam was excitedly shifting from foot to foot hearing his brothers - Dom just subtly shook his head at the endearing nervous energy, clearly Sam was impatient for his turn. The idea was Sam would knock first then Dom, so after allowing a short time of just Tom and Harry reuniting, Sam pranced down the hallway and knocked. Yet it wasn’t Tom who flung the door open to Sam as per the scheme, instead his fuzzy haired twin.

“Harry what the fuck” Sam mouthed, daring to glance over his shoulder to attempt to spot Tom - annoyed at his brother for getting in the way.

“He’s on the shitter, change of plan bring Dad in.” Harry whisper-explained, making Sam roll his eyes at Tom unintentionally ruining his own surprise, before retreating to the hallway and beckoning his dad in. Dom pulled an equally bemused face until Harry filled him and he chuckled - earning him a harsh shush from both boys as they sat on the bed, facing the toilet door.

“So why did it take you so long to get here?” Tom asked through the thin loo wall, while Harry pushed his dad to sit further over on the bed.

“Oh ermm….they had some mix up with the luggage so we” Immediately getting slapped on the leg by his twin with a piercing glare,  Harry corrected himself “I mean -I had to wait for like an hour and a half to get my suitcase. Then I think I had the worst taxi driver in the world like down country roads and all.”

“Yeh like that drive should take like 40 minutes I thought? But when you texted me saying just left” He paused as the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink turning on flooded through the room ”that must’ve been at least an hour ago”

“I guess” Harry replied, hearing the tap turn off while Sam ran his fingers through his hair yet again - an excited or nervous tick.

“So how is everyone? I tried to call Dad and Y/n today but-“ The door opened, the stream of light flooding into the main room. Tom stopped dead in his tracks, voice cutting off but mouth hanging agape, still clutching onto the doorhandle. 

“Hello son” 

Dom spoke softly as he stood up from his choreographed position on the bed. Only at his words did Tom believe this was actually reality and literally sunk to his knees at the boundary between the ensuite and bedroom. He was awash with pure emotion, mainly relief - this was the exact thing he really needed right now. His dad soon pulled him up and hugged him, Sam following close behind. Tom’s reaction was priceless, the few tears being more than enough of a tell to his family how much he had needed this. 

It was an emotional reunion, there was a hell of a lot of hugs and suddenly the 14 hour journey was so worth it to Dom and Sam. Afterwards, they just all sat together on the bed and caught up on each others lives, Tom not really wanting to speak about himself - much preferring to hear all their stories from home about his mum and grandparents and the family that live down the road. He loved the normalcy of it. 

That was until a voice grabbed the attention of the whole room and Harry inwardly and silently cursed himself - in all the excitement he’d left his phone on silent in his jacket pocket, which was hanging on the coat rack so he hadn’t even heard it vibrate.

“Harry pick up your phone!” An exasperated voice exclaiming from the hallway half caught the Hollands’ attention, their heads all spinning in unison to the wooden hotel room door. It started to jerk open as Y/n wrestled with her suitcase ”You’ve left your hotel room open you div.Anyway I’m just dropping my case in your room so please text me where to go because - ugh- because right now you could all be anywhere in Atlanta and I-” 

The conversation within the room had died- all of them watching the petite brunette fight her way past the door with a silver suitcase that seemed ridiculously large and heavy for a weeks holiday. She had pressed her phone to her ear using her right shoulder and was wearing beige tracksuits a white crop top and a black leather jacket - as she grunted in frustration at the case, yanking it unceremoniously over the threshold. Subtly, Sam looked up at Tom, seeing his brothers eyes widen in shock, whole body turned completely rigid and Sam had to smile smugly - it was actually quite cute, even if he would never admit it to their faces. Y/n only stopped speaking into the receiver when her eyes finally darted into the room - noticing she had an audience. 

“Oh.” 

She stopped herself, pressing the end call button and pocketing her phone, whilst moving into the centre of  the room. She shot an apologetic smile to Harry, knowing she’d technically ‘ruined’ his plan - though to be fair it wasn’t her fault he didn’t answer the phone; or that his flight had been delayed meaning he didn’t get Tom to the resturaunt at the agreed time. Actually she could blame it all on Harry. He just rolled his eyes back at her whilst she looked past him and onto the shellshocked face of her boyfriend. 

Not being able to hide her grin, she halted at the foot of the bed, meanwhile Tom leant forward from the headboard - his eyes not leaving her. “You gonna say hi or am I just gonna stand here?” Y/n smirked, Tom still not moving from his shellshocked stance. Slowly her smirk morphed to a concerned look, eyebrows drawn inwards, as her look darted between Dom and Tom. 

“Tom are you okay?” she tried speaking gently, but before she could push anymore he launched himself off the sofa and into her arms, Y/n barely staying upright. Then Tom started spinning her round and round all the while squeezing her as tightly as possible. Y/n squealed an ‘I love you’  into his ear , already knowing Tom wasn’t ready to talk yet- instead just pressing his face closer into her neck. After a short while Tom lowered her to the ground and pulled away enough for Y/n to see the smudged tears around his eyes. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and looked deep into his mahogany brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now” he nodded jerkily, all the while inching his lips closer to hers. Both consciously aware of half the Hollands just viewing them, their kiss was fleeting and light - but made Tom’s heart want to burst. 

“God I’ve missed your stupid face” She laughed, now her eyes filled with tears too. He let out a breathy chuckle in reply and used his thumb to wipe away a single droplet that escaped her eye.

“Missed yours more” her smile lit up the entirety of her face, such a natural glow across her face Tom shook his head slightly marvelling at her. 

“Ohhkkkayyy well I don’t really want to witness the making of nieces and nephews”

“Harry” Dom warned in a disapproving tone, even if he did have to fight back the laughter. To be quite honest he’d really enjoyed seeing his son and almost adopted daughter reunite. Both him and Nikki absolutely loved their relationship, they just went together oh so well, whilst slightly reminding them both of their younger carefree days. Harry rolled his eyes at his dad before continuing. 

“But shall we get dinner and then you can be alone all night” His eyebrows wiggled in such a manner Y/n swore she felt a little nauseous witnessing it. 

“Harry stop!” Sam interjected, elbowing Harry harshly in the side, earning him a  playful slap in return.

“Someone remind me why I’m paying the wrong twin to be my assistant?” Tom still hadn’t looked away from Y/n as he quipped a response at Harry, while Y/n was gently stroking up and down his cheeks with such a soft look in her eyes. 

“Because I rejected it” Sam smirked, making Harry yell out in anguish-

“I was second choice?!?!”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Honestly just go play golf with your them! I have to do uni work anyway and-“

“But I don’t want to leave you! You’ve flown here too and I missed you.” Tom moaned, pressing a kiss into her hair from her position lying on his shoulder. Having slept uninterrupted for the first time in ages, Tom wasn’t even sure he wanted to venture away from Y/n and the bed at any point that day- even if it was for golf. 

“Your dad and Sam are only staying for the weekend so make the most of it! Me and my uni work are happy here-“ Tom’s eyes once again bugged out his face, as he caught on to her slip up.

“How long are you staying?” Shit. That was another thing she’d spoiled - getting a reputation to be as bad as Tom. Harry was for sure going to kill her.

“Oh fuck sake… that was my second surprise ruined… I’ve booked a week and a half off from uni so I can look after my little baby boy”

“Y/n don’t joke with me please.” Tom sat up, forcing Y/n to too which she huffed a little at, disrupting her comfort. It had her sitting up straight so she could look him in the eye and resting her hand on his exposed abdomen, asserting her authority on him. 

“I promise! My flights home next tuesday, but I’m missing uni so I have to be boring and keep up so it’s not a real holiday but-“ 

“I love you” 

Tom smiled for Y/n could never not surprise him. University was so important to her - she was really dedicating her life to it, especially financially. So her managing to put it on hold to look after him in a time of need was testament to just how kind and caring she truly was. 

“But you need to promise to look after yourself Tom. I haven’t seen bags under your eyes quite as impressive as this before. Think of your poor make up artists!” And she was back to being her usual sarky self. 

“I feel like I should be offended?”

“Or you can learn. Now go get showered before they leave without you.” Finally ralling off his side, then pushing him forcefully so he half rolled off the side of the bed. 

“Only if you shower with me.” The biggest smirk on his face, eyes wide and gleaming with mischief - which Y/n wanted to punch off so badly. On the other hand though, his idea didn’t sound half bad- letting him drag her up too. 

5 or so hours later, Y/n had written her assignment due in for next week and had submitted it online- making her feel pretty darn put together. She knew the boys had got back from the golf, and from the WhatsApp group Tom wasn’t very happy about his performance, so he was going to be moody. After closing her laptop triumphantly she chucked it in her bag and grabbed the spare key card and roamed the corridors of the hotel to find Sam and Dom’s room - where they all where. Tom had messaged her to let her know they were filming Dom’s podcast, so she had to be stealthy in her entrance - since to the public they were still just good friends. The secret still wasn’t ‘out’ so to speak. 

They’d left the door on the latch, allowing Y/n carefully pushing it open without making any noise. Immediately the golf-related bickering met her ears, while she peeked her head round the corner of the door. The four had set up armchairs by the window, with the camera balanced on top of a table and a stack of suitcases - in order for Harry to get the ‘perfect’ shot. Silently chuckling at the precarious arrangement, Y/n slid in through the door, turning round to gently close it shut again without noise. 

As soon as Tom had seen the door opening he had jumped out of his chair, walking up to Y/n and wrapping his arms round her- pulling her back into his chest off camera. Whispering a silently ‘I love you’ he grinned at the girl who was now arching to look into his eyes. She mirrored his sentiments, placing a bottle of water in his hand while pushing him back into frame. 

In reality, the whole of this podcast Tom had been attempting to summon energy in his body that was just not present. Don’t be mistaken, he had thoroughly enjoyed the time with his dad and brothers- but simply he only had today and tomorrow off filming for another 2 weeks, and the plan had been to stay as close to his bed as possible before the surprise happened. In all honestly, he caught his eyes drooping numerous times while they were filming the podcast- feeling safe in the surrounding of his family, the exhaustion was finally catching up to him. 

Y/n spent the rest of their podcast hidden behind the camera, doing some extra research on Sam’s double bed - yet sometimes having to stifle a chuckle at the boys filming. It was perhaps another 25/ 30 minutes before they finished, during which there was a hell of a lot of spoilers that they only realised too late could not be included. She really really did try to focus on her work, yet instead she found her eyes being drawn to her boyfriend. He still looked shattered. All she really wanted to do was wrap him in a thick duvet and cuddle into his side. She even promised herself to only find his occasional snores endearing tonight, which was something she often struggled with normally.

So when the camera was clicked off, Y/n spent a short amount of time chatting with all the Hollands, before suggesting they went to their own respective rooms before dinner. Unconsciously, when Y/n had suggested it, out of pure relief, Tom leaned almost all his weight against her side - anchored by the strong clasp on her hand. Of course, Y/n noticed and practically pulled Tom down the hallway without saying a word. Only when she let go of the door of their room, allowing it to close with a small slam, did she speak her mind.

“You shower, I’m getting room service then movies in bed… no arguments Holland.” He stared at her ,mouth agape, a little taken aback by her assertiveness, typically the opposite of Y/n. 

“I feel like you’ve just been inside all day, let me-“

“Nope. Nope. My holiday this is what I want… now shoo” She smirked, pushing him toward the ensuite door. Tom knew he did not have a choice in the matter, and even if he could possibly have some sort of influence- he was way too tired to argue.

Barely 15 minutes later, the two were wrapped cosily in the crisp white bedsheets, Tom with a small glass of a negroni cocktail and Y/n with her lime soda. Both were semi-reclined in a mound of pillows, yet Tom felt the need to also lean on her chest slightly. The familiarity of Y/n’s favourite movie ‘sunshine on leith’ playing on the screen, meant that within the first 10 minutes Tom was no longer alert. The smell of her perfume and the warmth of the duvet lulled him into a much needed slumber, making Y/n have to save the half-drunk negroni from spilling across the bedsheets as his grip relaxed. She just nestled in to the pillows further, a satisfied small grin dancing on her lips as she looked ahead at the TV, reducing the volume a little.

“Tom?…..Y/n?… Is anyone home?” A familiar voice sucked Y/n out from the next film ‘the greatest showman’, making her jump a little. Recognising it to be Dom instantly, Y/n had a mini argument in her head - whether to risk disturbing Tom by wriggling out from under him; or to call out instead, granting Dom independent entrance to the hotel room. It was possibly a bit of a weird position for her unofficial father-in-law to see his son and his girlfriend in, but she cared more right now about Tom resting than Dom’s opinions. 

“Dom…. come in… it’s open I think.” Desperately trying to get the volume right - enough so Dom could hear, but not so much as to wake Tom she called out, craning her neck toward the door. Luckily almost immediately Dom let himself in, and quizzically walked in seeing Y/n in bed.

“Sorry… it’s just I didn’t want to disturb him” Nodding in understanding, Dom inspected the state of his grown up, yet childlike son, asleep on her shoulder. 

“No no… he needs it. He always works himself raw for jobs but this…”

“It’s impressive even for him.” Y/n agreed, Dom noticing her unconscious stroking of his sons arm, soothing Tom as he slept. 

“Well me and the boys were trying to phone you both because we are going for dinner-“

“Ah sorry my phones in my bag”

“No no it’s fine… just it looks like Tom could do with an extra hour or so.” Dom motioned again to the slumbering figure with his trademark small grin, finding the whole situation entirely heartwarming.

“I was planning on waking him up so we could all go to the pub this evening… but yeh skipping the dinner might be a plan. I know it’s your last night and all but-“

“-Don’t apologise Y/n. I’m glad you’re looking after the kid.”  Y/n just smiled slightly, a small blush glowing from her cheeks. “I’ll um….leave you in peace… so maybe 9 o’clock? That gives you both 3 and a bit hours.”

“Sounds good!”Still speaking softly, Y/n freed one of her hands from the duvet and gave Dom a little wave as he exited the room giving a nod to her as the door closed. 

It was a sign of the times. Dom used to be Tom’s go to whenever he was tires, frazzled or fed up. But now he had been superseded by a far superior option. A kind, beautiful, intellectual choice - that Dom would graciously accept defeat to. 

He was awfully glad Tom had Y/n in his corner. And he was awfully glad he had found a surrogate  daughter in Y/n too. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

red+white, m | kth, jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader x jungkook

summary: On Christmas Eve, you take Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook out on a date and they’re surprised to find out that... it’s actually a real date. At least, until you decide to pull up your dress right in front of them. You are a horny little seductress after all.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, semi-public sex in the back of a car; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, nipple play, fingering, vibrator use, f-receiving oral, multiple orgasms, overstimulation); fluff; non-idol!AU; noona!reader gets all the attention this time, so sweet of them!

other parts of this series: just kidding + part ii, car ride.

--

You massaged the base of your right thumb, sucking in a tight breath at the pain.

You shouldn’t have played so many League of Legends games last night, but there was an event pass and you had to grind games. Well, you didn’t have to, but you wanted to. League of Legends was probably your longest commitment in your entire life. And it gave you carpal tunnel.

Like all your interests, it was making your life complicated.

You pulled the sleeve of your fur coat over your wrist brace. When you played a lot, you kept it on all the time. It wasn’t the sexiest thing, but you needed your hands after all. For various reasons.

“Excuse me?”

You grinned to yourself before turning around, waving at the smooth, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung.

“Hey, Taehyung!”

Taehyung made his way through the crowd in the busy outdoor mall to stop right in front of you. It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve, when everyone was getting off work, sunny but cold. He looked you up and down, narrowing his dark brown eyes. “What is this?”

White faux fur coat that barely covered your ass, black thigh-high heeled boots, and the outfit completed with a large red fabric bow tied around your neck. You had nabbed it from a package of Christmas cookies you received earlier in the day. Your hair was pinned up, leaving a few strands framing your face. In comparison, Taehyung was wearing a biscuit-brown corduroy jacket with a forest green sweater and white dress shirt underneath, collar poking out. Dark brown hair a bit pushed back, but with most of it falling onto his forehead. Coffee-colored slacks, pointed oxfords.

“But you haven’t seen the best part, Tae!” you quipped, far too cheerful for the suspicious eye Taehyung was giving you. You unsnapped the buttons of your fur coat, revealing the tight, slinky, red silk mini-dress underneath. It clung to your every curve, molding perfectly to your breasts and hips.

Taehyung’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He grabbed the sides of your coat and yanked them shut, breath frosting in your face.

“What the FUCK?” he hissed under his breath. “You can’t wear that!”

You blinked at him. “Why not?”

“That’s the kind of clothes you would wear to a club! Not a date!”

“But I don’t go to clubs anymore. I think it’s better to wear what you already own than to buy new ones.”

The look you were giving Taehyung was innocent, but he knew better.

“At least tell me you’re wearing underwear.”

You grinned. “Maaaaaaaybe…”

“Noona,” he growled low in his throat, making you wet already.

“Alright, alright, yes I am.”

Taehyung buttoned your coat, frowning. “Just wait until Jungkook sees you. He’ll be pissed.”

“Pissed about what?”

Jeon Jungkook’s bouncy, energetic voice popped up behind you. You turned around to see him in a big black parka and black jeans with chunky black boots. He grinned, waving a hand, his long black hair half-slicked back as usual. He was wearing leather fingerless gloves. You bit your lower lip, grinning back. Jungkook’s smile faltered, suddenly apprehensive once he saw your expression.

“What’d she do?” Jungkook asked, eyes flickering to Taehyung.

“She–”

“Jungkook,” you cut Taehyung off jovially. “I wore something nice for you two!”

And you popped your coat open once again, ruining Taehyung’s good work of trying to keep you covered. Taehyung threw up his hands as Jungkook’s eyes widened, jaw dropping at the sight of your sinful body wrapped in red silk.

“Noona!” Jungkook scolded, yanking the sides of your coat closed, pressing his body against you. “You can’t wear that!”

“Why not?” you purred, licking your lips. “It’s nearly Christmas.” You pointed to the large red bow on your neck. “I’m festive!”

Jungkook looked aghast, clenching his jaw. “T-That’s not…” He hurriedly re-snapped the buttons on your white fur coat. “You’re going to be cold.”

You shook your head. “This coat is super warm. Plus, I’m wearing panties!”

Jungkook shot Taehyung a pained look. “I’m proud of you…”

“We’re going to be late! Let’s go!”

You grabbed their hands as Taehyung and Jungkook sighed at each other, smiling despite knowing they were already in big trouble.

-

“A… mug café?”

You pointed to the menu. “Not just any mug café, Jungkook. See, you pick a style of mug and then you decorate it with paint. Once you’re done, they cure it for you and then you can eat some snacks as you wait for it to be finished.”

Taehyung tilted his head, reading the instructions. “Looks like you have to make an appointment.”

“I did. It’s almost time,” you said cheerfully. “Look at all these different ceramic colors and paints. I thought it would be fun to do together.”

Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged a look. “You mean… this is an actual date, noona?”

You turned away from the window to frown at them. “Of course, it is. I booked a time and everything!”

Jungkook shifted his eyes. “Uh, well… usually you’re interested in doing other things with us…”

You blinked at them. “What?”

Taehyung clapped a hand over Jungkook’s mouth. “Never mind, never mind. Let’s go in.”

-

“Ah! I’m done!”

You turned your extra-large pale blue mug around, revealing the fluffy white Poro you painted, complete with a tasty cinnamon-bun-looking Poro-Snax biscuit in its mouth. Tiny white and yellow sparkles circled its head like a starry sky.

Taehyung smiled, shaking his head. “Your League of Legends obsession is a little extreme.”

“Oi, Poros are cute. I like cute things. That’s why I like you.”

Taehyung’s tan cheeks turned bright pink as you turned your attention to Jungkook’s masterpiece. He was painting a nighttime forest of evergreen trees on a black mug, with a small cabin and white dotted stars. He had three plates of different colored paints and at least ten small paintbrushes next to him. His pink tongue was in between his lips, holding his breath as he added small details to the trees in different shades of green.

“Wow, that’s intricate,” you admired, scooting your chair closer to him. Your sleeves were rolled up, but you were still bundled in your coat. Somehow, no paint got on the white fur. “You’re so talented, Jungkook.”

He finished the tree he was working on and pulled it back, frowning slightly. “Ah, I don’t know…”

“What are you talking about? That’s the coolest mug I’ve ever seen. I would totally buy that if I saw it at the store,” you protested.

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, picking up another paintbrush covered in white. “Really?”

“Of course. Especially since the artist is so handsome,” you added with a wink.

Jungkook’s ears turned red as you shuffled back to Taehyung to look at his mug. He was painting a small brown bear with a red Santa hat next to a wildly decorated Christmas tree on a light green mug.

“Should I add snow?” Taehyung wondered out loud.

“Maybe on the ground? But I think the tree should be the focus,” you mused. “Will the bear have a little coat?”

Taehyung puffed his cheeks. “Ah, I forgot!”

You scraped your chair back, holding your own Poro masterpiece. “I’m going to have them cure mine first. Be right back,” you chirped cheerfully, walking up to the counter where the jolly-looking man was waiting.

Jungkook watched you go, pursing his lips. “Kind of surprised she hasn’t tried to do anything crazy yet.”

Taehyung squirted out way too much red paint and made a disgruntled noise. “Well, she isn’t a horny seductress all the time. Just most of the time. Also, we’re in public.”

Jungkook went back to his mug as you chatted with the owner. 

“It’s nice, just like this.”

Taehyung paused mid-stroke of red. His eyes flickered to Jungkook’s lowered head, back to being focused and working carefully. Taehyung thought about adding to the conversation, but kept his mouth shut, rubbing his chin instead. Then he went back to the bear and adding the red Santa coat.

You came back with a muffin and hot chocolate.

“Ah, the owner was so nice. He gave me the last blackberry muffin. He said they’re really popular.”

“Oh, can I try some–” Jungkook raised his head as you turned around to place your white fur jacket on your chair. His eyes widened, voice turning into a tight hiss. “Noona!”

You settled back in your seat, facing him as you popped some more muffin in your mouth. “Mmm?”

“Your dress is backless!”

“IT’S WHAT?” Taehyung whispered shrilly, nearly dropping his work of art.

You chewed. “Yeah… so?”

Jungkook jabbed his paintbrush in the air angrily. “So? SO?”

Taehyung craned his head and his jaw dropped. “That’s nearly to your ass!”

You took a sip of hot chocolate. “Yeah… so?”

Jungkook got up suddenly. “I’m going to have my mug cured.”

You blinked at him. “Are you done?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “As done as I have focus for.” He walked stiffly to the counter.

You blinked. “What’s his problem?”

Taehyung scraped his chair back loudly, startling you. “I’m also finished.” He also began to shuffle awkwardly to the counter. You tilted your head and went back to your muffin, eating happily. Maybe a little too happily.

Well.

Definitely smugly, that’s for sure.

-

“Ah, should I just put them on the floor like this? Or like this?”

Jungkook and Taehyung were standing behind you as you struggled arranging the nicely wrapped, hand-painted mugs you all had made in the backseat of Taehyung’s car. Meaning that the backseat door was open and you were on your knees, bending down to the floor to arrange said boxes, your thigh-high black boots sticking out, white fur coat riding up your ass and your equally short red dress slowly hiking up your thighs.

Taehyung and Jungkook stood behind your legs, staring at your increasingly exposed butt in the parking lot and blocking the view from passersby.

“You are doing this on purpose,” Taehyung muttered.

“No, I’m not,” you shot back. “I don’t want someone to look in your car and want to steal your Christmas presents. I paid a lot for that appointment!”

You yelped and fell to your elbows, the hem of your dress shooting up your ass and popping against your waist, leaving your thin red thong out in the open. 

“What the fuck?” Taehyung grumbled indignantly, stomping around to the other side of the backseat.

Jungkook rubbed his temples, already expecting it, but still unprepared.

You grinned to yourself, unsurprised as Taehyung ripped the car door open.

“You,” he growled, sliding into the seat and shutting the door sharply. “Are a horny seductress.”

You smiled innocently at him. “Who, me?”

He took the three boxes from you and placed them in the front passenger seat firmly.

“Hey, be careful with those–”

Taehyung grabbed your face and kissed you, pressing his warm lips into yours, silencing your words. You sighed happily, opening your mouth and moaning, enticing him. You felt Jungkook’s fingers on your cold, exposed skin, snapping the string of your thong into your ass and making you whine against Taehyung’s lips. Jungkook grasped your panties and pulled up hard, burying them into your rapidly dripping slit. You bucked, wiggling your hips as Taehyung rubbed his tongue against yours.

“Fuck, noona,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

He pushed your legs in, forcing you to sit in the center seat and slipped inside, shutting the door.

It was cold outside, but inside the car was so very hot now.

Taehyung broke the kiss, glaring at you. You loved how dark his eyes became, so demanding and lustful, annoyed but also amused with your antics.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he muttered. “But you make me want to fuck you anyway.”

He pushed you into Jungkook’s waiting arms, forcefully turning your head. Your stared into Jungkook’s piercing gaze, his long black hair covering his left eye. He smirked at you, bringing you close to his face as Taehyung unsnapped your coat.

“Can’t even wait until we’re home to cause trouble, can you?” he whispered against your lips.

You tried to kiss him, but Jungkook dodged you, roguish expression on his face. You frowned and grabbed his head, crashing your lips into his as he infuriatingly smiled against them, catching your lower lip in between his teeth and sucking on it. You moaned softly as Taehyung ran his large hands up your hips, all the way up to your breasts. Jungkook’s fingers tangled into your hair, pulling your head back as a needy whine escaped your lips. He shook a finger at you, scooting his body closer, pushing you into Taehyung.

“No, no,” he chided, shushing you. “You want to be so bad and get us into trouble, then you’ll have to face the consequences.”

He placed his leather-covered palm on your cheek, forcing you to face Taehyung as he lowered the shoulders of your coat, exposing the thin straps of your silk dress. Taehyung sucked in a breath, looking down at you hungrily.

“So jealous that someone must have taken you home in this,” he murmured.

You winced a little, biting you lip. “Um… maybe many someones?”

Taehyung’s eyes flickered up to you, dark and dangerous. “You’re insatiable.”

He took one strap and Jungkook took the other, sliding them down your shoulders. Your breasts swelled against the red silk before popping out, black x-shaped pasties covering your nipples. They didn’t need to help you take them off. You reached up with some difficulty and peeled them off yourself, nipples hardening in the cold air.

A part of you was aware that some bystander might witness this and the same part was quite satisfied about that.

Jungkook leaned forward to press his lips against your ear, right hand coming up to knead your right breast. He had removed his gloves, his bare palm rubbing against your hard nipple. Shivers ran through you at his touch.

“Someone’s going to see how naughty you are, noona,” he purred, licking your earlobe. “Someone’s going to watch you get toyed with by Taehyung and I and probably jack off to it tonight.”

You exhaled deeply, feeling Taehyung’s left hand on your left breast, pinching your nipple as he shifted a little to cover your body, leaning his forehead against your temple. You should have been cold, being mostly naked, but you were scorching hot with arousal and the bodies of the two men pressed against you.

“Let them watch,” was your reply, moaning against Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung scoffed. “Jungkook would probably fuck you out in the open like an animal.”

Jungkook grinned mischievously. “I would.” He sucked on your ear, flicking your nipple as you kissed Taehyung. “And she would be begging for it.”

You spread your legs, whimpering, but they ignored it, Taehyung working his free hand into your hair, ruining all the hairpins, kissing you hard and possessively. You inhaled his heavy, spiced cologne, intoxicated. He released your nipple and reached up to the one end of the red bow, Jungkook playing with the other end.

“I know you said the mug-painting class was our Christmas gift,” Jungkook began, twisting his fingers around the ribbon.

Taehyung broke the kiss, licking your lips lightly as he spoke into your panting mouth.

“But we would have been satisfied with unwrapping just this one.”

And then they both pulled on the red fabric ribbon, slowly untying it, ruining the perfect bow and your common sense, tipping your head as you arched your back. The ends brushed against your chest as Jungkook hooked a finger in the center, fully undoing the tie and exposing your neck. It fell against your elbows, your arms still trapped in your large fur coat.

“Fuck, noona,” Taehyung breathed against your skin. “You’re so pretty, just like this.”

He kissed down your neck, licking down your quivering throat. You had no time to watch though, because Jungkook immediately kissed you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as Taehyung’s lips found your nipples, licking and sucking them while Jungkook sank his fingers into your thigh.

Your panties were drenched, sticking to your folds, leaking down, the strong scent of your arousal filling the car. You suddenly felt Taehyung’s long fingers grip the top of your thong and pull up. You gasped into Jungkook’s mouth and he grinned, fingers trailing up your thigh, so close but so far.

“You want to be touched?” Jungkook taunted, tapping your inner thigh.

“J-Jungkook, please…”

He hummed cheerfully. “I will if hyung lets me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Jungkook grinned cheekily back, dark eyes flashing, black hair obscuring his left eye. It was clear that all he wanted to do was deny you, because Jeon Jungkook was a relentless tease.

Well, you had that in common.

Your conversation with Jungkook had distracted you from the fact that Taehyung had removed himself from your chest, reaching into his coat. You jumped as you felt something cold and hard press against your clothed, but still throbbing, wet clit. You whipped your head to Taehyung, who licked his lips, devilish spark in his brown eyes.

“Present for my good girl.”

And then he turned on the bullet vibrator, assaulting your clit.

Your cried out and Jungkook slapped a hand over your mouth, grunting as he held down one leg, preventing you from squirming away as Taehyung pinned the other to the seat, sending intense vibrations straight to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whined around Jungkook’s palm and he lowered his face to your right breast, taking your nipple into his mouth. Taehyung followed suit with the other.

It was a cramped space, and yet you were already in ecstasy, head forced back, both your nipples being licked and sucked as Taehyung coaxed you to orgasm. Your whole body jerked as you came quickly, unable to cope with the initial harsh, intense vibrations and the sensation of two tongues on you at the same time. Your clit flared with stimulation, thighs trembling. And still Taehyung held you there, barreling you through your first orgasm and pushing for the next, making you scream behind Jungkook’s strong hand, eyes squeezing shut as the wave crashed down again, hips shuddering and spasming with pleasure.

Taehyung removed the vibrator to press it against your wet nipple. You shuddered, clit aching, still wanting more. Jungkook removed his hand and Taehyung kissed you, breathing in your euphoric exhale. You moaned into his mouth, eyes half-lidded, staring into his beautiful lashes, his soft hair brushing against your forehead. You whined and Taehyung broke the kiss, your name floating from his lips, turning off the vibrator for a moment. You wanted to reach up and touch him, slip your hand under his sweater and shirt, but your hands were pinned in place from your jacket.

“Sorry, noona,” he purred in his soul-shakingly deep voice. “Only one of us is getting naked here, and it’s you.”

“B-but, Tae…”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “That’s what you get for teasing us with your sexy body.” He turned away from you, tapping Jungkook who was lazily pushing your nipple around in circles with his tongue, steady pleasure that graced you through your afterglow. Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

“Hm?”

Taehyung pointed to your thong. “Rip it off.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I still want those?” you interrupted, amused.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “I have to convince you to keep clothes on in general.”

You nodded knowingly as Jungkook’s fingers danced down your stomach. “You’re right.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

Jungkook made eye contact with you, lower lip trapped in his teeth. Your lips parted, feeling his fingers close in on the top of your panties. He was smirking playfully, aware of his power over you, watching your eyes tick between his face and his hands. His nail traced your slit, smirk widening as you moaned at his light touch.

“I would let you be naked as much as you want,” Jungkook drawled, slipping a finger under the soaked red fabric, prying it out of your folds. You whimpered softly, lost in his dark brown eyes and his sinful words, his knuckles brushing against your heat as he grasped your thong with his two hands.

“And that’s why I have to wrangle you two,” Taehyung muttered, eyes flickering to the outside world, hoping the owners of the two cars next to you were not going to come back anytime soon. “Otherwise, both of you would be arrested for indecent exposure.”

Jungkook grinned. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t you ‘hyung’ me.”

You gasped as Jungkook ripped your thong apart, turning it into useless scraps of wet red fabric. The strings on the sides snapped as well and it fell off your body. Jungkook swept the shreds from the seat onto the car floor.

Taehyung glared at him. “And I’m supposed to explain that to the car cleaners, how?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Tell them you had a very horny woman you needed to please.”

Taehyung looked up at the sky, exasperated, mouthing silent words before he addressed him again. “I’m first, then you. Then we’ll switch again.”

The younger man grinned. “Okay.”

You blinked as Taehyung handed Jungkook the silver bullet vibrator. “Excuse me,” you said quietly, “I would like to know exactly what you mean by–”

You were abruptly cut off by Taehyung shoving two fingers into you, your words turning into a sharp yelp as your drenched hole was suddenly filled, all the way up to his knuckles. Jungkook lifted you slightly, perching your leg on his so your hips were raised, giving Taehyung a better angle. You felt Taehyung’s lips against your ear as he slowly slid his fingers out, whispering your name.

“We’re going to make you cum so much you can’t stand,” he growled. “And then we’re going to take you home and stuff you so full of cock that you’ll think twice before teasing us like this again.”

Jungkook chuckled, appearing in your vision, speaking in Taehyung’s ear.

“She’s going to take it as encouragement to do more dangerous things.”

Taehyung sighed knowingly, forcefully jamming his fingers back into you. You gasped, pressing yourself against Jungkook’s hard body so you could raise your hips as Taehyung began to pump his fingers into your dripping pussy, wet sloppy squelches accompanying his movement. You could barely register the sound of the vibrator turning on again, but you felt it, sliding down your stomach, skin tingling as you panted.

“D-don’t…” you whimpered, already knowing it was falling onto deaf ears. You were clenching so tightly around Taehyung’s fingers that there was absolutely no way you meant it.

Taehyung smirked. “Jungkook’s allowed to do whatever he wants while I finger you.”

The pulsating vibrations attacked your clit, shooting bolts of pleasure up your torso, hips shaking as Taehyung’s fingers repeatedly rammed into you. Your eyes slid closed, a moan tearing from your lips, Jungkook’s snicker above you, his free hand pinching and rubbing your nipple as he massaged your clit with the bullet vibrator.

“Noona, you’re so fucking hot,” Jungkook praised, breath heavy against your skin. “The most perfectly fuckable body I’ve ever touched.”

You bit your lip hard, pleading noises in your throat, getting wetter at Jungkook’s words, one of your hands clutching Taehyung’s thigh, digging your nails into his pants, indicating you were close. Jungkook changed the setting, increasing the vibrations, and your hips bucked violently, burying your face into Taehyung’s shoulder as you came, screaming into his brown coat.

“A-ah, Taehyung, Jungkook!”

You gasped sharply as Taehyung removed his fingers, moaning as they touched his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

Jungkook’s lips pressed against your ear, teasing you. “My turn.”

And then his two fingers slid in, slightly different from Taehyung’s, but just as good, filling you up. He scissored them in you and you lifted your head from Taehyung’s shoulder, panting, watching Jungkook and his sharp jawline, pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black. He seemed to feel your gaze and he turned his head to look at you, the tiny mole underneath his lips flashing as he grinned.

“Who’s a good girl?” Jungkook hummed, tilting his head, pink tongue darting out.

“I-I am…” you breathed, whimpering as you saw his tongue. “I am, Jungkook…”

He cocked his head as the vibrator sounded again, Taehyung pressing it against your swollen nipple, smearing your orgasm all over your tits. You moaned wantonly, leaning back into Taehyung as Jungkook began to finger you roughly, a bruising pace, sliding you up the seat a little with his force.

“What do you think, Taehyung?” Jungkook purred. “Do you agree with her?”

Taehyung chuckled into your hair. “Maybe if she cums for us a few more times, I’ll be convinced.”

He slid the vibrator down, down and you were there again, drowning in copious, sinful pleasure as Taehyung assaulted your sensitive bundle of nerves with relentless vibration and Jungkook fucked you hard and fast with his fingers, your juices sliding down his palm, probably sticking to the seat and your coat, but none of you cared, all three of you chasing your next orgasm, pushing you to the edge, going, going, gone.

It came fast and it came hard, ricocheting through you, so hot, so intense, clit and pussy throbbing together, sucking in Jungkook’s fingers, moaning their names deeply as you rocked your own hips through your orgasm, extending it. You shuddered when Jungkook pulled his fingers out, licking them off noisily as Taehyung pressed the bullet vibrator against your puffy, soaked pussy lips, watching your erotic expression, mouth open, tongue lolling.

“We’re not done, noona.”

Taehyung’s deep voice, warning you, but you couldn’t think, couldn’t believe there was more, more. He turned off the vibrator and switched it for his fingers again, dipping them in, the feeling of his joints and calluses rubbing against your walls, and then he added a third finger. You gasped, throat dry from all your noises as you opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s head lower, pushing your hips down so your knees hit the backs of the front seats, uncomfortably spread wide, ass half-hanging off but feeling so good that you didn’t notice. Didn’t notice until Jungkook’s tongue was on your swollen clit.

Your eyes rolled back into your head.

So fucking good.

Taehyung shoved his fingers into you, fucking you hard and deep as Jungkook lapped at your raw clit, teasing it, nipping at it. It throbbed against the tip of his soft tongue, so sensitive you were a whimpering, moaning mess, even more so as Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s free hands played with your nipples, pinching them as they drove you crazy, ruining you with fingers, lips, and tongue. Your name, coaxing you in heart-shaking baritone, telling you to come in Jungkook’s mouth and all over his hand.

“Aren’t you Taehyungie’s good girl?”

“F-fuck, yes, fuck, Tae, I’m your good girl, oh, fuck–”

Your words tumbled together in a hoarse hiss, hips rutting into Jungkook’s face as you came, liquid gushing everywhere, walls spasming and clamping around Taehyung’s fingers, one of your hands pulling out of your coat and grabbing Jungkook’s head, forcing him down as you rode your high into his mouth, messing up his long hair. Jungkook gave you a muffled groan, twisting your nipple slightly.

Your core was aching with pleasure and overstimulation, never before having been pushed this far, intoxicated by the feeling. You loved every second of Taehyung and Jungkook having their way with you, drunk on the feeling of back-to-back orgasms. Your hand slipped and Jungkook resurfaced, lips shiny with your juices, licking them off slowly as Taehyung sucked on his fingers.

Then Jungkook flexed his right hand at you, tattoos dancing as he did so.

“Round two.”

And then the positions changed, Taehyung’s lips on your inflamed clit, Jungkook’s three fingers knuckle-deep inside you, except Jungkook craned his body to place his lips on your abused right nipple, sucking on it as Taehyung pressed the slippery bullet vibrator against your other nipple, vibrations jarring you right to your heart. Taehyung’s tongue was gentle and firm, still too much as it was paired with Jungkook’s wet muscle teasing you as his fingers thrust into your pussy, slow, deep, hitting your favorite spot. You completely forgot you were in Taehyung’s car in some random parking lot, partly out in the open, lost in the ecstasy and elation.

It took them no time at all since you were already so sensitive that you were the one holding back, trying not to give in, trying to prolong the pleasure, but eventually you lost and the taut coil in your stomach snapped.

“O-oh, Jungkook, Taehyung…”

Your hips jerked into Taehyung’s face, your orgasm leaking onto the floor of his car, fingers curling into his hair, so lovely and soft, wild torrents of pleasure soaring through you. So very, very good. Dirty, deviant, and glorious. Taehyung removed the vibrator from your nipple, turning it off. You moaned softly, coming down from your high, clutching Taehyung’s head, your fingers massaging his scalp as he continued licking you gently. You gazed into Jungkook’s eyes as he slowly removed his lips from your nipple, glassy eyes locking with his.

“You taste so good,” Jungkook murmured, face centimeters from yours. “Smell so good, look so good, feel so good, sound so fucking sexy.” He kissed you, your taste still on his tongue, breathing your name like a caress.

Taehyung finally untangled his head from your hand, panting softly. He came up to your face too, and Jungkook moved to make space, tenderly kissing your cheek and ear.

“Noona,” Taehyung mumbled, smearing your own orgasm onto your chin as he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your voice was raspy and gravelly from all your noises. “W-what?”

“You’re going to spend Christmas with us, right?”

Your lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Well, I was going to slide down your chimney and–”

Taehyung prodded you as Jungkook laughed heartily. “We don’t have a chimney.”

You shrugged. “Same idea, break in and fuck you both.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Santa doesn’t do that.”

“All I’m saying is that Mrs. Claus definitely gets some–”

Taehyung shut you up by kissing you once again.

-

part ii: gold light

--

masterpost

[ninzied]

that which we call a rose

based on the prompt: a hello/goodbye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

happy valentine’s day, kastle fam!

On the second Thursday of every month, Karen can’t help the extra spring in her step. There’s no point in trying to hide it—she does have an office adjacent to Matt’s, after all—but until she knows what it even is, she’ll let her friends draw their own conclusions.

This month is no exception.

“So…hot date tonight?” asks Foggy, precisely ten minutes after Matt’s said goodbye. Though Foggy’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, he’s clearly been waiting all day to spring the question on her. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in this morning. And that was before we even had coffee. What gives?”

“Not a date,” says Karen lightly. “But a something.”

“Wait.” Foggy looks up from his briefcase, dropping every pretense now. “Yeah? That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Karen.”

She looks a little bemusedly at him. “Thanks, Foggy, but it’s not a big deal. Just takeout and whatever’s on TV tonight, probably.”

“Hey,” says Foggy. “Not gonna lie, but that sounds pretty appealing right now.”

Karen lets out a laugh. “Why? What’s stopping you and Marci?”

“You know how she gets about this kind of thing.” Foggy glances at his watch, and groans. “Shoot. I still have to pick up flowers. I can’t afford to be late—literally. This place had like a five-month wait list for tonight, and I think there’s a surcharge if we hold up one of their tables.” He throws her a rueful smile. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” says Karen, in a tone that she hopes will come across as commiserating rather than slightly confused. Was there some memo about today that she missed?

“And you have a good ‘not a date but a something,’” says Foggy, practically beaming at her. “You can”—he gives a comical wag of his eyebrow—”not tell me all about it tomorrow, sound good?”

“Sure,” says Karen, smiling distractedly. She waits until Foggy has gone, the door closed securely behind him. And then she picks up her tiny desk calendar, which she’d forgotten to flip over to February, and looks down at today’s date.

Oh. God.

…

The signs are everywhere, on her walk home from the subway.

For the life of her, Karen doesn’t know how she could’ve missed them before. Paper hearts plastered on storefront windows. Floral shops spilling out onto the sidewalks. Restaurants boasting their two-for-one specials. And the couples. All the couples, wherever she turns.

By the time she’s at her apartment, Karen is nearing levels of genuine panic.

She hangs up her work clothes as if on autopilot. She pulls on a worn pair of leggings and a soft, oversized sweater before pausing to reconsider, and then she changes out of that too. This isn’t just any second Thursday of the month anymore.

She checks her phone, in case Frank has canceled.

She does have a text from him, but all it says is that he’s running about a half hour late—his latest demolition site is all the way up in the Bronx, and traffic is a bitch right now—but how does she feel about Vietnamese for dinner?

There’s no doubt in her mind that the day has not occurred to him either.

Perfect. I’ll be ready with the wine, she sends back, and immediately wonders what has come over her. Beer would’ve been the more appropriate choice for this very much not-a-date, and besides that, they never drink wine together. Whiskey, sometimes, but they’d finished off her last bottle of Maker’s the last time he was here.

Wine is different. Wine means something. Right?

What was she thinking?

And what on earth is she supposed to wear?

…

Karen answers the door an hour later, back in her sweater and leggings. She breathes a small sigh of relief to find Frank there in his typical attire—jeans, with a faded black henley, and a crooked half-grin as he steps over the threshold into her apartment.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he says back, like it’s just another day. Like this is just another dinner for them to catch up. He holds up a bag and says, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She reaches for the food so he can get out of his coat, but he waves her gently off.

“’S’okay, I got it.” He looks at her, his gaze going warm. “Think you said there’d be wine?”

And just like that, the rest of her anxiety melts away. There’s still a light flutter of nerves in her stomach, but that’s something else.

Something that she’s always going to feel whenever she’s around him, whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not.

…

Despite how casually Frank is dressed, there’s always a sense of formality to the way he moves around in her place. Like he’s not quite sure whether he’s intruding or not.

He carefully folds his jacket over the back of her couch before taking the food to her kitchen, unpacking each dish as she pulls out the wine.

She tells him about work—minus Foggy’s theories on how she planned to spend her evening—and Frank doesn’t say much, but she knows that he’s listening, attentive to her as ever.

Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine is when he starts to loosen a little, leaning his elbows onto the counter, swiping the last bite of spring roll from her plate.

He tells her small stories about how work has been going for him, and each time she laughs he ducks his head down, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

They end up eating half the food before realizing they’re still standing in her kitchen.

Frank takes their wine to the couch, and she turns the TV on at low volume, flipping aimlessly through the channels.

They settle on a cooking show, which would’ve surprised her one year ago, before these Thursday night dinners. Before he teased her for the one frying pan that she owned and resigned himself to eating takeout from then on. Before they learned to laugh about things like what Matt said at work that day, or the fact that Frank hasn’t had to kill anyone with a sledgehammer. Not recently, anyway.

“All right,” he says, pointing at the pasta on her TV screen. “Next month, we’re doing this at my place for a change, and I’m making you that.”

She doesn’t know why she does it.

Maybe it’s his casual reference to next times. Maybe it’s how closely they’ve wound up sitting together, with her thigh snug against his, the arm he’s draped warmly over the back of the couch right behind her.

Maybe it’s the way this not-so-random Thursday in February feels as though it could become something like every day, for them.

“Deal.” She puts a hand on his knee without even thinking about it, smiling as she tells him, “All right, I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Okay,” says Frank, turning to smile back at her.

It happens so fast, so instinctively that before she knows what she’s doing, she’s leaning in, and pressing her mouth briefly to his as she stands from the couch.

Like this is an everyday kind of thing for them too, kissing each other before one of them’s about to leave the room.

Karen makes it down the hall without any memory of how her legs have carried her there. Oh God. Oh God.

Her cheeks are flaming when she shuts the bathroom door behind her.

…

After splashing water on her face, and dabbing it dry with shaky hands, she looks in the mirror and wills every last part of her being to get a freaking grip. This is Frank, and she can be honest with him. Even if it means being honest with herself.

She knows what this is. She knows what she wants it to be. And she’s done letting either of them think that anything less is going to be enough for her.

Karen takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.

…

She hadn’t been gone long, but apparently it was long enough.

The TV’s shut off, their wine glasses cleared from the coffee table. He’s not on the couch.

He’s not—anywhere in her living room.

But as she moves closer, she sees his coat still folded there, and then she hears the sound of movement in the kitchen. She doesn’t know whether she’s more relieved or apprehensive at the prospect of facing him right now, but she supposes she’s grateful she even has the option to decide between the two.

Frank’s clearing the counter, so she can’t get a good read on his face. He’s quiet, though, brows creased together even more somberly than usual, and the fact that he won’t meet her eye should tell her everything he’s not saying out loud.

Their leftovers are stacked neatly next to the takeout bag. He slides the bag out of her way as she picks up the food containers, storing them in her fridge. There’s a six-pack of beer on one of the lower shelves, the bottles clinking together as she closes the door.

“Frank,” she says, careful not to look over at him, “I think we should talk about what we’re doing here.”

He swallows audibly. And then he says, “Yeah. I know.”

She glances at him, wishing she weren’t as surprised as she feels. She’d expected more resistance from him, if not outright denial. It’s unfair of her, she knows; Frank’s abysmal track record notwithstanding, he’s still here, despite the fact that she’d just snuck a kiss out of him without his permission. That has to mean something.

Right?

God love him, though, but he can’t seem to keep his hands still. He grips the edge of the counter, and then reaches into the takeout bag, a rustle of paper and plastic that echoes overloudly in the silence between them.

Karen presses her lips together, biting back a refrain about how now is probably not the time for dessert.

Instead, Frank pulls out a small bouquet of white roses.

She stares as he sets them down on the counter. When he looks up at her, it’s with an intensity that nearly knocks her off her feet, and she grips the counter edge too in order to steady herself.

His gaze is unwavering on hers. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

She blinks at him, a part of her still wondering if it’s wrong of her to hope. “You have?”

“More than anything.” He shifts closer, and now she can see the last of the fear in him too, how he’s finally reached past it for something—for more. The edge of her own fear starts to soften, giving way to that fluttering lightness only Frank can make her feel.

Karen steps forward, marveling at the shared heat between them without their bodies actually touching. “And what, exactly, have you been thinking?”

Frank brings his hand up to the back of her neck, and she closes her eyes as he pulls her in.

He kisses her, and it’s everything Karen has wanted, everything she could only pretend that she hadn’t been waiting for all this time. He kisses her, and she knows how long he’s been wanting, and how hard he’s been waiting for this too.

He draws in a hoarse breath when they part. “I wanted to get this right,” he murmurs.

“Well,” says Karen, trying—failing—not to smile, “you want to know what I think?”

He tightens his arms around her. “What?”

“I think this is a good place to start,” she says, and leans in to kiss him again.

[hhjs]

summary ➝ "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigating the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

"Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart.

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.

It was meant to be felt.

word count ➝ 16.6k words.

alternatively➝ university premise.

genre ➝ angst, romance??? comedy??? a smidge of drama??? idk

pairings➝ han jisung. x fem reader.

warnings ➝ recreational drinking, use of profanity, suggestive.

note➝ i suspect that i have a vague emotional attachment to this. Please note that it used to be a jeonghan fic originally but is now rewritten.  i've been toying around with my writing style, idk if this has met what's expected :c but... this piece is a proper example of the idiots to lovers trope. 

a huge thanks to @emhpathy​ for beta-reading. 

 also i felt indolent and didn’t edit. :(

loosely based on the Coldplay song in question, ‘A Message’.

After. 

The air smells like seasalt. Like having a foamy blanket of  waves draped over your face until you let go, slowly, let all the air leave your lungs. 

In the distant rhythm of the rattling wind, you can barely hear the ring of childish laughter. It's an old bicycle Minho last rode when he was 13. Jisung's driving too fast. But you don't care, you don't care because you feel just so alive. You can feel your heart on your tongue. Under your fingertips. Inside your chest.

You can't believe it's true. Can't believe this is your life. Can't believe you're real.

The city is a haze of blue and yellow and red. Jisung slows down by the sidewalk, leaning into the wash of colours and it  stains the side of his face a little. The breeze is caressing his hair. Patting stubborn gelled strands out. His shoulders rise and fall with every little movement, upwards and downwards. When he breathes in and when he breathes out. Everything seems to slow down. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.

 Then suddenly- and it surprises you a little - Jisung pauses, cranes his neck back to smile at you. It's lopsided, toothy. He looks so much younger. Suddenly, so utterly boyish. You commit the sight to memory, the sliver of his teeth, the glint in his eyes, the curl of his mouth -

You hope you never forget this.

 Because this is how you know. This is how you've always known.

You wouldn't change anything. Even if you could go back.  

Not for a second. Not when it hurt. Not when it was hard.

Not even once.

...

Bach's  Toccata & Fugue in D Minor. 

You're in your bedroom, you can hear the music in your head, the crescendos and diminuendos, the feather light piano, the strum of a guitar and the gargling of a trumpet, fingers buzzing with an intense desire to write it all down. But then the sound of an organ rips through the air, the curtains pull apart. Your bedroom floor gives away from under your feet. There is a stage, there is an audience impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say.

So you run, run, run home.

You remember standing in front of your mum's bedroom. Knocking. When she lets you crawl back under the covers and she runs a caressing hand down your back, you say nothing. (There seems to be a gaping hole in your chest. And you don't understand it. Like something's missing.) . When she traces the shape of your jaw and says trouble sleeping? you say nothing. Then the rain pelts the windows, the curtains are  pulled; suddenly it's so much darker, so much colder, you place a hand over your heart and then look up at her, up to her large, concerned eyes and say, "It hurts."

 But it's okay. It's okay. You'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.  Because your mum smells like home, like the earth after it rains. It's okay because the world is less scary when you're a kid. When you don't understand.

 Then you're on a train, it skids against its tracks and your hand hurts from holding onto the handle for too long. You hold your draft against your ribs.There are too many people. Shoulders. Heads. Standing. Sitting. Their lives are different. Even when they're together. 

From here, you can make out a woman stroking her toddler's cheek, a teenager with a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in hand, a tall man, with his head hung low. He is smiling down at his lover. His fingers splay against her throat. She is looking at him. They say nothing. 

 She stands on her toes and kisses him. And something inside you suddenly comes alive, an absence, tries to gnaw its way out of your ribcage. Tries to tell you I've never left. 

The train finds itself in the belly of a tunnel. Outside, it's so much darker. So much colder. There's a blinking streetlight ahead. Yellow and lime green. It must have been raining. You don't know your stop.     

All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. This is a stage. 

The passengers are impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say. You can't run this time.

(You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. This city. Something is missing. Something is wrong. You need to get away.)

Now you wait for a room. A door. A bed. And miss your mother with an intensity that's akin to taking a punch to the gut. You don't remember what the earth smells like anymore. Everything in the city is platform and concrete. And soot rising from tall  chimneys.

Suddenly, you can't believe childhood is over.

Spurts of light found themselves against the hallway ceiling, you wondered how long you'd been thinking about that nightmare for it to take so much of your attention. A mic involuntarily roars to life, reminding you that you were still at the varsity and you had to find Jisung. 

Which sounds easy, had it not been for your history with him. Avoiding him was getting progressively hard a task to maintain because you were in the same department, sharing minor courses that prompts you to think that nothing much had changed and you'd be lying if you said you mind. He is a stubborn page which keened on flipping over in the youthful chapters of your life, refusing to be left behind and some part of you is too scared to know what would happen if you had.

You sigh, looking at the clock nailed to one of the pale yellow pillars and then close your eyes to try to ease the tension in your shoulders. Breathing in. Breathing out.  This morning, you put on a thin cotton dress but the humidity had somehow prompted it to appear somewhat translucent.

Summer brushes up against the back of your neck, you rub your eyes vigorously, placing your sweaty palms on them, dapples of light settled atop  the lids. Coating the little twists of purplish veins pink and white, becoming brighter and brighter and brighter. Any minute now and you would muster up the courage to face him.

You push the field door open.

Football players for the born-again team are loitering about in the heavily populated room, expectants look on most of their faces. You begin to feel twice as much nervous than you did before. 

See, the possibility of stuttering nonsensical sentences and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of Jisung and nameless strangers, again, wasn't the most thrilling idea for you but if you don't make the deadline this time on this group assignment, you'll fail your linguistics course, so it  would be tough to bounce back from for the both of you.

The coach, who is a lanky man, with an alarmingly ruddy face and tufts of snow white hair spiralling out of his head, experienced a lot of difficulty blowing it away from his line of sight. With the  door held back, pressing a curious looking opaque board to his chest, he scans the entirety of the team with an owlish stare, when he was satisfied with the number of persons attending, he stepped in.

"Game starts in 10 minutes." he pauses, allowing the candidates to settle in. A feet away from you, Changbin produces a series of garbled profanities before going back greedily guzzling down the rest of his gatorade.

Once the coach clears his throat, his beady eyes travelling from one curious face to another, flitting between each person, it finds you briefly then it darts curiously across the scenery behind you, as though an explanation for your presence is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

You hold the assignment packet against your chest, feeling the weight of gel blue letters under the rough pad and then slowly fold it open.

Han jisung. You tell him, that's who I'm looking for. 

It takes you awhile to navigate your gaze to the owner of the name amidst the maze of students huffing and puffing about schedules and missing lectures and deadlines, some shouldering their way out in bored frowns, some smiling excited smiles, rushing to grab a suitable seat. Like a blur of faces you catch on the subway and eventually forget, the little snippets of another person's life. Glimpses of them from car windows pressed together in traffic, just a few seconds before the light turns green. One minute you think you know them, put yourself in their shoes and imagine their life for them and the next, you go back to being strangers. 

To you, Jisung's face is an unmistakable, unforgettable kind of face. 

Taunting you from posters of his many swim team accomplishments, under which his name stood in big bold yellow letters, plastered on the noticeboards, on the  walls where the paint was starting to crack. The search didn't prove to be very difficult even though he didn't stick out like a sore thumb without his signature bleached blonde hair.

A varsity jacket is discarded on his body. Under the blue and yellow fabric, Jisung's chest rises and falls with every breath, his lanky legs perched up on the bleachers.  You wonder how he managed to doze off in the face of all this tension about getting clocked in face with a football. 

Aside from by accident, you were positive he hadn't tried to speak to you ever since your previous, unspeakably embarrassing encounter. 

That was a long time ago. 

It was certain that had it not been for this assignment, things between you would remain that way. In spite of this, you've gathered, because people never stop fawning over this prominent character, that not much has changed since you were in school.

Jisung managed to secure an attention drawing position wherever he went and upperclassmen wanted to be his friend even though he mostly indulged only in his own company. 

His head rests on folded arms, his foot is propped up on his knee, which he keeps shaking.  Sunlight crawls up the expanse of his exposed cheek, allowing burnt orange to  bathe half of his face, ribbons of liquid light tapering to smudges down the side of his jaw and disappearing.

Jisung has a boyish face, his eyes are big and kiddish, paired with a sharp nose and a convenient, small, pinkish mouth inherently pouted out to accentuate his puffy squirrel like cheeks but slimming down around his jaw. His raven hair falls in sleek, wet tufts clinging to his forehead and grazing his rosy cheeks, giving him a strange resemblance to a cherub loitering around in the real world.

Come to think of it, Jisung looks, like he invariably does, just slightly out of place.

You drop your bag on the grass. The action makes an unexpected thump. His eyes stir  faster behind closed eyelids, as though he were stirring awake from an ardently produced dream, like a newborn baby, divorced from the worries of the world. Jisung opens one of his eyes, then another, glaring confusedly, his lips pursed in unspoken surprise.

What's the big deal, right? At best, he'll start cooperating with you. At worst, you imagine, he'll toss you across the field for disrupting his sleep.

Of course, no one in their right minds would opt for the latter option, the rational part of you reasons - but you show him the packet,  just for safety measures.

"I thought we ought to go over how we're going to work around this assignment and you weren't in class so..."  You explain. When Jisung just blinks up at you in a curious fashion, you consider that he might not recognise you at all, that, for some reason, bothers you. "You probably don't remember me I-"

"I remember." He interjects firmly, acknowledging you with a fluent utterance of your name that gives you enough evidence of his claim, followed by a watchful, stoic gaze, he motions for you to take a seat beside him. 

You hesitantly sit at the end of the row,  keeping a calculated distance between your bodies. You find that even after all this time looking him in the eye was just as unnerving as it had been the first time they shyly flickered back to yours from across a thick spined A levels Calculus textbook. There's still an intimidating air about him, something that seeks to be constantly impressed without asking to.

Jisung sits up straighter, setting both his legs on either side of the bench, he keeps his gaze trained on your face, not looking away once. "Go on." He suggests, his voice low, "What do we have to do?"

You perk up at this, taking the contents out of the packet. Setting them down before you, you reiterate the instructions rendered in class, trying to include every important detail which contributes to the making of the project.

"We have to attach a PowerPoint part too." You paused, "Let's do that bit today."

Jisung listens intently, never cutting you off, he nods occasionally, making suggestions when you were trying to look for suitable loops in your schedules to work on the scheme, you recommended  several premises, ranging from cafés to parks to libraries to food courts, even your place because it's the closest from Jisung's flat and he refuses go beyond the distance on a Sunday morning. You casually let in the fact that your flatmate would be there in order to insinuate that you hadn't made the offer because of your previous feelings for him.

 You sigh, taking a minute to stretch back and take a deep breath. The bench is cool under your thighs, soft caresses of a warm summer breeze brushing the hair from your face away, pale yellow pours from the canopies, staining the grass, football players prepping in the distance, their zealous partners egging them on with excited smiles, shouting encouragements from the other end of the court.  You imagine lying down on the grass, spreading your arms out and not having a care about anything.

"You still wear that bracelet." 

"What?" You yawn, brows furrowed in confusion. You look at him from the corner of your eyes,  finding that his brown orbs motion to the source of comment, they dart from your cheek to your wrist, where surely the platinum accessory is tied to its loosest hoop, it used to be your go-to add-on in school. 

Surprised, you touch the item briefly, before retracting your hand slowly. All you can think is he remembers, he really remembers,  "...Yeah."

...

Instead of running about playgrounds with a mouthful of kiddish laughter and building cartoonishly  architectured sandcastles, you remember spending most of your childhood with your nose dug deep inside a fairytale, splurging much time on committing the glide of milky pages to memory, eyes widening, face twisting with each vicissitudes of emotions that would come over you with each stage of exploring a story. It was your own little world, a catharsis for all that you were holding inside, a window you could crack open and when the real world felt stuffy. 

Fancying Jisung was, your younger self imagined, fantastical, like something out of those fairytales.

You don't know when you started liking him, maybe it was the first time you saw him. It was your last year in school and Jisung's unfamiliar face was a new sight against the fuzzy background of sleepy students pouring into the hallway, it was the kind that demanded to be noticed, even though he simply  looked bored with an enormous pair of headphones looped around his thin neck.

Jisung was born to go through life being the embodiment of an all rounder, now that you think about it, there's not a thing he wasn't good at, always  having a proclivity to outshine others.

 He was a transfer student with stellar grades in spite of mostly routing his interest  towards composing  obscure music you'd found floating about the net. In all honesty, he truly was the master of all trades and the jack of none and every room was a keeper of attention, enveloped in an intangible but unanimous, wordless veil of interest towards the new character.

But  maybe it wasn't as theatrical as you remembered; maybe it was the love at  first sight nonsense, maybe it wasn't something you realised overnight, out of the blue, maybe it all happened at a slow, infuriating pace, maybe you started liking him for the small, stupid and unimportant things, like when you dropped your pen, the thin stick rolling away between your desks and he picked it up, flicking it between his fingers curiously, carefully curling his fingers around the metal, observing it before putting it back on your desk, maybe it was in class, when he zoned out in class, not bothering to look apart until he realised it had caught your attention, he then blinked away, the rosy hue of his cheeks more prominent with each passing second,  maybe it was when you were sure you were about to flunk the history pop quiz and Jisung whispered the names of warriors and poets and the fallen while keeping his gaze firmly poised on his paper.

You were so shy, cloistered, intensely egregious and he kept seeking you out in some new manner, causing you to be an element of mild interest not only amongst your peers but also people who actively seeked his romantic interest.  Although, conversations  on your part never stretched beyond differentiation and stealing cautious glances at one another, (which wasn't a shocker because you didn't know how to compute a chat with him and Jisung was unusually timid for someone who acquainted himself with well known rambunctious personalities), you genuinely enjoyed his company.

So you obliged. Even though it was utterly improper and you were sure he liked someone on the cheer squad. It was just that you were a kid and you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve just once before tucking it away forever.

He poked his head out from the water, wordlessly upon hearing his name, looking at you with a cocked brow and you were quick to say it, like you had to before you ended up changing your mind, it took a lot of courage to mutter a simple confession after all,  in spite of the fact you didn't at all picture him reciprocating, whisking you off of your feet with a wide grin, in a grand affirmation of all the rubbish pop culture has spoon fed you. 

It was a stereotypical teeth rotting, sweet crush that bound you to want to be around Jisung in a way he didn't, something lodged deep inside of you, the same thing that was childish and clung onto its fairy tales for dear life, hoped that he would share the same feelings, in spite of knowing it was undoubtedly unrequited. 

 Jisung had an indecipherable look on his face, he parted his mouth to say something but paused as if looking for the right words.  He simply settled with a sigh, before lowering his body down into the pool. You replayed the scene over and over again for the rest of senior year, until it drove you to a point of absolute insanity. You even considered googling what a sigh was supposed to convey, if fishing through dictionaries wasn't going to tell.

That was notably the last time you spoke in school.

But your strained relationship stayed with you like an embarrassing tattoo  and in trying desperately to  conceal it, afraid someone would see too much, know too much, you would only make it more apparent. 

You had to push him away to the farthest corner of your mind so you didn't have to wonder anymore, didn't have to interpret every action like your life depended on it - because love to you was so immense that it was overwhelming. You've wanted love to rescue you in some way, looked for it in the soft murmur of pages, in the chilling words to a song you can't seem to forget, you've waited for love like an impatient eagle anticipating its opportunity  to leap in and swoop up its shot at satisfying its undying hunger. You needed to uproot those budding feelings before they took abode inside your chest, grew stronger, into something massive, unignorable, something like love.

Avoiding Jisung in hallways, in class and really everywhere was some form of a habit you were developing - but that didn't stop him  from entangling himself with your ponderings; you thought of all the things he did without paying much attention to the act, like his petulant whining when he wanted something he wasn't getting, you thought of the way he tapped his pen against the wooden desk, silently eyeing chalky math problems on the board before uttering the answer with an ease only he could carry, you thought of his petulant front during arguments and how he always ended up winning, you just missed being around him without the added tension - which was funny because you're the one to blame for it. 

To your knowledge, Jisung didn't know to speak in puzzles, even when he didn't want to say something, he always found an agreeable way to deliver it,  often unknowingly wording them as they were, he didn't understand the complexities with which people conversed, needing everything to be black and white, as clear as the summer sky, so everyday felt like he owed you an example of his unintentional transparency, a explanation even though you knew he didn't.  

Maybe that's it, you thought, maybe that's all. 

(Sometimes you would sense his gaze searing into the side of your face, as if he was on the verge of uttering a greeting.

But graduation came along. And you never heard anything from him.)

You began to understand that all those tear jerking, unhappy endings were inevitable, like not being able to take your eyes off the stage during  Giacomo Puccini's Sono Andati, like being exposed to Mimi's excruciating death, losing something you can't put a finger on - and suddenly, the plays, the window, the catharsis wasn't enough, the child in you wanted to scream and  kick and throw, the child in you wanted to forge her own ending, the one that made sense, the one you could anticipate.

Running his palms along the cool glass, Jisung pauses from time to time to look at you, as if expecting you to address the elephant in the room, the same elephant that followed you all the way from campus, to his car, to the café downtown. It wasn't until the waiter went away in the pursuit of getting your order did he pose the inquiry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

You shake your head slowly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

 "What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago and I'm over it."

 Saying it out loud like this feels weird, it feels so real and disappointing and embarrassing, you feel reduced to a child coming clean about that one time they tipped over a vase and dusted the debris under the rug he is about to step about on, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

The statement makes you feel guilty, like you're lying. You don't want to know if you really are.

"Well, does that mean we can be friends?" Mutters Jisung against the opening of his straw, sipping miserly as though not wanting to finish the rest of his Americano. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, looking blatantly confused, like that was the only explanation he had for your fallout. "I don't understand." 

Not having thought that far, you stop typing, the click clack of keys muting, Jisung's thick rimmed glasses rest atop the jut of his nose and he's peering over them to look right at you with big wide eyes, genuinely interested in being supplied an answer.  The sixteen year old you would be overwhelmed with bouts of fluster right now. But you stopped being that person a long time ago, in fact, that person is to you a bleary recollection of a mere stranger who you thought you saw somewhere but couldn't put a finger on the location.

Shrugging, unsure, the question comes after a lengthy pause, "I guess it does?"

You sit in temporary silence after the short conversation ends, never going off topic again and giving into irrelevant chats even though Jisung is actively trying to initiate conversation about things which had nothing to do with work. You wonder why, wordlessly admitting that it was getting harder to resist the urge to talk to him with every passing second.

His car was parked a few lanes away from the café so you were obliged to walk after getting through the first portion of the assignment.

"So." Jisung starts, biting the side of his cheek, "What have you been upto lately?"

Talking to Jisung isn't as difficult as your younger self made it to be, he could hold a conversation well, jumping from serious topics to lighter ones to keep the balance, making witty comments here and there that had you laughing without really meaning to and every time, you'd catch a look of satisfaction glinting in his eyes. 

 The pair of you walk by an ice-cream parlour where a short bald man with a perpetually happy  face is handing out samples. A mint green board is attached to the appendage of a stall, outstretching from the original store, it says La Petite Glacière. 

You raise your brows, literal nomenclature.

"Journalism could suit you." The comment is off-handed, a product of you thinking out loud, imagining Jisung running around with a recorder, with his big, friendly eyes, queries posed with an an easy jovial attitude; it's so befitting, you just couldn't help but notify him. Even if it was an involuntary notification. You left out the part where you always pegged his love for composing would eventually materialise instead, this was unexpected to say the least. But Jisung described music as a getaway, something he was willing to do out of passion and not duty.

It was to his credit that he didn't laugh in your face when you said you wanted to be a playwright, specialising solely in the field of fiction. That's one thing he doesn't have in common with your parents. (Who didn't hesitate to point out that it was an obsolete branch of writing.)

"Yeah?" Jisung grins archly, glancing at you, as insinuating the memory of you playing Iago when you were expecting to land Desdemona is still impressed on him. "I could say the same for you."

You only wave him off, rolling your eyes. Some things are better left forgotten.

It's hot and you're really thirsty. You're knee deep in lengthy conversations engineered to catch up with one another, which consisted of ping-ponging inquiries about everything and anything, like how it was moving away from your family and new hobbies and pet peeves and casual strolls down memory lane but then the tension would settle and you would grow awfully quiet, like you're doing something you aren't supposed to, like you're walking into the inviting mouth a ginormous tiger whilst convincing yourself that it won't gobble you up.

"Okay. I have one." you start, he's nodding in encouragement,  "Have you been dating a lot?" 

Jisung laughs at your obvious curiosity, wiping his sweaty forehead with a spare napkin, strolling really fast, long legs promoting his speedy gait, you have to jog from time to time to keep up.

"Why?" 

He tilts his head to you, the teasing spark in his eyes glinting knowingly, he becomes shorter and grows taller walking up and down the slopes of the bumpy road.

  Your eyes widen. You were curious! You haven't spoken to him for a long time and you're just catching up. Exactly, you tell yourself,  that's believable, that, you think, makes sense. The other explanation, the one you're deigning to not look in the eye, that a part of you would be disappointed if he had said yes doesn't.

You flounder for a response, something, just a word or even an awkward noise, anything to formulate a proper retort. When that proves to be delayed and difficult, heat begins to pool into your cheeks, shooting up to the back of your ears and budding under the skin of your neck.

"Just asking."

 He hums, ghosting his fingers along the small of your back, careful not to touch you as he shoulders his way to your side without bumping you off of your feet, the gesture prompts something inside your gut to twist and twist and twist. "Well...yeah, but it's never been serious."

You're waiting for the red light so you can cross the road to the parking area. Jisung is towering over a sea of the heads, he's not much taller than the average person, hands tucked in his pockets. The wind is messing his hair up to the side, he keeps running his fingers through the stubborn strand to get it to sit right but when the endeavour proves to be futile so he just scoffs, as if berating the strand whilst stubbornly repeating the action. 

Looking at him like this, you imagine falling in love with Jisung is easy. Like gliding a hot knife through butter. It must feel just right, even if it doesn't last long, like holding fire in between your palms and pretending you own it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin before it nips and burns, like speeding across comets, stars and the moon, waging wars in the name of romance and producing litanies about love and then - finally, inevitably, unwillingly - letting go, like you always knew you would.

 You imagine the aged memories of blurry faces behind cobwebs of raindrops and curtains of mist, the faces of people who he could've loved but hadn't.

And it scares you for some unknown reason.

There's something inexplicably lovable about Jisung, his babyish features have always possessed the tendency to catch you off guard, even though you've known him for a long time; it's gobsmacking and too winning to be real, like something out of a dream, the milky planes of an acrylic face. The smooth buttery texture of his skin, the subtle, narrow jut of his nose, the pouted shape of his mouth and pearly teeth. You think he doesn't know this, doesn't see himself the way you do even when he pretends to be confident with his boastful jokes, they are just jokes after all. Only further evidence of how he doesn't want to believe any compliment rendered his way.

"What about you?" He poses, looking over from the hood of his car while unlocking it from the driver side, "Dating anyone?" 

The truth is, you've tried the atrocities of blind dating and online dating and casual dating but they all have been deficient and you're too tired to go through the never ending cycle  of being on disappointing dates again: your expectations are too high, some might even say, for the way you seek familiarity with absolute strangers; you're stubborn, awkward and sometimes, simply unapproachable,  but for the sake of not deflating your ego, you decide that Jisung doesn't need to know this. 

You shake your head, failing to understand why Jisung is grinning through the cracked window, whilst you're pulling the door open and plopping down on the passenger seat.

"Why are you smiling?" You furrow your brows, watching as the lopsided grin grows bigger. 

"Because." He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.  

"Because?" You look at him expectantly, but he just looks back at you without expanding the brief explanation. You're so close that you can make out the thin layer of mist collecting on his eyelashes, his arched cupid's bow, his eyes have so much brown in them. You'd liken the colour to that of a muddy lake, like the bare earth, they catch sunlight and turn golden, just for a second, for just one second, it looks like what magic must be like. Realising that you have been staring at him for quite long, you tear your abashed gaze away. Piloting it to shift from the buskers to the other cars, buses, pedestrians, traffic lights, looking for a sight distracting enough.

"I'm not telling you!" Jisung mocks your tone like a child with a violent shake of his head, putting his keys in ignition. The engine roars to life, wheezing like a kettle. Why he drives a Comet Convertible when he could've gotten any other alternative is a wonder; not that you mind, you like it, it’s  like sitting  inside a giant jewelry box, the inside is smooth red leather, velvety smooth black paint on the outside.

"Why not?" You frown.

Jisung rolls the steering wheel with one hand, keeping his eyes trained to the approaching traffic while turning lanes, he giggles, "Because."

...

You'll have to admit that it's quite... challenging coming to terms with being friends with Jisung. Not because he's practically everywhere but  just since Jisung tends to demand your attention when he realises he's not getting it.

When you try to dodge him on mornings after he cheats at UNO, scurrying away behind swathes of sleep deprived university students, hoping you don't catch his eye, he calls your name in that  loud, clear and intentional way that he does, dragging a heavy arm around your shoulder to squeeze it against the back of your neck before tousling your hair or some other action to effectively ruin your get up. When you zone out in class, musing absently about something that has nothing to do with scale efficiency and accidentally catch his gaze, he winks at you, snapping you right back into attention. 

Your friendship is, to say the least, interesting, for everyone around you.  It's like everyone is always on the edge of their seats, waiting for a chance to poke fun at your apparent chemistry. It means nothing, you're just friends, you remind yourself over and over again, defensively, succumbing to the urge to grow closer and closer to him without paying mind to the annoying voice in your head.

Jisung texts you in the middle of the night, when he's parked out front, to meet him for a midnight drive out that you're sure no one knows about and you tell yourself you're getting away with it - only to be confronted by a smirking Sunwoo in the morning, likening the situation to a teenager  caught red handed sneaking in through the window after a clandestine night of partying.

 But you're not spared the teasing even out in the open. Though while you squirm awkwardly, sink into your seat and refute offendedly, Jisung doesn't have a lick of such knowledge or care, he easily slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder in class and dozing off, indifferent to the multiple pairs of eyes zeroing in on you.

Even though the bartenders smile their coquettish smiles, offering drinks on the house and people laughed a little more than necessary, twirling their hair around their fingers at anything and everything he said, thence offering proper chances to ditch you completely, he remains close to you at pubs, putting his long fingers on your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, shooting some creepy guy who just wouldn't stop insisting on buying you a drink a look that said he wouldn't mind taking a stronger stance, had the creep not backed off. It was what anyone would have done, you tell yourself, ignoring the underlying pang of a gut feeling that begged to differ.

You envy the obvious charm Jisung holds over everyone, easing his way out of the jokes to do whatever he wants, you wonder what he would do if someone asked him if you were just friends, if he would dismiss them with a wave or provide a positive response, if it would hurt, if it would matter.

"Hey!" 

You jump at the tone. It's breezy, light and followed by a scoff at the end, you recognise it, sighing once the initial surprise oozes out of you to be replaced with familiarity, Renjun is halfway through a complaint about acrylic paint, his mouth half open while his eyes travel over your head, where you're certain the owner of the voice is jogging up to the pair of you. 

"I'll er...catch you later." Renjun purses his lips, while you turn your gaze back to Jisung, he's coming from practice, so his hair is wet, cheeks flushed red, he looks younger like this, completely barefaced. He's wearing a  plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, even in such an ordinary attire, a few bypassers' attention latch solely onto him.

The sun has long laid on a cotton soft sheet of clouds, letting a blue evening straighten its back against the dark firmament, the crowd at campus is reducing dramatically, you were walking to the metro, deciding to rest by the park bench as he mimics the pose, sliding from the opposite end when you try to keep a distance.

Jisung nudges you with his shoulder. "We’re having a party at our new place. You should come."

It wasn't willingness that took you to loud premises. You aren't exactly a party animal, far from it, maybe an animal that blends into the background, wordlessly observing  masses of sweaty people who will wake up with horrible hangovers the next morning, wishing the night before had never happened. If such an animal exists. 

 But you're genuinely curious about meeting Minho, who seems to have assumed the position of  one of Jisung's best friends while you were absent from his life. You found yourself wondering if he was different from Bang Chan, who in spite of being the former's friend, is someone you could deem yourself more similar to than he is to Jisung; shaking your heads and groaning into your palms, Chan would pinch the bridge of his nose and cautiously glance at you as though to convey You get me, right? while Jisung showered the karaoke bar manager with grandiloquent blandishments into giving extra minutes for a lower price.

Despite this, it is the undeniable but sheer adoration for your fun-loving mutual friend that binds you two together the best, the shared looks of appreciation when Jisung  scolds you for neglecting your health, when he surprisingly remembers a minor detail about you or when he indulges in appreciative chats about crayon drawings with loquacious kids who would come running to display their paintings when you were looking to take an indolent walk in the local park, he would listen attentively, moving to a sitting position, nodding his head like he understood what the kiddish gibberish meant; one thing is certain -  there was certainly more to Jisung than people pegged and if anything, those undiscovered traits only made him more endearing.

"Okay….but make sure we don't end up playing strip poker or something." You shudder at that thought, grimacing exaggeratedly to make your point.

"Why?" He raises his brows, a small simper playing on his lips to give away that he was only teasing you, "I like that game."

But under all that banter, it was well received that Jisung would never put you to the obligation of doing anything you're not comfortable with, so you just play along, narrowing your eyes, "That's because you're a pervert." You say, stifling a laugh whilst his grin dissolves to drop to a blank face.

 Jisung glares at you, nudging you with his knee, effectively putting you on the verge of falling.

"Hey!"  You scoff, repeating the action but Jisung doesn't roll across the grass like you wanted, he doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs at your frustration, shaking his head and glancing back at you with an entertained look in his eyes. 

(Something inside your chest is growing, like an epiphany, its vines pushing up against your lungs, your heart, its thornes prickling, injuring the flesh, something that tells you this is so much more to you than you'd admit, you press it down, ignore it; just a little longer, you think, just a little longer before you start to see this for what it is. )

"Why are you staring at me?" Jisung questions, you can't help but notice how he tilts his head, moving his curious face closer to yours, inspecting, like just before he makes his final move and mutters Checkmate but he doesn't actually know what he's doing, doesn't realise the weight of his actions.  "Do I have something on my face?" He tilts his cheek to you, as though offering you to examine it and then, immediately his mouth lowers down to form a deep set frown. Is he really that goddamned clueless? Doesn't this affect him at all? 

"No." You clear your throat and lean back, moving your weight on your palms,  "It's getting late. We should get going." 

...

The earliest memory you have is from when you were five, your parents had taken you to the beach and that day, while the sun shone brightly and the sand was warm, like home under your feet, with big curious eyes, you gazed off into the brilliant blue water. 

It was just so beautiful. 

And you so badly, wanted to wade into the welcoming foamy arms of the sea. If only the immensity of the water hadn't scared you as much as it did, you thought. It was like a blue giant that was reaching to steal the sun off of the sky and if you  dared to test the waters, the liquid Goliath could whisk you right off of your tiny feet and drag you into its mouth.

 That, you think, is what you're really afraid of, that deep down inside , you never really stopped holding back. That you'll never muster up the courage to do anything you really want.

In the midst of the chaos of an alcohol induced party, your head feels like it's about to explode.

It stopped raining. And you haven't had the luxury of running into Jisung ever since he went off to get a drink for himself.

The windows are open. Though there's not a flutter of a cool breeze or anything. But there are assortments of crisps, juices and other suspicious looking snacks. The cool curve of the stair railing pressing up against your side. It's unspeakably loud. The frat house, as typical as it sounds, welcomes an obnoxiously large crowd, it isn't surprising, considering people here have a reputation for social adeptness, the house being big enough to capacitate a crowd twice as big as its guests is just a plus point.

 Once the majority of the crowd  had  long thinned out to participate in a curious sounding game of  beer pong, the aftermath is that everything smells like sweat, vomit or both. You're tipsy, tired and alone. It's been an hour since you arrived. Your patience is wearing thin. 

 You down the remainder of the watered down scotch, even though the liquid could secure a horrible case of nausea if you couldn't hold your liquor well tonight.

In the mess of too many heads, too many hands and too many bodies, pushing, pulling, dancing and kissing  with shocking hostility, suddenly, the view starts to shift, from left to right, from upwards and downwards, like you're on a rollercoaster but without the lap bar. It's certainly a symptom of  the  splitting migraine you're sporting. It's too loud downstairs for you to summon anyone and besides, the search for a familiar face seems futile.  

You fish out your phone, wondering if you should send Jisung a text, squinting at the glaring blue screen but decide against it - hoping to God that you don't walk in on anyone shagging while looking for one of the rooms to crash in. 

Now, that...would put them in an awkward position. You mentally high five yourself for the joke. 

Though the amusement is  mostly transient, soon replaced by a rapid jerk of pain. Wincing in an attempt to stand with little control over balance, you try to ease the pain from your briefly twisted foot. 

When you've made it to your desired destination, an inconspicuous looking room at the end of the long hall, you kick off the death traps for heels off of your feet and all but fling yourself on the mattress.

Stacks of comics are carefully  placed on the top most shelf of the bookshelf pushed against the wall, their polished spines sticking out.

 The rest are overflowing with vinyls, set in alphabetical order. You can tell because each row has a tag taped over its head.

Everything is surprisingly clean, the walls are crisp white, there's a single black wall on which a large painting sits. A night light glows dimly, perched up on the bedside table. Whoever's bedroom this is, has the blandest taste in interior design. Or a lack of it since they moved in not long ago as Jisung informed.

 You stare owlishly at the blue ceiling, following the undulating spines of bricks, stacked in. Upwards and downwards. Like a map. Like a  staircase to nowhere. Then you close your eyes. 

Imagining that you're staring up at the sky at dawn, when it's  a swirl of milk tea. Golden. Buttery white. Autumnal Yellow. And pumpkin spice. Brown curls against the background of a milky white firmament and if one bothered to look closer, they'd catch stars peeking from behind slowly darkening clouds, waiting to come out. 

When you were a child, you liked to stick a curious index into filled tea cups, as if to study the khaki liquid , not quite grasping the connoisseurship of hot beverages just yet. The experience would always end with a mouthful of biscuits and your grandmum's tickles engendering your stomach to ache a good kind of ache.

Now, the memory prompts you to raise a finger to the air, as if you were dipping your digits into the whirlpool of maroon. For a moment, you feel as if you're still that little girl stuck in someone else's body, like you hadn't grown up at all. 

But in the hurtful manner that reality often made itself known, yanking you right back from your dreams, the door creaks noisily and then closes.

Out of the corner of your eye, the character looks more like a funny sketch on a chalkboard than he does a person. All blurry and messy. Like someone tried to rub him out. 

The flash of light radiating from his phone, a sliver of neon, silver, you recognise his face, you've seen the same expression right before he's about to choose between  his favourite ice cream flavour; eyebrows knitted in concentration, lips pursed, emerging from the shadows.  He's typing really fast. You blink, adjusting your vision. The unobstructed sight of his face broadens. "Jisung?" 

 He looks at you, positioning his phone towards your face to get a good in the barely there light. 

"Yeah?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "What are you doing here?" 

"That's a good question."  He snorts.  "Indeed, what business might I have in my room?"

You jump, sitting straighter, then stand up. Just in case he thinks you're a fucking creep. He probably doesn't even want to be friends with you anymore and you understand, you wouldn't want to be friends with you either. "I...I didn't know."

Jisung laughs loudly at your fluster, rolling his eyes,  he plops down, the mattress dipping under his weight, groaning noisily. He pats the spot beside him. "Relax..."

You wear a doubtful look, under the impression that he'd break into a laughing fit with a quip about you caving in so easily.  You narrow your eyes even though you're quite tempted to take his offer. 

He tuts, yanking you by the arm so you sink down beside him.  

"I just saw you coming upstairs, wanted to make sure some asshole wasn't picking on you." He explains, his face contorting to momentary peevishness just at the fleeting thought. 

A crappy pop song is buzzing in the background, you can hear it, you can smell the salted popcorn in the air. His fringe is brushed forward, cheeks smoothed over, moisturised, in this intimidating proximity, you pick up that Jisung always smells really good. Like aftershave and something strong, woody, earthy — but just the right amount, not overpowering.

 "Have you considered trying something more...erm... colourful?" You  scan his room, deciding to change the subject, attempting to dodge the heavy feeling of fluster in your chest; you guess it was showing on your face because the corners of Jisung's mouth begin to quirk upwards. If there’s anyone more awkward than Jisung, it /s definitely you. "This isn't really you."

 With his mouth lopsided, his nose scrunching upwards, his teeth showing, his eyes turning to crescents, Jisung chuckles, as if perceiving your attempt to digress but choosing to let it slide.

 "Then what is?" He raises a brow.

"I don't know." You pause, trying to picture a suitable tint, "Something bright."

Someone starts blasting Ed Sheeran outside, putting the volume all the way. It creates a proper distraction from the conversation to go beyond simple suggestions, it was a sudden reminder of just how badly you wanted the party to be over.

 "You know the more I think about it, the more I come to acknowledge that this is really not my scene."  You confess absentmindedly, backing up on the mattress so your feet dangle, your headache kicks back, beating inside  your ears, knocking against your skull. You lie back on the mattress, curiously blinking up at Jisung's frowning face.

 "Why didn't you tell me that before?" He says, a pinch in his brows pushing the shape up in utter concern. 

"Because I wanted to come." You say honestly, prompting Jisung to heave a deep sigh, relief gradually washing over his rigid features, "I don't know, maybe I'm just not fun enough."

"Yeah. That's probably it." He jokes, grinning from ear to ear. But the shape drops immediately when you jut your lip out instead of mirroring the mirthful action. "You really think so?"

 He blinks at you, not expecting the forwardness, "No." He says, and you note that this is the most serious Jisung has ever sounded around you.

Your face is growing increasingly hot as the weight of his remark started to kick in. It’s so unfair, isn't it? He has no idea how every little thing he said to you meant so much more than it ought. It hurt when you found yourself automatically deducing his trivial actions, all the while knowing it hadn't meant anything to him.  To him, you're just a friend. And you aren't going to let your emotions ruin that, not again. 

 "What's the party for anyway?"

You furrow your eyebrows in genuine curiosity when the silence has become unbearable. Constantly needing to be disrupted. 

 "It's a stupid frat house tradition, they do it every time we move."

“Sounds like a cult activity to me."

You hear him hum, as if feigning contemplation, then open your eyes.

 "Well, that...That's because it is."

It's very typical of Jisung to try to make jokes whilst trying to keep a straight face. In most cases, he doesn't fool anyone. His voice rises  to a cartoonish volume, his mouth pouted out when he speaks as though to hold back a laugh, it’s his eyes, widened, twinkling with a notorious spark in them that ultimately gave it away. In rare instances, however, they deluded strangers into thinking he was being serious when he really wasn't; like that time he told Chan the pool was pre-heated just for the latter, who trustingly dove into the water, to swim up with clattering teeth and ice cold skin to the surface finding that Jisung was grinning deviously. It was an obvious payback for the time the older male hogged Jisung's share of cheesecake as a daring attempt at pranking.

Maybe, you guess, you just knew him too well.

  "Interesting." you raise your brows, playing along, "I'm surprised there isn't any nude dancing involved."

 "Wow...you sound so disappointed.” 

 Jisung laughs, his chest heaving upwards and downwards with every laboured breath.  It's a pleasant sight, knowing you get to have this moment to yourself. For reasons you'd like to ignore, something inside your chest begins to ache, thrumming against your ribs. It isn't until you put your hands over your face in an attempt to get rid of a thin layer of sweat, do you realise that you were smiling.

When he calms down, he keeps looking at you. "I take that you made the submission?" He presses, knowing well that you were intending to put off the matter from the dodgy look in your eyes. "Right?"

 Before, Jisung stubbornly pressed on the matter, it was unheard of for you to allow your writings to be read by anyone other than yourself; it was only fiction, your little secret, you reason, even though you knew the underlying cause of your unwillingness was that you simply cannot take rejection well, it is truly terrifying but an automatic reaction to think that your work is boring and somehow unworthy of praise every time  you are on the verge of sharing it. Your parents never showed any particular interest in it and you assumed that was a universal desire. 

But Jisung is incredibly obdurate when he wants to be.

 Sometimes, you think he's the only person in your life who's truly honest with you, he doesn't shower you in false accolades, not hesitating to rip the band-aid, to point out the less likable bits from the likable ones even if he knew it would make you unhappy. It was interesting prying your wounds open around him, he wouldn't suppress his thoughts and blurt euphemisms like it's going to be okay, he would grimace and gag and then he'd clean them, he would sit patiently with them and try to dress them up for better - and somewhere along the way, while you may have cared about other people's opinions, your concern for what he thinks of you is starting to become far more significant. And it petrifies you.  "No." 

Jisung shoots you a look of annoyance, staring at you like he's awaiting an explanation. You can sense the lengthy talk coming from the back of his throat, something which surpassed the regular limits of you should do this and you shouldn't do this, he relentlessly pushed you towards your career which you claimed you were passionate about but needed his stern berating often when you would stagger back in indolence and you'd be lying if you said it isn't effective - albeit, the scoldings sometimes led to the two of you bickering back and forth, giving each other the silent treatment until one of you would cave - whatever it was, you know you could never turn down Jisung, even if he was bruising your ego to ask you to get your shit together.  "Why not?"

 "It's just a stupid draft, Sungie..." You laugh nervously but he doesn't give into the fit like you imagined, instead, he just dons a solemn look on his face, something that seems to show that he'd been peeved by your response.

  "No it’s not." He shakes his head slowly and there's sort of a firmness in his retort that surprises you, far from how he usually jokes on about,  that tells you there's no room for argument, "It's not stupid at all."

Jisung tears his gaze away, his expression softening once he notes the worried look on your face, it's as though he had suddenly changed his mind about the lecture he was surely planning  to give you,

 "Look I don’t want to fight.” He sighs, “You’re always talking about how much this means to you and if it’s something that you really want, don't put it off. I'm your friend, I can only encourage you — but at the end of the day, it's your job to pull yourself up. Goes without saying that it’ll be a complete waste if you don’t pursue play writing because you - and I don't care if you don't agree with me -  really do have a lot of potential.”

You blink in wonder, ”You think so?"

 "I know so."

 You don't remember the last time someone said something like that to you, if at all. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re met with the inability to shake the feeling of craving something you don't want to understand, mired in your own musings and for no particular reason but to avoid the desperation of confessing to yourself of the warm tight feeling inside your belly - you give into the temptation of placing your palm over the nightlight, watching the light turn from bright yellow to muted blue, it stings slightly. 

Too cheesy, you would groan out under any other circumstance where you hadn’t been so fazed.

Instead, you just gulp, eyes wide at his forward comment, his praise is the equivalent of being splashed with ice cold water when one is half asleep, now you're all wide eyed and incognisant of what's real and what isn't, it prompts a jolting sensation to traverse all throughout your body, "Thanks." 

This scene was no exception, Jisung tips his head back against his palms when he's thinking about something, while keeping his calm gaze posed on you, he smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself, loosen up just a little. I'm not always gonna be around.”

You muse that your mum said the exact same thing when you moved away for university but chose not to mention it, it's not true though, you want to say. Because Jisung is always there for you.

 See, the universe exists on this dreadful thread of balance  and you've been hanging on by your last finger for as long as you remember, taking every step on the basis of a fear of tumbling off to be greeted by the gasps and complaints of an imaginary audience, for the longest time, picturing  your play to be dissected like a lab rat, for a delirious critic to point their scalpel and announce, the misshapen heart is here, that's the pudgy head.

But nowadays and you'll never tell him this, when Jisung talks about you  like that, you almost believe it, believe in yourself and don't think he understands what it means to you, how grand that is  -  to imagine seeing your play come to life, something severely intimidating about watching it, spotlight gingerly kissing up the actors' newborn faces as the audience spews quiet comments, critics' expressions morphing with  nuanced understanding, the anticipation is tangible, the walls closing in by the second, tension squeezing the air out of their lungs -  until the curtains part and a story draws them into another world. Then everything falls into a formidable silence.The inexplicable feeling of being one wrapping its limbs around everyone and cradling them to its chest like a loving mother, awestruck strangers listening in on the heart wrenching dialogues, the belter of a riveting tragedy prompting their hearts to lurch forward and sit on their tongues, then they'll look around, spot bits of you in your characters and think I'm not alone. I never was.   (The people you've both never known but known your entire life.)

It's better to slip, to put everything on the line for the sake of making way to what you want on a feeling rooted deep inside your gut than to cower behind the fear of disapproval and have nothing at all. Being brave enough to tell your story is not the absence of that fear which keeps you, but it is telling the tale despite, toppling that fear.

There's something relieving about that theory.

 "I want to lie down..." You mewl, in spite of already lying down. It's a sign of how the constant toiling through exams was finally taking a toll on you, the sleepiness coupled with hours long lethargy from the party seemed to be weighing your body down, making your eyelids heavier by the second. He moves your hand, leaning into the light. A wash of colour is spreading  across his face for a brief moment, exposing the skin to scrutiny, all veins, curves and crinkles around his eyes. Jisung smiles at you. Your eyes dart all over his face, resting on the curve of his mouth briefly, then his eyes, you catch the yellow flickering in them , the brown turning to dark copper. 

Your heart drops to your stomach when he blinks away slowly, the disappointment assuaged by something foreign, dumb and utterly clichéd stirs in the pit of your stomach as his thumb briefly swipes across your knuckles,  "You don't say, sleepy girl!" Jisung scoffs, bringing his arm under his head.  

Unconsciously, entertaining the thought of staying alone in his room, you find yourself feeling safer because of his presence instead, divorced from prying eyes, "Thanks for staying." You say, wanting to talk to him more and more,  contemplating fashions  to contribute to the conversation again and again just to cut the silence.

"Well, you had a lot to drink." 

He reminds, as if the reason for his staying is that obvious;  worry laced in his voice and you understood why -   even though you aren't completely doused in a state of inebriation, you kept swaying all the way upstairs.

"But you missed out on.." you drag the consonant unintentionally, "all the fun, though."

"Do I look like I care?" Jisung snorts, staring up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands and dropping down against the bed, he laces his fingers together over his chest, digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. It isn’t a question.

His wallpaper is of a kid gazing up from the water, he peers up at the camera, grinning ear to ear. This is definitely Jisung. Because even with his front teeth missing, his smile is all too familiar. His cheeks were chubbier back then, face rounder, softer around the edges. Subconsciously, you rose a finger to poke at his cheek, as if to examine it. Jisung shoots you a glare.

"You were cute."

You coo, leaning onto his shoulder, the closeness should not intimidate you, given the amount of time you spend like this. But it does anyway.

"What do you mean were?” Jisung scoffs, “Nu-uh, still am. I'm the resident cutie pie, if you will."  He sings, narrowing his eyes briefly, thereon chuckling at the look of sheer disgust on your face. 

You wrinkle your nose, "I can't believe you just said that..." 

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable quietude, except for the times when either of you perk up to initiate conversation and Jisung gives you aspirin for the throbbing migraine. 

Your shoulders are touching. Jisung breathes. Slowly. Then fast. Then slow. And then he tucks an earphone into your ear, it was an unspoken ritual you two practised when you were alone, oft in a different venue, sitting languidly about campus, while you read and he winked through the glaring sun to get a distant view of the landscape.

Jisung yawns, the grapple on his speech loosening and loosening.

You remain quiet, closing your eyes again. Words feel liquid in your mouth, letters wobbling on your tongue until you feel like you've lost complete control over what you're thinking of saying.

You can see the scene unfolding inside your head, can feel the earth under your skin, can hear birds chirping, can feel the dusty orange, morning glow kissing your faces. As if you're the only two people there. "Coldplay, right?" 

"Uh-huh..." Jisung replies, he sounds unsurprised by your aligned tastes. You look at him and find that he's mirroring you. His long lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks, eyes clamped shut. 

"It's beautiful..." You murmur, dropping your head back against the mattress, you think Jisung hums in response but you can't be too sure. It's like you're slowly, slowly and slowly drifting far, far away. Letting slumber wrap its welcoming arms around you. 

For a second, you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten, you imagine that you're soaring, soaring, soaring, like you could look down and see the rivers and seas and lakes pulsing against the  Earth's body, as though they were a bundle of nerves belonging to a round, green vessel of a body, and somehow - then immediately, you're being pulled to your feet, at great speed, you're falling, falling, falling - so fast that you feel like there's a fire budding inside your lungs, budding under your fingertips, inside your heart. 

Then it begins.  This must be a dream, this must be a dream, this must be a dream. The soft murmur of scripted words. Parted curtains, an open window allowing you to stare in wonder, dusk stretching across the entirety of the landscape, blue, then pink. You think of the big sapphire sea, the warm sand and someone waiting for you before it.  You think, this is it. This is it. This is it. And run, run, run. Sprinting to the broadening view. You recognise the back of his head, the curve of his neck, tufts of raven hair fluttering about, his white cuffed shirt, his footsteps like a trail of breadcrumbs, feet dipped in frothy water, You call his name, surprised  but think I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all along. He looks back and smiles at you, offering you his hand. (You're not over him. You don't think you ever were. And this is what you want, you want it so bad, after all this time, are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back?)

Just for a moment, in the split of a second, just now,  just once, you aren't afraid. 

You jolt awake, the earphone straining against the sudden movement, "Hey." You whisper, looking up at him. His Adam's apple drops with a slow gulp, the rosy colour of his parted lips. The slope of his nose. You don't know when you  nuzzled your face into his chest, his long arm is draped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.  Your heart is beating noisily in your ears, on your tongue. 

To your surprise, Jisung hums in response, eyes still clamped shut. You're so close, just so close, he brushes his slender fingers against the back of your neck, the touch feather light, as though reminding you that he had heard you. Your breath hitches inaudibly.

"Let's..." You say, with your tongue starting to limp inside your mouth, "go to the beach sometime."

...

A shower is running, loud, water gushing down and thumping against the tiles, the sound echoing and growing thinner by the second. 

You sit up on the empty bed, the recollection of last night lodged deep inside your head like a butcher knife. 

The realisation that you aren't at home isn't startling as you momentarily grow distracted in examining the room, the photos, the turntable, the white paint, the portraits, a light adjusted above, bits and pieces of a person scattered around.

Jisung's t-shirt is discarded carelessly on his reading table, your eyes widen when you acknowledge the occupant in the shower to be him, leaping up with a haste, everything comes back to you  with a force equivalent of pulling the butcher knife out and slamming it right back into your skull.

"It's you!" You gasp, partially  because the cheerful exclamation sends pangs of pain to your head, having made all the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find Minho whipping up pancake batter in a bowl. As opposed to his old Instagram photos, with the new complementing pink hair, his feline like features are even more staggering, eyes narrowed to amused slits, behind which beady black orbs stare you down in absolute curiosity.

"Right, we met last night." He reminds you, uttering your name quickly, finding that you already recognise him. He holds the spatula up, paused in surprise as if he really wasn't expecting to see you right now, the position only eases when you wave your hands dismissively and say it's not what you think.

  He smiles, there's a strange disappointed quality to the demand."Sit down, let's have breakfast."

It's awkward, Minho spares you a few interrogating stares while you silently dig at your meal, the sound of cutlery and ceramic sounding through the open kitchen. You wish Jisung would come down already if the floor beneath your feet isn't going to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this discomfiture.

"They're really good." You nod, shoveling more of the unevenly cut portions of the pancake into your mouth.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" 

You choke, coughing on the gigantic bite, patting your chest as you slowly as you begin to regain your composure. Minho's eyebrows are weaved upwards, hinting that he expected an answer despite offering you water. God, he cut right to the chase, you aren't used to people as blunt as that. When you don't say anything, he blinks at you, tilting his head to examine the evasive expression on your face.

"He talks about you a lot..." He notifies, as though it was an explanation for something.  Minho's arms are crossed over his chest, proudly before announcing, "I think I practically know everything about you."

Funny, you could say the exact same thing about him. Jisung likes to babble on about people he cares about, which albeit is a handful, you are just as special as any of them. And that reminder as a consequence of his constant prodding makes you a little angry. 

"Look, he doesn't like me if that's what you're trying to say." You blurt out, you don't want to get your hopes up.  It's weird saying something so grave to someone you only recently  came to know. Having already accepted your one sided feelings even though you struggle to try to suppress them and the hopeful part of you reasons that Jisung probably didn’t initiate a kiss because you weren’t exactly sober — but the real reason, and you know this, is that his withdrawal last night was just cherry on top of the  big fat I-don't-feel-the-same-way cake. 

You made the mistake of ruining your friendship because of a stupid confession in the past and you aren't going to make it again, not when you're closer than ever now.

"That's not what I asked."  Minho comments. He is pretty great at appearing intimidating. Or rather, he sees right through you. You can't tell. But he's practically cornered you with his witty questions whilst his perceptive eyes keep an intent watch on you.  Minho had a curious  quality to him when he looked at things, he seemed to notice everything.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your nape when his gaze is practically unblinking in anticipating a reaction. 

"How was your Gimpo trip?" You digress.

 Minho's ears perk up, his eyes blown to big, happy circles, he nods his head excitedly, properly distracted from pressing the previous topic further. 

The conversation fizzles away in a haze, Minho rambles on in a cheerful tone, his eyes glossed over in enthusiasm. He speaks  of his three cats and asks you to commit their names to memory with a dead serious face, moving onto ramble on about his childhood, an entanglement of being the only child who dreamed laboriously of pursuing a career in ballet and succeeded. You listen attentively, not breaking your focus even when he gets up to do the dishes. 

By the time Jisung lazily drapes a towel around his neck, all the while hopping down the stairs, you feel like you've overstayed, digging your feet into the heels from last night while Minho holds the door open for you. 

"Need a ride?" Jisung asks, standing on his toe to look at you from behind Minho. 

 You shake your head, suggesting that you were to take the subway instead, keeping your eyes fixated on your sore feet as a reminder that you're opting for the alternative not by choice but because you don't have the energy to render Sunwoo an explanation of where you'd spent the night at with his constant teasing, Tightening the strap around your leg, while balancing yourself with the free arm, Jisung's long fingers quickly grab onto the underside of your arm, letting you balance your weight whilst posing the question, "You’re coming tomorrow for the group study, right?" You ask.

 It was an uncharacteristic gesture, outright surprising, because of his renowned proficiency in that class, when Jisung suggested that he didn’t understand the volume of topics you were going over.

Jisung glances cautiously at his best friend, who has a stupid smirk on his face for some reason, like he knows something you don't, “Yeah, yeah...” He says, reaching out to pinch your cheek despite your complaint. 

“Are you an alligator?” he calls out, prompting you to shoot a confused look over your shoulder.  "What?"

It's just one of those things Jisung says instinctively, his eccentric humour getting the best of him in silences and you, well, you walked right into this one. 

 "You know...cause I'll see you later!" 

In your peripheral vision, you spot Minho pinching the bridge of his nose at the quip, muttering a quick Jesus Christ.

...

During the day, the portrait is much more confusing. 

It's carefully placed on the paper covered floor, the room smells like fresh paint and sweat. Jisung suggested that you go paint shopping in the  pursuit of looking for a suitable colour to liven up his walls and the end of the semester meant you had enough time to put the purchased product to use. 

There is a blob of red on Jisung's jaw and the colour gets smudged all the way to his cheekbone when he makes an unsuccessful attempt to itch the skin with the back of his palm. You don't tell him this. 

"I bought it from the local display." He breathes out exasperatedly, the paint roller is placed on the paper, "The artist said it was about an unlikely romance or something like that. Looked pretty dope to me too and—"

 "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigate the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. Or anything that bears semblance to it, you never did have a good eye for art,  "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

 "Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart. 

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love  meant to be understood. 

It was meant to be felt. 

...

"Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"

 Sunwoo speaks, chewing through his snack, his fringe is glued to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. You aren't surprised. The humidity is skyrocketing. A cut in your salaries have made you compromise the use of your obsolete air conditioner. It's a terribly humid Sunday morning and you're getting ready for a trip to Minho's beach house.

It wasn't hard to convince you. Such was possible because Minho's offer was reiterated through a number of ways and people over the span of last week. Even from Sunwoo. 

He and the rest of the boys have started  to get along pretty well, so well that you often end up acting as an amused spectator, simply watching the boys cosying up to one another while you're effectively camouflaging in the background of utter silence. Your friends  teamed up to produce quips here and there, stopping to chuckle into their napkins, cheeks rubicund like ripe apples whenever you went out for dinner. It was becoming a regular occurrence, at this point. Not that you minded; you genuinely enjoy the time you spend together.

As a final move, Jisung reminded you of your slurred request of wanting to go to the beach, beating the purpose of you claiming you wanted to stay home doing nothing when really you were just looking to avoid encouraging how you felt for him. You constantly found yourself suppressing the desire to want more and the last few weeks had been the toughest because you had trouble ignoring how you felt although you were careful not to show it. Jisung was spending more time with you than usual since you were on summer break and were relieved of your studies for a short while. You couldn't forget that night at his place, the memory made your gut wrench in a desire you couldn't fulfill. 

But  while it was hard being around him, you just knew you couldn't help it.

The trip was, nonetheless, a reminder of how Jisung always gets what he wants, even if it is as easy as snagging his favourite items off of the super store shelf or something which demands  more patience to be possessed, something that needs to be drawn out with unwavering persistence.  

Come to think of it, you never really understood what it means to live like that. 

"What dumb look?" You ask, averting your gaze from your phone, twiddling your thumbs for a response to Jisung's text notifying that they were taking the lead on the journey by setting off earlier than you to set up the place.

 It won't take them as long as it will for you because it's a familiar premise for them. Your arm is starting to hurt from holding up your suitcase.

Sunwoo mimics a grin, stretching the corners of his lips awkwardly and flattening his lips like that of a frog, a string of dried milk sits on his chin to finish off the impression. He points to his face, "This one."

 "I don't know what you're talking about." You roll your eyes, "Hurry up. Jisung messaged me the location." 

Sunwoo nods, then pauses, then his eyes widen, a teasing grin making  its way on his face, insinuating that he finally understood why you packed chocolate cake last minute in spite of you not having a particular preference for the item. "Does he know you have a big puppy crush on him?"

Sunwoo makes up for your social ineptness, amongst other things, and there are times when you don't understand what you'd do without him, times when you're relieved he's your friend even though you're essentially opposites - now is, certainly, not one of those times, now you wish he wasn't so close to you  to have access to this information without telling. 

"Are you hearing yourself? I don't have a crush on him." You lie, glaring at him, when your flatmate ducks his head to display that he didn't quite agree, you groan, 

"I don't!"

…

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Sunwoo pulls his sunglasses down to pretend to study you, his big brown eyes scrutinising you from head to toe.  The  strong stink of diesel is still emanating  in the air in spite of the image of the gas station being wiped out long ago in your peripheral vision. You kind of like it, it contributes to boosting the anticipation of what was to happen when you reach your destination .

"Oh absolutely..." Sunwoo says, driving in the direction of the beach house the GPS pilots him to, Lauv hums faintly from the dusty speakers, the familiar lyrics filling the air  whilst you unconsciously bobbed your head. The vague distraction allowed Sunwoo to buy time to gather his thoughts, 

 "You need to tell him how you feel before someone else does. You need to tell him how you feel, period."

“I'm not doing that again.” you warn him, he speeds down the highway, your beach hat threatening to fly about under the weight of your hands at the sudden gush of wind. "Need I remind you how it went last time?" 

"Last time was different." 

"How?" 

"You barely even spoke to each other!" He exclaims frustratedly, pointing out the obvious, "Now you're good friends and he seems to feel the same way considering he always puts up with you...like...voluntarily." Sunwoo mocks, looking at the corner of his eye to note that you're rolling your eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Jisung's out of his mind."

"I'm not that bad!" You defend, quieting down once again when the memory of your admission flashes before your eyes in vivid details - the years of distance and silence that stretched between you because of it was hard - if that were to repeat itself now, when you're more used to him that you were before, you don't think you could bear it.  Or maybe you could but you don't want to.

It's enough to just have Jisung around and not be yours than to lose him by admitting.

"I'm not putting us in that position again just because of how I feel. It's kinda selfish, don't you think?" Your statement has a touch of finality to it that shuts Sunwoo right up, he wordlessly pulls up in front of the huge beach house, another jeep and the Comet Convertible is parked; before which far off near the shore, you couldn't help but notice the two unfamiliar figures by the boys, one of them is wearing a bikini, standing incredibly close to Minho, who's setting up their small grill, the other (and it makes your stomach turn) is talking animatedly to Jisung, he nods and smiles in that way that makes you think you'll never quite stop loving him. Chan is holding up his phone to take a picture. 

 Sunwoo honks loudly,  pulling you out of your trance. You can hear the I told you so sitting on the tip of his tongue when he shoots you a look of pity. You don't like it. The way that makes you feel like a toddler who can't keep herself from sticking her fingers into electric sockets in spite of being precisely instructed not to. Now, you think, the ‘I told you’ so would've been much more agreeable to your pathetic but injured emotions.

Jisung snaps his head around fast, raising his lithe digits to the air, waving at you languidly.  The girl spectates the exchange in an engrossed fashion, slowly routing her inquiring  gaze to yours in thought. Not all that seemed black and white is black and white between you.

"Are you coming?" Jisung screams over the noise and distance, away from the spot you're completely frozen in.  

(A pang in your chest tightens. Tightens. Tightens.  And you don't want it to mean something. But it does. It does and it always will.)

...

Minho once learned to set up tepee fires in scout camp, with twigs, a small heap of leaves, wood shavings and loosely screwed newspaper in the centre. Now, he only prides his younger self for setting up the fire once in their backyard and decides roasting marshmallows on the grill demands less of the expertise that he's lost overtime.

"I've actually heard a lot about you before we met." Sunwoo garbles out, clearing his throat.

You've been ignoring Jisung ever since you arrived. Now the group is sat down on the sand, in a misshapen circle, the two girls, now you know their names and the root of their invitation - Junhee and Shoshanna are merely bypassers the boys met when they arrived this morning. They're on a weekend trip like you and their visiting resident is a few houses away from yours. You wanted to act on your peevishness  and groan out a loud What are they still doing here?  everytime Shoshanna took the seat beside Jisung or asked him to set her marshmallows but that would, amongst other things, make you look like a crazy jealous idiot who has no right to step into a situation of that sort, even though Jisung seemed hesitant, cautiously looking at you every now and then. 

Jisung's brows rise and fall, gaze darting between you and your flatmate, surprised, "Is that right?"

Sunwoo laughs, "Yeah."  He chews carefully, trying not to choke, as if the source of his knowledge doesn't need to be pointed out. 

"Only good things I hope."

Skeptical, Jisung glances at you with a cocked brow, in case you oppose but you avoid his gaze, glaring down at charred marshmallow on the tip of the stick and thinking of ways to strangle Sunwoo, who chuckles at the former's apparent doubt, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement, "Only good things."

"You're on the varsity swim team, right?" 

 With a mouthful of food, Sunwoo poses the question, the grin only widens when Jisung replies with an equally enthusiastic nod. 

"Did you know that this one can't swim?" He points his marshmallow stick at you, keeping his eyes trained on Jisung's surprised face. "I tried to  provide assistance." Sunwoo insists, "But when someone is really bad around water, like screaming at the top of their lungs-I'm going to drown in a kid's pool- bad, it's quite a challenging task."

Minho produces an animalistic laugh at this, patting his thigh like he's rendered a vivid image of your embarrassing experience while Chan shoots you a concerned look, as if sensing an underlying tension in the air that the others can't. You don’t know which one you dislike more.

"I can hear you, you know!"  You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly having lost your appetite. 

Sunwoo widens his eyes, with a hand atop his chest, mocking you,  "Really?"

You open your mouth to continue bickering with him because it was the only way you could hold yourself back from jumping across the sand and grabbing him by his collar in case that should stop him from further embarrassing you, but Jisung  interjects, blinking inquisitively at you.

 Jisung pouts. "It isn't that bad, you'll see, we can go for a swim anytime. That's what's the pool for anyway."

"Sungie,  I could use a swim now. Can we go, please?"  Shoshanna piped up jutting her lip in a way that made her more attractive, she hooked her arm with Jisung, pulling him to her side and he simply blinked at her, surprised by the gesture. Only you called him that  —  when did she pick that up? Why doesn't Jisung seem to mind at all? Are you seriously seeing what you are definitely seeing?

 Without meaning to, you imagine them floating about in the water, while she curled her arms around his neck to keep balance and him leaning down to grin invitingly.  And it feels like you're losing something.

You feel yourself jumping up to your feet. The sudden movement gains the attention of all your friends except Sunwoo, who keens on sparing you the smug grin which insinuates that he sparked the entire conversation intentionally.  You hope the universe would miraculously  render you telepathic powers so he'd start to choke on the stupid marshmallow. 

"Uh...I mean...I gotta." You gulp, "I'm going to go grab a beer."

"Wait."

Jisung frees his arm to get to his feet, powdery sand dusted off of his sweats.

"I'll come with you."

You walk in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself. In your peripheral, you catch the sight of his pockets swelled around the area he stuck his fingers in, you don't think Jisung's ever been that quiet. It makes you feel guilty. You're acting out because you simply can't get a grip and it seems to have taken a toll on him. You want to punch yourself in the face.

 It's not like you desire to stand in the way of his merry-making, it had to happen eventually, right? Jisung is free to get involved with whoever he pleases. He doesn't know how you feel and even if he did, you don't think he would reciprocate. 

And despite everything, your heart still aches for him. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jisung  tells you. There's a sadness to his voice that supplies that you can't escape this conversation because you simply cannot stand it when something prevents him from being his happy-go-lucky self. But you can delay it. 

You pull the fridge open slowly, scanning the items, alcohol, milk and a few other things that are necessary to spend the weekend. They definitely were newly bought. 

 Jisung pushes the fridge door wider, sighing, he pulls a can and hands it to you. "If this is about the girls, I'm not-"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sungi—I mean, Jisung." You stare down at the perspiration collecting between your fingers and  the can, then set it down immediately in fear of it slipping out of your hands. Jisung stiffens at the transition, a faint look of pain flashing in his eyes. What did he do that is so wrong? 

You feel horrible for making him feel bad, aren't you supposed to be an adult? Aren't you supposed to have a strong grapple on your emotions? This isn't good for the two of you, you don't want to hurt him because of how you feel, Jisung needs you to be his friend and you can't accept, even after so long, that that's all you are to him. 

 "I don't think we should be friends anymore."

"What?" He purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why?" He provides, raking a frustrated hand through his hair when your mouth parted instead of giving him an answer. "Did I do something? You could have just talked to me about it but..." He muttered shakily, repeating, "Why...this?"

Jisung glares at you, he looks so clueless, angry, blatantly hurt and  it's such a selfish thing to ask of him, the least you can do is be honest with him, though you couldn't fight the annoyance from seeping into your tone because he apparently had not a clue. 

"God, don't you see it?!" You placed a warm hand against your forehead, "I'm...in love with you...I love you, okay?"

You start to panic when the tense expression melts into his  features, replaced by something you couldn't put a finger on, "Don't get me wrong, I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything. It's stupid, I thought I was over you but I'm…I'm not. And I can't...I can't watch you get on with someone who isn't me, especially when…" you trail, preparing to admit the truth to yourself once and for all, "...you don't already love me back. I can't...It'll hurt too much…" 

"So...I think...it's better for the two of us to not continue this friendship anymore." You gulp, your palms shaking by your sides, those words have been taking refuge inside you for too long and saying them makes you feel empty, like you've lost something that keeps you grounded and you'd be aimlessly floating about for the rest of your life. 

"I know I'm asking for too much…"

Jisung interrupts you with a wry laugh, the sound startling you. He never spoke to you that way, not even when you argued before.

"Yeah, you're right, you are."

"Well, I'm sorry."  You breath out. 

He leans closer so your hip presses against the cool counter. He drags his fingers from the exposed skin of your collarbone to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb while the remaining digits splay against  your throat, "Sorry doesn't cut it." 

 The kiss sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to straighten up from your slumped position. Your knees feel like jelly, like they could collapse any minute. Jisung deepens the kiss, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip, he props you up on the counter and you sense yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging on to his hair to draw out a groan from him; touching him feels so surreal, even though it's a reminder of just how real everything that's happening is. 

"I…" he breathes heavily, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I didn't know what to do with how I felt and seeing you again...it just made me realise that I couldn't ignore it anymore. There were times when I couldn't help myself, I felt like I needed to see you when I couldn't, so I did, even if it meant I had to lie. I love taking care of you. I love our dumb inside jokes and I love the way we can't go long without talking. Hell, I love everything we do together." He chuckles, "But I didn't say anything because you told me you were over it. I... just assumed you were only interested in being friends with me." You don't think you've properly registered the sentences, maybe it's the suddenness of it all, maybe it's because you've never actually pictured this. You told yourself, this is how it's supposed to be, that Jisung was never supposed to feel the same. Just with that alone, you had axed your own foot, screwed yourself over more than anyone else did.

Jisung's face breaks into a sudden grin, he pecks your pouted mouth. "But I'm glad I was wrong." 

"Did you just kiss me?" You joke, touching his face, tracing your fingers against his cheeks, the skin glossy and pinkish under the touch, his pupils are blown to large black circles, the brown in them barely visible. 

"I don't know, did I?" Jisung deadpans, narrowing his eyes jovially. 

 He eases into the embrace when you slump against him in a tight hug. The chuckle comes out all muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Hmmm, can't be too sure."

You wrap your arms around his neck, it's like you just can't stop smiling. When you think about it, that's what being around Jisung was like, really. Your digits traverse from the side of his jaw to cup his cheeks, eyes peering into his. You watch as he blinks incredulously, there's something impatient about the way you look at him. Then you tilt your head and kiss him, gathering a faint taste of chapstick whilst your tongue prodded at his bottom lip. 

A low moan thrums against his chest, his mind failing to produce a single coherent thought. Because, God, he knows exactly what you're doing. 

This time the gesture is needy, desperate, as though to convey a strong desire to be completely consumed by him,  to be ruined by him. You raise your hips to brush against his lower abdomen, eliciting a low groan from his throat. 

"Baby not here." He breathes out, gauging your intention whilst resting his forehead atop yours. His palm traces the skin of your thighs, travelling up your sides, a free hand which rests at your neck coming to rest at your jaw. His delicate thumb journeys upwards, tugging your bottom lip out and then slowly retracting the digit. Somehow, the gesture makes his eyes darken even more, if that's possible. "Let's go upstairs."

You're so breathless and shocked and have your head stuck way  so far up  up in the clouds that the statement sounds imperceivable. "What?" You blink dumbly, with your hands on his shoulders.

A husky laugh made reverberates inside his chest, "We can’t...here."

As if on cue, you whimper needily at the weight of the implication. The thought of what is to unfold upstairs making your throat close up. You understood the purpose of his statement, the rest of the boys would soon gather into the beach house because it was getting dark soon, the sky was gargling its throat in the distance too, it would rain and neither of you were keen on PDA.

Jisung's teeth graze along your throat, his fingers around it to keep your head pressed to the door while your thighs are snuggly bracketed around his lithe waist. His need is apparent when he grinds up into your body. You're all but putty under his touch.

It's dark. But you can still make out how absent the room's paraphernalia is, just a bed which is stripped to the bare essentials of a white blanket and scratchy sheet, giving away the fact that visits aren't made too often. You don't care about all that though, Jisung pushes you back against the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head before resuming his position on top of you. 

You can't understand how you kept away from him for so long. 

...

Between your short, bitten and misshapen fingernails, the word Premiere reads on the tickets  in bold red slanted letters. 

You can't believe what was once a figment of your imagination, a rubbish script you wrote whimsically on too much caffeine and too little sleep was going to unfold right before your eyes.

It's crowded inside the subway, you stare at the heads, faces, shirts, jackets, arms and legs and your heart is beating too loud, like you ran a marathon or drove a sports car way past its speed limit, rammed it into a tree and flipped it over.

 All the world's a stage and all men and women merely players.

(You should be scared, you should be scared, you should be scared.)

 Delicate, lithe fingers quickly travel down your palm to squeeze the tense digits at the end, his free hand is rubbing circles on the back of your neck; you stare into those brown eyes and without really thinking, press a quick kiss to his pouting lips, it's difficult, he keeps grinning against your mouth but you pay little attention to those things now. 

"That was a good move, champ." Jisung winks briefly, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he nuzzles his nose against yours, "You always kiss people on the subway?"

You grin, with a slow shake of your head, "Just the hot ones."

(This is a stage. And the passengers are waiting. The Tale Of Two Cities. The couple. The mother. Like that nightmare you used to have. 

But, you think, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore. 

Because you've got your silver lining.)