#this might be the last one i do for the night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

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I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

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alchemistc · 3 days ago

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You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

#bucktommy fic #bucktommy #not-quite-fixit but it could be #tevan fic

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faithshouseofchaos · 1 day ago

Note

So you're looking for franquito requests? I have too many ideas, like it's insane. The things this man does to me I swear 🥰🥰🥰

Well, maybe you could do something like Argentinian non famous reader (not necessarily Argentinian but u know) dating him and nobody knows about her, till one day they both went tired of people assuming he's single n PUM, hard launch. I don't know if I explained this correctly, English isn't my first language so I'm sorry bby 🥺

💛🇦🇷

Hard launch — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Faceclaim — none I left it pretty inclusive for everyone Warnings— none

Fluff

Word count—

Summary— no one knew Franco was dating anyone until he was photographed at a party kissing his girlfriend.

Franco posted to his instagram

Caption— Fue un fin de semana difícil que terminó en abandono, pero tengo ganas de correr en Las Vegas (it was a tough a weekend that ended in a dnf but i'm looking forward to racing in Vegas)

Liked by — Lewishamilton, Lando_Norriss yourusername, and 292 others

Comments

User1– not Franco making goggly eyes at Lando during the drivers parade

User2– you’ll get them next weekend Franco

User3– Franco try not to flirt with everyone challenge failed

User4– I’m surprised that Franco is still single man’s flirts with everyone

Your username— I think you did well today Franco

Liked by Franco

User5– we all saw that right?

User6– oh we saw alright

Y/n posted to her story (private instagram)

Caption— chico somnoliento 💤😴 (sleepy boy)

Comments off

Seen by … Franco_colapinto43 and yourBFF

Yourprivinstagram

Caption— adivina de quién es la casa (guess who’s home)

Liked by Franco_colapinto43, yourBFF

Comments limited—

yourBFF— who’s that funny looking man on my wife’s instagram account.

Franco_Colapinto43– last time I checked I was her boyfriend 🤨

yourBFF— for now 😁

Franco_Colapinto43– what’s that supposed to mean???

————————————————————————

The party was alive with chatter, music, and the occasional burst of laughter. People milled about, drink in hand, dancing in the dim light as the night carried on. Franco was standing by the bar, joking with a group of friends, when his eyes caught yours across the room. You were leaning against a wall, watching the crowd with a slight smile, your arms casually crossed. You always did prefer standing back and observing, letting the noise of others fade into the background.

Franco’s grin widened, and without a second thought, he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you. He didn’t care that people might be watching. He had long since stopped caring about the whispers, the questions, the rumors. It was just you two now, and that was enough.

“Hey,” he greeted, slipping an arm around your shoulders as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You having fun?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playful as ever. “You know me, I’m just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Oh, trust me, it’s too late for that.” He pulled you a little closer, your bodies pressed together in the cozy little corner of the room. You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

The laughter around you seemed to fade, the chatter becoming a blur, and it was like the two of you were in your own world for a moment. Franco’s thumb traced the outline of your arm before he pulled back slightly, his mischievous smile never leaving his face.

“What if we stopped letting everyone assume I’m single?” he asked casually, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark.

You didn’t have to think about it—this had been brewing for weeks, maybe even months. You’d both gotten tired of the secrecy, of the constant guessing. You didn’t care about the opinions of strangers anymore, not when it came to him.

“I think it’s time,” you said, your voice light but resolute.

And then, with an ease that could only come from the comfort of being with someone who knew you better than anyone else, Franco leaned in, his lips catching yours in a quick, almost careless kiss.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The room fell silent, people frozen in place. But you didn’t care. You were too busy focusing on the way his lips lingered just long enough to make it clear.

As you pulled away, your hearts still beating in sync, the sound of murmurs around you slowly started up again. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but neither of you looked around. You didn’t need to.

Franco grinned and shrugged, pulling you close again. “Guess we’re not hiding anymore,” he said with a teasing smile, as if nothing had just happened. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess not.”

——————————————

F1.Gossip has posted

Caption— f1 driver Franco Colapinto caught kissing an unidentified woman while at a party.

Liked by— yourBFF, and 19289 others

Comments

User7– WAIT WHAT?!?!

User8– who is she?

User9– con—😭😭—grad—😭😭—ulations—😭😭

User10– I new there was no way he was single

Franco_Colapinto43–has posted

Caption— Bueno, gatos fuera de la balsa, feliz Segundo aniversario, mi amor. (well cats out of the bag happy 2 year anniversary my love)

liked by — lando_norris, Yourusername, yourBFF and 1028 others

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x oc #faiths inboxes📥📨#f1 smau #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #Franco Colapinto x fem!reader #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto social media au #franco colapinto smau

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lovelytsunoda · 22 hours ago

Text

who is that diva? | liam lawson

summary: the internet is set ablaze after a race car driver and a bookstagrammer are caught in a heated battle fro the last lego set on black friday. is this a lawsuit waiting to happen or a meet-cute worthy of its own book?

pairing: liam lawson x bookstagrammer!reader

warnings: implications of a physical fight, they're both a lil' unhinged

chamomilekissedpages just posted to her story!

chamomilekissedpages just posted!

liked by liamlawson, yourbestie and 1,000 others

chamomilekissedpages november so far!

see all comments

user now i know thats not a picture of the man she stomped on to get her lego set-

-> user RIGHT?? as soon as it came out that he was famous i expected a lawsuit ngl

yourbestie i had such a great time with you guys last night! if you ask me, he's a total keeper <3

user girl i love those shoes!

-> chamomilekissedpages i don't gatekeep! just dm'd you a link to my guy, he'll give you a good price :)

liamlawson you still owe me a lego set. just so everybody is aware.

-> chamomilekissedpages you and what army?

-> yukitsunoda this one!!!!

-> oscarpiastri yeah!

liamlawson and chamomilekissedpages just posted!

liked by oscapiastri, yukitsunoda and 3,476 others

liamlawson i didn't get the lego set, but i did win the heart of someone who won't share her toys with me

see all comments

oscarpiastri i wondered how long it would take him to break

-> liamlawson fuck offffff

-> chamomilekissedpages guys come on, he made it three weeks!

user of all the ways i expected legogate to end, this was not it!

chamomilekissedpages would buying you a lego formula e car make things better?

-> liamlawson oh my god baby is it too soon to say that i'm head over heels in love with you?

yourbestie congratulations to you both! your 'most insufferable couple of the season' award is in the mail

-> chamomilekissedpages you call us insufferable but we know you love us

-> yourbestie damn fucking right i do

-> liamlawson careful the fia might fine me for having cuss words in my comment section

-> chamomilekissedpages he says as if he didnt just tell oscar to fuck right off

Interview with Liam Lawson in the Las Vegas GP Paddock!

BONUS: TEXTS BETWEEN LIAM AND Y/N

#liam lawson x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #liam lawson smau #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #the christmas collection 2024 #Spotify #ig aus

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itsa-me-lily · 2 days ago

Text

So I’m stuck on my military program spouse and this idea that you and Simon have gotten to the “we’re like roommates and kind of friends” stage of things and one day Simon overhears a group of guys from the same program talking to each other. Technically the program can’t make the spouses sleep together because that would be a teeeeeenty tiiiiiny bit illegal, since it’s technically paying for sexual acts. But some of the guys joke about how they essentially buy kisses and other…things from their spouses, a little extra pocket change for a little bit of sugar.

And maybe, just maybe, the idea intrigues Simon a little. Not the sliding slope of possible financial abuse. No that idea makes his skin crawl a bit. He knows you work and like having your own money. But he wouldn’t mind funneling a little something into your fun money account if he knew you’d let him. As for the sugar…if he spends parts of afternoon burning a hole into space thinking about what kissing you might be like well…that’s between him and god and not even the threat of million years of guinea pig wheeking could make him confess. (He’s grown to appreciate the furry little fuckers but Jesus do they get loud when they hear him open the fridge).

So cue Simon starting Operation Sugar. Too bad for you that step one isn’t you know, talking to you. No instead Simon decides that clearly the way to do this is through the pigs. Cue late night research into what goes into guinea pig care, random Chewy boxes that you didn’t order coming to the door all from an anonymous sender of course (you assume they’re from your mother, who does send gifts to her grandpiggies sometimes), and a week later a fridge surprisingly full to the brim of all the veggies the pigs like to demand for.

The last one is what gets your attention, looking for Simon, who’s in the living room, totally not looking online on his phone at some new cage set up that you want to get that would take up half the damn living room. When you ask about it he shrugs, pocketing his phone and mumbling something about how all of it was on sale when he went shopping. The smile and arm squeeze you gave him wasn’t the sugar he originally wanted, but the thank you that accompanied them made it all so much sweeter than he thought he deserved.

Edit;

I've made a list to keep track of all the random ideas I get for this

#military program spouse #cod #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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inktopuck · 2 days ago

Text

juno | quinn hughes social media au

part 1

yournamelastname

Liked by elblue06, _quinnhughes and others

yournamelastname pov your birthday's on halloween !!

_eliaspettersson @_quinnhughes professional pumpkin carver

yournamelastname i did the yucky part (gutting that sucker)

jackhughes you gutted quinn??????????

yournamelastname yes that was exactly what i did

_quinnhughes i kinda like you or whatever

trevorzegras okay mr nonchalant

_quinnhughes look who swallowed a thesaurus!

trevorzegras a what now

_quinnhughes

Liked by jackhughes, colecaufield and others

_quinnhughes happy birthday, gorgeous. you make my dreams come true.

tagged: yournamelastname

trevorzegras yehaaaawwww

l_hughes06 aw look at him all uwu @jackhughes

jackhughes awwwwwwwwwww

_quinnhughes what does that even mean

colecaufield nothing grandpa, let's get you back to bed

elblue06 happy birthday, Y/N ❤️

Liked by _quinnhughes, yournamelastname

yournamelastname stop making me want your last name!

colecaufield we love a horse savior!

_quinnhughes

Liked by yournamelastname, l_hughes06 and others

_quinnhughes great win last night! #canucks

yournamelastname you keep this up i might do something very drastic

colecaufield omg she's going to impregnate him

jackhughes why would you say this

l_hughes06 DELETE

yournamelastname 🤔

_quinnhughes how drastic are we talking 🤔

trevorzegras thankful for this comment section

yournamelastname

Liked by _quinnhughes, thombordeleau_ and others

yournamelastname tastyyy

trevorzegras what in the oral fixation

colecaufield tf is an oral fixation

l_hughes06 a shakira album

jackhughes an obsession with 🐝jays

yournamelastname i'm blocking every single one of you

_quinnhughes alright that's it

bboeser ohhh what are we doing cap!!

_eliaspettersson brock you stupid slut

thombordeleau_ if quinn won't do it i will

_quinnhughes i will skin you alive

pt. 2

#nhl #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes social media #quinn hughes au #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x you #hughes brothers #social media au #vancouver canucks #new jersey devils #q hughes

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hannyoontify · 2 days ago

Text

seventeen '95 line as things that have made my heart flutter before

warnings | none?

notes | source? erm possibly my own... experiences from the past..... ;;; i actually wanted to do all 13 before publishing but i js couldn't wait LMFAO i'm still writing the rest there's a good chance that i might upload all 4 lines in one day not proofread

p.s. i recommend reading these as situationships/pre-relationships

95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

seungcheol - calling you in the morning with his morning voice

you’re brushing your teeth, staring off into space and thinking that it’s too early for you to be awake when you hear your phone buzz on the marble counter. reaching over, you answer the call once you recognized the caller ID.

“hello?”

“g’morning…” the voice on the other end sends a shiver down your spine and kickstarts a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. “dreamt of you last night.”

the fluttering, overwhelming feeling migrates from your stomach to your chest. your brain goes static as you try and get over the initial shock of how deep and husky seungcheol’s voice currently was.

“i-it’s 7 in the morning, cheol. why are you calling me so early?”

you could almost hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. “i missed you.”

a rush of heat hits your face and you’re suddenly thankful that this was a voice call. “wh- whatever… you’re going to be seeing me in an hour anyway.”

seungcheol hums over the line. “mmm… i’m not sure if i can wait until then.”

“i’m hanging up!” you say hurriedly. you could physically no longer handle that man’s flirting and that damn low voice of his. you needed to give him a stern talking to when you got to school.

jeonghan - touching your ear whenever he’s bored

“hannie…”

“hm?”

“are my ears that soft?” you squirm in your spot at the tickling feeling on your spot the couch as jeonghan’s fingers absentmindedly gave your ear light touches and tugs. he looks up from his phone and sheepishly pulled his hand away.

“sorry, i didn’t realize” before he fully retracts his hand, his finger skims your cheek and gives it a slight pinch before place his hand in his hoodie pocket. you contemplatively lick your lips before opening your mouth to talk again.

“i... never said i didn’t like it…” your voice is so quiet jeonghan almost didn’t hear you. almost.

but jeonghan always hears you.

he gives you a sly grin before reaching out and giving your earlobe a gentle tug. “i didn’t realize i was doing it either. i know it started as a joke but… i think i made it a habit.”

jeonghan inches closer to you on the couch, his knee grazing yours. “you’re my little stress ball now.”

“are you stressed?” you furrow your brows in worry and jeonghan smiles.

“not when i’m with you.”

another gentle tug. except, this time, it's not on your ear.

spoiler alert: it's your heart.

joshua - humming and strumming the guitar in an empty room

the living room is bustling. you’re not sure what you were expecting when your friend seungkwan said he was having a small holiday get-together, but it definitely wasn’t this. you can’t even walk from the kitchen to the living room without stepping on someone’s foot, and you were pretty sure there was a DJ in the house somewhere.

desperate for a break from the crowd, you manage to squeeze through the countless bodies and go upstairs, where it’s virtually empty. the contrast between the loud and busy first floor and peaceful second floor felt borderline holy.

you’re wandering around the second floor, happy to escape the chaos of the first floor when you hear the quiet strum of a guitar reverberating through the hallways.

you halt and listen keenly as you try and locate where the sound was coming from. following the sweet melody of the guitar, you soon hear a voice accompanying the instrument. the door in front of you is cracked open and you peek inside, trying to identify who the talented musician was.

inside the room was joshua, an acoustic guitar propped on his knee as he strums the instrument, his fingers skillfully moving against the frets with gentle hums. his eyes are closed as he fully immerses in the music.

you stand by the doorway, arms crossed against your chest as you watch him. your lips are tugging into a small smile and you felt a gentle fluttering in your stomach. the final note hangs in the air and you hold your breath as you feel your heart rate beginning to speed up at the sight of joshua’s small smile.

his eyes slowly open and your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his. joshua grins when he recognizes you.

“any song requests?”

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

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ankoluvly · 2 days ago

Text

“Want me to teach you?”

𐙚Summary: You’re hogwarts good girl and Mattheo sees you at a party, leading to him teaching you how to give somebody(him) a blowjob.

𐙚Content warning: partying, hints at Mattheo having a crush on reader for awhile, blowjob, overall kind of vanilla, possible dubcon(Both Mattheo and reader are drunk.), Soft Mattheo, again, very vanilla!, 18+ ONLY, MDNI

You stumbled your way into the empty classroom, the other man kicking the door closed with his foot as the two of you’s tongues fought for dominance. Your heart beating unimaginably fast in your chest. You feel his soft grasp on your waist as you two pulled back for air.

A grin formed on his face as he looked at your flush face and already kiss swollen lips. “You have no idea how long i wanted this.” He said before kissing you again, not giving you a chance to respond.

Maybe it was a good thing you came to this party instead of studying tonight..,

You take a deep breath as you walked into the crowded party. Already feeling the blisters forming on your feet from the heels you were wearing, The loud music blaring, you recognized the song as ‘Talk dirty’ by Jason Derulo. You rolled your eyes at the obscene words of the song as you squeezed your way past the groups of dancing students from various houses. Exams were coming up which means you typically wouldn’t be skipping your nightly studying, however tonight was a special exception. After the upcoming exams next week, it’s graduation. These are your final two weeks that you’ll ever be spending here at hogwarts. The thought put a deep, never ending pit into your stomach. Over the years hogwarts has became your home, the thought of not eating breakfast in the great hall while talking with your friends felt like a bizarre, ‘never happening’ thought. You couldn’t imagine not hearing Draco and Harry getting into their daily arguments and scuffles during classes. And most of all, you’ve grown used to these people, especially one certain boy.

You made your way over to the drinks. The thoughts of graduating made your stomach do flips that you desperately wanted to drink away. You combined a bit of each drink, making the drink look a brownish colour. You swished it around in the cup as you stood there. Your eyes sweeping over all the students you could manage to see.

You didn’t see him, the one guy you wanted to see the most. You knew you shouldn’t be too worried about it. He never missed a party, but what if he suddenly wanted to focus on his studies instead? or maybe he saw you and he left? maybe he actually couldn’t stand you?

Before you managed to get too caught up in your thoughts you saw your friend Angelina Johnson coming over, she was wearing a low cut black dress with a deep v neck, her toned, thin body on display. The sweat that formed on her body and the lights from the party together made her skin glow with a variety of colours. You suddenly felt overdressed as you looked down at your own light baby blue silk dress that covered your thighs and stomach.

“Girl! you came, i knew you wouldn’t miss this.” She said as she stumbled over to you, drink in hand.

“Yeah. Just felt weird to stay in my dorm studying all night when i might not even see any of these people again.” You said with a chuckle as you took a sip of your drink. It sent a tingling sensation down your throat and into your body. You haven’t drank in a while, probably since last year’s Christmas party.

“I get it.” Angelina agreed as she topped up her own drink. “I’m glad you came.” She added genuinely with a smile before grabbing your wrist with a grin, “But you are NOT staying here all night.” She added, already pulling you with her, ignoring the other bodies in her way as you muttered apologies when you guys bumped into people. Accidentally knocking some peoples drinks onto the floor, causing you and Angelina to giggle as the two of you rushed further away in the direction of your friends.

You finally reached all your other friends who were further off towards the left of the room. You said hello to your friends before taking another sip of your drink, the overall atmosphere getting to you as you started to enjoy yourself more.

As time went on you started loosening up, drinking more, dancing with your friends. The loud music having a variety of different songs that matched the atmosphere. Other students slowly started leaving to the dorms or washrooms to hook up. Draco was making out with Astoria against the wall like a duo of horny dogs. And that’s where you spotted him.

Mattheo Riddle. The infamous ‘prince’ of Slytherin, son of the dark lord. a bit of a tit, or ‘manwhore’ as your friends call him. Constantly attending parties instead of studying. Constantly having new ‘girlfriends’. A complete asshole to others.

Well atleast that’s how others describe him. they weren’t exactly wrong, but you personally never had any bad experiences with him. He could be tit, yes, but he was never necessarily rude. He was kind of nice in a way. In a charming way. The perfect amount of Goofy, nice, and cold. Not Fred and George Weasley level of goofy. Not Neville Longbottom level of nice. Not Theodore Nott level of cold. The way his hair was always perfectly curled. His perfect white teeth that lit up the room when he smiled. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve had a big, fat, tv school girl type crush on him since second year.

He was leaning against the side of the fire place, Next to Astoria and Draco. He was alone though, no girl practically dry humping his leg this time. From where you stood you had the perfect view of his side profile as he lit up a cigarette, struggling slightly to get the lighter to work properly. His red solo cup resting on the top of the fireplace next to him. It was like everyone else in the room was nonexistent as you admired the man just a mere couple feet away from you. You didn’t realize your staring until you were forced out of your daze with a rough nudge to your shoulder.

“Seriously? daydreaming about the dark lords son?” Angelina joked light-heartedly as she glanced over in Mattheos direction. You blushed as you looked at her and back to Mattheo.

“Uh- No… just noticed him, that’s all.” You brush off. Rubbing your arm uncomfortably with the humid temperature of the party. You couldn’t help but sneak another glance at Mattheo as you swore you saw him look at you out of the corner of your eye.

“Good. You could do so much better than the local slytherin manwhore.” Angelina joked, before standing up from her spot on the little bench, pulling you up with her. “Come on girls! let’s dance instead of sit around like a bunch of bums, last party ‘till graduation.”

And then the night went on. You danced for what felt like forever with your friends. completely forgetting about the fact you’re all going to need to grow up in a couple weeks. That some of you were moving to completely different countries soon after graduation. You all just enjoyed each other’s company, talking to some of the other students that you guys were friends with but not tight nit. Gradually different girls in your friend group dispersed, going off with random guys or their boyfriends to hook up. until eventually it was just you, Angelina, and now Fred.

Fred and Angelina were grinding against each other as you took a quick break from dancing, downing another drink. Your body was feeling lighter now. Angelina was drunk as fuck, Fred almost just as drunk. You stumbled slightly as you made your way back over to the two drunks. Angelina reached out and pulled you closer, “Dance with uss,” She slurred out. You chuckled as you entertained her idea, dancing with them.

You were enjoying yourself before you felt hands firmly plant themselves onto your hips and your back come into contact with a the taller mans upper body. Causing you to freeze slightly. You blushed as you felt them grind themselves against you in sync with your previous dancing. You never did anything like this before so you internally panicked, looking at Angelina for help. But she only grinned, giving you a reassuring nod. you knew what she was saying: ��Just go with it!’. So you listened, hesitantly moving your hips again. You took it as a good sign to continue when the grip the stranger had on your hips tightened ever so slightly.

You attempted to copy Angelinas movements as you started to feel yourself. That was until you heard a voice, the stranger leaning down to whisper in your ear with an amused tone: “Never knew the ‘hogwarts good girl’ could dance like this.”

Your eyes widened and heart beat picked up as you registered the voice. You knew that voice. “M-Mattheo..?” You stuttered out as you looked up at him wide eyed. Face flushing. His breath smelled heavily of Alcohol and cigarettes. You could faintly smell his go to ‘Dior sauvage’ cologne that you were forced to smell every day in the morning for three years.

“The one and only sweetheart.” He flirted, turning you around so that you face him. You feel his hard-on through his pants. You couldn’t muster a word as you stared in admiration and nervousness. This is your first time being so close to him. “What? cat got your tongue?” He teased with a smirk.

You blinked at his words before shaking your head, “No- no.. just surprised.” You attempted to say more casually, though it instead came out shy and timid. You finally looked down from his face, glancing at the silver chain locket around his neck with the Slytherin snake symbol decorating it, the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath a thin black button up jacket. You flinched lightly as you felt his hands start to run up and down your waist.

He chuckled at your response before asking; “Wanna head off somewhere else?” with a smirk. You knew what he was suggesting. It felt like everything was a dream. But at the same time you didn’t want him to expect too much from you. so you blurted out;

“I never did anything like this before.”

And that leads to your current situation. In a random, empty classroom in a heated make out session with Mattheo. You clench your thighs together in excitement. Your stomach doing little cartwheels as you pulled away again for air. You chuckled nervously as Mattheo started littering kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You grinned softly, biting your lip as you got your breath back, hand resting on his shoulder as you glanced down at his bundle of curls. You were nervous. You heard stories about what it’s like to do things with him. That he’s rough, sadistic, and so on. All the things you didn’t want for trying anything remotely sexual for the first time, but now you couldn’t care less. perhaps it was just the alcohol in your system messing with your thinking. Either way you couldn’t help the giddy feeling you had while Mattheos’ kisses trailed along your collarbone until it stopped right in the middle. He pulled back and admired your dress, finger tracing along the ruffles at the very bottom of the dress.

“Cute dress,” He mumbled, standing up properly again, making you have to arch your head up to see his face. Your face flushed more -if it was even possible- as you stumbled over your words but eventually got out a small ‘Thank you’.

He grinned as his fingers gently ran across the outline of your face. This wasn’t the Mattheo that you heard others described, and you couldn’t help but notice the softness in his eyes as he admired your appearance. You quickly pushed the thought away the possibility of him liking you, you ‘were just another one of the girls he was gonna hook up with’ you thought. Perhaps the look in his eyes was just from the alcohol in his system. Or maybe he could tell how drunk you were. You only got knocked out of your thoughts when he asked you a question:

“Have you never even given a blowjob before?” Mattheo asks, his hand falling from your face and instead resting on your hips as his other hand rested on the desk next to you.

You glanced down, embarrassed as you bit the inside of your cheek. You felt ridiculous, you were nine-teen fucking years old and you’ve never even sucked a guy off yet, the most basic of stuff. You tried telling yourself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, but you couldn’t deny the pang of embarrassment that you felt when you had sleepovers with your friends and couldn’t relate with anything they said while talking about boys. Mattheo seemed to read your body language though as he chuckled and responded despite your lack of an answer.

“No?” he asked amused, tilting your head up to look at him again. “Want me to teach you?” he asked, grin plastered on his damned, handsome face. You swallowed in anticipation and nerves while nodding.

He wasted no time in picking you up off the table and turning the both of you around, switching the two of you’s places. “Get down on your knees sweetheart,” He told you as he pushed you down gently, his hand on your shoulders. You did as you were told, pushing the skirt of your dress up slightly so that you weren’t pulling it down by your knees.

Mattheo smirked down at you as he took his jacket off, going at a teasingly slow pace as he placed it behind him. With the jacket off you could see the shirt he had underneath. The sleeves stopping just at his elbows, showing off his muscular forearms. Fuck was he hot. You weren’t sure what to do next as he leaned against the desks, hands resting behind him which held him up. He chuckled with an amused grin before saying; “You can undo the belt princess,”

You nodded, reaching up as you attempted to undo his belt. Feeling nervous to touch him, attempting to take the belt off while acting like you’re walking on eggshells. Mattheo struggled to hold back a laugh as he moved his hand to help you take the stupid belt off, slapping your hands away as he undid the belt himself. “You can pull a zipper down at least, right?” He asked with a smirk.

You smiled at his words, rolling your eyes as you mumbled out a yeah. taking the zipper into your fingers as you unzipped his black jeans. looking up at him as he simply nodded. You pulled his pants down slightly, leaving them at the middle of his thighs. You looked up nervously, and feeling slightly awkward as he watched you. Considering the fact you never did this before you were scared to progress. Holding the waistband of his boxers hesitantly. You couldn’t help but bite your lip to hold back a laugh as Mattheos own laugh resounded throughout the empty classroom. His hand gently playing with your hair as he spoke: “You don’t have to be so nervous, just pull the boxers down.” He said amused, causing yourself to let out a laugh, his attitude doing a surprisingly good job at making you feel more comfortable.

You shuffled his boxers down, his cock jumping free from its restraints and up against his clothed stomach. You gulped slightly at his size, about… 7 inches, But… how was that supposed to fit into your mouth?? “Uh… i don’t need to like… take the whole thing?” You asked for reassurance. getting more embarrassed as the absurd question escaped your lips.

You could tell Mattheo was enjoying every minute of this as you looked up at his charming smile as he let out another bark of laughter at your words. “Nah, you don’t gotta worry about that princess,” He said, easily holding eye contact as he played with a strand of hair. “I’ll train you for that another time,” He added. his words laced with arrogant confidence that he would do so. You rolled your eyes at his choice of words and tone, wanting to say something back but biting it back as Mattheo spoke again.

“It’s better if you start off with a little handjob.” Mattheo started, tone calm and patient. “Use your spit as a type of lube and it’ll feel 10 times better for any guy.” He instructed with a grin. You nodded, going to follow his instructions but you couldn’t help the awkward chuckle that escaped you, glancing up at Mattheo as you gripped him in your hand. You could feel how hard he was, his cock twitching slightly at the feeling of your colder hand wrapping firmly around the base. Mattheo too, chuckled. “What? i’m not gonna judge you,” He teased playfully. pulling your hair that out from the front of your face and onto your back.

You just awkwardly grinned before spitting the built up saliva from your mouth onto your hand, wrapping it around Mattheos cock. With an experimental flick of your wrist you spread the spread the spit around the base of his cock. You figured what you were doing was good when he let out a slight grunt and you saw his hand tighten around the desk. You gradually brought your hand up, blushing slightly as his cock twitched in your hand. You continued your movements, replicating what you’ve read from inappropriate books of girls in similar situations, spreading some of the spit around the swollen tip of his cock with your thumb. You could tell you were doing good by the way his breath hitched in his throat, his breathing picking up as his hips bucked into your touch, and the praise falling from his lips.

“Shit- you’re doing good. keep doing that but go a little faster.” Mattheo says, his grip on your hair tightening slightly. You listened, going faster as you cringed slightly at the feeling of the spit being spread around on your hand. You couldn’t help but reach your hand inbetween your thighs to help relieve some of the painful arousal, palming yourself through your soaked panties. You relished at the occasional moan or grunt that left his mouth and his laboured breathing.

Usually, at this point in the perverted books you’ve read, the girl would start to use her mouth. You weren’t sure if you should just go for it or wait. Trusting your gut you placed an experimental kitten lick along the side of his shaft, making him let out a breathy moan, his hand going to place itself gently on your hair, fingers entangling themselves with your hair.

You did the same thing along his entire shaft up to his tip. His fingers tightening around your locks of hair. “Try taking it into your mouth now,” He said, looking down at you. You bit your lip slightly as you let out a quick snort of laughter at his words, not being able to take this too seriously as the alcohol in your system was making everything ten times funnier.

“C’mon don’t be scared.” He teased, grinning at your laughter. His hand pushing your head slightly to edge you on. You just grinned slightly, glancing up at him.

His face flushed slightly as he bit his cheek, looking down at you. chest slowly going up and down. You watched as his arms flexed as you took him into your mouth, gagging as you quickly felt him go farther into your mouth than you’ve ever felt before. Stopping at just half his length before you were attempting to pull back. His hand held your head in place for a couple seconds before letting up, his hand falling back to his side. A ‘pop’ sounded in the room as you pulled back, coughing and wiping the bit of spit that seeped out from the corners of your mouth. You could feel the slight stretch of your mouth at the edge of , it was an uncomfortable feeling.

He smiled down at you recovered yourself. “Was that ok?” He asked, his tone patient. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and that everything was going at an ok pace for you.

You smiled up at him as you nodded. “I can continue,” You said eagerly. Waiting for him to agree as you grasped him in your hand again. slowly going up and down with your hand.

He nodded down at you, “Yeah. Try using your tongue a bit more while going…. uh.. up and down, yeah?” He asked, not sure exactly how to explain it. You smiled in response, taking him into your mouth again. It was easier to do this time though you could still only take about half of him. You let your tongue slide against the bottom of his shaft along a vein as you (attempted) to bop your head. the unfamiliar movement feeling awkward to do as you placed your hand on his thighs for support.

“Yeah shit- like that.” He said, his hand again finding solace on your head again. his hips gently thrusting into your mouth. Making you gag slightly. “Use your hand on the bit you can’t fit into your mouth-“ He said through moans, his voice sounding more desperate now. You followed what he said, your hand gripping the bit of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth as you jerked him off slightly.

You took his increasing moans and tightened grip on your hair as a sign that you’re doing good as you continued your movements. Gagging slightly as you struggled to breathe through your nose, eventually needing to pull away as you coughed slightly. You decided to replace the absence of your mouth with your hand as you caught your breath.

“You’re doing good for your first time,” Mattheo commented with a smirk, his face flushed. His hand moving down to wipe the spit from your face. “You sure you’re not lying to me?” He asked. Looking at you with slight, playful skepticism.

You bit your lip slightly in embarrassment as you admitted without fully thinking: “I read books… and watched a couple videos.”

Your face flushed in embarrassment at your sudden admission, taking in Mattheo’s reaction as his eyes widened slightly before quickly being replaced with amusement. “I knew you were a little too good of a student.” He teased with a smirk, hand going back to your hair as he pulled slightly, “Now c’mon. You’re supposed to be giving a blowjob. Not a handjob.”

You then continued. Attempting to get used to the full feeling in your mouth along with needing to breathe through your nose. Your jaw slowly starting to ache. Mattheo started pushing your head further down his cock, making you gag around him which seemed to only turn him on more. “Fuck… can’t wait to train your throat another time.” He said through a mix of a moan and groan. His words didn’t fully process through your lust and alcohol clouded brain. “You mind if i help you a little bit? hm?” He asked, hand twirling your hair into more of a makeshift ponytail. You just nodded as much as you could in response to his words. looking at him with lust-over, wide eyes.

He grinned as he bit his lip as you looked up at him, chuckling slightly. “Fuck yeah.., knew you’d agree.” He mumbled as he gripped your hair into a more firm grip as he started moving your head back and forth by your hair. With Mattheo controlling your movements you could focus more on trying to add to the pleasure with your tongue. swirling it around his cock as you placed small ‘kitten lick’ like flicks on the tip when he pulled you back.

You could only take it as he face-fucked you eagerly. And god was his sounds divine. His American accent making his random mumbles of curses or praise hotter, “Shit.. taking this like a champ, surprisingly.”

Or the occasional, every once in a while, quick whimpers that’d escape up his throat and out of his mouth. You just felt dizzy with excitement not only at what you’re doing- but the sudden revelation that he may like you too, or even that he chose you to hook up with of all girls. Your hands rested on his thighs as they started to flex more and more often, as well as his moans increase in pitch slightly.

Mattheo pulls you off his cock as he came. Not sure of your boundaries yet so he didn’t want to do anything too…. kinky?

You quickly started trying to fill your lungs with oxygen as you coughed softly, not as bad as the last two times though. You watched as Mattheo came, jacking himself off through it as his cum spurted out onto his shirt and hand.

You flinched as you felt something land on your face, blinking as you reached your hand up to touch at the sticky liquid on your face. Mattheo too noticed as his eyes widened slightly, quickly moving his hand to your face, wiping the cum off with his thumb. “Shit- sorry..” He said.

What you did next you weren’t sure if it was because you were genuinely curious, or too drunk to think properly. You held his wrist in place as you licked the cum off his thumb, grin plastered on your face as you took in his reaction. His cum tasted kind of salty and bitter, though not the worst thing you’ve tasted. Mattheo watched in shock combined with amusement as he grinned. “Well? how did it taste?” He asked, looking down at you as he shoved himself back into the confines of his pants. Amused at your actions. clearly he underestimated how much of a freak you really were.

You just grinned up at him as you let go of his wrist. “I’d take that over cottage cheese,” You said with a soft giggle as you were pulled up back to your feet by Mattheo. wobbling slightly as you got used to needing to stand on your feet.

Mattheo kept his hand in yours as he smiled at you, wiping the spit and small bits of his cum still on your face off. “Should i keep that in mind for our date?” He said, tone half confident and questioning. Though before you could hear anything you heard an all to familiar voice from the hallway,

“This Classroom, Now.” The voice that you both recognized as Severus Snape said, voice inching closer to the door of the room you two were in. You and Mattheo shared a glance before you both quickly went and hid behind a pile of random class stuff. Perfectly hiding the two of you when you sat.

You two glanced at each other as you both grinned before jumping slightly as the door to the class slammed open and then closed. “Sit.” Severus Snape demanded as he walked dangerously close to the two of you. “The amount of times i have caught you two doing some type of obscenity in public is As.tro.nom.i.cal.” Snape spoke, putting pointed emphasis on ‘astronomical’.

“We’re teenagers being teenagers, what else would you expect?” The voice of a student said. You and Mattheo both shared a glance as you both stifled back chuckles, recognizing the voice. Fred Weasley, which most likely meant the other student was Angelina. You could practically hear the grin on Freds face.

“Teenager or not i expect you to have some decency.” Snape spat out, strictness and annoyance in his tone. “Especially since you’re only here for two and a half more weeks.” Snape added, putting emphasis as he spoke ‘two and a half.’ You covered your mouth as you giggled quietly, scooting closer to Mattheo as he moved his arm to make room for you. You two practically cuddling against eachother as you two listened to Fred and Angelina get lectured by Professor Snape.

Mattheo glanced down at you before smiling, genuinely. Whispering down to you: “As i was saying, date tomorrow morning at Hogsmeade? Three Broomsticks?” He asked. Silently hoping in his head that you’ll say yes.

You shared his genuine smile as you nodded excitedly, “Of course.” You tried to whisper back casually, though your tone exposed the excitement coursing through you as you rested your head on his shoulder and smiled like an idiot.

“Though you should probably clean the cum off your shirt.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by ankoluvly, 2024 on tumblr! please do NOT repost on anything.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . OML this is longer than i expected it to be, and my first, full length fic EVER. Who would’ve thought it’d be Mattheo, one of the fanon characters that never stood out to me before lmfao.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . This is incredibly vanilla because that’s how i envisioned it, sorry if it’s not your cup of tea 😭😭

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . I already brained up other scenarios based off this lil universe between reader and Mattheo

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Spent awhile on this ngl 🥹 But it was fun to do even if i’m not to proud of it noww

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . FEEDBACK IS *VERY* APPRECIATED, thank you :)

#harry potter #harry potter blog #harry potter x you #౨ৎfic #slytherin smut #smut #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #harry potter smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #vanilla girl #vanilla smut #x reader #mattheo x you #riddle smut #x reader smut

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stuffandthangsandangelwings · 2 days ago

Text

Billy nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. No one had ever offered him help but he --he didn't want Max to cope the way he had over the years. " Like...Therapy?" He asked softly. " Baby---there's a lot wrong with me." He said softly. The thought of someone talking to him about what he'd gone through--everything he'd endured. He wasn't sure he was ready for that.

Eddie chuckled. " Our relationship is complicated... But I care about Billy, and so does Fannie. She might be a cheerleader, but she's cool. Don't let the pom poms fool you. Last night Billy drove to her house. I don't know what he was doing--but she took him in and took care of him."

Billy gripped the steering wheel tighter. His vision was swimming as he tried to keep from crying. He's bruised up. His right eye swollen shut. He took a deep breath. He didn't feel like partying. Not like this. He covered his face with his hands. Glad no one was around. Everyone inside at Fannie Maddson's house.

He let go, tears rolling down his face as he sat at the end of the street.

Glad for the nights coverage as he sobbed into his hands.

@fan-maddson

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diamonddaze01 · 3 days ago

Text

fleeing feelings

pairing: hvc x fem!reader | best friend!seungkwan genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, university au wc: 9.6k warnings: alcohol consumption (pls drink responsibly!!) a/n: for @k-vanity 's “falling for you” event! My prompts were London Fog (“You said what to who now?! Why?!”) and Pumpkin Spice Latte (“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?”) // enormous thank you to @cheolism for the most gorgeous banner // and thank you to my lovely betas @lovetaroandtaemin and @tusswrites

summary: so you might have told vernon you loved him while drunk – now all you have to do is avoid him. forever.

The headache is real.

It feels like someone decided your skull was the perfect canvas for a jackhammer. Each throb sends waves of pain coursing through your brain, and even the soft hum of the world outside your window seems like an assault on your fragile state. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure your last memory was of collapsing into your bed after a night of regrettable decisions, you’d swear you were dying.

You blink up at the ceiling, groaning as sunlight streams through the blinds, slicing through the dim room like a guilty conscience. Your eyes ache at the brightness, and you throw a hand over your face in an attempt to shield yourself from the assault. The cold sheets are a welcome contrast to the fire that’s raging inside your head.

You wish for sleep, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you're greeted by an annoyingly chipper voice, too loud for a Sunday morning at 11 a.m.

"Morning!" Seungkwan chirps, a little too cheerfully for someone who clearly has no understanding of the term hangover. He's holding a glass of water, like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, and you can't help but squint at him through half-closed eyes. He’s got that same gleeful smile on his face, looking way too awake for someone who shares an apartment with someone who just wants to die right now.

"Seungkwan, please... It’s too early for your brand of happiness," you croak, your voice hoarse and barely audible. Your throat feels like you swallowed sandpaper, and you barely have the strength to sit up.

"Well, it’s already late enough for me to help you feel better," he says with a grin that’s too wide to be genuine, handing you the glass of water and an aspirin like it’s some kind of miracle cure. "You don’t want to end up like last time, do you?"

You roll your eyes, trying to sit up but the world tilts dangerously. You clutch the glass like it might actually save you, your fingers trembling from the effort. "Last time?" you mutter, still a little too disoriented to make sense of anything. “I barely remember last night.”

Seungkwan’s grin stretches even wider. "Oh, last night was a memorable one," he says, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he’s got the best secret in the world.

You squint at him, struggling to keep your eyes open. "What do you mean by that?"

The moment it leaves your mouth, the memories come rushing back, one after another, like a broken dam finally giving way. You and Vernon had gone outside for some air, the cool night breeze refreshing against your skin. You remember the conversation turning quiet, the alcohol still buzzing in your veins, the way the breeze ruffled his hair, and then...

Oh god. Oh no.

You freeze, the blood draining from your face as your stomach drops. Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to piece it together. You had told Vernon you loved him. In your drunken haze, it had slipped out, but now? Now it feels like the kind of thing you would never, ever do if you weren’t so far gone on cheap whiskey and bad decisions.

You look at Seungkwan, your face crumpling in embarrassment. "I... I told Vernon... I told him I love him."

Seungkwan blinks at you, the shock clear on his face. For a second, it seems like he doesn’t even know how to respond. Then, his eyes widen comically, and a burst of laughter bursts from him. "You said what to who?!" He takes a step back, as if the sheer magnitude of your confession has physically knocked him off balance. "You confessed? To Vernon?" He cackles, his laugh loud and echoing in the quiet of your room.

You slump back against your pillow, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wish the floor would just swallow you up. "I didn’t mean to! I was drunk—okay?" you mutter, your words barely making it out.

Seungkwan is practically vibrating with laughter. "Oh my god, you actually did it," he says between fits of giggles. "That’s so—wait, wait. What did Vernon say back?"

And that’s when the panic sets in. You stare blankly at Seungkwan, your brain spinning. You want to remember, you need to remember what he said back, but it’s a complete blank. The memory of his face, his expression, even his words—they’re gone. As if it never happened. You feel a new wave of nausea rising in your stomach.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to speak. "I don’t remember," you confess, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Seungkwan stops laughing, blinking at you like he’s just realized you might be serious. "What do you mean you don’t remember?" he asks, sounding more confused than before.

You press the heel of your hand to your forehead, trying to steady your dizzying thoughts. "I... I can’t remember what he said back. And that’s worse than not hearing anything at all."

Seungkwan’s face falters for a second, then the teasing glint returns in his eyes. "Well... you have to face him, right? He’s literally just down the hall," he points out, his voice softening as he sits on the edge of your bed. "And you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually. You can’t avoid him forever."

You frown, looking at him as if he's spoken a foreign language. "And why the hell not?"

Seungkwan leans in, his finger counting off the reasons like he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life. "One: he’s our best friend. Two: he lives down the hall, not in another universe. And three..." He pauses, dramatically. "He’s your BEST FRIEND."

You groan, rolling over and burying your face into your pillow, desperate to block out the light, the noise, and Seungkwan’s well-meaning logic. "You already said that," you mumble into the fabric, wishing the pillow could swallow you whole.

"I’m emphasizing," Seungkwan replies, sitting back in a huff. "Emphasizing that he knows you like the back of his hand, stupid. He’s not gonna let you avoid him."

You moan into the pillow. "I can’t even think about facing him right now, Seungkwan. Not today."

"Tough. You’re facing him eventually, whether you like it or not," Seungkwan says, but his voice softens, his hand brushing your back comfortingly. "But hey, I’m your best friend. I’m here to support you through whatever happens."

You just grunt in response, curling back into the pillow like it might somehow shield you from reality. "Great. As long as you’re here to watch me suffer."

Seungkwan grins, his voice full of mischief. "That’s the plan."

You can feel the weight of your poor life choices pressing down on you as you sit in the overpriced, over-crowded coffee shop, nursing the lukewarm disaster that is your latte. It's one of those days where everything tastes like regret—coffee included. Your laptop screen blurs as you try to focus on your prelab. You're supposed to be working, supposed to be productive, but all you can do is mentally list everything that went wrong in your life in the past 48 hours.

The lab professor? Completely useless. Your grade? Already plummeting. And as for the whole Vernon situation? Yeah, let's not talk about that.

You can feel the throbbing pain in your temples as your mind drifts back to that night—the confession that slipped out of your mouth when you were way too drunk. The look on Vernon’s face... God, you're so embarrassed. If there was a hole to crawl into, you’d dive right in and never resurface.

Beside you, Seungkwan is breezing through his own prelab, the same one you’re supposed to be working on, but it seems like he’s in a completely different world. As usual. He taps away at his laptop, his fingers moving in a rhythm like he’s been here for hours—when in reality, he probably hasn’t even started yet. You scowl at your laptop as the blinking cursor mocks you for not getting anything done.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. "God, I hate this class. And I hate that professor," you mutter, rubbing your temples. "Why did I even sign up for this? Why is life like this?"

Seungkwan doesn’t look up from his screen, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Because you're a glutton for punishment. You're just mad because the only thing you're getting out of this lab is the overpriced coffee."

You huff, sloshing your latte around in its cup in a way that makes you wish you could just drown in it. "Yeah, well, I’m about to drown in this lab report if I don’t figure it out soon."

"Should’ve taken easier classes," Seungkwan snorts, and you shoot him a glare. He knows you better than anyone, and he knows you're not the type to shy away from a challenge. You don’t even have the energy to argue, so you let him win this one.

The door chimes as someone enters, and your focus breaks. You glance up, hoping it's just some random student walking in to grab their iced coffee, but no.

Of course not.

You hear that low, familiar voice, the one that makes your heart do a little flip. "Is this seat taken?"

No. No. Fuck.

There, standing by the table, looking like he belongs in some glossy magazine for college students who know how to look effortlessly cool, is Vernon. The guy you still haven’t figured out how to face after that monumental fuck-up of a confession two days ago. And now? Now he’s standing there, staring at you and Seungkwan with a hesitant smile, probably wondering if it’s safe to sit down or if you’re about to sprint out of here like a coward.

Seungkwan, the absolute bastard, beams at Vernon. "Oh no, it’s totally free," he says, too eager. He's so happy to make this as awkward as possible. You could almost feel the smugness radiating off him. "Come sit, Vernon. We could use the company!"

Your heart sinks into your stomach as Vernon takes the seat across from you, not missing the subtle shift in your posture. He looks at you with those eyes of his, eyes that are both too warm and too intense, and you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can’t look at him. You can’t.

You force a smile, but it feels like you’re pushing your lips together with a crowbar. "Uh, yeah. Just working on it," you mumble, barely even aware of what you just said. Your brain is too busy doing its best to not short-circuit. You take another sip of your latte, hoping the caffeine will somehow pull you together. It doesn’t.

Seungkwan, the little devil, doesn’t help at all. He’s practically radiating glee, enjoying your discomfort far too much. "Yeah, Y/N here is just dying to finish her part of the report," he says, clearly trying to get a rise out of you. "But it's okay, she’s doing just fine! Aren’t you?" He shoots you a wink, but Vernon doesn’t catch it—thank God.

Your eyes flick to your screen, looking for any excuse to not talk to Vernon right now. You just need to not look at him. "Actually, I forgot something," you blurt out, standing up abruptly, not even thinking it through. "I just... I need to grab something. I’ll be back in a second."

You don’t wait for anyone to respond. You don’t even look at Vernon as you grab your bag and make a hasty retreat to the counter. Your heart is pounding in your ears, and your breath feels shallow. This was a terrible idea. Why did you invite him to work on the prelab in the first place? Was it because you wanted an excuse to spend time with him? To not feel so much?

You don’t know.

You leave the cafe altogether, your mind racing, and find yourself walking aimlessly for a few minutes, trying to cool off. The cold air outside stings your cheeks, but it’s a welcome distraction from the heat of embarrassment still flushing through your body.

You pull out your phone, needing something to take your mind off everything. It pings almost immediately with a message from Seungkwan:

Boo 🍊: so... how long are u gonna avoid him

You laugh weakly, but it’s more from disbelief than anything else. You text back quickly:

Y/N: i’m not avoiding him

Y/N: i’m just

Y/N: strategically distancing myself until i can look him in the eye without dying of shame

Boo 🍊: ur not gonna go back to the cafe because its too much?

Your phone dings again in quick succession.

Boo 🍊: u realize ur only making it worse right

You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip to suppress a groan. Oh god, Seungkwan, shut up.

Y/N: i’m already halfway across campus

Y/N: oh well, can’t exactly go back now

Boo 🍊: he looks like you kicked him in the nuts and then ran away btw

Boo 🍊: i’m keeping him company

Boo 🍊: ur not getting away with this btw i’m never letting u live this down

You exhale loudly, already feeling the weight of your decision in the pit of your stomach. What did you think would happen? You’ve messed this up royally. Again.

Y/N: I hate you so much.

Boo 🍊: no u don’t ! you’ll see him again soon. probably tomorrow

Y/N: fuck you

Boo 🍊: love u too! don’t worry i’ll handle this

Boo 🍊: good luck with that prelab see u at home <3

You slump your shoulders in defeat, staring at the screen of your phone. There’s no getting out of this. You’ve somehow managed to make this even more awkward. Of course, Seungkwan would drag it out. You wouldn’t expect any less from him.

You drag yourself back into the apartment, the weight of your failed escape attempt still heavy on your shoulders. The door slams behind you, and you sigh deeply, almost as if trying to shake the embarrassment off your body. You kick your shoes off and leave them by the door, your bag slung over your shoulder like a dead weight. You’re so done with everything.

The apartment feels like it’s mocking you—seemingly quiet, except for the hum of Seungkwan’s obnoxiously loud voice floating from the living room. You hear the faint click of his phone screen as you shuffle toward the couch. You can practically feel him smirking at your impending doom even before you see him.

Sure enough, when you walk into the living room, he’s lounging on the couch, sprawled across it in his usual dramatic fashion. He’s scrolling through his phone, one leg thrown over the side, looking like he hasn’t had a care in the world since he woke up.

You throw yourself onto the couch next to him, feeling the familiar softness of the cushions sink beneath you. The weight of the last few hours presses down on your chest. It’s so comfortable here, but you can’t fully relax. Not with him sitting right next to you, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your spectacular mess.

“Don’t even say it,” you groan, pushing yourself into the cushions like they might swallow you whole.

He doesn’t even glance up from his phone. Instead, he lets out a small, knowing laugh. “So... how’s the avoidance game going?”

You just close your eyes for a moment, willing yourself to disappear. “I’m never leaving my room again. Ever.”

Seungkwan bursts into laughter, the sound filling the small apartment and bouncing off the walls. It’s enough to make your skin crawl, but you can’t help but feel a bit of a tug at your own lips. He’s genuinely enjoying your misery, and you hate it. “I mean, it’s been two days, and you’ve already chickened out at the café. That’s a solid record.”

You groan dramatically, rolling your head back against the cushion. “I didn’t chicken out. I just... needed a moment to not make eye contact with him, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Seungkwan says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “That’s why you bolted out of there like a squirrel avoiding a hawk.”

You push his shoulder weakly, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his hoodie. “Shut up, Boo. You have no idea how embarrassing it was.”

“Of course I do,” he says smugly, setting his phone down on the coffee table with a soft thud. “I was the one trying to hold a conversation with Vernon while you were having your little meltdown across campus.”

“Can we please not talk about it?” You bury your face in your hands, muffling your groan of embarrassment.

Seungkwan’s voice is dripping with amusement. “Well, you better figure it out soon. You invited him to our café session, and now you’re running away from your own mess. It’s hilarious.”

You sit up, rubbing your face in exasperation. “I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.”

Seungkwan shrugs, his grin still wickedly satisfied. “Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice. I mean, unless you’re planning to live in that room of yours forever?”

You lean back against the couch, the soft fabric cool against your skin. You feel the weight of your thoughts settle in again, and with it, the overwhelming desire to hide from the world. “I can’t,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gonna know I’m avoiding him on purpose.”

“Yeah, he’s not that dumb,” Seungkwan says, flipping through his phone lazily. “But you know what? You could avoid him for a while. You just need to avoid... everything you’re supposed to do, forever.”

You turn your head slowly to look at him. “That’s your solution? Run away?”

“Pretty much,” Seungkwan says, completely unfazed. “But you have to be more creative. Maybe pretend you’re dead? Or like you have the plague?”

You snort, despite yourself, the idea so absurd that it almost lightens the mood. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just start wearing a sign around my neck: Please, don’t talk to me. I’m a walking disaster.”

Seungkwan grins, his eyes lighting up mischievously. “Honestly, I think it’s a good look for you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hold back a laugh. “You’re the worst.”

Seungkwan stretches out, his grin wide and smug. “Look, I saved you today, but don’t expect me to keep doing this forever. At some point, you’re on your own.” He reaches for his phone, ready to return to his lazy scrolling.

You sit up, the absurdity of the situation hitting you in waves. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out... eventually.”

Seungkwan gives you a side-eye. “Sure you will. But for now, enjoy the free ride, disaster queen.”

It’s just your luck that, of all people, Vernon is your lab partner today. The second your professor calls your name, you feel your stomach twist into knots. You swear your internal groan echoes in the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. Why him?

Across the lab, Vernon’s already tugging on his gloves, eyeing the instructions on the counter like he’s got his shit together. You can’t help but stare at him for a second, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the way he moves like he doesn’t have a care in the world. The thought of having to work with him makes you feel like you’ve been thrown into a pressure cooker, and you’re about to explode.

You try to focus, really, you do. But it’s impossible. Your brain keeps wandering back to him. His fucking hums. His stupid little smile. The way his dark eyes flicker up every now and then to make sure you’re still there. It’s like he knows exactly how much he’s fucking with your head, and the worst part? He’s probably not even trying.

A Bunsen burner hisses in the background, and the sound almost makes you flinch, like it's too loud in the otherwise quiet lab. You try to focus on the beaker in front of you. Try to just get through this. But it’s hard when all you can feel is the weight of his gaze on you.

“Got it, Y/N?” Vernon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He’s leaning against the counter now, watching you with a lazy grin, like he knows what he's doing to you.

Your face flushes involuntarily, and you shoot him a tight smile, hoping to play it cool. “Yeah, got it,” you mumble, though your mind is a jumbled mess. Your hand shakes slightly as you pick up the pipette, and you swear he notices, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s even worse. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin.

It’s bad enough that you’re stuck with him, but now you’ve got to get through an hour-long experiment without combusting. The tension is palpable, and it’s making you want to crawl out of your skin.

But then, just as you’re about to lose it, you spot Seungkwan strutting back from the fume hood. You swear you can feel the relief hit your chest like a tidal wave. Perfect.

Seungkwan doesn’t seem to notice you until you’re already walking toward him, your feet moving on their own accord, desperate to make the switch. When he looks up, his gaze flickers over you, and that smirk creeps onto his lips. The one you know too well. The one that says, I’m going to fuck with you now.

“What’s up, Y/N?” he asks, popping his gum. “Need help with the chemical equations? Or is it more of a personal emergency?”

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “I need to switch lab partners, Seungkwan. Like, now.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Really? What’s wrong? Does Vernon’s inability to mix chemicals properly scare you, or are you just that tired of looking at his face?”

You grimace, frustration bubbling in your chest. God, why’s he gotta make it worse? “No, it’s just… I can’t focus with him staring at me every five seconds.”

Seungkwan’s smirk widens, and you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Oh, so that’s what it is, huh? You’re not focused because Vernon keeps looking at you like you’re his personal chemistry experiment?”

Your heart rate spikes. Fuck off, Seungkwan. “Shut up, I’m being serious,” you mutter, but you can hear the hitch in your voice, and it makes you want to punch yourself in the face.

Seungkwan doesn’t let up, leaning in closer with that same cocky grin, looking far too pleased with himself. “Is that why you’ve been staring at him for the last five minutes, then?” he teases, and you swear you can hear the little giggle in his voice. “I didn’t realize we were doing that kind of experiment today.”

Your blood goes hot. “Stop it!” you hiss, but you can’t keep the embarrassed flush from spreading across your face. “I just need you to switch with me, Seungkwan. That’s it.”

Seungkwan chuckles lowly, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Oh, okay. So you want me to switch with you just because you can’t handle the heat, huh?” He taps his chin, like he’s thinking about it, but it’s obvious he’s already decided.

“Fine,” you say, voice low but firm. “But only if you actually want me to send that video of you drunkenly crying about chickens to the entire friend group. You remember that one, right? The one where you were saying, ‘Those chickens are my babies, I love them so much’?”

Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of panic. You almost smile, but you hold it in. Gotcha.

“No,” he says, shaking his head like he’s trying to backpedal. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply smoothly, crossing your arms. You can feel the smug grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So, how about it? You switch with me, or I make everyone’s day a little more interesting?”

Seungkwan looks around the room, clearly considering his options. He’s not stupid enough to let that video go public. “Okay, okay, fine. You win, Y/N. But you owe me for this one, big time.”

You give him a sweet smile. “Deal.”

Seungkwan walks over to Vernon, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Vernon, buddy, looks like you’re stuck with me as your partner today.”

You barely suppress a laugh as Vernon’s head jerks up in surprise. “Wait, what? Really?”

You take that as your cue and grab your stuff, moving toward Chan’s station. You’re feeling lighter already, knowing the rest of this class won’t be nearly as awkward. Chan’s a great guy—easygoing, level-headed, and most importantly, not Vernon.

You set your bag down on the counter and look over at Chan, who’s already elbow-deep in his notes, completely unaware of the chaos you just caused. “Hey, Chan,” you say, forcing a cheerful tone despite everything. “Looks like we’re partners now.”

He looks up with a bright smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s been dragged into your mess. “Oh, hey, Y/N! Sounds good to me.” He’s so sweet and always so positive, but… well, the thing is, Chan could not for the life of him keep track of chemical reactions if his life depended on it. This could be the worst decision you’ve made today.

You sit down, a little defeated, as you adjust your gloves and open the instructions. You’re partnered with Chan now, but nothing feels quite right. As sweet as he is, chemistry might as well be a foreign language to him. You glance back over at Vernon’s lab station, which, of course, is conveniently located just a few feet away. You can hear the familiar sound of Vernon and Seungkwan’s voices drifting toward you, but you’re so not ready to face them just yet.

You feel your chest tighten as you try to ignore it, but then Vernon speaks again. “I don’t bite, Y/N,” he teases, his voice cutting through the air like a soft command. It’s casual, playful even, but it does nothing to stop the heat that floods your face.

You swallow hard, praying the blush on your cheeks isn’t visible. This is not the moment. Not the perfect moment to have him distract you. Your pulse picks up at the sound of his voice again, and you can almost feel his gaze on you. You don’t look back, but you know he’s probably waiting for a response.

“Y/N?” Chan says softly, his voice pulling you out of your mental spiral. “Are you okay?”

You quickly look away, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your neck. “I’m fine,” you mutter to yourself. “I’m fine.”

Your stomach flips as an idea strikes you—fake sick. You’ve done it before, and it’s a perfect way to buy yourself some time away from Vernon, maybe even the entire day.

Just get through this, and then you can run away forever.

Your body starts to tremble slightly as you put a hand to your forehead, doing your best to sound miserable. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good...”

Chan immediately rushes to your side, concern flashing across his face, and you can hear Seungkwan's snort of disbelief. Vernon looks at you with a furrowed brow, clearly not buying it. But he’s too polite to say anything. “You sure? You look kinda green.”

That’s your cue. You make a dramatic move, leaning over the lab counter, your hands gripping it as if you're about to collapse. Your stomach gives another exaggerated roll as you close your eyes. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” you say in a voice that’s so over the top, it sounds like it came straight out of a soap opera.

You expect Vernon to panic, maybe grab your arm to steady you, but instead, he just stares at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Really?” he asks slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Or is it that you want to run away again?"

Oh my god. You freeze, horrified that Vernon might actually be onto you. You try to hide your terror behind your palm, rubbing your eyes like you’re just too tired to keep up the act. “No! No... I’m definitely sick,” you say with a cough for added effect.

But Vernon isn’t having it. He places his hands on his hips, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “You’re not even trying to hide it. Just admit you’re avoiding me. What’s the deal?”

You panic, fully aware that your ridiculous performance isn’t going to fool him for long. You grab your bag off the back of the chair with a look of pure desperation. “No, no! I just—uh, I need to go to the bathroom! I’ll be right back, promise!”

Before Chan can protest, you push past him, stumbling out of the lab with as much speed as your shaking legs can muster. You burst out into the hallway, nearly running into a group of students on their way to their next class. Too close. You force your breathing to steady as you walk briskly, acting like you haven’t just staged the most obvious escape ever.

You round the corner, ducking into the nearest restroom. You push open the door, locking it behind you, leaning against the cool tile wall as you try to gather yourself. What is wrong with you?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seungkwan, of course.

Boo 🍊: i was joking when i said u should get the plague idiot

Boo 🍊: ur the worst actor i’ve ever seen

Y/N: i had to ok

Y/N: this is a nightmare.

Your phone buzzes again almost immediately.

Boo 🍊: ur so obvious it’s kinda gross

Boo 🍊: chan’s gonna fail this lab for u. also. U NEED TO TALK TO VERNON AT SOME POINT

Y/N: not today!

It’s Friday night. One week since that confession. And honestly? All you want right now is a shot of shitty tequila, a cheap beer, and some damn good music to drown out the past seven days. You’re tired of thinking about it. You’re tired of pretending like last weekend never happened.

The second you and Seungkwan step through the door of Mingyu’s house, you're hit with a wave of noise. It’s too loud, the bass too heavy, but somehow, that’s exactly what you need. The house is packed, the kind of party that screams “let’s fuck up everything in the best way possible.” You spot Mingyu behind the kitchen counter, already wearing that signature smirk of his, mixing drinks for whoever’s brave enough to stand in line. But then—of course—your night has to take a turn.

Vernon.

He’s sprawled out on the couch, head bopping to some random SoundCloud rap, looking way too at ease in his flannel and backwards cap. Fucking perfect. You mentally groan. You’d hoped for at least a few hours of peace tonight, but apparently, that’s not in the cards.

Seungkwan nudges you, elbow digging into your side. “Well, well, well,” he says with that knowing grin. “Guess your worst nightmare is here.”

You shove him back, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Too late,” Seungkwan chirps. “Now, let’s get some tequila in your system.”

You head straight for the kitchen, not bothering with small talk. The music is too loud, the room too warm, and your head is already swimming with the thought of one thing: tequila. You pull the bottle off the shelf with the same speed as if it’s your lifeline, and without hesitation, you pour yourself a generous shot. No chaser. Just straight into your system.

Seungkwan eyes you carefully from the counter. “Careful,” he singsongs in your ear, his voice dripping with teasing. “That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.”

You shoot him a sideways glance, the corners of your lips twitching upward. “Shut up,” you mutter, then down the tequila like it’s water. The burn sears down your throat, and the warmth spreads through your chest almost immediately.

You reach for another shot when—just your fucking luck—Vernon walks into the kitchen. His eyes land on you instantly, like he knew exactly where to find you. You want to swallow him whole—no, just pretend he's not even here– but you know that’s not going to happen.

“Wow, look who’s getting to the good stuff early,” Vernon says, voice as smooth as ever. His gaze flicks down to your hand around the bottle, and then right back up to your face, and something in his eyes makes you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Seungkwan shoots you a sideways look, his smirk turning even more mischievous. With a dramatic sigh, he pushes himself off the counter, clearly done with this conversation already. “Alright, well, have fun with that,” he says in a sing-songy voice, clearly aware of how uncomfortable this is getting. Then, he makes his exit, blowing you a mocking kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the living room.

You roll your eyes at his back, shooting him a silent curse with your eyes, but the moment Vernon steps forward, all that annoyance evaporates into something else entirely. Your focus is back on him, and that damn smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know tequila was your thing,” Vernon says casually, leaning against the counter next to you. You move to pour another shot, but Vernon steps closer, cornering you against the counter with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. The proximity is almost suffocating, and you feel your pulse spike in your neck, your heart pounding. You try not to make eye contact, your gaze fixed firmly on the bottle in your hand, as if it could somehow shield you from him.

Vernon’s smirk widens, and he leans in slightly. “Y’know, you need to look at me to make conversation,” he says, voice low and teasing.

Before you can even process what’s happening, his hand slides under your jaw, his fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His eyes are almost burning into you, and you can’t look away—not that you want to.

For a second, you forget about everything. Your entire focus narrows to the guy standing in front of you, the guy who’s been fucking with your head for over a week now. You try to focus, try to snap yourself out of it, but damn—he looks good. Too good. That stupid backwards cap, the flannel shirt that’s just loose enough, the way his jawline sharpens under the dim kitchen light. You swallow, trying to keep your cool, but fuck, he’s too close. Too damn close. You want to push him away, but the closeness has your body freezing, every nerve on edge.

It’s the same feeling you had last week. And it’s happening again.

Fuck. No. This is not how it’s supposed to go.

Your mind races, trying to think of something, anything, to get out of this. Then—like a miracle—Mingyu strolls by, not even realizing the chaos you’re trying to keep under control. You latch onto him like a lifeline.

“Mingyu! HI!” you shout, ducking under Vernon’s arm and making a beeline for him. You grip his arm with a little too much force, probably dragging him away from whatever conversation he was having with someone else. He looks at you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but you don’t even give him a chance to ask why you’re acting like a madman.

“Long time no see! Let’s catch up!” you practically drag him out of the kitchen before Vernon can say anything, and Mingyu shoots a glance over his shoulder at you. He looks confused, but soon the music envelops you, and he happily throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you onto the dance floor.

The music is a blur of bass and off-key notes, but the tequila in your system helps dull everything, smooths out the jagged edges of your thoughts. Mingyu is practically yelling in your ear, his voice way too loud for the volume of the song, but you can’t help but laugh at his unrelenting enthusiasm. He’s screaming the lyrics to some cheesy pop song—something from five years ago that you can’t even remember the name of—but he’s grinning, and you can’t help but mirror his energy. For a moment, the heat of the room and the chaos of the party become distant, fading into the background, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you forget about Vernon. You forget about everything.

Mingyu pulls you into a ridiculous spin, and you laugh, the sound lost in the music. His arm tightens around your shoulders as he twirls you back into his chest, but just as you feel yourself getting lost in the rhythm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s Seungkwan.

You swipe the screen without thinking, still caught in the whirl of the dance floor.

Boo 🍊: he’s staring at you

Your heart drops.

You freeze mid-spin, suddenly feeling too warm, too exposed, like you’re still back in that kitchen, caught between the tequila, the tension, and the pull of Vernon’s eyes. The phone screen flickers in your hand, but you don’t even need to read the message again to know what it means. You know Seungkwan’s been watching the two of you dance around each other, and you know who he is. Vernon’s watching you. He’s staring.

You glance over your shoulder instinctively, and there—across the room, leaning against the doorframe—is Vernon. That tantalizing smirk is still in place, like it’s carved into his face. His eyes are on you, not even trying to hide it, and that stupid look on his face says everything. The way he watches you makes your skin tingle, and the realization hits you harder than the tequila burn in your stomach.

“Yo, you good?” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the noise, pulling you back to the present. You swallow hard, still trying to shake the feeling of Vernon’s gaze on you. You force a smile and nod, but all you can think about is the way Vernon is watching you.

“Mingyu,” you murmur, grabbing his wrist, “I think I need a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can protest, you make a beeline for the kitchen again, your feet moving quicker than you can process. You need space. You need air. The heat of the dance floor still clings to your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the suffocating feeling that’s starting to build in your chest. The tequila's starting to wear off, but your nerves are still shot, and you can’t get rid of the image of Vernon leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you like he’s just waiting for you to make a move.

The kitchen’s quieter, the music a distant hum, and you’re almost grateful for the space, the absence of people. You grab the tequila bottle again, not caring if anyone’s watching. You pour yourself another shot, but before you can even bring it to your lips, you hear footsteps approaching. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

“I think we should talk,” Vernon’s voice sounds closer than you expect. You try not to flinch, but you can’t stop yourself from stiffening. You move to step away, but then his hand is on the counter next to you, trapping you in place. You don’t want to look at him, not after everything that’s happened.

“I’m serious,” he adds, tone shifting just slightly. There’s a quiet edge to his voice, a softness you’ve never heard before, but it only makes you hesitate more.

You finally raise your gaze, and for the first time tonight, you meet his eyes. His smirk is still there, but there’s something else too—something you can’t quite place.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you say, your voice lower than you intended.

Vernon’s eyes flicker for a moment, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face, but the moment’s gone too quickly. He chuckles lightly, not mocking, but with a sense of finality.

“Fair enough.” He straightens up, taking a step back, giving you a little more space, but still standing there. “But just so you know…” His voice softens again, the teasing replaced with something a little too sincere for your comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck. That’s it. You can’t be here anymore.

You spin on your heel, heading straight for Seungkwan, who’s been knee-deep in a Mario Kart championship with Soonyoung and Seokmin. The game is so intense that Seungkwan barely notices you storming up to him, too busy yelling at the screen as he tries to secure his victory.

“Time to go,” you say, your voice sharp enough that even Seungkwan can’t ignore it.

He looks up from his game, a little confused. “What? We just GOT HERE!”

“TIME TO GO, SEUNGKWAN,” you hiss, a little louder this time, unable to mask the frustration that’s bubbling up in your chest.

Seungkwan groans, annoyed that his Mario Kart dominance is being interrupted, but he stands up anyway, muttering something about the injustice of it all.

But then, like a fucking curse, Vernon appears in front of you, stepping into your path just as you try to make your exit. His presence feels almost too heavy in the moment, his gaze unrelenting as his lips curl into that same familiar smirk.

“Leaving so early?” he asks, voice laced with amusement, and his eyes lock on yours, steady and impossible to ignore. It makes your stomach flip, and you feel that heat in your cheeks you can’t seem to get rid of.

You avoid his gaze, turning your face just enough to escape the intensity of it. “Oh yeah, early morning,” you mumble, desperate to get out of there. “Lots of stuff to do, classes and all…”

Vernon tilts his head slightly, his smirk widening as if he can see right through your bullshit. “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he says, voice matter-of-fact, as if calling out your feeble excuse is somehow amusing to him.

Shit.

You try to force a smile through it, but it feels like it’s made of plastic, fake and thin. You avoid his gaze like it’s radioactive. “Yeah, uh… just, you know—okay, bye!” You nearly shove Seungkwan out the door before Vernon can say another word.

The second the door slams shut behind you, Seungkwan bursts out laughing, his voice loud in the quiet of the carpark.

“You’re such a mess,” he cackles, still trying to catch his breath. “Did you seriously try to pull the early morning classes excuse? Like, no one knows tomorrow’s Saturday?”

You shoot him a middle finger, too tired to even care. “Shut up, Seungkwan. Just drive.”

He laughs harder, but at least he doesn’t push it further. Seungkwan’s car engine roars to life, and as he drives off, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders. But in the back of your mind, you can still feel Vernon’s eyes on you, like they never really left.

Dinner a week later is nothing fancy—just some ramen you scrounged up after dragging yourself through another shit show of a week. The kitchen, warm and dimly lit by the overhead light, feels like a small refuge, and for a second, you’re fine with being here. The steam rising from your bowl swirls in the air, and you twirl the noodles absentmindedly, trying to ignore the weight of everything slowly settling over you.

Seungkwan’s sitting across from you, casually slurping his ramen, but there’s something in the way his eyes flicker up, a strange glint in them, that makes you pause. The silence stretches for a moment, the kind that feels like it’s waiting for something, and then, as if he can’t hold it in any longer, he drops the bomb.

“Vernon’s coming over later.”

You freeze, a piece of noodle hanging from your chopsticks, your eyes wide. “WHAT?” You nearly choke on the noodles, the shock making you forget to swallow. “Why the hell is he coming over? Are you—seriously?”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a grin that doesn’t match his feigned innocence. “Just to study,” he says, shrugging like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Our lab midterm is in a couple of days, and we can’t figure out the damn ratios for the prelab.”

Your mind stutters, trying to catch up with what he’s saying. Vernon, your uncomfortably charming classmate, is coming here. Of course he is. “Seungkwan, you know I—” You stop, frustrated, searching for words that aren’t quite coming. This is your house, your space, and you’re already struggling with the thought of being alone with him. The awkward tension from the last few days suddenly feels so much heavier now.

Seungkwan, not missing a beat, looks over at you with a teasing grin. “Haven’t you run away enough? It’s been, like, almost two weeks.” He’s got that smirk on his face again, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing all the right buttons to get you riled up.

You glare at him, trying to muster some kind of defense, but your words come out quieter than you expect. “I’m not running away,” you snap, though it’s weak. It’s been two weeks of exactly that. “I’m just—busy. You know, college stuff.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and you feel your resolve crumble under his knowing look. “Yeah, sure. College stuff. That’s totally why you’ve been dodging Vernon for the past week. Can’t blame you though—guy’s got a way of making things... uncomfortable.” He chuckles at his own joke, but there’s an edge of teasing that cuts too close to the truth.

You groan, rubbing your face in frustration. “Stop making this worse.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Seungkwan shrugs, his grin widening. “Haven’t you thought about actually talking to him? It’s not like you’ve got that much time before he shows up.”

“Don’t remind me,” you mutter, then, more to yourself, “I didn’t plan this. He didn’t plan this. This is... This is all just—” You stop yourself, shaking your head, your words trailing off.

Seungkwan chuckles again, but this time, it’s softer, almost like he’s giving you space to breathe. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe stop running away for once. You’ll figure it out.” He slaps you lightly on the back, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

But before you can even gather your thoughts, Seungkwan’s phone rings. He picks it up immediately, urgency lacing his voice, and you’re taken off guard.

“Seokmin?” He pauses, listening. “What? Is the fish… what? It can’t breathe??” He gasps, standing up quickly. “I’ll be right there, man, I swear! I’m coming now!”

He hangs up, looking at you, his face twisting into exaggerated concern. “Emergency. Seokmin’s fish is dying.”

You blink, disbelief painted on your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re actually leaving me with Vernon? Alone?”

“Yup!” Seungkwan says, already halfway to the door. “You’re on your own, Y/N! Don’t burn the place down!” His laugh echoes as he bolts out, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring after him in utter disbelief.

Great. Just great.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. Your stomach does a flip, nerves bubbling in your chest. You almost consider pretending you’re not home, hiding in your bedroom until Vernon leaves. But that’s childish, and you can’t avoid this forever. With a sigh, you pull yourself to the door and open it, finding Vernon standing there, looking annoyingly comfortable with that goddamn grin on his face.

“Hi,” he says, voice teasing but warm. “So, Seungkwan tells me we’re doing some studying?”

You step aside to let him in. The last thing you want is to be rude, but the silence that follows as you both walk to the kitchen feels suffocating. You can practically feel the tension hanging in the air, thick with all the things you’ve been avoiding. His presence lingers, like it’s always been there, and yet it’s different now.

Vernon leans against the counter casually, and you busy yourself with rearranging things on the counter, anything to avoid looking at him. You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t make yourself meet them. Every time you think about what happened, your heart races, and the words you said to him feel like a blur. But they’re always there, hovering on the edge of your thoughts.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence, his voice softer than before. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You freeze. The air in the room seems to tighten, and his words land with the weight of a trap you didn’t see coming.

“What?” You try to laugh it off, but the sound comes out rough, more strained than you intended. “Pshhhh nooooo.”

“You have.” Vernon pushes off the counter, stepping closer to you. His movements are deliberate, but there’s a softness in them as he closes the space. His eyes remain locked on yours, steady and searching, like he’s waiting for you to crack, to finally admit something. You can’t look away, your breath shallow, the pulse at your neck pounding hard. “And you can’t even look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong?”

His voice is gentle, almost too gentle, and it makes your chest tighten. You shift uncomfortably, your arms folding across your body, a silent defense against the intensity of his gaze. The room feels smaller now, every inch of space filled with the heat between you. You feel trapped, your heart hammering in your chest, yet there's nowhere you'd rather be—and that's the problem.

“No, Vern, I just—” You stop, sucking in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I said something I didn’t mean the other night.”

Vernon’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something in them—recognition, maybe? The way his lips part slightly, a mix of confusion and understanding. “You didn’t mean it?”

The words hit like a physical blow, and your stomach twists. You want to take them back, but instead, you find yourself retreating into yourself, avoiding his gaze. “I—what?”

“Did you mean it?” Vernon presses, and you swear you can feel his gaze like a weight on your skin. He’s not backing off, not letting this go.

You’re caught. You open your mouth, but no words come out, and the silence between you feels like it’s suffocating. You feel the heat rising to your face, your hands trembling by your sides.

“Mean what?” you finally manage, voice quieter than you’d like.

He steps even closer now, his body inches from yours, and his gaze doesn’t falter. His lips barely part as he speaks, the words lingering in the air between you. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N. You told me you loved me.”

The room spins, the ground beneath you feeling unsteady. You blink, your chest tightening as the memory of that night rushes back, sharp and overwhelming. Your hands move restlessly, clutching at the counter as if it’ll keep you from falling.

“But I was drunk—” You stumble over the words, desperate to explain, but his gaze doesn’t waver. His eyes are steady, unwavering, and you can’t escape them.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” Vernon says softly, his voice firm, but there’s no anger in it—only a certainty that rattles you.

“I just didn’t mean to put you on the spot—” You try again, but this time, he stops you, his tone more reassuring than you expect.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, his hand reaching out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You didn’t put me on the spot.”

“Okay?” you ask, your voice uncertain. You can’t tell if you’ve just misunderstood everything or if this moment has shifted entirely. You blink at him, still trying to catch up.

Vernon smiles then, a soft, almost affectionate smile, and the air between you shifts. The tension eases just a little, but it’s still thick, like something’s hanging in the balance. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“No…” you whisper, the words coming out almost too quietly, but Vernon just laughs.

“I said I loved you too, idiot.”

You freeze. The words crash into your chest, and you feel the ground tilt beneath you again. This time, it’s harder to recover from. “You—you WHAT?”

Vernon chuckles, his grin widening, and this time, it’s teasing, almost mischievous. “Come on,” he says, stepping closer. His chest is almost brushing yours now. “I love you too. Can you stop running away now?”

“I WASN’T!” you protest, but the words fall flat, not convincing even yourself. Your body is tense, but his proximity makes your heart race in a way you don’t quite understand.

“You were,” Vernon says, his smirk softening just enough to catch you off guard. You feel your knees go weak at the way his gaze softens, like he’s pulling you into something you’re not sure you’re ready for. “But it was kinda cute, y’know?”

Before you can even think of a response, he's right there, too close—like, uncomfortably close. His presence feels like it’s swallowing up all the space between you, and suddenly, you’re backed up against the counter, like he’s somehow managed to get you cornered without even trying. It’s all too familiar, too much like that night at the party. You can’t help but stiffen, but it’s not bad, just... intense.

You can feel the heat radiating off him now, like it’s pulling you in, and the way he’s leaning in just enough that you can’t help but tilt your head to meet his eyes—your heart starts hammering in your chest. Too close. Way too close. Your body wants to take a step back, but you don’t, mostly because you’re pretty sure you’re not even sure where to go from here.

And he knows it. You can see it in the way he’s standing, like he's completely unbothered, like it’s no big deal that he’s got you backed up into a corner. Your shoulders feel tense, but your feet just stay planted where they are, like they’ve been glued to the floor. His gaze locks with yours, and you can feel that pull, that thing that makes it hard to breathe—like your chest is getting tight and you’re not sure if you want to run or stay.

There’s this low buzz in the air between you two, and you don’t know how much of it is him or how much is just your heart freaking out. His breath is right there, close enough that you’re aware of the way it catches every time you look at him. And you can’t even tell if you’re annoyed at how close he’s gotten or if your mind is too distracted by how nice it feels to have him this near.

You’re trapped, but you’re not sure if you mind it. It’s like your chest is about to burst from the tension, or maybe it’s going to stop completely. Either way, you're not entirely sure which one you're hoping for.

“No more running,” he murmurs, his voice low, steady, eyes never leaving yours. There’s no doubt in his tone, no hesitation, like he’s already made up his mind. The space between you two feels charged now, the air thick with the unspoken.

“No more running,” you echo, the words slipping out before you can stop them, and for the first time, they feel right. You’re not sure why, but you believe it.

And then, Vernon leans in, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss is slow, soft at first, like he’s giving you space to catch up. His lips are warm and a little sweet, tasting faintly of mint from the gum he’s been chewing earlier. You inhale through your nose, catching the subtle scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of wood and citrus—that wraps around you like it’s always been there, like it’s familiar. Every part of him seems to make the world outside feel distant, unimportant. The tension, the uncertainty, the past few days—they don’t matter anymore.

The pressure of his lips increases, more certain now, and the warmth of his mouth sends a flutter through you. You lean in, responding, your hand instinctively finding the chain around his neck, pulling him closer, as if you can’t quite get enough of him. It’s slow, deliberate, like he wants to savor it just as much as you do. For the first time in days, everything feels like it’s in its right place.

When he pulls back, it’s just enough to speak, his lips still lingering on yours. “Y’know,” he says with a playful grin, “We could’ve been doing this two weeks ago if you weren’t so emotionally constipated.”

You laugh, breathless, pulling him closer by his chain. The heat creeping up your neck is almost unbearable. “Shut up,” you protest, half-smiling. “You can’t blame a girl for what she says when she’s drunk.”

“I won’t,” he agrees with a smirk, kissing you again, this time a little more urgently. “But I can’t make any promises about Seungkwan.”

From the hallway, you hear Seungkwan’s unmistakable voice, a triumphant cheer echoing from the door.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 days ago

Text

♡ 𝕒 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕖 ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jeongin x girlfriend!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/comfort

♡ Summary: Jeongin's the type of boyfriend who never makes you question how much he cares for you. Still, there's one nagging insecurity you haven't been able to move past: Letting him see you naked. Sick of letting your fear get the best of you, you decide that tonight's the night to finally open up to him and it turns out you might've been afraid of nothing all along.

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: body insecurities, nudity, a lil making out, mentions of sex, jeongin loves to touch your body, praise, and just all around fluffiness otherwise

♡ A/N: This started out as an anon request but I lost the post for that request (brb crying) so now we have a lil I.N comfort fic that will hopefully make my chubby Jeongin biased babes feel good in their skin cause you totally deserve to.

Moments like these Jeongin wishes could last forever. Between touring, appearances, and studio sessions his schedule’s been brutal lately, leaving him with little to no time to spend with the one girl he treasures most in the world—you. But tonight none of that matters. The world beyond the walls of his apartment doesn’t exist. There’s only him cozied up under a blanket on the couch with you cuddled against his body, your head resting on his chest as you lazily play with the strings of his hoodie.

The room’s dark except for the glow of the television. A movie’s playing but neither of you are truly watching it. His eyes are glued to you, committing to memory how beautiful you are from this angle. You seem so comfortable in his arms, so at peace, and the feeling’s infinitely mutual.

Your own gaze is fixed on the screen but every image and sound you take in is passive. What you’re truly focused on is a thought that’s been cycling through your brain all night. Before you left to head over here you told your roommate not to wait up, you’d be spending the night at Jeongin’s place. Never one to pass up the opportunity to tease you, she asked if you needed to borrow a sweater or something to sleep in. You instantly regretted admitting to her over drinks that Jeongin has yet to see you naked, even after months of being together.

Whenever you have sex you keep the lights off and throw your clothes back on immediately after. If you shower and he’s around you always make sure to bring your clothes with you into the bathroom. Even Jeongin, who never wears anything to bed, always has something on when you sleep over to make you more comfortable.

It’s nothing he’s ever complained about or tried to make you feel guilty for. More than anything he just seems happy to be with you, accepting your boundaries without hesitation. It’s one of a million reasons you’ve come to love him as much as you do. Still, you know that hiding from him isn’t something you can do forever. It isn’t something that you want to do forever.

“Baby” he says sweetly, petting your cheek, “You ready for bed?”

You take a deep breath, making up your mind that tonight’s the night. Your stomach sinks at the thought of how he might feel when he sees your body but at least you’ll know now before you fall for him any harder.

“Mmhmm” you nod, nuzzling your cheek against his chest one last time before sitting up.

Jeongin hops up and gets to work clearing the snacks from the coffee table. With full hands, he leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. “You can go ahead. I’ll meet you in there in a second, okay?”

You agree and gather the blanket in your arms, trembling as you shuffle down the hall towards the bedroom. It’s a short walk but it feels eternal. You’ve stepped through this threshold a dozen times by now but somehow this feels like your first. Suddenly the oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that once shielded your insecurities have you sweating like a sinner in church. It’s suffocating.

Tossing the blanket onto the bed, you tug your hoodie off to feel the fresh air kiss your skin. The coolness eases the tension in your body, leaving your hands a bit less shaky as you slip your sweatpants down and kick them aside. You stare down at your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs and your fluffy thighs that are just barely visible in the long t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your chest tightens as you pinch the bottom of your shirt, lifting the fabric little by little. It slides above your thighs, around the contours of your hips, revealing the panties you chose specifically for tonight. They’re silk, rose pink, with a lace trim and a delicate bow in the back and they’re the prettiest panties Jeongin’s ever seen simply because you’re wearing them.

“Did I, uh, miss something?” Jeongin asks, frozen in the doorway.

Usually when he walks into the room you’re already under the covers waiting for cuddles he’s beyond eager to give you. Being met with this is something new entirely and he can’t help the way his heart races at the sight of it. You turn to find him staring at you wide eyed, shock painting his face.

“Well, uh, I…” you stutter, fidgeting with the trim of your shirt, “I know you don’t really like sleeping with your clothes on and the weather’s really nice tonight so I thought, maybe, it’d be nice if we did that.”

Jeongin closes the distance between you, his shock melting into concern. He brings an arm around your waist, stroking your side as he studies your expression.

“Baby, I already told you I’m cool with our clothes being on. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You rest your hand on his, soaking in the warmth of his touch. “It’s okay” you insist, immediately picking up on his skepticism. He doesn’t believe you for a second. You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in them even as they narrow in your direction. “I want you to see me, all of me, I don’t wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what? Did I…”

You cut him off before he can finish, refusing to let him believe for a second that there’s anything he did wrong. “No, Innie, you’re so good to me. It's just…I’m not the smallest girl. Feeling me is one thing but seeing me it’s…it’s…”

Your breath hitches at the sensation of Jeongin’s hands massaging your body. He smooths the plushness of your figure beneath his palms, stopping to squeeze your love handles, your belly, your thighs.

“Seeing you would be a gift” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours. “I’ve felt your body in the dark and I’m already addicted to how beautiful it is. If you take your clothes off or not, nothing will change. I promise.”

There’s no denying the rush that you get from being touched by him. You feel it every time, the impulse to let him tear your clothes off. The longing to feel his gaze dance over your naked body the way his hands do. Typically you fight it, your fears dulling your urges, but tonight you don’t. Instead you sweep him into a kiss laced with passion, guiding his hands to grip the fabric of your shirt.

“Help me take it off, please” you beg, too cute to deny.

Jeongin nibbles at your bottom lip, “Only if you help me too.”

“Deal” you giggle as he steals your breath away, hungrily pulling you back into the kiss.

Your clothes are shed gently and slowly like the petals of a flower. One after the other, his and then yours. All the while Jeongin’s lips are drawn to yours like magnets. Every break he has to take is a small form of torture. You could kiss him every second of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to drown in it.

He can only bring himself to stop when he feels skin to skin contact. Your naked body’s pressed to his in the bright lighting of his room. He could see you if he wanted to, glance down and delight in the pleasure of something he’s only experienced in his imagination, but instead he focuses on your gorgeous face, his heart set on making sure this is what you really want.

“Can I look?” he asks, fingertips lightly trailing up and down your spine.

You pause, pacing yourself for a decision you know you can’t turn back from, “It’s okay. You can look.”

Time seems to stand still as Jeongin takes a step back and his gaze falls below your shoulders where your naked body awaits in all its vulnerability. His is the smooth, toned body that you already know it to be. You’ve caught glimpses of it here and there when he’s changed in front of you. And yours is beyond what he’d imagined during those long nights spent blindly exploring your form beneath the sheets.

At first he says nothing, does nothing. He only stares straight ahead, scanning you from head to toe. But just as the nervousness threatens to return he cracks a smile, his face lighting up, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” He exhales the words as naturally as he breathes.

You blush, a giggle escaping your lips, “Oh my gosh, stop it.”

“Stop it? How can I? Look at you.”

Your self doubt wants to tell you that he’s lying—that these words you never imagined you’d hear couldn’t possibly be true—but you can’t deny the way Jeongin’s looking at you or the butterflies swarming your stomach. You try to bring your arms around yourself, a thoughtless attempt at hiding away again, but he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers between yours.

“I mean it” he whispers, thumbs lightly grazing your skin, “Your body’s gorgeous and I feel lucky that you let me lay eyes on it. Thank you.”

Your cheeks heat up and you dip your head down, too flustered by his words to maintain eye contact. Jeongin cups your cheek, tilting your head back up. He’s stubborn as always, refusing to let you escape his affection.

“You think so too, don't you?” he asks, his lips floating back to yours. He almost kisses you, just almost, but lets his lips dance there, teasing you with their warmth.

“Think what? I don’t…” you begin to speak but the feeling of his hands making contact with your belly steals away what was coming next. You let out the softest breath, bordering on a hushed moan. His touch always sets your soul on fire but this time there’s something different about it. Some new aspect of it that has your head all fuzzy and your knees going weak.

“Think that I should feel lucky that I get to see you” he says, massaging the plush of your belly, “And grateful that I get to touch you.”

He glides his palms down to your hips, taking indulgent handfuls of your curves as your body gives into his touch. Your fingertips run up his arm, feeling the ridges of his muscles as they flex with every breath. His body shivers, your quiet praise doing to him exactly what his does to you.

“You can’t say things like that, Innie.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because I might start believing it.”

Jeongin flashes you that dimpled smile, “Good. I want you to.”

His lips collide with yours again and it feels like the whole room’s spinning because it is. He closes his arms around your waist, kissing you lovingly as he twirls you towards the bed. Before you know it your head’s resting on a pillow as your body sinks into the softness of the mattress. You can’t tell if it’s the mattress or the euphoria of Jeongin’s tongue tangled with yours but it’s like you’re floating on a cloud.

Jeongin kisses you like it’s the last time your lips will ever meet. His hands explore your body like they’re terrified to forget even the tiniest detail of what you feel like. The affection he pours into you is overwhelming yet you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop.

He saw you, everything about you, and the only place he ran to was your arms. You feel special, cherished in every way for exactly who you are. All your worries seem like nothing more than silly little things in the presence of his adoration.

Finally breaking from the kiss, the necessity for air forcing your lips apart, Jeongin curls up beside you, keeping you in his arms as he slips a blanket over your naked bodies. You rest your head on his chest the same way you did on the couch, only now your mind isn’t wandering off somewhere far away. It’s right here with him, basking in the moment.

“Promise not to hide from me anymore” he sighs, planting the sweetest kiss on your forehead.

You relax into his arms, smiling as your heavy lids fall shut, “I promise.”

You thought you’d feel more vulnerable lying beside him with your clothes in a pile on the floor but being like this with him is the safest you’ve ever felt, the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, in your own skin. Hide from him? And miss out on a feeling like this? Never again.

#stray kids x female reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x you #jeongin fluff #jeongin x you #jeongin x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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