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certaimromance · 5 months ago

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✮ Bittersweet Sixteen.

TASM!Peter Parker x Kindergarden teacher!reader

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Summary: After weeks of not speaking, you need Peter to do you a favor and put his suit back on. But the last thing you expected was to find your heart beating for him again, just like in high school.

Words: 4,2k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lack of communication. friends to lovers. pure fluff. first kiss yep. temporarily located years after the last movie, peter has already graduated from college and left the life of a superhero. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I have had this in my drafts since I started writing here (months ago) and it makes me very happy to be able to stop correcting it a thousand times and publish it.

Your office was your sanctuary. It was the only space in the entire school that offered a reprieve from the chaos—quiet, orderly, and a place where you could drink hot coffee in peace, without worrying about a child knocking it over. But today, everything about the space felt…off. Your desk, usually neat and meticulously arranged, was cluttered, a bag sitting on top that didn’t belong to you. The air was tense, charged with unspoken words. And most notably, you weren’t alone.

Peter Parker sat in the chair across from you, hunched over slightly as he fought with the too-snug sleeves of his old Spiderman suit. The blue and red fabric was wrinkled from years of disuse, clinging to him as though it, too, was reluctant to let go of the past. His hair was mussed from pulling the mask off earlier, and his expression was a mix of concentration and awkwardness as he avoided your gaze.

The last time you’d seen him was on your date—a surprisingly pleasant evening at a restaurant that had intimidated you at first with its crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths. You’d laughed more than you expected, found small moments of genuine connection beyond that of usual friendship, and left the night feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. It ended with a polite goodbye and a brief, somewhat hesitant hug. It made you think of the teenage girl you used to be, who had a crush on him back in high school. It might have been silly, but you felt butterflies, and you were sure he did too.

But then…nothing. No calls. No texts. You’d waited, your phone practically glued to your hand, each notification making your heart jump. Days turned into weeks, and the silence between you solidified, leaving you wondering if perhaps the connection had only been one-sided. Now, he had come to your work, yes—but not for you. At least, not in the way you’d once imagined.

It was all because one of your students was the biggest Spiderman fan you had ever met, and that was quite a lot for a kid who had practically lived more without the superhero in action than with him saving lives and walking between buildings. It was only a matter of time before you had a lightbulb moment.

“You know,” Peter said suddenly, his voice breaking the heavy quiet, “I don’t think this suit has seen daylight in years.” He tugged at the sleeve, grimacing when it resisted. “Either it shrank, or I grew. Both are bad options.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, a reluctant smile forming despite the tension. “It’s probably the suit. Lycra has a way of holding grudges if you don’t treat it right.”

Just like me, you thought. You still were trying to remind yourself that he was just there to surprise one of your students and that it wasn't about you or your friendship.

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking down at the suit. “It’s been a few years, at least. I’ve been busy…you know, at the lab.”

You stepped closer, reaching out instinctively to smooth the fabric along his shoulder. The action was small, but the proximity sent a wave of awareness through you. His shoulders were broader than you remembered—had he always carried himself with this quiet strength?

Damn, you had to concentrate. Really.

“Right,” you said softly, focusing on adjusting the suit. “The lab. I know…but you’re still good at the hero thing. Showing up, being there for people. That’s kind of the most important part, right?”

He looked up at you then, his brown eyes catching yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he offered a lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, I couldn’t say no. Not to you.”

Your fingers paused on the cuff of his sleeve. The words were simple, but they landed heavily, stirring something in your chest that you weren’t quite ready to name. It was probably your heart exploding, just like when he would pass you in the hallways at school and accidentally brush your shoulder against his or when I smiled at you suddenly and said that you looked good. It was deja vu. A big one.

“You didn’t have to,” you replied, stepping back to create some distance. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d been too busy.” Just like how you were these weeks, not to call me.

“Too busy for Spiderman’s number one fan? That’d be a pretty lame excuse.” His attempt at humor was there, but his tone carried an undercurrent you couldn’t quite decipher—something apologetic, maybe even regretful.

You folded your arms, creating a barrier you hoped would steady you before talking. “Jamie’s going to lose his mind when he sees you,” you said, your tone deliberately light. “It’s the perfect birthday surprise.”

His face softened at the mention of your student, and he seemed genuinely grateful for the change in topic. “Jamie,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “You said he’s, what, five? Six?”

“He turned six today,” you corrected, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And completely obsessed with you—well, with Spiderman. He spends half his recess pretending to swing between buildings, and his favorite art project this year was a crayon drawing of you fighting a giant lizard. It’s hanging on the bulletin board outside the classroom if you want to see it.”

“Now I definitely have to see it,” Peter said, his grin returning. “Sounds like my toughest critic.”

“Hardly,” you replied, the warmth in your tone surprising even yourself. “He thinks you walk on water. You’re going to make his entire year just by walking into that classroom with his birthday cake.”

He shifted in his seat, his usual boyish charm dimming slightly as he looked at you. “You’re the one making this happen. You didn’t have to ask me to do this. It means a lot, you know. That you thought of me.”

The weight of his words settled between you, making your heart tighten. There was something in his tone—earnest, maybe even vulnerable—that made it hard to look away. You knew better than anyone how much the decision to give up the hero role had cost him, how many times you two had talked about whether this was his true purpose in life.

“Of course I thought of you,” you said softly, and then, more hesitantly, “I mean, you’re Spiderman. Who else was I going to call for this?”

Parker chuckled, but there was a note of self-deprecation in the sound. That was not an answer to be expected, no matter how obvious it was.

“Yeah. Spiderman. Right.” He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the mask sitting on your desk. “I just…I didn’t think you’d call me at all. After, you know...”

There it was. The thing neither of you had been brave enough to address until now. Why? Why? Why?

The words hung in the air, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. You could feel the silence closing in, like the pause between breaths right before a storm breaks. His eyes—those warm, familiar chocolate eyes—seemed to be searching yours, as if waiting for some kind of answer, but you couldn’t quite find the words. He was your friend, your best friend, someone you could tell anything to. But now, nothing coherent can really come out of your mouth.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room almost unbearable. Your heart thudded against your ribs, and you knew you had to break the silence. But now wasn’t the time. Not in this place. Not like this.

“Let’s…let’s focus on Jamie, okay?” you blurted, your voice coming out sharper than you intended, almost a little too loud for the small space.

He blinked, clearly startled by the sudden shift, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other.

“Right, Jamie,” Peter echoed, giving you a smile that was a little too tight, a little too cautious. He shifted, standing up from the chair, and the air around you seemed to settle just a little.

You cleared your throat, stepping back, your gaze flicking to the clock on your wall. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you walk through that door.”

He looked at you, his lips twitching at the corners, though the tension in his eyes didn’t fully fade. “You’re sure you don’t want me to do a big dramatic entrance? Swing through the window or something?”

You laughed, though it felt a little strained. “Let’s keep it simple, okay? We don’t want to traumatize any of my kids.”

He chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved towards the door, and for a second, you hesitated. He was still wearing the suit—his Spiderman suit, the one that had once made him a legend in your eyes. But now, as you stood there, a thought nagged at the back of your mind. The suit was a part of him, yes, but so was the mask. The mask was his identity, the thing that separated the hero from the man.

“Hey, wait,” you said, your voice softer than before, and he paused mid-step. You walked over to him, the sudden proximity almost overwhelming. The mask sat on your desk, waiting, like a silent question. Your heart raced as you picked it up, turning it in your hands for a moment, letting the weight of it settle. “You should probably put this on. You know, just to keep your identity safe. We don’t want anyone knowing who you really are, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, his voice lower now, almost distracted.

You swallowed hard, your hands suddenly trembling slightly as you moved closer to him. The space between you seemed impossibly small, and for a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there, suspended in this strange, fragile moment. You could feel the warmth of his body, the soft rhythm of his breath as he stood in front of you, and for the first time since he walked into your office, it felt like the distance between you had closed.

And for a moment, everything felt like it did in high school, when you were both teenagers trying to hide the secret and not to fail your subjects.

Gently, you reached up, lifting the mask toward his face. His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, everything in the room stilled. You could feel the weight of his gaze. And in that moment, as you moved to place the mask over his face, your fingers brushed against his skin—a simple touch, but one that felt electric. His jaw tensed under your fingertips, his breath hitching slightly.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing, and carefully slid the mask into place. The action was small, but it felt monumental, the kind of quiet gesture that spoke volumes. It was intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, and as you adjusted the mask, making sure it was secure, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again in your heart.

“Perfect,” you said softly.

Peter looked at you, now fully transformed into Spiderman, and despite the mask, there was something in his posture, in the way he stood, that was unmistakably him. “Thanks,” he said, his voice muffled through the fabric, though there was still a tenderness in his tone.

The sounds of children’s laughter and chatter grew louder as you moved toward the classroom, the vibrant energy of the moment standing in stark contrast to the quiet tension that had surrounded you both earlier. You stole a glance at Peter. Even in the suit, even behind the mask, you could feel his nervousness, a subtle hesitation in the way his shoulders tensed, the slight uncertainty in his step. It was as if he was still learning how to be this version of himself again, but the earnestness was unmistakable.

When you reached the door, you paused, turning to face him. “Ready?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying the weight of the moment.

“Born ready,” he replied, his smile audible even through the mask, though it was tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping in first to scan the room. The instant the door swung wide, the children’s eyes locked on you, their faces lighting up with excitement. Jamie, sitting at the small table with his friends, froze mid-conversation. His eyes widened, his face glowing with anticipation as he jumped to his feet.

“Miss! Is it time for the surprise?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“Not just yet,” you said, your lips curving into a conspiratorial smile. “But I think you’ll want to pay attention.”

And then, with a theatrical flair you hadn’t expected, Spiderman stepped through the doorway and the cobwebs appeared. The room erupted in gasps and squeals of delight as the kids leapt from their chairs, crowding around him with wide-eyed awe.

Jamie froze, his mouth hanging open as he clutched the edge of the table. “No way,” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. “It’s really him?”

Peter crouched down to Jamie’s level, his movements fluid and natural despite the years away from the suit. “Happy birthday, Jamie,” he said, extending a hand for a high-five. “Someone tell me you’re my biggest fan.”

A soft laugh bubbled in your chest at the mention. The kid hesitated, looking at you for confirmation, and then, with all the enthusiasm his tiny six-year-old body could muster, slapped his hand against Peter’s gloved one with the loudest, most joyful smack. “You’re real! You’re really real!”

The other children chattered excitedly, peppering Spiderman with questions about his powers and his adventures. He handled it all with practiced ease, weaving just enough humor into his answers to keep them laughing but still utterly convinced that he was, in fact, the superhero they adored.

As you watched him, standing back and taking it all in, a soft warmth spread through your chest. He wasn’t just good at this—he was great. His ease with the kids, the effortless way he connected with them, it was clear: he was a hero not only in costume but in every little action. The doubts that had plagued him, the years spent questioning if the mask was still a part of him, seemed so far away in that moment. He had it—the ability to inspire, to make people believe, to make them feel seen and important.

For the first time in weeks, you felt that flutter in your chest again—the one you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. It was hope, soft and steady, like a heartbeat you’d forgotten how to hear until now.

You stayed near the back of the classroom, content to let Peter soak up the adoration while you took a couple of pictures of it. But every now and then, he would catch your eye, and even through the mask, you could feel the gratitude radiating off him. It was a silent thank-you, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond between you, for pulling him into this moment, for giving him the chance to be this version of himself. You nodded, your lips curving into a small, affectionate smile.

When the excitement finally began to settle, the cake was brought out, and Jamie proudly showed Peter his crayon drawing—an adorable depiction of Spiderman battling a huge, ferocious lizard. He studied it for a moment before declaring with all the sincerity he could muster, “Museum-worthy,” making the kid’s face light up with pride. The joy in the room was palpable, and it was impossible to tell who was happier: the children, who were living out their dreams, or the superhero himself, who was finally realizing that, perhaps, there was still a place for him in this world.

Eventually, it was time for him to “swing” away, and after a round of hugs and high-fives, he disappeared down the hall, leaving a room full of awestruck children in his wake. You stayed behind, cleaning up the remnants of the party and basking in the lingering joy.

By the time you returned to your office and all the kids to their houses, the hallways were quieter, and the sound of little feet had faded. But when you stepped inside, there he was—Peter, still waiting for you, now back in his civilian clothes, the Spidey suit crumpled in one hand like a tired, old memory.

“Oh,” you said, a little startled. “I thought you’d already left.” I wish.

“I figured I’d stick around for a bit,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair, still slightly ruffled from the mask. “I don’t exactly get to see kids this excited for me every day.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “You really made Jamie’s day. I’ve never seen him so starstruck. He’s going to be talking about this for his whole life.”

Peter chuckled, but it was a little strained. “It’s good to know I’m still that impressive,” he said, his tone light, though there was an underlying sadness that didn’t quite match the words. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been in the game…you know, the hero thing.”

You just nodded. “You are good at it, you know.”

His smile was a little wistful as he tossed the suit onto the desk, his eyes following it for a moment before meeting yours again. “Yeah…but that’s not really what I came here to talk about.”

At his words, you felt a flicker of curiosity mixed with unease. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Oh? What did you want to talk about?” Please say you want to correct my bad posture when I took the pictures or something.

He shifted in his seat, his fingers nervously tapping against the desk. “Honestly…I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks,” Peter began, his voice quieter now, almost like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “About you…about us. And, well, I guess I just…I missed you.”

Oh, that.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his words. For a moment, the room seemed to close in around you, your breath catching in your chest. He missed you? You hadn’t expected that.

Before you could respond, he went on, his words coming faster, like he couldn’t stop himself. “I know things have been weird since the date. And I didn’t…I didn’t want to just text you or call and make it feel like I was making things awkward. You know? So, I guess I just…waited for you, and I get the message.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and every conclusion you ever had was shattered.

“Wait,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “You were waiting for me to call?”

“Yeah. I mean…I thought maybe you were the one who needed space, and I didn’t want to rush things or make it weird. I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for or didn’t want.”

Not ready? Don’t want? You literally had been wanting it since you were sixteen.

You blinked again, feeling a warm flush spread through you. “I…I thought you were the one avoiding it. I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, so I didn’t reach out either.”

His eyes widened slightly as the words sunk in, and for a moment, there was just a long silence between you, filled with the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above. Then, finally, a soft laugh escaped him, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too, the tension easing slightly.

“I guess we were both just sitting here thinking the other person would make the first move,” Peter said with a grin, shaking his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “This is ridiculous,” you said, your laughter soft but genuine. “We’ve been friends for years, and now we’re both too nervous to talk about it.”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Yeah. Seems like we’ve been pretty bad at this whole communicating thing.”

The laughter between you two died down, the room suddenly feeling warmer, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the soft shuffle of Peter’s shoes against the floor. You felt a spark of something flicker within you—something long suppressed, a longing, an ache you hadn’t quite realized until now.

He shifted in his chair, a bit unsure of what to do next, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the fabric of his crumpled suit. His eyes met yours, and for a second, the weight of everything—your shared history, the unspoken words, and the lingering emotions—hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to snap.

“I guess we should…try this again,” he murmured, his voice low and tentative. The vulnerability in his tone made your heart flutter. “If you want.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm, but this time it wasn’t from nerves. You stepped closer, closing the space between you, feeling the presence of him so close you could almost feel the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Yeah…let’s try again,” you whispered, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear. “I want it.”

Peter stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was giving you time to change your mind. His hand reached out slightly, as if asking for permission, and you met him halfway, your fingers brushing against his. A spark of warmth shot through you, igniting a familiar flame.

He cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, as if memorizing every detail of your expression. Your breath caught, heart pounding, as you met his gaze—his brown eyes soft, but with that unmistakable spark of affection you had longed for.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured softly, his words both an affirmation and a confession. The sincerity in his voice made your breath hitch in your chest. You smiled shyly, unsure how to respond but feeling the weight of his words settle deep within you.

Slowly, he leaned in, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His lips brushed against yours lightly, just a whisper of a kiss, a hesitant touch that held more promise than any grand declaration. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, feeling your body relax into the familiarity of him. His lips lingered against yours for a heartbeat before pulling back, as if checking in, unsure of how much was too much, too soon.

“I don’t want to rush anything,” he said, his voice a little shaky, as if unsure of how to navigate this new territory between you two. “I just want to take things slow, see where this goes…do it right.”

You nodded in agreement, your hands gently gripping his as you let the moment linger. “Yeah, me too. No need to rush.”

He stepped back slightly, looking at his watch with a sigh. “I should go,” he said, his smile a little sad. “I’ve got work, and you probably have things to do.”

You felt a pang of disappointment, but you understood. The moment, as sweet as it had been, couldn’t last forever.

“Yeah, I get it,” you said, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

He nodded, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, you definitely will.”

Peter took a step back toward the door, but before he could reach for the handle, he stopped, turning to face you once more. There was a hesitation in his eyes, a pull that seemed to tether him to you in that moment. Without a word, he crossed the room in a few strides, his hand reaching for you again, this time more urgent, more sure.

Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours again—this time, deeper, more insistent, as if he could no longer wait for you to make the first move. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—of all the missed chances, of the longing, of everything unspoken between you. It was both sweet and desperate, a promise and a question wrapped up in one.

You responded instantly, your hands finding his shoulders as you leaned into the kiss, feeling the heat of his body against yours. For a few moments, nothing else mattered but the rhythm of your kiss, the way his fingers brushed your hair back, and the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Finally, when the kiss broke, both of you stood there, breathing a little heavier than before, eyes locked in a silent exchange that said more than words ever could.

He ran a hand through his hair again, his expression a mix of longing and determination. “I’m not waiting anymore,” he said softly, as if to himself. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

You smiled, the weight of his confession making your heart flutter. “Then don’t wait,” you whispered back.

And with that, Peter leaned in one last time, pressing his lips to yours, not with hesitation or doubt, but with the certainty that whatever this was—whatever was between you two—was worth fighting for, even if you both weren't sixteen anymore.

#tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm andrew garfield #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #spiderman #peter parker #andrew garfield

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velvees-archive · 7 months ago

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art cr: @cokiicookies on twitter

Tags: Love Confessions, Bratfeen, Art Student Feenie, Law Student Bratworth, Ace Attorney-typical cringefail, Canon Divergence

and many others!

HEAVILY inspired by @cokiicookies's bratfeen art on twitter! check out the full comic there!!!

"Hey...so...uh..." Phoenix coughs out, voice scratchy from his most recent line repetitions. It's a small mistake, not unsalvageable. All he has to do is stick to the script. Stick to the script. Stick... His eyes flick down to his note cards. He swears he’d printed them in his best penmanship, atop one of the library's extra premium desks, but everything is spinning and he feels faintly like he's going to throw up. "Did you uh," he starts, letters swirling in his eyes. "Did...you fall out of heaven...?" Genius prosecutor-in-training Miles Edgeworth regards him with a blank stare. Phoenix thinks now would be an opportune time for him to locate the nearest possible bridge and promptly jump off of it. - The joys and woes (mostly woes) of being in love, as told by BratFeen.

so i caved and wrote narumitsu. another huge thank you to @cokiicookies on twitter for allowing me to write an accompanying fic for their work. i attached some of the comic here in an attempt to entice you to look at their comic (well? are you enticed?!), but if you wanna see the full thing, please do give their art a like, a retweet, a comment, and all the love on twitter! fic screenshots below:

misc commentary/musings under the cut :)

the way i wrote feenie inner monologue and narration parallels my informal writing style, so writing his freak outs weren't challenging. consciously changing sentence structures/verbiage to be more or less extra, on the other hand, totally was.

the bulk of my pain came from writing fluff in the first place, stumbling through dialogue exchanges (as always), and attempting larry dialogue...all of which i honestly think i failed at pretty badly HAHA. who cares tho? it's my work!

bratfeen is one of my favorite narumitsu "eras" if you will. i've always wanted to write them. i didn't know the opportunity would come so soon (and at my expense considering i still have a zine fic to finalize for a diff fandom), but i took the shot. the full fic was written over the course of a day which i do not recommend anyone experience. i was on a writing hiatus for months and wrote 8k words as soon as i came back. do you see why i burnt out in the first place?

the easiest part about writing bratfeen is that none of the things i write are exaggerated for the purpose of carrying the plot forward. feenie believing that bratworth is better of a human being than everyone makes him out to be? sounds about right. feenie insisting to others that miles is the best thing since grilled cheese? his raging savior complex says that's likely to occur. feenie fumbling the bag because he thinks miles is the prettiest thing he's ever seen? yeah, 20 y/o feenie would! feenie shoving the asshole who talked shit abt miles? we saw the exact same thing with doug swallow (and we all know how that ended...). all of it is in line w his character. also miles being a try hard. that's a given.

i am hoping i can showcase more of my technical skill aka the angst writer in me with my next work, though i've been closely following fictober (haven't been publishing because, again, zine fic obligations) and have plenty of angsty fics stored in my drafts. i hope you enjoy my poor attempt at humor and fluff. may i muster the strength to finish the rest of my zine fic...please...

#narumitsu #bratfeen #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #ace attorney #narumitsu fanfiction #vel’s narumitsu fics

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vxnuslogy · 2 months ago

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╭────── will it still be me? ✦ ⸝⸝

✦ ⭑𓂃 honkai: star rail ┆ sunday .ᐟ ──╯

𐔌 warnings. maybe ooc ( this was written 7 months ago help ) ♟ notes. hey..... its been a while haha! this account has been so dry i had to post a draft from so long ago just to keep it somewhat alive. hopefully i get more time to writing soon TT

━━━ art credits. 隐世樱yyy on weibo ♟ tags. @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somniachant @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please fill out the forms on my pinned or send in an ask off-anon!!

౨ৎ to you who finally saw the sun — sunday heard the saying "you meet people twice". he wasn't one to believe in such superstitions but when he met you at one of, if not, the lowest point in his life, he wished to have the chance to meet you again when he was a better man.

sunday met you briefly at the lowest point of his life. one look at your eyes, he saw a future, a life with you in his arms and smiling up at him as you talked about your day. from the moment your eyes locked on that busy street in golden hour, sunday knew you were his soulmate—the love of his life.

but you had had the misfortune of meeting him when all his broken bones, worn out wings, and a husk of a soul were on full display–sunday had been nothing short of unsightly. he couldn’t bear to look at you—he couldn’t dare to love you when he had been like that. you didn’t deserve to be chained to such a hollow and broken man, drifting from one place to another in search of a piece of his puzzle that he wasn’t sure existed.

so he bolted–far, far, away so you wouldn’t be able to catch up to him even if you had the aeons on your side. he wandered from one planet to another with the help of a bunch of bandits whose names he used to curse. how funny now, that as he’s saying goodbye to them, sunday couldn’t help but feel melancholic—already missing the chaotic ambience they always brought wherever they went.

“everything must come to an end, sunny,” the woman had said, a soft smile on her lips as he pushed him forward. “your story with us has ended. time for you to start a new one.”

sunday had wanted to say goodbye, but no amount of words could ever convey the sheer extent of his emotions. emotions have always scared him; as a halovian, he felt them twice as severely, if not more, than the ordinary mortal. he had gotten used to shutting it all off to keep this pristine image his father created. to think that the walls he had created would shatter, all because of the infamous destiny’s slave.

maybe it’s the way he sees your smile on every hunter’s face when he gains a new achievement, or the way firefly carefully approaches him like you did when you first met. sunday wonders if he hadn’t run away, would he be greeted with your kind words everyday when he wakes up? something stirs his chest as he sees the express skid to a slow stop just a few feet away from him and kafka. was it sadness, or mayhaps regret? sunday has had many regrets in his life, and you were by far the biggest one. would he have the chance to correct his mistakes like he’s always prayed for?

“will we find each other again in the future?” he asks with a ghost of a smile on his lips, carrying a sense of gratitude but also sadness..

the woman chuckled and shook her head. “sometimes, people part ways just to find each other again, just like you and your beloved.”

his eyes widened by just a small fracture when kafka placed a small card in his hands. heart stopping then beating once again when he sees your name printed on the small piece of paper. the smile on his face grew bigger when he realized the train’s next stop would be where your little shop was located. sunday was not one to believe in fate, but if it meant being brought back to you, then he’d go down on his knees in your chapel and pray for just one more glimpse of your smile.

“will it still be me?” sunday asked, one more time. “do i deserve another chance?”

“well, why not find out now?”

sunday looked back to see a woman with red hair stand by his side. her voice carried a soft gentleness and wisdom like that of a mother. he wondered if taking care of the three troublemakers of the express had played any part in that.

“be sure to say your final goodbyes, after all,” the red haired woman nodded at kafka with a small smile. “the stellaron hunters were your family before you came to us.”

he only nodded, carefully pocketing your business card in his pocket before smiling at kafka one last time—peeking over her shoulders to catch one last glimpse of the other hunters waving him goodbye with small smiles on their lips.

“thank you,” he said. “for keeping me company, but i must go now.”

“it was a pleasure, sunny. be sure to take the chance you’ve been given.”

with one final wave, sunday boarded the express with you in his mind. when he boarded the train, a wave of uncertainty washed over him. would you even accept him? give him another chance? he pondered over all the what ifs and how to approach you until the express landed and he was swept up in another adventure–this time it's an adventure he asked for. at every twist and turn, in every shop that passed by and every person he bumped into, sunday searched high and low for the sight of you.

so when he does find you, sunday meets the love of his life for the second time. you, who basked under the glorious afternoon sun that looked like a halo, still smiled at him when you caught his stare. you don’t approach him first like you did last time, in fact, you don’t even spare another second before you went back to whatever you were doing first.

in that one moment, all sunday’s fears come crashing down like an avalanche. he feels you slip through his fingers for a second time and it breaks his heart. but unlike last time, sunday takes a step forward, refusing to repeat the same mistake twice.

“good afternoon,” he greets you with a polite smile, one hand behind his back as you smile up at him.

“good afternoon to you too!” you replied with a joyful lilt in your voice. it made sunday smile, you were still the same despite all the time that had passed. he felt his shoulders relax, he was no longer rigid and pristine, and instead, sunday was free–from his duties, expectations, and fear of loving you.

“i kept you in my prayers,” he thought with a bashful smile. “i found myself begging the heavens for another chance to love you properly.”

maybe the heavens did answer him when you decide to invite him over to your shop to chat and drink some tea. sunday wasn’t perfect–he was still broken, admittedly still afraid of the uncertainties of what you might bring, but he didn’t want to run away anymore. as you open up your shop and sit him down on one of the tables sunday feels at home and at peace—he thinks this is where he really belongs, a place he can always come home to.

you don’t remember him, and that’s fine. he thinks it's for the better that you don’t remember that unsightly version of him. you deserve only the best parts of him–he’ll show you all the ugly sides to him when he proves fate itself that the two of you meeting again will always be how your story ends.

sunday is reminded of the unattainable dream he once had of you; inside your home surrounded by the things you love and the things he wants to love too, relishing the afternoon sun as you both watch the troublemakers of the express run around, sharing stories of bygone pasts, your sweet present, and the imperfect future. he looks at you with all the hope he could muster, this was the new beginning he’s always hoped for.

yes, this is what sunday meant when he wanted to dream. you sitting across from him, sipping your tea and smiling at him like he had done no wrong. because in your presence, sunday wasn't the previous head of the oak family nor a previous stellaron hunter, he was the love of your life.

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail sunday #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr headcanons #hsr x you #hsr sunday #sunday x you #sunday imagines #sunday x reader #sunday headcanons #sunday fluff #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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beom-pyu · 2 years ago

Text

lust for life ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ kang taehyun

kang taehyun x fem!reader (choi yeonjun x fem!reader) , tags: non idol au , friends to lovers , one-sided crushes , pining , fluff , nsfw , angst , friend!taehyun , bff!yeonjun , roommate!yeonjun , college au , one-sided crushes , angst , pink-haired taehyun because why not, reader is a little ditzy but you mean well!! , pwp

warnings: smut (minors dni) , cursing , fingering , drinking , service top!taehyun (i need to spread this agenda please hear me out) , unprotected sex (reader is on the pill) , sane and consensual! , car sex (i have an obsession) , reader is going thru it

"in these stolen moments, the world is mine. there's nobody here—just us together. keepin' me hot like july forever."

a/n: hiii it's been a while! i've had this in the drafts for a little bit and i finally finished it yayyyy!! also happy 520+ in just a little over a month??? ily guys with all of my heart :,,,) i hope u enjoy!!! (this has only been proofread once so plz excuse any mistakes!)

wc: 8.17k

you’ve never been a fan of pancakes. in fact, you had even won an online debate about how waffles are the better breakfast food back in middle school on some weird forum site. pancakes are just too starchy, too flimsy, and way too bland. you’d rather eat sand than willingly go out of your way to devour a plate of pancakes.

but as yeonjun hand feeds you a bite of the blueberry pancakes he made for your “friendiversary” (the friendship anniversary that you guys celebrate every year), you decide right then and there that you have become a pancake connoisseur—a devotee… a fanatic, if you will.

you hum in delight, clapping your hands in appreciation as you chew the slice of doughy goodness. yeonjun watches your reaction with hopeful eyes—those fox-like eyes, shining as the daylight from the kitchen window hits his irises, a chocolate brown ring hidden in the center. you think you can get lost in them forever: the way they bunch up when he smiles widely, the way his eyelashes frame them beautifully, the way they seem to display any and every emotion he feels. those captivating, enchanting eyes.

“does it taste okay?” yeonjun asks, his soft voice snapping you back into reality. you’re nodding quickly before you even realize it, giving him two thumbs up as you swallow the food.

“i didn’t know you were a pancake expert,” you joke, picking up your own fork to grab a strawberry off of your plate. yeonjun shakes his head with a faint smile, pushing around the food on his plate as he watches you eat.

“i just threw some things together. guess i’m just a natural, huh?” his voice is filled with feign cockiness and you find yourself giggling at the way he leans back in his seat with his arms behind his head like some 90s chick-flick jock.

he looks especially good today—you don’t know if it’s just the warm feelings surrounding your friendiversary, or if it’s the way the sun rays frame his figure, creating a halo effect around his body. he’s perfect in your eyes; his black hair falls beautifully around his face, and his cheeks are naturally flushed pink from the warm air of your shared apartment. his lips are glossy with some syrup residue and you wish for nothing more than to kiss it off of him, tasting the sweetness of his mouth as your hands find their way to his—

“—ift today, so i have to go in. i’m really sorry, y/n.”

you blink, tilting your head a bit as you rip your attention from his lips. “sorry, what did you say?”

yeonjun sighs with a small, apologetic smile, bouncing his fork in his hands. “there was no one who could cover my shift for our friendiversary, so i still have to work today.”

his voice is filled with so much guilt, and despite the deep disappointment you feel in your chest, you don’t want to make him feel any worse. he doesn’t deserve to feel that way. you guys have celebrated your friendiversary every single year for the past decade and a half. from visiting the aquarium in sixth grade, to go-karting in ninth, to climbing onto the rooftop of your apartment complex to stargaze last year; you guys have done it all. there’s nothing wrong with cutting one short, right?

“oh, that’s okay! i… i still have some cramming i need to do, so that’ll definitely keep me busy.” you wave your hand to dismiss him with a small smile before quickly spooning another strawberry into your mouth to cover up the falter of your lips. yeonjun’s shoulders untense with relief, nudging your foot under the table—the action is quick to summon butterflies in your stomach, a small warmth rising to your face from the short contact.

“i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?” and any hint of dismay in your body dissipates with the lopsided smile he sends your way, too distracted by the fluttery stuttering of your heart and the way those eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight.

“i’m going to die.”

“you’re not going to die.”

“yes, i am. i’m going to die and it’ll be all your fault.”

taehyun deadpans you as you dramatically drape yourself across the library table, whining with your cheek pressed against the cool wood. today was supposed to be your friendiversary, and now here you are, face to face with your friend (and calculus tutor) in your stuffy campus library.

you mentally curse the current recession—yeonjun could’ve had the day off to cuddle and watch movies with you, but now he’s holed up in a dumb, understaffed clothing store.

on top of it all, calculus seems to always have the ability to literally melt your brain through your ears, feeling yourself growing more and more delirious with every number and formula you write down. there’s a reason why you’re an english major.

taehyun simply watches you throw your contained fit, his demeanor blank with the slightest hint of amusement—he’s definitely used to it by now. with one final huff, you lift your head up, grabbing your pencil with vigor as you straighten your back.

“okay, let’s do this.”

a tiny puff of laughter fills the space around you as taehyun’s lips quirk up at your immediate change of pace, his eyebrows raised with entertainment.

“you sure you don’t need another minute?” he teases you with a sly smile and you give him a tiny glare in return.

“not everyone is a mathematical nerd like you, kang,” you retort, but the words are light and airy—it’s easy to banter with taehyun. you’ve known him since your freshman year, meeting him by chance at this exact library during exam season. you approached him first—he had on a t-shirt of a band you like a little too much and with your extroverted nature, you cracked through his shell quickly.

you two would be complete opposites if it weren’t for the fact that you have so much in common with each other. he’s like the less talkative, “critically thinking”’version of you—he balances you out perfectly and you’re incredibly thankful to have a friend like him. he’s always open to listen to your rambling, help you out when you’re struggling in one of your classes, and provide silent company when you don’t want to be alone.

you’re especially grateful that he willingly offered to help you prepare for your upcoming exams, knowing how scatterbrained you get when it comes to studying—and by the time it hits 5 p.m, you’re officially burnt out, unable to intake any more explanations of radians and whatnot.

taehyun notices your attention drifting as you chew on the end of your pen, a tiny and fond smile falling onto his face.

“how about we call it a day?” taehyun asks as he closes his textbook. you immediately brighten up, nodding aggressively—taehyun quietly laughs at your enthusiasm.

“wanna get something to eat? i think i’m actually going to die after all of this now.” you motion to the mess of paper and notes in front of you, hearing taehyun hum in agreement. you pack up quickly as you randomly stuff your papers into their proper (see: random) folders, ready to get some food in your stomach as you tell taehyun about this new show you’ve started watching. he listens intently, nodding along to your breakdown of the plot—you speak way too fast for anything to be even the slightest bit comprehensible, but your eagerness makes up for any lost translations.

the air is warm on your skin when you exit the library, soaking up the heat as you fall into step with taehyun next to you. as brutal as finals season is on you, it does leave one positive in your mind—summer is coming.

you had planned a trip with yeonjun to your hometown for the first few weeks of summer—just the two of you with no distractions of work and assignments. alone. together. you were going to confess during this trip; you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t chicken out this time. you have liked yeonjun for years, ever since middle school, but you’ve been too afraid of losing him to actually tell him the truth about your feelings—but this is it. this will be the summer you tell him everything. you beam at the thought, already feeling giddy at just the idea.

“watcha thinking about?”

taehyun’s inquisitive voice enters your ears and you turn your head to look over at him. he’s already watching you, his big eyes focused on the goofy smile on your face. your neck heats up with embarrassment at the prospect of being caught daydreaming about your best friend, shaking your head.

“nothing, really. i just love when the sun’s out,” you speak, looking up to the clear sky as you silently applaud yourself for that on-the-spot excuse. you can still feel taehyun’s eyes on your face, but you brush it off as your phone rings in your hand.

you look down at the caller i.d., your heart jumping at the giant display of letters that spell out “junnie bug”. his contact photo takes up your entire screen and you’re sure taehyun sees it as well—it’s a selfie yeonjun took when he used one of your hello kitty headbands to wash his face, his lips puckered up in a kissy face with a v by his eyes, winking at the camera. god, he’s so cute.

quick to answer the phone, you press the device to your ear with a small smile on your lips, muttering out a quiet hello.

“hey, where are you right now?”

you scan the area, realizing you’re closing in on one of the campus restaurants, one you and yeonjun frequent weekly.

“i’m about to grab dinner. why?” the line is quiet for a beat as you hear some shuffling and jingling before yeonjun finally responds.

“i got off early! come eat with me. i brought your favorite~” yeonjun sing-songs through the speaker of your phone. you pout a bit, glancing up at taehyun whose hands are shoved in his pocket as he looks off into the distance, giving you privacy to speak.

“i’m actually with taehyun right now…”

yeonjun makes a small, whiny sound, quick to intervene. “but it’s our friendiversary! plus, i have something i’ve been waiting to tell you.”

your heart stops in your chest for a moment as the words reach your ears, feeling the world around you slow down.

yeonjun has something to tell you.

he has something he's been waiting to tell you.

you try not to overthink it, but you can’t stop the conclusion from jumping into your head.

he’s going to confess. he’s going to confess!

you bite back a small squeal as you gain your composure, your eyes flickering over to taehyun once again. he’s a few steps behind you and you already feel bad for what you’re about to do—but yeonjun has something to tell you and your best friend always comes first.

(especially when he’s going to confess to you!)

“okay, i’ll be there soon! love you, junnie.”

“love you too. see you in a bit.”

and then the line goes silent. you try to hide your wide grin as you turn on your heel towards taehyun who stops in his tracks, his head cocking to the side at your excited demeanor.

“hey, can we make a reign check? i’m really sorry,” you pout as you speak, but taehyun doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, nodding his head.

“yea, that’s okay. seems like you have somewhere important to be.” the small smile he gives you seems a little forced, but you’re too blinded by the excitement pooling in your gut to linger on it. you make a small happy noise, reaching out to pat taehyun’s arm softly.

“i’ll pay for dinner next time—pinky promise.” you hold out your pinky and taehyun’s eyes follow your hand, smiling a bit at the action.

“what, are we twelve?” he teases and you huff, gently jabbing your pinky into his arm.

“pinky promises are the ultimate form of trust and commitment!” you declare with a self-assured nod. taehyun hesitates for a moment as he gives you an unreadable look before his warm pinky hooks onto yours, your thumbs pressing together in a silent seal.

“thank you, kind sir,” you say in a horrible british accent and the corners of taehyun’s eyes crinkle in that darling way they do when he smiles. “i’ll see you tomorrow. bye, bye!”

if taehyun watches your figure retreat until you’ve disappeared around the corner of the communications building, and a short while after you’re already gone—well, that’s for only him to know.

you’re nervous, you realize as you wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, taking in a deep breath as you stand outside of your apartment. one would think you’d be prepared for this, considering how many sleepless nights you’ve tossed and turned imagining this exact moment. the exact moment when yeonjun tells you, to your face, that he has been in love with you for years—and you would confirm that you feel the same way, and all would be well and dandy and you’d finally be able to breathe.

but your breath gets caught in your lungs the moment you see yeonjun sitting on the couch with a movie paused on the screen, all of your favored dishes from your favorite takeout place laid out in an array on the glass coffee table in the middle of the living room. time moves in slow motion when his head turns towards you as you walk through the front door, those butterflies making their way back to your belly the moment his eyes lock onto yours.

he’s always so gorgeous—even after being on his feet for hours due to his long shift, he still manages to look positively effortless. his plush lips are slightly parted in a wide smile as he beckons you over, his hair bouncing on his forehead at the movement. he’s shining, the sunset casting a wonderful glow over the living room, making his pristine skin look even more angelic than it usually does.

you’re in love. you’re absolutely, absolutely enamored with the man in front of you.

it’s like a scene in a movie as you take a seat on the couch next to him, his arm coming to rest over your shoulders, pulling you into a tight side hug and… oh goodness, he smells so amazing. he’s had the same signature scent for years—a sweet grapefruit with hints of cedar and black currant. intoxicating, alluring. you subtly inhale as you bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself bask in his warmth. his comfort.

you feel his body rumble with quiet laughter at the way you cling to him, his free hand coming up to pinch your cheek fondly.

“hello to you too,” he speaks and you pop your head up to smile at him.

“i missed you. i think i lost half of my sanity after that study session,” you mumble as you pull your knees up to your chest, pressing yourself closer to yeonjun’s side.

“wasn’t taehyun there to help, though?” yeonjun questions as he massages the back of your neck. you hum in response, your eyes slipping shut as your body relaxes.

“he’s the only reason i didn’t actually go insane,” you groan and yeonjun laughs a bit at your theatrics. “but enough of that. it’s friendiversary time!”

you try to ignore the anticipation bubbling in your chest as the night goes on. yeonjun seems to have pushed the “something” he’s been “waiting” to tell you to the back burner of his mind, laughing and joking around as per usual as some corny 2000s chick flick plays on the t.v. screen. you’re painfully aware though, your eyes glancing over at him during every bout of prolonged silence, trying to egg him on with subtle words—and by the time the movie finally ends, you think he’s forgotten completely.

but then he turns his body towards you, and if you weren’t already hyperfocused on his entire presence, you would’ve missed the way he takes a subtle deep breath, silently preparing himself for whatever he’s about to tell you. naturally, your body faces him as well, your hands in your lap as you dismiss the rapid pounding of your heart in your chest.

it’s finally happening.

yeonjun cracks a small smile to break the growing tension in the room and you swoon at the way his cheeks bunch up in that adorable way they do.

“soooo,” he starts and you can’t help but to smile a bit at his unusually awkward demeanor—choi yeonjun, you’re choi yeonjun, is actually nervous right now. something about it makes you feel a little fluttery; just the sight of his face reddening makes your stomach flip. he’s so cute.

“soooo…?” you echo, nudging his knee with yours. he chuckles a bit, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“remember how i said there’s something i’ve been waiting to tell you?” he speaks slowly as if he’s thinking of every word he says before they exit his mouth. you nod, trying to hide your growing grin. “so, um…”

this is it. this is it. your days of pining are finally over. you’ll be able to kiss, hug, and love yeonjun all you want, as loudly as you want. you’ll finally be his.

“i think i’m going to throw up from the suspense,” you blurt out and your words help to lighten the mood, yeonjun laughing again as his hand drops back down to his lap.

“i guess i’ll just say it then,” he inhales once before his next sentence tumbles off of his lips like an avalanche, destroying your world with every passing millisecond. you’re dunked underwater as your breath hitches in your throat, your hearing muffled as you watch yeonjun’s lips move, but none of it reaches your ears.

you can’t think. you don’t want to think. it’s all too sudden and you feel your hands tremble slightly in your lap as yeonjun’s eyes fill with adoration as he talks about the girl from his fashion department.

“we’re official. me and eunbin… we’re dating.”

he’s so happy as he lulls on about the exact moment everything happened; the way her eyes lit up, the way she jumped into his arms, the way she kissed him on the lips. how she’s so smart and mature. how she’s beautiful and confident and charming in every way. how she’s exactly what he needs at this point in his life.

how she isn’t you.

you have always kind of been aware of the fact that the girl had a crush on yeonjun. she’d always be by his side walking through campus, hanging off his arm like a koala, overly affectionate with skinship. but yeonjun was friendly too, and he’s touchy with all of his friends—it’s his love language. you’ve never thought too much of it seeing as yeonjun always returns home to you. cuddling you at night when you can’t sleep. cooking you breakfast and dinner almost every day. matching outfits with you. staying up late to talk with you.

you were just too stupid—too naive… too blinded by your own infatuation with the man to realize that his eyes weren’t set on you this entire time. you were just his comfort. his roommate. his best friend. and nothing more.

you aren’t sure if you’re still present in your body—it feels as if you’re watching the entire scene from afar, somewhere high up in the clouds. away from yeonjun. away from yourself.

you want to cry, already feeling a lump form in your throat as your waterline burns with tears, but yeonjun’s smile is the widest you’ve seen it be in a while, and those eyes… those same eyes you’ve found yourself getting lost in one too many times… they’re so big and bright tonight as he rambles on about this girl. this girl who is everything you’re not.

it feels as if your heart shrivels up and falls into your stomach right then, fighting to make a smile form on your trembling lips. you want to be joyful for your best friend—you really do—but it just hurts so, so much and you’re about to break at any second.

“i’m so happy for you, junnie,” you mumble out quietly, positive that if you speak any louder, your voice will crack and give it all away. yeonjun directs that endearing smile your way and you feel your heart break even more.

“thank you, y/n. you’re… you’re the first person i’ve told so i was a little nervous. thank you, really.” yeonjun lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls you into a hug. it should’ve been warm and cherished, filling you with nothing but precious feelings—but you can’t help that ice-cold feeling that washes over you as you inhale his citrusy cologne, patting his back with a shaky hand. when he pulls away, he has this little dazed smile on his face—he’s definitely thinking about her—and your gut churns with the ickiest feeling you’ve ever felt.

“you know it’s hard for me to open up to people,” he continues, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can sit here while holding in your tears. “but with her, it’s just like… it’s so natural and easy. she reminds me of you, actually. she always understands me in the way that you do.”

no, she doesn’t.

“i’m glad,” you mutter out and he doesn’t even process your short response, too busy lost in thought as he smiles down at his lap.

you can’t. you can’t.

“‘m gonna go to the bathroom,” you speak, standing before he even acknowledges your words. your tears are already falling down your cheeks as soon as you turn your back to him, your legs moving quicker than the speed of light as you shut the bathroom door behind you, letting it all rush out.

you muffle your quick breathing with the sleeve of your sweater so yeonjun can’t hear—you don’t want to ruin this moment for him. he’s still your best friend, and he deserves all of the happiness in the world. but you’re selfish and your heart hurts a little too much; all of those years of pining and chasing…

this truly sucks.

you don’t know how long you sit in there, but it must’ve been long enough for yeonjun to become worried seeing as a knock soon sounds from the door.

“y/n, you okay?”

you quickly pat your cheeks dry with your palm, nodding your head before remembering he can’t see you from the other side of the wall.

“yeah, ‘m just getting ready for bed!” you call out, cringing slightly at your hoarse voice. hearing an affirmative hum from yeonjun in the hallway, you turn on the sink to wash the tear tracks from your face.

now this is definitely a friendiversary to remember.

taehyun has always had a knack for being incredibly perceptive—you like to call it his “kitty senses”, the way his nose twitches cutely when he spots something in the distance, or the way he perks up when he hears something interesting. he always seems to be aware of the space and those around him, noticing the little things, and paying close attention to detail. maybe that’s the reason why he blinks so little; he’s always keeping an eye out for the minuscule things people usually overlook.

so when your laugh isn’t quite as full as it usually is, and your smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes, and your fingers keep fidgeting with the zipper of your jacket—taehyun knows something is up.

it’s not like you’re not trying to hide it. you had made sure to put on extra concealer that morning to hide your sleepy eyes from your lack of sleep, which is useless because already sure you’ll be crying it off by the end of the day. you try to joke around with taehyun as usual, but you can’t seem to stop your mind from drifting.

it hurts—it hurts so bad, and as much as you wish to just accept reality and move on, some part of you still wants to believe that this is all a dream. some horrible, horrible joke the universe decided to play on you. you just want it to all be over.

taehyun’s over at your place today. yeonjun has work until 6 and you really don’t think you can bring yourself to leave the dark, brooding coven that has become your bedroom, so you came up with a flimsy excuse of the library being too hot to study in today.

“let’s take a break,” taehyun’s voice sounds from your desk, successfully making you look up from where you’re laid stomach down on your bed. in all honesty, you’ve been repeatedly reading the same sentence for the past ten minutes, drawing the conclusion that you’re definitely not going to get anything done today.

you sigh with a small nod, moving to sit crisscross as you shut your laptop, feeling your shoulders slump. taehyun’s watching you—you can feel his eyes follow your movement as you move your laptop to your bedside table, your lips adorning a permanent frown.

you don’t even bother to check your phone as you flop backward onto your bed; it’s not yeonjun’s fault that you feel this way—you know that. he’s not responsible for the way your stomach swoops when he smiles, or the way your skin tingles when his hand lingers on your face for a little too long. it’s your fault for jumping to conclusions, for seeing everything through rose-tinted glasses.

it’s your fault for falling for him so hard.

and here comes that feeling again; that lump in your throat, the churning of your insides, the sting behind your eyes. too caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t process the dip in your bed as taehyun takes a seat next to you.

“are you alright?”

his voice is oh so soft as you turn your head to look at him—those big eyes scan over your body as he tries to read what’s wrong, seeing his kitty senses working a thousand miles a second. you catch the way his fingers twitch as if he wants to touch you, but his body is stiff with uncertainty.

you almost want to cry simply at the way he so obviously cares, his brows knit together, eyes searching yours for an answer you aren’t giving him. he’s lovely, you render, as you scoot over to give him some space to slip in next to you as you curl up to his side. it’s nothing new; you’re used to sharing a bed with taehyun to get in quick power naps during cramming, or to scroll through your phones in silence, just enjoying each other’s company.

but something feels different this time as he wraps his arm around you, his fingers tickling your arm. your head rests on his shoulder while your index finger draws random patterns on his chest, his black t-shirt bunching and scrunching up with the movement. it’s quiet as he strokes your arm, the pads of his fingers making goosebumps rise to your sensitive skin. you don’t realize how bad you need this—the warmth of his body is so nice and you can already feel your walls coming down as you sniffle, a few tears escaping your eyes.

“‘m gonna get your shirt all wet,” you mumble, and taehyun just laughs a bit, resting his head on top of yours.

“i don’t mind,” he replies quietly and you immediately break, the dam collapsing as your tears soak into his shirt, accepting all of the untamed emotions running wild inside of your body. taehyun holds you silently and gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in an attempt at solace.

heartbreak is a weird, weird thing. it feels like you’re yearning for something that you know you’ll never have. craving the touch of someone you’ll never be able to hug and kiss and love in the way you want to. you don’t believe you’ve ever felt anything like this before.

so you let yourself cry, and cry, and cry as taehyun nuzzles his cheek into your hair—a silent reminder that he’s still right here next to you.

he doesn’t ask any questions, and in a way, you’re thankful for that. what would you even say? your bestfriend broke your heart even though you guys were never together in the first place? it sounds ridiculous in any way you can think of wording it, so you bask in the silence as you let everything out.

by the time your tears slow down, your fingers are clenching the front of taehyun’s shirt like a lifeline… and he lets you hold onto him for as long as you need. you don’t know what you have ever done to deserve a friend like him. always ready to catch you when you fall, giving reassurance when you need it, and always prepared to lend a helping hand.

you find yourself lifting your head to find taehyun’s eyes already on you, his hand slipping from your arm to your waist at your movement. his eyes are clouded with apprehension, and you’re sure you look an absolute mess right now with your swollen eyes and tear-stained skin. but there is something left unsaid in the air as your eyes trail down to his pink lips; his hand grips your waist a little tighter, his big eyes flickering quickly between yours.

his eyes are different than yeonjun’s—while yeonjun’s are filled with memories of home and familiarity, taehyun’s are present and swirling with unadulterated want. he wants to be here with you.

everything is muted save for your air conditioning, the quiet hum from the fan of taehyun’s laptop sitting on your desk, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

you shouldn’t do it. you know this is a bad, bad, bad idea. you’re still not over yeonjun—you’re not ready to move on yet. but that feeling of heartbreak and pure longing wraps around your brain and you just need something, someone to make it all pause. the feeling of taehyun’s hand on your waist is grounding as his thumb brushes over your your clothed skin, his dark brown irises still fixated on you, waiting. and waiting. and waiting.

your lips are on his before you can give anything another thought.

he kisses you as delicately as he holds you, giving you the lead, and allowing you to take whatever you want from him. his lips are incredibly soft—you taste his vanilla and peppermint chapstick on your tongue, getting lost in the slightly tingly sensation. your mind is hazy as your hand trails up from his chest to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse under the pads of your fingers, pressing closer to him to deepen the kiss.

his tongue swipes across your bottom lip in silent permission and you gladly give in, parting your lips for him. a quiet moan slips out as his free hand tugs your thigh over his waist, moving you to straddle him. his body is firm and sturdy underneath you, your hands falling to his shoulders as you steady yourself.

it should end here… it really should—but then taehyun tilts his head and takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and his hands are so heavy and pleasant on your waist and you’re reminded of citrus and home and…

he pulls away slowly, his chest rising and falling quickly as he stares up at your figure.

“y/n…”

his breathy voice quickly makes you come to your senses.

guilt overrides your body as you realize—you just took advantage of your friend’s kindness and company, all because of your own stupid feelings. a grave emotion washes over you as you shake your head, quickly moving off of his body as taehyun sits up.

because only then does it dawn on you that you were pretending taehyun’s lips were yeonjun’s.

“hey, hey, it’s okay—”

“no, i can’t—fuck, i’m so sorry, taehyun,” you spill out as you climb off of him, creating distance between the two of you, unable to meet his hurt eyes. you don’t want to cry again, but the stinging behind your eyes comes back in full force. the shame is too much; taehyun is so kind and you just—you used him for temporary validation. “you should… you should go.”

taehyun is silent and you see him nod in the peripheral of your vision, lingering for a second before he slips off of your bed. he’s quiet and quick as he collects his things, and your eyes only watch his figure once his back is turned toward you. you try to pretend you don’t notice the weighted gaze he gives you before leaving.

it’ll give you one less thing to cry about tonight.

you need another drink.

the slight buzz in your body is not enough to blur out the sight in front of you as you lean against the wall holding a plastic cup tightly in your hand. you’ve never really had a problem with pda—if couples want to show their admiration for each other in public, then so be it. it isn’t any of your business, truly.

but now, your stomach seems to lurch as you watch eunbin kiss up yeonjun’s neck, sitting prettily in his lap on the living room couch as yeonjun smiles that perfect smile at something she whispers in his ear. theoretically, you can simply look away, or walk away, even—but your feet stay planted where they are as your hands shake slightly.

you aren’t sure how long heartbreak is supposed to linger, or how long it should take before you stop thinking about how that could’ve been you… should’ve been you. jealousy is one hell of an emotion, and you try your absolute best to keep it at bay; yeonjun owes you nothing, but the spite eats away at you as you bring your nearly empty drink back up to your lips.

a body shuffles up next to you, but you don’t pay them any mind, your ears ringing with the pulse of the music reverberating through the walls. you’re definitely not drunk enough to enjoy the atmosphere, too hyperfocused on the way yeonjun’s head tips back in a hearty laugh as eunbin swats at his chest playfully.

“you look like you need some air.”

your head whips to the side at the words, coming face-to-face with taehyun, his eyes holding a type of intensity you’ve never seen before. a dejected laugh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, nodding slightly in response.

“yeah, i probably do.”

taehyun’s hand is slipping into yours before you can even process his grip, tugging you towards the front door of the house. there aren’t too many people in the front yard—just a small group passing a blunt on the porch, someone in an intense argument on the phone, and a few people loitering by their cars.

you follow taehyun to the steps of the porch, taking a seat on the cement. it’s dark out, but the air is still slightly humid, making your skin feel sticky and warm. taehyun’s hand is still in yours as you scoot closer to him to allow some people to walk up the other half of the steps, your thigh pressing against his.

he’s silent as he looks ahead, and you can feel tension filling in the space around you both. it’s been a couple of weeks since you two have spoken—you’ve felt too guilty to face him after that kiss, but now you find yourself looking over at his figure. maybe the alcohol is working better than you thought.

his brows are slightly furrowed, one of his legs bouncing up and down incessantly. the low glow of the porch light illuminates him in a way that makes it impossible to look away, your eyes trailing from his cat-like eyes, to the slope of his nose, to his soft lips.

his soft lips.

you rip your eyes away from them. you aren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“y/n, did i do something wrong?” taehyun questions quietly, his eyes finally landing on your face. there’s something cloudy and uncertain behind them, something that you can’t quite put a name to.

“no, taehyun, you didn’t—it’s not your fault. i’m just…” you sigh, your gaze focusing on the way his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. “there’s a lot on my mind right now.”

taehyun nods slowly, turning his head away from you again.

“is there anything i can do to help?”

he doesn’t mention the kiss. he doesn’t mention the way you’ve practically been avoiding his existence.

you don’t know if it’s your tipsy state, or if it’s the way his body heat radiates onto you or the way his eyes flicker back up to yours when you’re quiet for a second—but then you catch the way they travel down to your lips and you’re in the backseat of his car in the blink of an eye.

it’s warm, too warm, as you straddle his lap, your hands tangled into his hair as he kisses down your neck, hands on your hips to steady you. you don’t want to think anymore—you don’t want to hang onto something you’ll never have.

so you let taehyun distract you at this moment.

“you can use me however you’d like,” he breathes out heavily as your hands come to rest on his chest. “use me to get over him.”

your body stiffens as the words slip out of his mouth, meeting his eyes in the darkness of the car.

“how… how did you…?” your voice is breathless as you trail off, the corners of his lips quirking up into a sad smile.

“i’ve always noticed the way you look at him, y/n.”

your eyes are unfocused in the low light as you gaze at taehyun’s state, his pupils blown wide in the darkness of the car, only a side of his face lit up golden from the street lights outside. his lips are bright pink and bitten raw, his fading pink hair messy and falling onto his forehead in fluffy waves. he’s always been gorgeous, a fact you could never deny, but in this moment, he looks absolutely unreal.

sudden guilt fills your chest at the thought, shaking your head quickly.

“i can’t do that to you, taehyun,” you replied weakly. he’s shaking his head now, his big hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your soft skin delicately.

“i want you to. i hate seeing you like this,” his hand drops down to cover one of yours, feeling his chest rise and fall under your palm. “i’ll do anything you want me to, y/n. you just have to say the words.”

his voice is low and faint, gazing at you with his pretty brown eyes. they flicker in between yours, trying to read the emotions on your face in the limited light. you nibble on your lip as you feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt, your mind scattered and dizzy.

“please. let me help you.”

a hot flash courses through your body at the pure desperation in his voice—and something in you snaps at that exact moment, your lips crashing onto his vanilla and peppermint ones. the kiss is messy and feverish as your hands run up and down his torso, teeth clashing with the vehemence of it all. you feel his hands drop to your hips, holding you down onto him as his tongue explores your mouth, running across your teeth, swiping across your lips. he tastes like cheap liquor, and you’re sure you do too, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

you press down on him, your hands running over his toned stomach, up to his pecs, over his shoulders; anything you can reach. you shut your mind off, not letting yourself focus on anything other than taehyun taehyun taehyun taehyun.

he’s moving you, you realize as your back presses against the cool leather of his back seat. he doesn’t break the kiss once as he hovers over you, hiking your skirt up to run his hand up your leg, running his nails over the sensitive skin of your thigh. you allow your legs to fall open so he can comfortably slot himself in between them, feeling his bulge press against your pulsing core just right.

a faint gasp leaves your lips as he grinds against your clothed cunt, already feeling yourself leaking through the thin fabric. one of your legs wraps around him to pull him even closer to you, drowning out all of your senses with the scent of his cologne, his hair tickling your cheek as he kisses down your neck. his hand leaves your thigh to slip under your top before his fingers dance over your stomach, brushing over your bra—admiring every inch of you as you arch up into his touch.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he pants against your neck, nipping the flesh there. you stifle a moan as his fingers brush over the wet spot on your panties. “come on, use your words.”

“i want… fuck—i want your fingers in me.”

he’s quick to obey, pushing your panties to the side to rub his middle finger up and down your dripping slit, a low groan leaving his lips as your hand finds its way to his hair, tugging at the pink strands to hurry him up.

you moan softly as he slips his first finger in, curling it upwards as he pumps in and out of your clenching hole. the car is filled with the sounds of your soaked cunt, his heavy pants, and your moans as he finger fucks you, slipping in another two easily with how wet you are. his fingers are incredibly long and slender, reaching parts of you that you’ve never been able to hit by yourself.

when his lips find yours again, it’s much slower, his fingers matching the restrained pace as he kisses you deeply, devouring all of your little noises. your hips buck up as his thumb rubs circles onto your swollen clit, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he seems to be in no rush as he takes you apart slowly, hitting that spot inside of you perfectly as you leak onto his seat, body shaking with pleasure. there’s a small smile resting on his lips when he pulls back to peer down at you, taking in the way your lips part and your brows furrow as he speeds up, pressing down on your clit just right.

you can’t control the noises leaving your lips as you grind onto his hand, chasing your high as he pumps into you. his actions don’t slow down when he moves up to capture your lips again, curling his fingers inside of you as his thumb rubs your clit. you grab his biceps, needing something to ground you as you feel your impending orgasm rushing upon you.

“taehyun—fuck, ‘m cumming…”

he swallows all of your moans as you tip over the edge, your back arching up into his hold as white fills your vision. you can hear the gentle praise leaving his lips through the ringing of your ears, your body left feeling fuzzy and warm as his fingers slow before gradually pulling out of your sensitive hole.

“so good for me,�� he mutters against your lips, his own traveling down your jaw. you feel dizzy as you catch your breath, leaning into his touch.

“i need you,” you mumble as he lifts his head to catch your gaze. he looks completely enamored, his big eyes glossy, reflecting the light from the street lamps outside. “i need you in me. fuck me, taehyun.”

he smiles before sitting back to undo his pants. “anything you want, baby.”

it’s all a blur as he’s back on top of you again, his length hard and throbbing against his stomach as he captures your lips again. his hands roam every piece of your skin he can touch, sucking marks onto your collarbone. claiming you.

you reach down to grab his heavy dick in your hand, stroking him a few times. he sighs lowly in your ear, whispering praise and encouragement that just turns you on even more. it’s hard to be patient when taehyun is bucking up into your hand, your mind clouding up by his hot tongue trailing over your skin. he seems to sense your urgency, placing one last kiss on your lips before lining up with your entrance.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers as if his voice was only made for you to hear. you nod quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses his forehead against yours. the heat radiating from his body manages to make your clothed, scorching skin even warmer, moaning out softly once you feel him push into you. his eyes flutter shut as you clench around him. “fuck—you feel so good.”

you bite your lip to keep quiet as he slowly thrusts into you, wrapping your other leg around his waist as if it would bring you impossibly closer to him. your fingers tangle gently in his hair, tugging slightly in a way that drives him absolutely crazy.

soft grunts leave his lips once he speeds up, the sound of skin on skin drowning out the muffled music in the distance. your eyes are half-lidded as you strain to keep them open, wanting to watch the way his jaw clenches and his brows furrow. it’s all too much as you take in the fluttery tickles of his lips on your cheek and jaw, the way he stretches you out with his thick cock, the way his hands tightly grip onto your waist as if you could disappear at any moment.

every thrust into your heat makes your stomach flip with pleasure, getting lost in the feeling of his hips snapping against yours perfectly. he kisses you once more before he leans back, hands slipping down your hips to fuck you even harder, the car rocking with his strokes. you can’t control your sounds anymore, getting closer and closer to the edge with every move. you can tell he’s getting close too by the way his rhythm falters — his grip on you is tight, and you know there would be marks to cover up by the morning.

“‘m so close,” you squeak out as he intertwines one of your hands, his other forearm resting by your head to lean down to kiss your lips again.

“me too, baby,” he speaks against your lips, his hips stuttering. “you’re so perfect, y/n, fuck.”

you can already feel your high crashing upon you with one last stroke, your own whimpers falling deaf to your ears as his words tip you over the edge. your body buzzes with electricity as you clench around him, feeling him pump his thick ropes of cum into you at the action, his moans high and breathy in your ear as you cum together.

it takes you a second to come back to your surroundings, blinking your eyes open to see taehyun watching you, silently stroking your hair. he’s still nestled inside of you, but you don’t really mind. he leans down to capture your lips again—it’s passionate and unrushed as he tries to convey every single emotion he’s feeling, his hands coming up to cradle your face.

you can’t think of anything other than the way your heart flutters as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing still uneven as his eyes open to gaze into yours.

“thank you,” you whisper, your stomach swooping as he smiles, that dimple on his right cheek peeking out in the darkness.

“don’t thank me,” and his voice is dripping with so much sincerity, you find yourself unable to look away from his eyes, your hand coming up to rest on top of his. with a small giggle, you glance down at your intertwined bodies.

“i think we should clean up,” you speak light-heartedly as your nose brushes taehyun’s, and he lets out a small puff of laughter, nodding in agreement.

you don’t know what any of this means anymore—how your heart flutters at the way taehyun gently cleans you up before pulling you back in his lap to kiss you silly, how he drives you home, walking you up to your door with your fingers interlaced with his. how you linger for a moment, not wanting to leave his side so soon even though you can barely keep your eyes open long enough to unlock the front door.

but all you know is that yeonjun doesn’t cross your mind again for the rest of the night.

reblogs are very much appreciated!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

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builtbybrokenbells · 11 months ago

Text

Melodic Memories | JTK | Prologue

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: breakups, feelings of sadness, crying, high school relationships, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

welcome to the show, everyone 😁 glad to be back with another Jake fic. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long)

August, 2014

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

“Jake,” you whispered, your lips pressed together tightly as the corners of your mouth dipped down into a frown. Your eyes were shining under the warm yellow hue of the ceiling light, the threat of unshed tears growing more imminent with each second that passed. The walls of your childhood bedroom were familiar, but completely different all at the same time. Years worth of cherished memories flashed before your eyes as the boy stood before you amongst half-filled boxes and your torn-apart closet.

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head so you could not speak any further.

His hair was long, moving against his skin with each turn of his head. It reached the middle of his neck now, and it would only get longer as he continued to grow it out. You couldn’t help but feel that the long hair suited him best, that it brought out the beauty of his face even more than it already did on its own. He’d been talking about it for so long that you could already picture what it would look like on him. You were sad that you would not be able to see it when his mission was complete and the ends of his hair tickled the underside of his shoulder blades.

No, you were sad that you would miss any stage of Jake’s life, devastated that there would be any version of him you were unfamiliar with.

The sweatshirt he was wearing was heartbreaking all on its own; you bought it for him months prior on your three day trip to tour the university you were now preparing to attend. There were bags under his eyes, showing his exhaustion and discomfort with the current arrangement the two of you found yourselves in. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, and worse than that, they were sad. You hated seeing anything less than joy written in his features, because he was a boy deserving of things that were only ever good.

Right now, you knew that what you were doing to him was anything but good, and it was fucking killing you.

You only ever wanted to be the reason for the smile on his face, and now you were the source of his misery; you loved him so utterly and deeply that you turned into the very thing that hurt him.

“You said you didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be, but it’s going to fucking suck no matter how we do things. I can’t let you leave without telling you—“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered to the floor. There were tears glistening in his eyes, too, but he was much more afraid to show them than you were. “I can’t let you go unless I know that you know how much you mean to me.”

“It is hard, Jake. This is the hardest thing I have ever done.” You confessed, sniffling away your sadness as you tried to cement the memory of his face in your brain forever. He was beautiful, and he always had been. His warm eyes spoke love without him ever opening his mouth, and his smile was the only thing that could brighten the darkest of days.

“The whole distance thing is stupid, and I don’t like it. We’ve been together for three years, and I can’t sit at home and act like you don’t mean anything to me.” His words were equal to a stab in the stomach.

You did not intend to hurt him when you suggested taking some time away from each other. You thought it would be easier, that it would make your departure less painful as you both came to terms with the fact you would be leaving him behind, but so far it had been nothing but horrendous. You stayed up every night, staring at the ceiling as you remembered what it felt like to lay next to him. You listened to new music, hoping it would make you feel something other than sadness, but the emotion that plagued you grew tenfold when you realized you had no one to share it with. You checked your phone constantly, hoping to see his name grace your screen, only to find that he was too good at respecting your wishes.

Jake was your boyfriend, and it had been that way for a long time, but he was so much more than just that. He was your best friend, your confidant and the very thing you knew you could lean on in times that were tougher than usual. He was your light in darkness, and he was everything you ever needed all at once. Jake was the whole world, and in that moment, he was yours. As of late, you felt more stupid than ever before, unable to forgive yourself for letting him go. He loved you through the awkwardness of growing into a teenager, and he loved you through the usual triumphs and disasters of high school. He loved you when you thought no one else could, and he did it so well that you had no idea what to expect now that he was not going to be yours anymore.

He stood before you, freshly eighteen with a new found freedom in life. You were just shy of the same age, but the freedom you found did not feel very special at all. You expected your high school graduation to be sweet, exciting and fun, but so far it brought you nothing but turmoil. You scored top of your class and had people throwing scholarships in your face. As much as you wanted to enjoy it, you couldn’t seem to find any joy in the experience. You tried to blame it on your nerves as you spent the summer preparing to drive states away to attend a university that you had only visited once, but you knew it had nothing to do with that. You were thrilled to continue your studies, to pursue something that you had spent your life dreaming about. You were excited to meet people, to grow into the person you were always meant to be.

It was not the school that made your stomach twist with nerves, but the knowledge Jake would not be coming with you. It was the knowledge that after three years, you would have to learn to live without him by your side, and worst of all, you had to digest the fact that he would move on. In due time, his heart and the love he once gave to you would be someone else’s, and he would be happy again, without ever having a second thought about you.

No matter where Jake went, you knew he would flourish, that he would find someone that would love him just as much, if not more, than you loved him.

That thought was comforting as much as it was gut wrenching. Jake deserved to be loved, but you wished you were the person who could love him the way he deserved.

What hurt just a little worse than that was the passing thought that you would never find someone who would love you the way Jake loved you.

You had done everything with him up until two weeks prior, when you pleaded with him to give you some space so you could grieve the fact your relationship would be coming to an end. You did not cut off contact completely, and in that time, you had called him almost daily and payed short visits to his house every now and again. You wanted it to make you feel better, but all it did was make the ache of missing him grow even larger despite him still being there when you needed him. You knew that when you got in your car the next morning, it would be the definite end of the two of you, but it did not mean you were happy, and you were certainly not okay with it.

If missing him while he was still beside you hurt achingly bad, you could not imagine the pain that would come as you drove away from the only thing you ever wanted to have.

The two of you discussed the topic heavily over the last few months, finding yourselves in a great debate of whether long distance would work for the two of you. Eventually, after many tears and lots of sad, sleepless nights, the two of you decided that it would be best to let the loving relationship you had created remain a memory. He didn’t want you worrying about him while you were focusing on your studies, and you didn’t want to tie him down while he tried to make his own life at home.

Although the two of you agreed on the terms, it hurt like a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to express your remorse. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

“Just listen to what I have to say, and then you can deal with it however you want.” He tried again, still staying strong despite the pain growing larger in his heart.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving a slight nod as you stepped back and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He followed suit, stopping by your dresser to place the sparse bushel of wildflowers down as he approached you.

He took a seat beside you, extending his arm for you to take the CD. Slowly, you grabbed it from his hands, a slight shake to your fingers as they clasped around the cool, hard plastic. You looked down at the white surface through the clear cover, feeling the first tear fall from your eye. In the familiar, scribbled handwriting, a love note more romantic than any other littered the surface of the CD.

‘I can’t tell you how I feel, so I’ll let the songs say it instead. All my love, Jake ᥫ᭡’

“Wild Horses, Rolling Stones.” He started, watching your face as he spoke. “You told me when we started dating that your dad used to sing it to your mom, and you thought it was the most romantic song in the world until they got divorced. You said that you hated it, and you would never be able to listen to it again, and I could tell that you were so sad about it. So, I sang it to you. I wanted to turn it back into a good memory. I learned the chords and I used my dads old acoustic guitar, and I was fucking terrified, Y/N. It was the first song I ever played for you, and you told me that nobody had ever done anything so nice for you before.”

“‘Cause nobody ever had.” You said, the sentiment still remaining true to this day.

“Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.” He continued, knowing his time was running short. The evening was darkening into night, and he wasn’t keen on spending your last bit of time together solely talking. “We slow danced in the kitchen to that song, ‘cause I told you I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself at prom. You let me pick the song and then you taught me how, and I think of you every time I hear it.”

The memory was as beautiful as the song was, and you felt another tear fall at the explanation. You had no idea how you were going to let him go, and no desire to do it, anyway, even if you knew it was for the best.

“I need you, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Pretty self explanatory.” He let out a small chuckle, which you joined in on. “The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies.” He jumped straight to the next track. “Listen to the words, and you’ll get it.”

“Jake, this is too much.” You took in a shaky breath, swiping tears away from your cheeks.

“No, Y/N. It’s not enough.” He corrected. “You deserve the whole world, and I wish I could give it to you.”

“You’re not making this any easier.” You forced a smile on your face, your cheeks damp with your own misery. He reached out, swiping away the tears as they fell, hoping that by some stroke of luck, he would still be yours even long after you had gone.

“It was never going to be easy, beautiful.” He finally said the words he’d been holding back the whole time. He had tried his hardest to convince you that it would be okay, hoping that in turn, he would convince himself, too. Now that he was sitting beside you, still just as sad, he knew easy was subject, and only time would heal the wounds that were created that night. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now, by Dylan.”

“Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night.” Your lips turned upwards into a small smile. It wouldn’t be from Jake had there not been at least one Dylan song on the track.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers, cause I know it’s gonna be pretty dark for a while after you leave, Sunshine.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, feeling your stomach twist with remorse.

“It’s true.” He argued. “Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, ‘cause maybe it’s just the time that’s not right for us.” His voice was quiet, cracking as he forced the words out, like he was fearful to get an unwanted answer to his rhetoric. “Maybe in the future, the time will be right, and we can try again.”

“God, I hope so.” You confessed, the tears making a rapid return. The more he spoke, the more real the entire thing felt. For years, you had brushed the topic off, forcing yourself to believe that senior year and university was so far away, but now that it was staring you in the face, making it impossible to see past it, you realized the time had flew by like nothing at all. You didn’t want to leave him, because he was the only thing you ever wanted. The idea of having him again in the future made the ache ease ever so slightly, but knowing that the whole middle part would suck made the relief insignificant.

“And the last one is We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Segar, ‘cause we do, sunshine. We have one more night to love each other, and I’ll be damned if I waste it. So here I am, with eight songs and some flowers that I found in my backyard, asking you if you’ll let me love you until you leave tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hurt right now, and we don’t have to let it hurt worse than it has to.”

“Okay,” you breathed, little argument left in you. If he wanted to love you, you weren’t stupid enough to turn him away. Tomorrow, when the sun rose in the sky, illuminating the mistakes you made and highlighting your successes, you would deal with the inevitable disappointment that came along with losing him, but you didn’t have to start yet. At that moment, you still had him, and you wanted to savour the feeling of Jake Kiszka being yours for as long as you could.

“Okay?” He asked, almost shocked at your lack of rebuttal.

“Okay, Jake. We’ve got tonight, so let’s make it last.”

107 notes · View notes

abby-iv · 2 months ago

Text

The Way You See Me; C.S.B

AN: Hiii!!! This is very self indulgent honestly, that picture of soobin really did a number on my and I had this dream!!!! I just had to put it into words!! Hope everyone likes it! <3

__________

SYNOPSIS

Soobin has spent months trying to ignore it—the way he craves her approval, the way his heart stumbles when she looks at him, the way he needs to prove himself to her.

She’s his superior—sharp, composed, untouchable. But late nights at the office reveal the cracks in her armor, the pressure she carries, the weight of proving herself.

After a costly mistake in front of senior management, Soobin is desperate to fix what he’s broken. Forced to stay late, tension builds, boundaries blur, and he sees his chance—not just to redeem himself, but to show her exactly how much he wants to be worthy of her.

———————

Pairing: OfficeWorker!Soobin x female!reader

drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish), forbidden love?, implied smut

tags: age gap, office au, superior-subordinate relationship, mutual pining, soobin really wants to make oc proud, really self indulgent work tbh

wc - 3.5k

———————————

The first time Soobin met her, he was convinced she was the most intimidating woman in the entire company. Not because she was mean—she never raised her voice unnecessarily, never belittled anyone, never acted superior despite her high-ranking position—but because she carried herself with a quiet authority that left no room for incompetence.

She was always polished, always precise. Whether it was the way she spoke in meetings, the way she drafted proposals with sharp efficiency, or the way she could command a room with nothing but a measured glance, she was impossible to ignore.

And yet, despite all that, she had a way of softening around him.

It wasn’t obvious—not something anyone else would pick up on—but Soobin felt it. The way her sharp eyes would linger on him a second too long during briefings. The way her lips would twitch ever so slightly when he stumbled over his words. The way she would press a cup of coffee into his hands during late nights at the office without a word, as if she knew he needed it.

And, perhaps most of all, the way her confidence sometimes faltered when she thought no one was watching.

It had started during those late nights they found themselves stuck in the office, the rest of the building empty, just the hum of computers and the occasional rustle of papers filling the silence.

Soobin had noticed the way her fingers would linger an extra second over an email before sending it. The way she would double-check, triple-check a report that was already flawless. The way her brows would knit together in frustration when she thought she hadn’t done enough.

She always wanted to be better.

One night, when they were both exhausted from an impossible deadline, she sighed and muttered under her breath, “If I mess this up, they’ll never take me seriously.”

It had been so quiet, so vulnerable, that Soobin almost thought he imagined it.

But he hadn’t.

And from that moment on, he had started seeing it more—the small, unspoken pressure she carried, the weight of proving herself to senior management.

He never mentioned it but it made him admire her even more. Because he understood.

Soobin had his own demons to wrestle with. He wanted to prove himself, too—not just as someone competent, but as someone worthy of standing beside her.

And yet, no matter how much he wanted to close the distance between them, it was dangerous.

Not because she was his boss—technically, she wasn’t, though she was still his superior—but because she was older, more experienced, and so utterly out of his league.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

He liked the way she carried herself. He liked the way she pushed him to be better. And he liked—God, he loved—the way she would let him call her Noona.

The first time it had slipped out, she had only raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

“Are we close enough for that, Soobin?” she had asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Soobin had turned bright red. “I—uh—no, I mean, yes, I—”

And then she laughed. Not a full, unguarded laugh, but a small, amused chuckle that made something tight coil in his chest.

After that, it became a habit. He only used it in moments where he wanted to fluster her, to see if he could get a reaction. When he handed her a report early? Here you go, Noona. When he caught her yawning at her desk after a long night? You should take care of yourself more, Noona.

And every single time, she would just give him a knowing look, never confirming nor denying if she liked it.

But the tension was always there.

Little moments. Little glances. Little touches that lingered a second too long.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

Until now.

__________________________

The conference room was silent.

Too silent.

Soobin’s pulse pounded in his ears as the weight of every gaze in the room pressed down on him.

He had rehearsed this presentation a dozen times. He knew the numbers, the strategy, the key talking points. But as he stood there in front of senior management, his mouth felt dry, his hands clammy.

And then—he froze.

It happened so fast. One moment, he was clicking through his slides, explaining their proposal with careful precision, and the next…

Something was wrong.

The figures on the screen weren’t the ones he had prepared. The projections were off. The revenue forecast showed a steep decrease when it was supposed to remain steady. And worst of all—

“Wait.”

Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Soobin’s stomach dropped.

All eyes turned to her, who had been sitting to the side, listening intently—until now.

“There’s an issue with these numbers,” she continued, her brows knitting together as she gestured toward the screen. “These projections don’t match what we reviewed earlier this week.”

Whispers rippled through the room.

Soobin felt his throat close up. He scrambled to find his mistake, flipping through the report in his hands.

He found it.

His heart sank.

The numbers had shifted. Somewhere between finalizing the report and submitting it, a miscalculation had thrown off the entire forecast.

A miscalculation he had made.

God.

His fingers gripped the edge of the podium, his breath uneven.

“I…” He swallowed hard. “I must’ve made an error when I was updating the file.”

Silence.

One of the senior managers, a sharp-eyed man with graying hair, leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “That’s a costly mistake.”

Soobin’s nails dug into his palm.

She let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temple. She didn’t look at him.

“Soobin, we went over this twice,” she said, her voice controlled but firm. “This was supposed to be accurate. How did this happen?”

Soobin opened his mouth—then closed it. There was no excuse.

“I…” He lowered his gaze. “I don’t know.”

The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than anything.

She straightened her back, nodding once before turning to the executives. “We’ll correct the figures and send out a revised report by the end of the day.”

The meeting carried on without him.

Soobin sat through the rest of it in silence, his ears burning, shame curling hot and heavy in his stomach.

When it was finally over, he was the first to leave.

But before he could escape completely, his phone buzzed.

YN: Come to my office. Now.

________________________________

Soobin stepped into her office, feeling like he was walking into a storm. The door clicked shut behind him, locking them away from the rest of the office.

She stood near her desk, arms crossed, frustration still evident in the sharp line of her jaw.

Soobin barely had time to take a breath before she started.

“Sit,” she ordered.

His body reacted before his mind did, sinking into the chair across from her desk.

She stayed standing, hands planted on the wooden surface, looking down at him with eyes that had seen through every excuse, every attempt to soften the blow.

“What happened, Soobin?”

His chest tightened. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “We spent days on this. We reviewed every single number, every forecast, every detail. You knew how important this was.”

“I do know,” he said quickly, but it didn’t matter.

She shook her head, pacing now. “Then why?”

Soobin clenched his fists, swallowing hard. “I thought I had it right. I checked—”

“Clearly, you didn’t check enough.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they cut.

Soobin felt heat crawl up his neck. He had already beaten himself up over this, but hearing it from her made it worse.

“Senior management was watching, Soobin,” she continued, voice tight. “Do you realize what this does to our credibility? What it does to my credibility?”

His stomach twisted.

She exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I should’ve reviewed it one more time,” she muttered under her breath.

His head snapped up. “Noona—”

“I should have made you run through it again this morning. I should have double-checked the reports myself before they were submitted—”

“No.” Soobin’s voice was stronger now, firm despite the way his heart pounded.

She looked up, brows raised.

He shot up from his chair. “Don’t do that.”

Her lips parted slightly, but he didn’t let her interrupt.

“This was my mistake,” he said, stepping toward her. “I was the one in charge of the final numbers. You did everything right. I was the one who—”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “But it’s my project, Soobin.”

And just like that, the words hit.

He felt it—the weight she carried, the pressure she put on herself to be perfect in front of the executives.

She needed to prove herself. Just like him.

His breath was unsteady. “Noona…”

She didn’t look at him. She just exhaled, ran a hand through her hair, and finally dropped into her chair, pressing her fingers against her temple.

“So now we fix it,” she muttered. “We stay here as long as it takes, and we fix it.”

Soobin hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

_____________________________________

The office was silent except for the quiet hum of the city outside.

After hours of revising, correcting, and analyzing every detail, YN finally leaned back in her chair with a tired sigh, rubbing her temples.

Soobin glanced at the clock. Past midnight.

The air in the room was heavy—exhaustion clinging to their skin, the weight of the mistake still hanging between them.

“You should rest for a bit,” he murmured.

She huffed. “So should you.”

Soobin hesitated, then nodded toward the couch near the window.

“Five minutes,” he offered. “Then we’ll get back to it.”

She sighed, but for once, she didn’t argue. Instead, she pushed herself up and walked over, sinking into the cushions with a quiet exhale.

Soobin followed, sitting beside her—but not too close. Close enough to feel her presence, close enough for the air between them to crackle with something unspoken, but still safe.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

Then, softly—

“This project is everything to me.”

Soobin turned his head.

She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling, her fingers loosely intertwined in her lap.

“If this goes well, I’ll have a real shot at the promotion,” she continued, voice quieter now. “I’ll finally get the recognition I’ve been working for.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “But if we screw this up…”

She didn’t finish the thought.

Soobin swallowed, his chest tightening.

He had always known she put pressure on herself. He had seen it in the way she stayed later than everyone else, in the way she never let herself slip, in the way she constantly had to prove herself.

But hearing her say it out loud—it made something ache deep inside him.

“I let you down,” he muttered.

She finally looked at him.

“Soobin—”

“I did,” he insisted. “You trusted me with this, and I messed up.”

His fingers curled against his knees, his voice dropping.

“I wanted to prove myself too,” he admitted. “I wanted to show them I could handle this. That I deserved to be here. That I deserved to stand next to you.”

Her breath caught.

Soobin hesitated before continuing, his voice quieter now.

“And… I wanted to make you proud.”

Silence.

Then—

“You already do.”

Soobin’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

She held his gaze, unwavering.

“You work so hard,” she murmured. “You care so much. More than anyone gives you credit for.”

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “You have nothing to prove to me, Soobin.”

His throat tightened.

Because she saw him. She always had.

And suddenly, it felt like a door had opened—one they had both been standing in front of for months, waiting for the other to push it first.

Soobin let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding.

“You act like you’re untouchable,” he whispered. “Like nothing ever shakes you.”

She blinked.

“But I see you.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t stop him.

“I see the way you double-check your work a hundred times before submitting it,” he continued. “I see the way you stay late, even when you’re exhausted, just to make sure everything is perfect.”

His voice softened.

“I see how much this means to you. How much you need them to take you seriously.”

She let out a quiet breath, but she didn’t look away.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Noona,” Soobin murmured. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap.

And then—hesitantly, slowly—she reached up, smoothing back a stray lock of his hair.

Soobin froze.

Her touch was featherlight, lingering longer than it should have.

“I see you too, Soobin.”

His breath caught.

“You try so hard,” she whispered. “You put so much pressure on yourself. You think you have to be perfect, but you already are.”

Soobin let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “I don’t feel perfect.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted.

Silence stretched between them.

They were close now—closer than they had ever been.

Soobin could see the way her lashes trembled slightly, the way her breathing had slowed, the way her fingers hadn’t moved away from his hair.

And then, softly—

“Soobin,” she murmured.

His throat went dry.

Her voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way he had never heard before.

And then, barely above a whisper—

“Can I kiss you?”

A sharp inhale left him.

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

And then, softly—desperately—

“Yes.”

She moved first.

The moment her lips met his, Soobin melted.

The exhaustion, the frustration, the weight of the night—it all vanished in an instant.

There was only her.

Her warmth. Her scent. The soft press of her lips, hesitant at first, then deeper as she pulled him closer.

His hands twitched at his sides, unsure if he was even allowed to touch her.

And then she sighed against his lips, tilting her head just slightly, and Soobin broke.

A quiet, broken sound left him as he finally gave in—his fingers gripping the fabric of her blazer, holding on like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

The kiss ended, but the moment didn’t.

Neither of them moved.

Soobin’s breath was uneven, his forehead resting against hers, his fingers still curled into the fabric of her blazer as if he was afraid to let go.

His mind was a mess. A beautiful, dizzying mess.

Because this was real.

This was her.

Her lips, her warmth, her everything—it had all been right there, and she had let him have it.

He pulled back just slightly, just enough to see her face.

And God.

He had always thought she was beautiful—always been painfully aware of it—but right now, in the dim glow of the office lights, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes softer than he had ever seen them…

She looked like something out of a dream.

A dream he had spent too many nights chasing.

He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, and before he could stop himself, his dimples peeked out—deep, boyish, dangerous.

Her eyes flickered down to them, and for a brief second, her breath hitched.

“You’re smiling,” she murmured.

Soobin exhaled, pressing his forehead back against hers. “I can’t help it.”

He felt her lips twitch, like she wanted to fight a smile of her own, but she didn’t.

Instead, she lifted her hand, tracing a single fingertip along the edge of one of his dimples, like she had been waiting to do it.

Soobin went still.

His stomach flipped, and suddenly, the air felt different—charged, heated, something deeper than before.

His voice dropped. “You’re killing me.”

She hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Am I?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching against her waist.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, voice raw. “How long I’ve wanted you.”

Her fingers stilled against his cheek.

Soobin exhaled, his dimples fading slightly, something hungrier settling in his gaze.

“You make me crazy, Noona,” he murmured. “Every time you look at me like that, every time you say my name—” He inhaled sharply. “I can’t think straight.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest.

“And now?” she whispered.

Soobin let out a quiet, desperate laugh.

“Now, I don’t want to think at all.”

Her breath caught.

And then he really looked at her—saw her.

The way her lashes trembled slightly. The way her lips were parted, waiting. The way her eyes, sharp and calculating in the boardroom, were now filled with something else entirely.

Something soft, something just for him.

It was unfair, how she could unravel him so easily.

And Soobin—young, eager, desperate Soobin—wanted nothing more than to worship her.

To show her that he could.

That he could be everything she needed.

That he wasn’t just some younger guy with a crush.

That he could make her feel good.

His grip tightened slightly, his fingertips pressing into her waist, and he felt the way she shivered against him.

“Tell me you want this too,” he pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath was uneven.

And then, after a second that felt like forever—

“I do.”

Soobin broke.

This time, he kissed her.

And it wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was fire, pure and consuming, months—years—of unspoken tension unraveling all at once.

Soobin groaned against her lips, his hands sliding up, cupping her face, tilting her head back so he could kiss her deeper.

She gasped, fingers tightening in his shirt, dragging him impossibly closer.

And just like that, Soobin stopped thinking entirely.

Because now, all he could focus on was her.

And all the ways he was about to prove himself.

The moment Soobin kissed her again, there was no turning back.

He wasn’t just kissing her—he was devouring her, hands tightening on her waist, pressing her into him like he could somehow merge them into one.

He was hungry, but not just for her touch.

For her approval.

For her pleasure.

For her.

She let out a soft, breathless sound against his lips, and Soobin swore he felt it in his soul.

His grip tightened, but there was a hesitance in the way his hands trembled against her.

Like he wanted to touch more of her. Like he wanted to ruin her.

But he was waiting.

Waiting for her.

She pulled back just slightly, just enough to see the wrecked look on his face—lips red, pupils blown wide, his dimples completely hidden beneath the haze of his desperation.

“Noona,” he breathed, and God, his voice was wrecked.

She arched a brow, fingers trailing lightly down his chest. “What is it, baby?”

Soobin froze.

His breath hitched—barely audible, but she felt it. The way his body tensed, the way his fingers twitched against her waist, the way his lips parted just slightly, like he was aching for more.

She smirked, tilting her head slightly. Oh, he liked that.

She ran a single finger down his jaw, nails scraping lightly against his skin. “Tell me what you want.”

Soobin let out a quiet, shaky breath.

“I want to make you feel good.”

The confession was raw, unfiltered, filled with something deeper than just lust.

She had never seen him like this before—so utterly lost in her, so needy, so willing to do anything just to prove himself.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until her lips brushed against his ear.

“Then be a good boy,” she murmured. “And show me.”

Something in him snapped.

The moment the words left her lips, Soobin broke.

His breath hitched, his grip tightening on her waist, his whole body shaking with restraint. She had given him permission. She had given herself to him.

And he was going to earn it.

His hands moved first—big, warm, shaking with need—gripping her hips before sliding up her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her blouse like he could memorize the feel of her.

“Baby,” she murmured, watching him carefully. “Take your time.”

Soobin let out a sharp, unsteady breath. “Noona, you don’t understand…”

His voice was wrecked, thick with something between adoration and desperation. He swallowed hard, his fingers flexing against her.

“I need to make you feel good.”

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes as she traced her fingers along his jaw. “Then go ahead, baby.”

That was all he needed.

Soobin moved instinctively—his body pressing her against the couch, his lips everywhere—her jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. His hands, big and trembling, traced every inch of her—learning, memorizing, worshiping.

And then, finally—his fingers slid lower.

He paused. His lips hovered over her skin, breath heavy, body tight with restraint.

“Noona,” he rasped. “Let me—”

His voice broke. He was already ruined for her.

She reached down, guiding his hand, whispering exactly what she wanted.

And Soobin?

Soobin obeyed.

And when he finally touched her, really touched her—

She swore, no one had ever made her feel this good.

__________

#txt #soobin #csb #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #fanfic #fanfiction #officeau #office au #x reader #soobin x reader #txt fluff #txt fanfic #agegap au #soobinie #age gap au #forbidden love #implied smut #office romance

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writingattemptsxx · 2 months ago

Text

Obey Me Depression

You were feeling bad, even if you didn’t think you should, but luckily the Demom Brothers are here to help.

(Only Lucifer and Mammon)

—

Hi, I exist.

I’ve had this draft in my files forever, but I just couldn’t finish it because it wasn’t giving the brain happy chemical anymore.

I wanted it done or to at least post something since my goal was once a month or so, but I missed a bunch, so I decided to edit what I have made and just post that so I can move on and maybe come back later. Hope you like what is made.

—

Life is… hard…

By all accounts, you shouldn’t have been thinking that. You were getting good grades despite having to learn an almost completely new curriculum, you were in a comfort house with all your needs met, and all the brothers seemed to adore you. You were in, what everyone else would call, a good spot.

So why didn’t you feel that way? Every thing just felt like a mixture of sad and numb… maybe a rare spark frustration. It was hard to even get out of bed, and it had been for a couple weeks. Now it was just getting worse and worse.

You just wanted to lie down and do nothing. Maybe sleep. That’s all it felt like you could do.

But then a knock came and pulled you out of your head. You took a deep breath before getting up and opening the door. Standing in front of you was a demon you know too well.

You just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Leaning on him, you mumbled how empty everything was and let him take over.

—

Hearing you say that made Lucifer’s heart drop. It only made sense you felt that way. For weeks you had been shut in your room whenever you had free time. A part of him hoped you had been doing something and that’s why you started to look worse for wear, but it seemed that was a mistake.

Lucifer took a deep breath then lifted you up before walking towards his room. He didn’t want to drag you out or in public before you’re ready, but he did know a change of pace would be helpful.

He listened to you mumble a question about what he was doing. He simply responded that he was letting you rest.

When he made it to his room, he gently lowered you onto his bed, sitting you against the headboard. He kneeled to your level and asked what you needed.

Did you want a change of clothes, with him helping or leaving you to change privately? You responded no, you didn’t have enough in you to do that.

Did you want a washcloth or wipe to clean yourself, even just face or hands? You thought about it before saying yes.

Did you want him to do it or to do it yourself? You slowly pointed to him.

With your permission, Lucifer got up and headed to his en-suite bathroom. He grabbed a few washcloths. He rubbed his thumb to check the texture and chose the softest one.

He ran it under some warm water and returned to you. He looked at you one more time to get another yes before gently wiping down your face.

Seeing you lean into the warmth was a relief. Hopefully feeling clean could do something in getting you out of your rut.

—

Mammon was utterly confused by what you said. Empty? How? You were very much full of stuff. You’re a human.

But your voice didn’t sound like you. Is that what you meant? You were empty of… you? How does that- No. that’s not what mattered. You mattered, and so did getting you back to being full.

How was he going to do that?

…

A movie night! That’s how! He had a bunch of different kinds of movies in his room. And if that’s not enough, Levi sure has some he could have. His little brother wouldn’t mind for something so important, right?

Mammon took your hand and lead you to his room, setting you on the couch. He wrapped a small blanket over you and started heading from room to room. Anything he saw that could make a perfect movie night quietly ended up in his hands.

The kitchen had a bunch of good snacks that you two could nibble on. The planetarium has some of Belphie’s pillows. As he thought before, Levi’s room had a bunch of good movies. Every room had something.

When he eventually returned, he kicked through his door. He paused for a second and checked the damage. It was just his door and it’s not like he could have opened it normally, his arms were full. Lucifer wouldn’t be too harsh about that, right? It’s just dented anyways.

Ignoring that… He moved to set everything up, bouncing from place to place. He even tried his best to talk to you, hopefully letting you have fun with a conversation. But even if you didn’t respond, he could just have fun talking without a reply.

Today would be a great movie night. Maybe it would help you be full of you again.

#writing blog #writing #obey me #hurt/comfort #not finished #angst #light angst #tw depression #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon

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ink-earnest · 3 months ago

Text

Things that Helped my Art Anxiety

The concept of under-drawing. Red mechanical HB lead significantly reduced my drawing anxiety because of the comfort it provides, allowing me to draft everything before doing the scary dark lines.

Starting out with mechanical pencils. They are scary to a lot of artists, but to tiny me, they looked cool. The thinner the lines, the more you learn. 0.5 lead was my favourite. Mechanical pencils helped my improve my technical skills and also learn interesting ways to do linework that I personally liked, just through experimenting.

Starting my art journey with one single mid-range A5 sketchbook, carrying it everywhere and using it for everything. Helped a lot, made me experiment without fear of "ruining it," overall reducing a perfectionist attitude

Eventually dedicating a sketchbook to "ruin and destruction", which came to contain all my lessons learnt, experiments, and also some of my best pieces.

Now I'm doing character work, a 90GSM pathetic little plain notebook has also been helpful. All concepts and drafts and ideas go in there. I end up with very Da Vinci pages, and don't stress about drafts that aren't "good enough." All my drafts and stupid logic and references and quotes and thingies go in there.

Sticky notes to cover mistakes. Very helpful and aesthetique™

Jar form for gouache made painting enjoyable, since I wasn't worried about wastage or mixage, plus the comfort of reactivation.

For both watercolour and gouache, I started with "good enough" options. Within 2k INR, maximum, that lasted me over three years and, again, contributed to some of my best work.

Using 140-160 GSM for everything. Highly recommend. Don't start out with thick pages, kids. Get something that can tolerate most things, but I personally prioritise page count over most other things. The satisfaction of progress is unmatched, I tell you.

Consistently pushing my boundaries. I have a couple of areas that I've worked with enough to be comfortable and effortless, but every couple of months I make a list of things I want to work on and start learning. Then, if I achieve those targets, I enhance them until they are in my comfort zone for a month or so, and then make a new list.

The advice "Do a complete 180 if you feel like it" in regard to art style helped a lot. Initially, I was a fan of so many different art styles, but as I focused on building my fundamentals, I found there was a specific style I was drawn to. I didn't replicate it, but I did studies of my favourite artists, and tried to see how those elements would fit into my own work. Then, once I was sick of it, I'd try something else. No commitment guilt, it's never conducive to growth

This tumblr quote: YOU MUST FACE YOUR FEARS AND SLAUGHTER THEM, OR YOU WILL LIVE A SMALL LIFE THAT YOU DO NOT WANT

#art #artists on tumblr #illustration #ink-earnest #artwork #concept art #pencil #sketchbook #digital art #character design #traditional art #art tips

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openphrase123 · 6 months ago

Note

What's your workflow for planning and then executing a long-term project, like the massive fics you write?

this is how i do fanfics And also original stuff and it's how i've been writing for like ten years (your mileage may vary though i think long project planning is a different kind of beast depending on the person.

also this is the same process as i have for making other media too but obviously with the language tweaked to fit the media (like this is how i plan and execute my game, too!)

have a scene or concept haunt me so thoroughly that i write a short speculative piece about it. if you get here and it's good but can't get past the next step, that's a sign it's meant to be a cool oneshot instead of something multichaptered

decide why i'm making it. what question am i trying to answer, what themes am i trying to explore?

write 2-3 chapters of it freeform style, not caring about where these scenes are going or how they flow into each other (for things that aren't fics, this can just be like. a small section of what it Is). if you're not feeling it here this is a sign to make the scope smaller and make the piece as short as you can tolerate it for. if you are feeling it, this is where you're figuring out the overall tone and style of how the wider work is going to go

figure out the ending. write the ending scene now if you have to. you can change it later but you need to know generally where you want to go

make an outline. how many sections do i need to get from the opening scene to the ending scene? what happens in each chapter?

for ME and how i post, if this is a fanfiction, write at least 25% of it before posting a single thing. or if nothing else write 3 weeks of updates.

start posting

vibe and write at least 3 weeks in advance. if you need a break you need a break. it's free fanfiction, people get it.

now, some creators will be like "whatever you write, take out 10% of it to be economical" this is the modern writer's equivalent of the devil talking. you need the fluff. you need the downtime. you need the epilogue. slow your fucking stories down. let people marinate in them. yeah if you're writing something short form or in a specific format you might need to take stuff out but if you're writing fanfiction or a novel or a game and there's no limit on how long it is. don't worry about spending a couple pages dicking around. every piece of human media from the dawn of time has had interludes, B plots, long meandering pieces of fluff... it makes the parts where the story Hits really stand out. inutile's tragic moments wouldn't be as effective if there weren't fun jokes or levity interspersed in between

that said you need to know when to stop adding shit. only put things in that you think you have a reasonable time to address fully and completely. you will learn this the hard way one day and i cannot teach this or stop you from making this mistake. i learned this mistake writing homestuck fanfiction when i was 13. but in my defense it's really easy to go overboard with homestuck fanfiction

panic because i'm like 90% of the way through and tired of it and start doubting whether the story was ever good at all and if this was wasted time

finish it. celebrate. wait like two months

reread my own work and say "this is sick as hell"

(if this is original work, this is where you start editing it. this is a different beast. i will not elaborate here. fanfiction is for fun and is at the same level as my original fiction drafts. on a rewrite everything will be more polished and purposeful)

repeat forever and ever as long as there are stories to tell

also. this one is just me because it's how my brain works. but ideally i work on two/three longform projects at once, so that when i get tired of working on one my brain will go "ooh shiny" and latch onto one of the other ones effortlessly. if you have adhd this will either work for you perfectly or it will ruin your life

#i hope this was helpful??#again i think everyone's process is a little different and Should be different because everyone's brain latches on to different things #but hopefully this helps you go “oh yes that's one way of doing it” and decide whether or not it would benefit you #don't use this as a to-do list if you're looking for inspiration but like. a suggestion. and if it doesn't work throw it out #and try something that fits you more #the numbers on these glitched out sorry

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formulafics · 1 year ago

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Hi there! I just wanted to come on here and say firstly I love your fics so much like they are amazingly good and also wanted to say keep up the good work :)

And secondly what tips would you give someone who wants to make their own smau?

And I hope you are having a good day/night ❤️❤️

A fic writers guide to figuring out how to create your own smau’s, and not lose your mind doing it!

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much, I appreciate it 🥹🫶🏻 Also, i’m sorry it’s taken me a while to answer you! <3 Since I get asked this quite a bit, I went ahead and made an ‘official’ post for it. You can ask any other questions in the comment, or through my ask box!

First and foremost, I’ve made a few posts about this, and as I always say, i’m still figuring it out myself, so take this advice lightly, as you may not agree with all of it as you make your own works! This is solely from my experiences as someone who’s been writing and making fanfictions for at least 4 years.

✎ ✐ CREATING SMAU’S 📱

This account is the first account i’ve made Social Media au’s on! Therefore, i’ve only been doing these for a little over 4 months.

My first tip is to play around with your layout! When you read smau’s, i’m sure you notice that almost every fic has a different look. There’s no right or wrong way to do it, just mess with it until you find what you like!

My second tip is to use whatever app your creating in the fic as reference. What I mean is, even though I do not use twitter, I have it downloaded so I can look at tweets and the responses, in an attempt to mirror that in my works! Same goes for instagram, and any other social media app you use! I also use the profile pictures that the drivers have by looking at their pages, as well as what other drivers/celebs like their posts.

Add on to the second tip: While I suggest doing that, It is up to you! Youre creating a fictional story and if you’d rather take the likes and responses into your own hands, that’s okay! That’s a part of learning what you like, but I added it as it’s something that I personally find incredibly helpful at times.

My third tip, and possibly my most important one is to have. a. layout. Fanfictions, for me, are so much easier to create when I take the time to lay it all out! You can either make a draft on Tumblr or use your notes app to just make bullet points of the order your story should go. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it’s genuinely so helpful in allowing you to keep track of your story, as well as not missing any of the points you want in your fic! I find that if I make a smau without a layout, there are often small mistakes that I only notice after it’s posted, and while it’s not that bad, It’s still much more satisfying to not have those mistakes.

My fourth tip is working smarter not harder. That’s not to say that if you don’t use these things, you’re not smart - in fact, to any smau creators that edit everything themselves instead of using a generator, mad props to you. However, if you’re interested in the generator, I use it for my twitter posts! I also added some other apps I use when creating my fics.

⌕ TWITTER GENERATOR LINK

-> used to create my twitter threads

⌕ COPY AND PAST SYMBOLS

-> symbols used in my fics, and to decorate my blog!

⌕ PICSART

-> used to crop pictures, add filters to them, as well as the border you see on my tweets! it’s free (with some restrictions if you don’t pay), but still has a good selection of ways to edit.

⌕ PHONTO

-> the best phont app i’ve come across. used to create my header and any pictures you see with words on them, such as the header for this here post!

⌕ CANVA

-> i don’t use this one a ton, mostly because i forget about it, but it’s incredibly helpful for creating magazine esque covers, and i usually would use it for adding an article to my fic!

My fifth tip is to not worry about the length of your smau. It doesn’t matter if your fic is one instagram post or 20 of them, just do what you want to do, and what you enjoy doing!

Other than that, I honestly don’t have many tips! Just take your time, use inspo when needed, and have fun with it. At the end of the day, people just enjoy having more content of their favorite drivers!

✎ ✐ WRITING FANFICTION 💻

While I have yet to write full fanfictions on this account, a majority of my time in the fanfiction universe has been spent writing, so here are some tips for that, if anyone wants them!

1. Take your time: It’s so easy to get into the “I just want this done” mindset, but that is not helpful at all! It’s important to try and remember that there’s no deadline for you to complete your works. Slow and steady wins the race. I once wrote a 15k word fanfiction and it took me over two weeks, and even then, I tried to rush it, and that gave me MAJOR burn out. In fact, after that fic, I deactivated the account I had, and took a long break from something I enjoy, writing.

2. Use inspiration to your advantage: Even if you already have a good plot and layout for your story, it never hurts to find pictures and prompts that you can include. Take the time to understand the overall vibe/concept of your plot, then take to tumblr to try and find some pictures that fit it! This can also help motivate you when you’re feeling writers block.

3. As with the smau’s, have a layout. When I write fics, especially long, in depth pieces, I like to break the plot apart and write in portions, then add it together at the end, rather than one straight shot for the whole thing! I hate when i’m in the middle of a story and realize I completely missed a certain scenario I wanted to have in the fic, or when I forgot to emphasize something.

And those are all of the big tips I have for writing!

✎ ✐ THE MENTAL ASPECT 🧠

While writing and creating fanfiction is fun, and can be a stress reliever, it can also be a stress inducing activity, especially when you run an account doing it. As someone with ADHD, and a chronic overthinker, I have tendencies to stress myself out with a number of things, so here are some tips on avoiding that.

First, remember that this is a hobby. This is supposed to be fun, so if you aren’t having fun, consider stepping back. Try to determine why you’re not enjoying it, and go from there.

“I feel overwhelmed with requests.” Almost anyone who writes fanfiction has likely been here - so, know you aren’t alone. When requests start overwhelming you, I would suggest to close them, then take a break from them! Remember that they are requests, not requirements. If you don’t like an idea or aren’t motivated to write it, do not write it. As much as it can suck to have to deny a request or put it on the back burner, it’s not worth forfeiting something you enjoy.

“I just don’t know how to write/create this” That’s okay! Like almost anything in life, it’s a process of learning. Yes, it’s frustrating, but try to remember that this will probably teach you something that will be helpful in the future! If you do not want to take a break, consider looking at prompts and inspiration for your story. Take the time to reflect on your original plot or idea, and either try to change things, or add things that help your idea come together. Also know that if you’re struggling with ideas, many fic writers are probably willing to help you out! While I can’t speak for everyone, i’m more than happy to help.

“I want to write, but at the same time, I don’t enjoy it that much.” This is a feeling that you either understand or don’t, and it’s a good thing if you don’t, but is completely okay if you do! This is a sign of burnout or writers block, and unfortunately, many of us go through it. Like any other hobby, when you do it for an extended period of time, or hyperfixate on it all the time, you may find that you want to do it, but can’t enjoy it. Time should fix this, but you can also reach out to other writers, or even those who read your work! When this happens, either take a step back to remind yourself why you enjoy writing, or take on a new idea, with no commitment. Just write something that comes to your mind, and hopefully it’ll allow you to unclog your brain. (That sounds kind of mean, but I don’t mean for it to lmao.)

Secondly, if you can have a friend or mutual that will help build on your ideas, that is so incredibly helpful. Even if said person is just there to provide some prompts or pictures when you need it, it’s a life saver. That being said, I know not everyone just has this, so the least I can offer is my own inbox and dms.

Huge shoutout to @renarots. I’m sure by now you guys are used to me mentioning her in my fics, but she truly truly has helped me so so much and I cannot imagine making these fics without them. 🥹❤️ And also they’re one of the best friends i’ve ever had, echo chamber aside.

Lastly, write whatever the fuck you want to write. Fanfiction is a world of its own. There’s room for any and everything. As long as you aren’t being downright offensive and harmful, write whatever it is you’d like to, because there is bound to be a number of people who absolutely cherish your work. That’s part of the beauty of this app.

#i fucking love yapping #dae’s yapping 🗣️#writing tips #social media au #tips for writers

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