#worlds second worst situationship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stvolanis · 10 months ago

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i loveeeeee ur writing ah!!!!! just read ur most recent farleigh one and i was foaming at the mouth <3 idk if ur reqs are open but i cant stop thinking about being in a situationship with farleigh and finally getting sick of it, u break up with him and hes like ‘?? whatever’ thinking that u will come back but when u dont after a few days/weeks he starts lowkey panicking and basically begging u to take him back… just need him crying begging and being pathetic <3 rlly making him beg for it and purposely making him jealous with other guys just to make him suffer :p then when u finally decide to forgive him he fucks u crazy good and RAW 💕

Thank you so much! Also, sorry if this isn’t like EXACTLY what you wanted D:

Love & War

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start! X Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: foul language, situationship, toxic! Farleigh, mentions of drugs & alcohol, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, crying

NSFW WARNINGS: Switch! Farleigh, Switch! Reader, choking, spitting, tummy bulge, face sitting, breath play, slight size kink, slapping, degradation, praise, dumbification

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh Start was a cunning, asshole of a man. You’d know, because you’ve been in love with him since you’re late highschool days.

Well—you didn’t know him personally till you both started attending Oxford. You admired him from a distance, as did many other people. You were never popular enough to bask in his limelight. You only ever dreamed of being with someone as amazing as him.

You thought Farleigh had no idea who you were, and truth be told, he didn’t. But he knew of you. He seen you everywhere, always somehow where he was. You were pretty, probably the most prettiest girl he’d ever seen; you were just so quiet. He knew that the people he hung around would eat you alive. You wouldn’t survive in his world.

So, he never dragged you into it. He watched you from afar for years, both of you unknowingly having feelings for each other. Deep down inside, Farleigh knew his friends weren’t the only reason he couldn’t be with you. He, himself had many issues of his own. One of the worst ones being his fear of rejection, and the second runner up; his pride. Always held so high, never coming down for anyone. It would get him hurt one day, but he’d have to realize that on his own.

When you began attending Oxford, you became friends with Oliver, who had become friends with Felix. He was your ticket into the “in crowd”, as you liked to call it.

You attended parties, stuck around for drinks and quickly grew popularity of your own. This didn’t go unnoticed by Farleigh, who you finally, after years of silence, began to talk to.

It was everything you imagined. He was nice, funny, a bit of a bitch in just the right way. Even when you were in a group of people, your eyes somehow always found his. The two of you would sneak away together, talk about nothing aimlessly for hours on end. Counting stars as you rambled about your favorite constellation.

At night, you’d meet at the bridge, sit on the edge in complete silence just to be in each others presence. Your hands would meet, and electricity sparked through your body. He made you feel like you were walking on clouds, and there was never a dim day when you were with him.

He was charismatic, confident, charming—everything you wanted to be. You were complete opposites of each other, but in just the right way to balance each other out. He noted every little thing about you, so much so that he began to do some of the things you did.

He’d use the dorky slang you used subconsciously when talking to other people, or start playing with the pretty rings on his finger like you told him you did when you got nervous. He listened to the music you recommend him, and connected the dots as to why you liked those songs. It all made sense, they explained you perfectly.

Everything was going great, till it wasn’t.

You didn’t know how it happened, or why, or maybe even what you could’ve done that changed him—but suddenly, he started acting different around you. The time you spent together was shortening and as were his touched and glances.

And the worst part about it? You weren’t in a relationship. You never where, but everyone just kinda knew that you were Farleighs’, and Farleigh was yours. No one ever questioned it, not even you, till now.

As you sat across Farleigh at the pub, playing with the flimsy black straw in your cocktail. You were so tired of him and his hot and cold actions and words. First moment he wanted you, and the next, he acts like he doesn’t even know you. It hurts, and you were sick of it.

Farleigh was talking to Felix about their home in Saltburn and stupid stories of how they used to throw these ‘amazingly grand’ parties during the summer and breaks they had. You huffed, standing up before harshly pushing in your chair. Why did you have to sit here and deal with this fuckary if you didn’t have to? You deserved better than the half-assed shit he was barely even offering.

As you walked away from the table full of people, a certain pair of eyes followed you, but you’d rather have died than look back. You heard footsteps follow hastily behind you as you exited the pub, the cold air welcoming you as you shivered.

“What’s your problem?” He shouted from behind you. You laughed dryly, spinning around to face him on your heel. “Oh you must be fucking kidding.” You laughed out. “My problem? No, what the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back at him.

“You’re the one who stormed off like a damn toddler! So enlighten me.” He fired back at you with furrowed brows. You felt your eyes water. God, you didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it hurt so badly. “Farleigh…why are you being like this?” You muttered.

He groaned as he ran a hand down is face. “Jesus, what are you on about?” He yelled out. “You keep leading me on!! I don’t understand it. You want me one second and the next you don’t!” You yelled back, pausing for a moment.

“You act like you love me and leave me the next second and it hurts, Farleigh. You hurt me!” You sobbed out, wiping your tears from your cheeks with your sleeve. He was taken aback for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. Almost as it he was at a loss for words. “That’s not—no, I didn’t—“ he started, but you cut him off as he reached to grab you.

“No. We’re done. Whatever we had is done. It’s over.” You said as you back away from him. Something inside of him snapped, and you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and eyes hardened. “Fine. Go on then. See if I give a fuck.” He chuckled out, shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out his mouth. After everything you’ve said and done together, he has the audacity to act like he’s the superior one in this situation? It was the icing on the cake for you.

Tears ran down your face, and as they hit the ground, Farleigh felt his heart clench. Never did he wanna hurt you, but it’s what he had to do, or so he thought. He was gonna have to leave to go back to Saltburn with Felix in a month, and he couldn’t bring himself to take you.

Yes, he had fun times at Saltburn—but his family was crazy, rich, narcissistic assholes and he didn’t want you around them. More over, he didn’t want someone like Venetia to corrupt you in that way. He didn’t want you to become like her.

He knew he was being a dick, distancing himself from you. And he planned to keep it that way, but god, you made it nearly impossible to stay away. You were so inviting, how could he not succumb to his urges when it comes to you? He knew better, but he felt on top of the world when he was with you and he didn’t wanna let that go.

Watching you walk away from him right now made tears form in his own eyes, but all he could do is watch as you slipped further and further away from him. And he knew it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t communicate to you what the problem with himself was. He felt like such a coward, but he refused to hurt you more than he already had.

It had only been two weeks since you and Farleigh fell off. It was hard for you, and it was the hardest thing you’d ever done, but it was needed. You knew that.

When you stopped talking to him, you continued being friends with Felix and Oliver, but it was a nuisance. You were trying your hardest to forget about the tall, curly haired man and move on with your life, but they nearly made it impossible.

When you would all hang out, other friends included, Farleigh would show up and say act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Felix and Oliver weren’t dumb, Farleigh was the one who came crying to them about what had happened. They seen right through Farleighs facade, acting as if he’s okay.

They were doing this kind of stuff on purpose, casually. Asking you about Farleigh, or bringing him up in conversation. They wanted you to give Farleigh another shot, but you gave him one too many chances to redeem himself, and you weren’t having it.

Felix invited you to one of his little frat parties, and I say little very lightly, because everyone knows the entire campus attends his parties.

You had no interest, but Oliver had insisted on you coming. Making it his mission to drag you out of the comfort of your bed. “You need this.” He insisted as he dug through your clothes. He pulled out an ed-hardy, strapless dress and some red platformed boots. “Oh this is fuckin’ perfect, love.” He smiled as he held it up to you.

“I dunno, Ollie. I don’t think I should go..” you muttered as you sat down on the edge of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Oliver sighed. “Cmon, just let loose tonight. You’ve been moping around for like ever!” He huffed out, yet a smile returning to his face as he held up some jewelry. “These’ll go good with it.” He urged.

You groaned and got up, snatching the clothes and jewelry out of his hands. “Out.” You grumbled. Oliver clapped his hands excitedly as he stepped out so you could get dressed.

The ed-hardy dress he chose for you hugged your curves in all the right places, your tits pushed together with the small padding built into the dress. You let Oliver back in and his jaw dropped. “You look fucking edible! Maybe you’ll get laid tonight.” He said, bumping your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, yet a smile danced on your lips. Oliver always knew how to make the best out of a bad situation, and you loved him for that. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” You laughed, he nodded his head.

When you arrived to the party, the lights were flashing different colors. Red, blue, green, etc. it reflected off of Felixs’ shirt as he approached you, Farleigh following next to him. You clicked your tongue and looked around for an exit.

A boy caught your eye. You’d seen him around the campus, he was friends with Felix a while ago but Farleigh didn’t like him, which ended with Felix ending their friendship. Nathan, was his name, you thought as you approached him.

His eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin top part of your dress. “Hey.” You purred, batting your lashes up at him. He smiled. He was handsome, you had to admit—but no where near as handsome as Farleigh.

You shook your head from the thought, directing your attention back to the mediocre boy in front of you. “Hey, baby.” He whistled out. You giggled, obviously fake, but he couldn’t tell; most likely strung out on cocaine and alcohol.

His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you to him. He was disgustingly sweaty and reeked of cheap cologne, almost as if he poured the whole bottle on himself. Sickeningly too strong, making you gag. You forced yourself to ignore it, instead focusing on the way his hands cupped your ass in your dress.

You turned around, your back pressed to his front, only to be met with Farleighs eyes from across the body-filled room. He was staring at you, then down to the hands around your waist, and his jaw clenched. Anger, betrayal and hurt was all Farleigh felt as he watched some stranger feel you up.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. He brought this upon himself, and he knew that. But he also knew he’d do anything for your forgiveness, so he marched his way over to where you stood. You knew you should have ran away, but you didn’t.

You let him rip you away from the stranger holding you. You let him drag you all the way back to your dorm silently, a painfully tight grip on your upper arm the whole way there. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Once you reached your dorm, he slammed you against the door that was now shut. “What the fuck was that, hm?” He muttered. But something was different. His voice, still hard, wavered and you noticed tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered.

All the sudden, he broke down. The tall boy, usually filled with confidence and pride fell to his knees before you with a small, barely noticeable sob. You stood there, unknowing of what to do, or what to say. This was new territory for you.

“M’sorry, baby. Please—“ he said through his tears. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Know I was I piece of shit, I’m sorry.” He repeated the words you longed to hear over and over again. “I’m sorry.” He said. Those two words weren’t ever said enough from him, and you basked in every moment he said it. It made you feel a sense of power over him.

You turned his arrogant, cocky ass into a whiney little boy begging for your forgiveness at your feet and, nasty enough, you fucking loved it. You loved that only you were able to bring him to his knees like this.

“Oh, You’re sorry? Hm?” You cooed down at him, running your fingers through his curly hair. He sniffled as he looked up at you, his pretty lashes wet with tears. “So fuckin’ sorry. Promise I’ll be better.” He muttered out, hugging your stomach.

“Prove it.” You told him. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands as he looked up at you again. “What?” He muttered. You smiled. “Get on the bed.” was all you said.

He nodded before climbing onto the bed, laying on his back. “What—“ he started, but you didn’t let him finish. “Eat my pussy good, make me cum with your mouth and then I’ll forgive you.” You said. He sat up on his elbows and watched you undress through hooded eyes, till you were wearing absolutely nothing.

Your nipples grew hard under the cold air, and the wetness between your thighs he could see from where he lied on your bed; it glistened in the dim light of your bedroom. Your lips were glossy and plump as your tongue glided over them, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

You climbed on top of him, hovering your pussy over his face. His mouth watered at the sight, and he gripped his cock through his pants. Your lowered yourself onto him till your full weight rested on his face.

He began lapping at your cunt with everything he had. Licking and slurping at your juices that ran down his chin. You tasted like heaven on his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. You were the drug in him, and he was going fucking wild.

He was a starved man, and it had been too long since he had you like this. He whined when you lifted off of his face, pushing his head back down when he tries to extend his neck to connect his mouth to your pussy again desperately.

You click your tongue. “So desperate, hm?” You mocked with a laugh. Farleigh played nice long enough, you were holding up his meal, and he didn’t like it. “M’not fuckin done.” He growled out. You let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around your thighs, slamming you back down onto his mouth.

You moaned out as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. “Farleigh!” You yelped. He groaned into your messy cunt, sending vibrations through it that had your head falling back. “Perfect little cunt.” He said, Voice muffled by your pussy.

His laps at your cunt more erratic as your moans became more high pitched, signaling that you were on the verge of your orgasm. Your hips moved against his face, your hands entangling themselves in his hair as you glided your cunt across his tongue.

“M’gonna cum, oh my god—“ you moaned out as you squeezed your breast. Farleigh moaned. “Cum on my fuckin’ tongue. Good girl” He grumbled against you as you felt a wave of pleasure roll off of you. The little pinch in your stomach finally releasing into that delicious orgasm you were so desperately chasing.

Farleigh was drowning in your juices, slurping and licking, taking everything you had to offer. He let you ride out your orgasm, your little clit bumping his nose in just the right way, your moans growing lower as you came down from your high breathlessly.

“M not done with you. Actin like a fuckin slut, letting that motherfucker touch you.” He said through clenched teeth as flipped you around onto your back, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

He lined his cock to your entrance, clenching around nothing. He smeared his pre-cum around your folds before slowly, almost teasingly, sinking into you. You felt him fill you so full of him, almost painfully. The sting was so agonizingly good, and you wanted more.

When he bottomed out in you, his bottom lip was between his teeth, biting down so hard he nearly drew blood. You yelped when he lifted his hips before harshly slamming himself back into you, over and over again.

His pace began to pick up, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass loudly. You gripped around him firmly, so much so that he could barely pull out of you. It made him wince, but he wanted this more than anything. He’s been craving this since you left him; he jacked himself off at night to the thought of being in your warmth.

His hand found it’s way to your throat, gripping tightly. “Take this cock, baby. Know this slutty pussy can take it.” He muttered as pried your mouth open with his thumb. He spit into your mouth, lightly slapping the side of your face, signaling for you to swallow, to which you did.

You felt so small beneath him as he pounded relentlessly into you, the grip on your throat never wavering. His groans were like music to your ear, and the sudden flip in him turned you on to no extent. It was fucking perfect how he could be so needy in two different ways. First, begging for anything you’ll give him, and the next, taking what he wanted from you desperately.

“You with me, honey?” He moaned out against your ear. You mumbled incoherently, your words slurring together. You couldn’t focus enough to form a sentence with the way he was fucking you, your mind going blank. “Fucked you dumb. My stupid little whore.” He mocked as his hips stuttered against yours.

You knew he was close by the way he throbbed and swelled inside you, squeezing down onto him more as he hit that bundle of nerves inside of you with each thrust. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gripped onto Farleighs wrist that held your neck, heels digging into his back.

His breathing was uneven and both of your bodies were sweaty messes together, but what really had you in a chokehold was the way that even when he was dominating you, his whimpers never stopped. Still so needy for your cunt as you let him take what he needed from you helplessly.

He came deep inside of you, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. His hips stilled against you, making sure to stuff you full of his cum, not wanting any of it to go to waste. When he finally released your neck, you looked down to where you were connected but your eyes froze on the sight before you.

His tamed mound of hair above his cock was soaked with your juices, but what really got you, was the evident bulge showing through your stomach. He grabbed your hand, holding it onto your stomach where the bulge of his cock was. “Feel that? Remember, only I can fuck you this good.” He spat out as he pressed down, and you released a moan at the sensation.

His free hand traveled down to your clit, rubbing harshly and fast. “Gonna cum, please, can I cum?” You whimpered out as you clenched the sheets beneath you. Farleigh nodded feverishly. “Cum for me, be a good girl.” He muttered as he slowly fucked his cock into you at just the right pace.

The way he dragged along your walls, paired with the stimulation on your swollen clit, deprived clit had you reaching for the moon as you came for a second time tonight. Your mouth hung agape, not a word slipping out as a breathless moan slid past your plump lips. You needed this. You’d been craving this, and you finally got it.

Farleigh nestled himself in you, leaning his head down till his forehead was pressed against yours. Your hair was matted to your forehead from sweat, as was Farleighs, but you didn’t care. It was the least of your concerns. All you wanted was him, and you finally had him again, and this time it actually felt right.

But the words he spoke was what sealed the deal for you.

“I love you, y/n. From the moment I seen you sitting alone at lunch when we we’re sophomores back in Highschool, I’ve loved you. I loved you when you were small, shy and quiet, barely knowing anyone; and I love you now when you’re the socialist butterfly I know. I love you when you laugh, when you smile, when you speak, and even when you cry.” He said, tears running down your face.

“I will always love you.” He finished, kissing the tears that fell onto your rosy cheeks.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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sunarc · 9 months ago

Text

Synopsis: Falling for gojo was one of your worst mistakes, but loving him when you know he could never love you back was an even bigger mistake.

CW:gojo is an ass, fuck boy gojo,angsty, situationship, oral f receiving, alittle blood not during sex, ownership, reader gets jealous, reader is a bit possessive, fuck boy gojo, 5.1k words

A/N: this is for @honeybleed ‘s RnB collab! i am super late but yeah lol

tags: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

Being around Satoru made your palms sweaty. It was embarrassing to say, but you couldn’t help the bubble of emotions that seemed to burst inside of you when he was near. His presence alone could send your heart on a never-ending race. His eyes could make you melt within seconds with just one look. You always found yourself gazing into them, wondering what secrets they held. They’re so bright, so blue, and so pure. His eyes alone could cause emotions you had never experienced before. You could stare at them for days, stuck in a blue trance that you never wanted to escape. You knew he wasn’t good for you. You had told yourself you needed to let go a thousand times before. When you first laid in his bed, allowed his fingers to graze so delicately against your skin, and allowed his lips to press against your body with lustful hunger, you knew he’d be trouble. You knew he was bad for you when he held your body close to his, caressed your skin with his tender touch after a steamy session, and told you he enjoyed being friends with you. Yet somehow you continuously found yourself being drawn into him, constantly breathing in his musk while he held you close, constantly pushing your feelings away just so you could have one more intimate moment with him.

‘This is the last time’ It was a mantra that went into one ear and out the other. You could never seem to follow through with it whenever you found yourself wrapped in his arms.

You sat silently in the backseat of Getou’s car, fiddling with the wheel of your brand-new skateboard. You weren’t a skater. You had never stepped foot on a board before. It was embarrassing to say, but you had only brought a board because you thought it would give you more time to spend with Satoru. You were overwhelmed with nerves, practically holding your breath the entire ride. You felt like an overfilled glass waiting to run over. One little drop, and you’d spill like a glass of milk. This was the first time you were skating. You had only agreed to go because Satoru promised to teach you. You recalled his bright eyes shining with excitement as you asked. The way his lips curled upward into a sly smile as he pulled your naked body closer to his made you melt. You wanted to be covered in the warmth of the light that seemed to radiate off of him.

“Something on your mind?” Shoko asked, blowing smoke in your direction.

You coughed and waved the cloud of cigarette smoke away before giving her an angry look.

“Just nervous is all,” you whispered.

“Don’t be nervous, skating is like walking, anyone can do it." Satoru turned around from the front seat with a bright smile and chipper voice.

"Oh, that's not-” Getou started but was soon cut off by Satoru’s intoxicating voice.

“And besides, if you break a bone, then you’ll officially be a part of the skater community,” he said as if it were an initiation into the skater world.

Shoko nodded her head hesitantly. "Well, I can agree with that part. The first time I broke a bone was after I landed a 720 flip, the best bone break I’ve had to this day.”

You sat nervously listening to the three of them share past stories of the bones they had broken. If you weren’t nervous before, you were damn near shitting yourself now.

“Thanks, guys, this conversation helped so much,” you said, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

Gojo turned around, giving you a smirk that made your heart flutter.

“Don’t worry, if you fall I’ll be there to catch you,” he gave you a wink.

The smallest things could make your heart feel like it was about to explode. You bit your lip in a failed attempt to hide the smile that was forming. He was like a burst of sunshine through a terrible storm, always there to make things better. You hated admitting it, and you’d never actually say it out loud, but you were in love. Head over heels in love with Satoru. Being around him made you feel like you were floating on cloud nine bursting with an overwhelming feeling of devotion. You could only pray that he felt the same. You were stuck in an intricate web of wonder. Did he love you the way you loved him? The way he’d make you feel when he was around screamed yes, but everything seemed to lead you in the opposite direction. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for the nth time what the two of you were, only to get the same reply of “We’re just chilling,” paired with a passionate kiss to take your mind off of it. You didn’t want to 'chill'. You wanted passion. You wanted the kind of love shared between Achilles and Patroclus, where he’d walk for miles wailing your name because he craved you in your absence. The kind of love like Orpheus and Eurydice, where he’d travel to the depths of hell just to bring you back to him. You wanted the kind of love where he would memorize the thrumming of your heartbeat so well that he’d recognize you just from the sound of it alone. You craved his love almost in an animalistic way, you craved him.

“We’re here people.” Getou’s voice pulled you from your manic thoughts.

You looked around, observing every person in the park. Everyone seemed so professional compared to you. You got out of the car, standing to the side, awkwardly swaying side to side holding your board. Your nerves were getting the best of you as you compared yourself to those around you. Their scratched and dirtied skateboards mocked your pristine, untouched board. You didn’t belong here. You felt anxious watching everyone with experience skate around you.

"Breathe, babe.” Shoko leaned next to you on the car. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

You let out a soft laugh. Satoru and Suguru had run off to start skating, leaving you and Shoko behind.

“I feel like an unprepared freshman entering high school. Everyone seems so good here,” you exclaimed “I feel like I'm going to embarrass myself in front of him”

Shoko already knew about the ‘him’ you were speaking of. She had warned you a million times before to be careful with him, and every time you just brushed it off as her being too worrisome.

“I had a feeling,” she said, lighting her cigarette “You were sweating like you were in a sauna in the car.”

You scoffed and brushed your palms against your pants.

“I was just a little hot!" you exclaimed, making an excuse.

“The windows were down."

“I just want to impress him,” you whined childishly.

She rolled her eyes.

“You want to impress the same guy who just left you in a place you’ve never been before?”

You turned around to see the man of the hour mingling with Suguru. He was poking the cheek of a tall, blond-haired guy who looked as if he was completely over the entire interaction. You turned back to Shoko with an eager smile.

“He’s just excited. He’ll pay more attention when he’s teaching me." You excused his behavior as you grabbed her hand, dragging her over to the two.

You walked over to the chaos, reminding yourself to take deep breaths.

“Hi,” you chimed in, embarrassed at how your voice somehow cracked.

Satoru turned to you, giving you a welcoming smile, and from just a glance, you felt a whirlwind of emotions.

"Hi." His voice was soothing.

It was just the two of you. No intimidating skaters, no Shoko reminding you of how he isn't good for you, just him and his gentle voice.

“Ready to skate pretty?” The nickname made you swoon.

You nodded your head eagerly. Satoru grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the group. You followed behind him with a longing smile. You felt like the main character in a movie living out your dreams. His hand was so soft. He was warm. You never wanted to let him go.

“Welcome to my world, pretty girl. You ready to become one with the board?” He asked as he held your face with a serious gaze.

You were in a somewhat secluded area of the park. You nodded your head, too focused on the way his eyes glistened in the sun to focus on his words.

"Alright, get on the board,” he said, letting you go.

You were in an empty space away from what you considered experts, but Satoru somehow considered novices. Geto and Shoko were off skating doing tricks you could only dream of.

“Will you hold my hand?” Your voice was soft as if you were afraid of his answer.

Gojo was a kind person, one of the friendliest guys you had ever been with. You knew he’d say yes, but you somehow feared a reaction from him anyway.

“Of course,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, his eyes watching you steadily. His smile was soft as he watched you. You stepped onto the shaky board. You felt like a baby, learning to walk for the first time. As you were gathering the courage to place your other foot on the board, you slipped and fell into him. His hand wrapped around your waist as he caught you. You were pressed against his chest, gripping his arm tightly.

“I told you I’d catch you,” he whispered gently.

This was the Satoru you had fallen in love with. The one who would catch you no matter what. He held you up straight on the board, holding both of your hands.

“We’re going to move now, okay?” He spoke lowly. His voice was comforting. You felt like you could do anything with him around.

He took slow steps, moving you on the board. You wobbled, leaning into him ever so often. You let out a soft laugh when you picked up speed a bit.

“You’re doing it,” he laughed with you, proud of your accomplishments. “I bet you’ll be a better skater than me in no time,” he whispered the words as if they were meant for you and you alone.

You smiled with a wordless reply.

"Satoru,” you heard Getou call for him.

Satoru’s eyes were trained on you, keeping you balanced as he replied quickly, “Hold on."

You held onto him as he walked with you on the skateboard, allowing you to get used to being on the board.

“I’m gonna let go soon, okay?" he spoke “Don’t panic, just keep your balance and breathe.” His voice was steady as he spoke to you.

You felt so at ease listening to his gentle words. Confidence surged through you as he gently pulled away, setting you free to sail. You let out nervous laughter as you continued rolling. You stood up straight, feeling braver.

“I’m doing it, I’m really doing it, Toru,” you called out to him, excitement racing through your blood. You turned your head in the direction he had previously been, searching for his smiling face, only to see him gone. Your wide eyes filled with disappointment as you turned your head, searching for him.

“Satoru?” You called out for him.

Your attention was so focused on the blue-eyed boy missing in action that you failed to see the upcoming railing blocking your path. Before you knew it, your body was going one way and the skateboard the other. You lay face-first on the ground, groaning from a mixture of pain and embarrassment. Your mind could barely focus on the pain from your bleeding knee due to fear that he had seen you fall. You sat up, watching your skateboard slowly roll away from you. What a great day to wear shorts without knee pads. Shoko walked over to you and held out her hand, which you gladly took. Your eyes searched for the boy who had failed to catch you. Your heart felt as if it had been sliced into pieces once you saw him. He was far off, standing with Getou and a girl with short brown hair. She was, in simpler terms, gorgeous. Gojo threw his head back, laughing at something she was saying. Not only was she pretty, but she was also funny.

“So much for being there to catch you,” Shoko grumbled as she helped you stand straight.

“Who’s that girl?” you asked.

Your eyes stared woefully at the two. It wasn’t like you were jealous, of course, he could have friends who were girls.

“You’re bleeding are you okay?”

“She’s really pretty." You spoke, lost in thought.

“It’s not too bad I have some bandages in my bag.”

“Do you think he saw?”

“I don’t know; let me check.”

Shoko turned to look at the three mingling. Gojo was leaning into the girl, smirking softly as she spoke to him, never breaking eye contact. His hand moved to push a stray hair behind her ear, and you watched as a soft blush appeared on her cheeks. You felt like you were third-wheeling with how intimate their conversation seemed to be. Getou was long gone skating with other friends, leaving the two behind. Her eyes stared into his with that same look you knew all too well. Those damn blue eyes were trapping her in the same way they did you.

“She’s really pretty.”

“I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

“Do you think she’s a good skater?” You wanted to tear your eyes away from them, but you couldn’t pull away from the sight of him flirting right in front of you.

“Stop comparing yourself." You fell silent at Shoko’s words, “Her beauty does not invalidate yours.”

You looked down, ashamed of your jealousy. You couldn’t help the anger and jealousy that boiled inside of you watching him mingle with someone who wasn’t you. Shoko wiped your knee clean as she continued her rant.

“Stop letting his validation define your worth,” she whispered.

Disappointment was laced in her voice. It wasn’t that she was particularly disappointed in you. She was disappointed in how you completely lost yourself in Gojo. He had somehow controlled your every waking being. His passions were your passions, and his dislikes were yours. You were engulfed in the desire to be everything he wanted, yet there he was right before your eyes, proving to you yet again that you were nothing more than just a pretty girl who gave it up to him.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you watched Shoko sit next to you.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to yourself,” she said as she lit another cigarette. “And don’t forget to forgive yourself; that’s the most important part.”

You sat in silence, watching everyone around you. Shoko promised to stay with you for the rest of the day because she was tired of skating. She sat scrolling mindlessly with her head on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the park, never failing to land on the boy you just couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His attention was all over the girl you had deemed a goddess in disguise. She was pretty, funny, and a damn good skater. You watched mesmerized at the tricks she was pulling off.

"Damn, she’s good,” you whispered.

“That could be you if you want to practice some more, don’t worry, I’ll actually be here," Shoko commented

You sat for a moment, contemplating the idea. Skating wasn’t really your thing. You were slightly disappointed that you were just coming to this realization after paying damn near 100 dollars for your board.

“I actually don’t think skating is for me,” you admitted.

Shoko hummed in response, too engulfed by a TikTok video.

The sun was finally going down when Getou walked over skateboard in hand.

“You two kids ready to go?” You nodded your head like a child as you stood with Shoko.

"Satoru,” he called across the nearly empty park.

You peeked behind him to see Gojo whipping his phone out, handing it to the girl who had captured his attention for the day. You rolled your eyes and began limping back to the car. The pain of the scrape had eased, but you still wanted to clean it when you got home.

“Need help?” Shoko walked up behind you.

“No thanks,” you said softly, wanting to be alone for a bit.

She patted your back and gave you a soft smile before running ahead to jump onto Geto’s back.

"Asshole!” he yelled as he stumbled, trying to find balance.

You smiled at the two and continued your slow pace.

“Pretty girl, wait up." You turned around to see a smiling Gojo chasing you.

You silently cursed yourself at the feeling of your heart skipping a beat because of the nickname he always called you.

You rolled your eyes before turning around. You knew he’d catch up to you with his long legs.

“Hey, what happened? Why are you limping?” His voice was filled with worry.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the rage suddenly boiling over inside of you.

“Oh wow, now you care." You practically yelled.

He flinched from the sudden outburst. He had never really heard or seen you so angry.

“You promised to teach me how to skate.” Your pointer finger stabbed him in the chest. “You promised to stick with me. You promised to catch me if I fell,” you continued.

His mouth hung open, too surprised to form words to speak.

“I was bleeding from my knee and you were too busy flirting to even notice.”

He stared silently, allowing you to continue.

“You didn’t pay attention to me, not once while we were here, and you now have the nerve to ask what happened?!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and began limping towards the car.

Gojo grabbed your hand, pulling you back to him.

"Wait, I’m sorry.” He gave you a soft pout.

You hated the way his wide eyes had such an effect on you. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you today. I’m a jerk, I’m an asshole, and whatever name you want to call me.” His fingers rubbed circles into your skin as he attempted to ease your anger.

“You are an asshole and a jerk. I’m glad you noticed.” You made an attempt to pull away, but he held your wrist tight.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

“Come back to my place, and I’ll show you.” His arm wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you in close.

You were breathing in his familiar scent. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that it was impossible for him not to hear.

“I don’t care about any of your sleazy tricks, Gojo.”

You pulled away.

“Gojo? What happened to Toru or Pretty Boy?” He was chasing after you pulling you back into him. You didn’t want to feed his ego, not when you were seething with anger.

“Listen, come over tonight, no sleazy tricks, no asshole or jerk Gojo, just me, you, and whatever you want to do. I care about you, and I’m so sorry I made you feel like I didn't. Let me make it up to you.”

He stared at you with a pleading look. His wide eyes held so much desperation as if his world would fall apart if you said no.

"Please,” he begged, waiting for your reply.

You rolled your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“Fine Gojo. I’ll come over.”

You wanted to grab the words as soon as they left your mouth. You should’ve said no. You should’ve stood your ground. You should have made him feel the way he made you feel when he openly flirted in front of you. You wanted to scream because, for some reason, you could never pull away from him. It was as if he held a magnet that you couldn’t help but pull into.

You sat silently in the car, preparing yourself to sit angrily in Gojo’s home. Why even go at this point? Perhaps you knew you were never really angry. More so, you were jealous. Why couldn’t it be you that he wanted to be with all the time? Why couldn’t he whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle like a schoolgirl? Why couldn’t he just reciprocate your love? It wasn’t that he ‘couldn’t’ he just wouldn’t do it. Part of you knew that, but some part of you still wanted to try.

When Getou pulled up to Gojo’s house, you tried to ignore the disappointed headshake Shoko gave you. You wanted to ignore the insistent feeling of dread bubbling inside you, screaming to get back in the car. You had planned on standing your ground. Of course, you weren’t going to sleep with him. Last time was the last time, and that was final.

“Get comfy, let me go grab some new bandages for your knee.”

You sat on his couch, taking steady breaths. Every time you came here you felt as if it were the first time. Your palms were sweating profusely. Your heart felt like it was seconds away from jumping out of your chest.

Gojo came back with a first-aid kit. His touch was so soft. You couldn't even look at him when you had so many emotions bubbling inside you.

"Gojo,” your call of his name was followed by complete silence as he focused on rubbing ointment on your knee.

"Gojo,” you called out to him louder. You know he could hear you.

"Toru,” you groaned, annoyed with his silence.

“Yes pretty?” He looked up at you with a playful smile.

You give him a pout.

“I- I need to say something." Your face is filled with frustration. You had to get this off your chest.

“I’m all ears.” He finished bandaging your knee and placed a kiss on it to top it off. He sat crisscrossed in front of you, his hand gently rubbing up and down your calf while giving you all his attention.

"Um, well.” You didn't know how to start.

Your attention was all over the place. His hand was still massaging your calf. Your thoughts were tracing back to the events of the day.

“What do you want from me?" You looked down, frustration covering your face.

"How can I show you I love you and you finally understand?” You clenched your jaw while unconsciously caving into yourself.

"I will always love you how I do, but I need you to feel something more for me than just lust." You hadn’t realized the tears that were beginning to fall. Your emotions felt like they were overpowering you. You wanted to scream, Why won't he choose you? You felt so small like the room was slowly growing smaller. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling so vulnerable—too vulnerable.

“I wish you needed me. I want to be your number one,” you whimpered.

Gojo’s palm softly grabbed your face, wiping away your endless stream of tears.

"I—please let me make it up to you. I care about you so much, pretty,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips felt like heaven. He was intoxicating. You breathed him in like a drug that you were unknowingly addicted to. His hands dragged hot trails on your skin as he deepened the kiss. It was filled with fire and passion you could've sworn he was telling you he loved you with his touch alone. You hated how you fell so easily for him. One touch alone, and he left you feeling weak in the knees. You wanted to pull away. When his hands dragged you to his room, you wanted to pull away because last time was the last time. When he dragged his lips down your naked body, apologizing with each kiss, you wanted to pull away. When his fingers peeled your panties down while his eyes focused on your face, watching your every reaction, you wanted to pull away. When his tongue licked between your folds, you knew you were far too deep to pull away.

“Spread your legs for me, baby, let me show you how much I care.” His voice was silky as his warm tongue pressed against your core. You arched your body into him, loving the way his tongue massaged your warmth. Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened. Gojo was eating you out as if he had something to prove. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body impossibly closer. His tongue lapped at your clit at an unrelenting pace. His groans vibrated against your core, leaving you a complete mess. Your hands gripped the sheet desperately, attempting to gather yourself. You were so close.

"Fuck, please- “ Your whimpers were cut off by another moan. Gojo was taking every part of you. The way he slurped your juices left you feeling embarrassed. How could he make you fall apart for him so easily each and every time? He pressed wet kisses to your thighs in between swallowing your essence messily. Your hands moved to his shoulder, clawing desperately. You were stuck between needing him and wanting nothing to do with him.

“Fuck, Toru, I hate you so much” you whined as you grew closer to your orgasm.

It was true. You hated him, every ounce of him. The way he made you feel, the way he could have you wrapped around his finger within seconds, the way he could have you trembling just from his tongue.

You felt like you had no control over your body. You were at his mercy, constantly giving yourself away to him.

"Wait, w-wait Toru” you whined

He pulled away with a deep breath. His face was drenched with your juices.

“You did so well for me, pretty girl.”

He crawled up to be at eye level with you. His lips pressed against yours, and once again, you were trapped in his soft presence. His hand gripped your waist, holding you in place while he positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel the beating of his heart against your own. It was like a drum to a song you had memorized over and over before.

“You still mad at me?” His voice was lower than before.

Of course, you were. One little orgasm wouldn’t change how you felt. You nodded your head. He rolled his tip against your clit earning a moan. His cock dipped into you, stretching you out with each inch.

“How about now?”

You couldn’t focus on his question. Your mouth hung open as you tried to adjust to his size.

He sat up and pressed your legs to your chest.

“That's okay, baby. Just lay back and let me make you feel good.” His voice was sultry.

Gojo rocked his cock in and out of you, smiling at the way you moaned. His eyes stared down at where the two of you met, captivated by the way you sucked him in.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take this cock. So good for me.” His hands pushed down onto your thighs, folding you so he could have easier access.

The feeling of his cock gliding against your walls left you speechless. Your eyes were rolling back with each thrust. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he whispered how you were his good girl.

His.

Something about that word made you melt.

“Tell me who’s pussy this is."

"Yours,” you moaned, as if it were engraved in you to acknowledge yourself as his.

“It’s your Toru, always,” you whimpered.

You fell for him all over again.

This is the last time. You knew it was a lie.

His hips moved in circular motions as he pushed himself into you.

“You like that, huh?” He knew exactly how to make you feel good. He knew your body better than you.

“You like it when I fuck my pussy, don’t you?” he grunted. "Yeah, you do. Take this cock, baby, it’s all yours.”

Your heart fluttered. You felt a sense of possession as the words spilled past his lips.

"Mine,” you whispered. The words were probably hard for Gojo to hear over his grunts as he plunged his cock into you. “All mine,” you whimpered.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he groaned. “You want my cum, baby? Want me to fill my pretty pussy to the brim?” He said, looking down at your shaking figure.

You were far too gone, still reeling from the possessive words being shared between the two of you.

Gojo thrusted into you sloppily as he neared his orgasm. His thumb circled your clit urging you to another orgasm.

“Make a mess for me, let me see how sloppy my pussy gets.”

You moaned loudly, shaking and shivering, as you were overcome by your orgasm. Your eyes squeezed shut as your juices sprayed against Gojo’s abs while he continued thrusting into you.

"Oh, Fuck Toru,” you whimpered.

Your watery eyes opened to see Gojo’s lust-filled gaze. His lip was pulled between his teeth as he fucked roughly into you, chasing after his orgasm.

“Cum inside of me, Toru. I need it, please." Your pleads were all Gojo needed before spurting his seed into you, whimpering about how good you were for him.

He leaned down into the crook of your neck as his thrust came to a halt. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. His body felt so warm on top of you. Your mind went from a fucked out blur to a mess of thoughts. Your love-struck eyes gazed down at his still form with realization. You were more than just a body he could fuck; at least that’s what you were constantly telling yourself. It was so easy to say these things, but once his lips were on yours and his hands pulling you free from your clothes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put these words into action.

Gojo pulled out of you to lay beside you. He pulled you so you were resting on his chest. You lay silently, staring into the darkness of the room.

You knew this had to be the last time. You knew you had to let go, and you knew you had to forgive yourself for taking so long to let go. You knew it was a bad religion to be in love with the brightest shade of blue. When he pulled out his phone to text the pretty girl from the skate park, asking to hang out with a winky face, you knew he’d never crave your love the way you did.

#gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo angst

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kentocalls · 6 months ago

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jiraiya | breadcrumbs nsfw. it’s a situationship but the good kind, i wanted to thank @actuallysaiyan for writing all those prompts. also the gif 🥵

he groans, crosses out the line that’s lived for only three seconds, the words dancing around his eyes, mocking him. he’s the renown author of the Icha Icha series. he can write, move his audience with his captivating comedy and well timed eruptions of emotions. but this, this piece of work is draining everything from him.

his cup is empty, his snacks gone. tense and frustrated he snaps his pen across the room. he could find something, someone to help take his mind off of it all. except he’s causes enough of a racket, his mission isn’t an easy one and he’s not exactly kept low key about his presence. it’s going to mean more paperwork and an earful from superiors and writing was supposed to help. the editor would be less person to yell at him. alas. the night is not in his favor.

the village is silent, most folks already asleep. he can hear cats fighting if he really tried but even then, his stares at the blank wall ahead. a flash of the prettiest lips fills his mind and he aches.

his mind trails after the confident, youthful, smart shinobi who had his knees gracing the ground with a simple ask. he doesn't know how it started, doesn't care where it goes, wants more. maybe there's enough clues if he looks for them, maybe his favorite has graced him with kindness and left a morsel.

enough is enough, he’s leaving tomorrow. the change of pace necessary, he has to keep moving. because who he’s seeking isn’t here and the mission is at a dead end too. t

he wind offers another pause from his thoughts, tempation, cool against his skin gentle, inviting. he closes his eyes, takes half a second to let his body relax, half a second to imagine it’s not the wind’s gentle caress but wait! he didn’t open the window, he wouldn’t this late and—

there’s your scent and something medicinal permeating the room.

you’ve always been fast. confidnet. slipping into unsavory places with ease.

making the most excellent shinobi and his worst habit.

by the time he’s done looking at the window your seated on his desk, writing pad in arms as your eyes trace over the latest pagse written. you’ve always loved spoilers, itching to know what happens before everyone else.

it makes him feel smug, after all these are fresh words, something exclusive only he can offer. gods, he’s missed your face, notes swollen lips and tired eyes, ignores the scratches near your chin. what you both do is dangerous, tedious, necessary. he won't ask because you can't tell. still the thought, did you rush over immedidately after a succes?

eyes rake your beautiful form spilling over his work desk.

your uniform has seen better days but he’s so so so pleased to see exposed skin. your legs look so smooth, nevermind new scratches and old scares greeting him.

he’s staring, gawking like an inexperienced brat, it would be embarrassing, you’d tease him endlessly for it, however, you’re so engrossed in his writing. swaying your legs softly, they dangle freely off the desk, and yet managing to cage him in. his palms reach up, kisses at a small cut on your knee, large palms soothing, fondling, massaging your thighs. itching to admire.

you’re here.

skin is hot, face is a bit flushed though you’re hiding it behind a stoic expression, eyes stealing more and more words. it’s not that long of a chapter, he sighs and pulls you closer, face nuzzling into your stomach, you can feel his kisses through your uniform. needy.

he’s usually wordy, jokey, loud. leaves no space for the outside world when it’s just you two, but right now he’s being such a good boy. you wonder how long it’ll last, the fact he’s being gentle and slow with his movements is trippy. especially when you know how tough he is, have seen him snap men in half so casually. flaunts his reputation, his height, his fame like he’s breathing but right now? letting you read unreleased, unedited writing?

letting you sit on his precious desk, your scent will drive him mad when you’re gone in the morning. he doesn’t have to be nice, could’ve easily stopped you from slipping into his room. taken you against the wall, you wouldn’t have protested. except he didn’t, he’s being the most gracious host.

that’s the only reason one of your hands plays with his long locks, eyes pulling away from his writing pad when your fingers, inevitably, tangle. “hair’s gotten too long.”

“to match yours.” he muffles, before leaning back and looking up almost innocent. like his hands aren’t squeezing and molding and clawing at your thighs. like his mouth isn’t kissing lower and lower, as if he isn’t inhaling that sweet scent that’s evaded him for months now.

you hum, spreading your legs wider, tilting your hips a little higher, his hands know what to do, moving to the waistband of your bottoms, “why’s this one so serious?”

“if you read the other two you’d see why.” he grins, a lazy hand drawing circles from your bellybutton down to your clothed sex and your hand snaps to his wrist with such power. “i like my uniform, i need it clean.” your glare sends shivers down his spine, you’d be mean for him if he asked right?

“and where are the other two?” he doesn’t want you to move, he doesn’t want to spend time playing writer and editor. he much rather gather more field experience, engaging in physical activities has always been his forte, he’s a hands on learner afterall.

crumbles the second your hand is patting at his cheek, pulling his hair and crashing your lips to his. it’s greedy, messy, hungry. you’ve been pent up too. the missions come one after the other and you’re such a high rank, all those secrets and no where to bury them — who knows the weight of all the pain you cary better than one of the legendary sannin?

it’s why you seek him out, over and over again

he doesn’t ask for more, doesn’t push and always pulls you close.

“i wanna…” he nips at your lips, stop distracting him, moves his hands under your top and up, squeezing, groping, pulling, “need too, ah, read the other two first.”

“you’ve worked hard enough,” finally your legs wrap around his hips, he lifts you up so easily, grips the back of your neck firmly, earning a moan, oh you need him, “let me take care of you.”

laying under him, he’s extra careful peeling your clothing off, aware your previous warning still hangs true. you’d take a kunai to his arm if he dirties another uniform. in another setting, he'd like that very much. but he's barely containing his urges, forces hands to work with extra patience, despite his pressing need making itself known. makes a haste of kissing, licking, biting, bruising what can be hidden. for both your eyes only.

you’re so pretty for him.

he tries to pace himself, tries not to get caught up in spite of all his reasoning to go slow he’s a frantic mess. hands clasping with yours, using one arm to hold both your arms above your head, you comply so easily, mouth open and wanton and how the fuck is he going to do all the things he wants to do if he can’t stop kissing you?

a hand snacks down your chest, pinching, fingernails lightly scratching before reaching your core and the gasp you make; drives him insane, let him be a little mean, a little rough, the sounds he makes deepening your need further. his own hips canting against your thigh and sheets.

part of him still doesn’t believe you’re here. that you're not an illusion. that he doesn’t need to wreck his brain and imagine the sounds slipping freely from your lips, that he can take you in with all his senses. have you falling apart in all the ways he knows you adore.

“pretty pretty thing…” he’s sucking and biting on your neck, sliding another finger in and the sloshing sounds cause your cheeks to burn. you want more, hips bucking up on their own, you want so much more but he’s breaking a rule.

“no ma-marks, jiraiya, don’t—“ silencing you with a heated kis, hand frees your arms, one to squeeze at your neck; it’s just enough pressure, how you like it; brain almost turning almost mush. but he’s pulls back, grins wide with a third finger in you now. you’re so wet, sounds absolutely filthy.

“let’s ruin ourselves for anyone else, yeah?” and fuck, he can’t say shit like that when you’re like this, body clenching around him. call it lust, call it longing, call it satisfaction whatever he has you chasing is where you want to go. the softest kiss on lips and he starts to trail down, praises and naughty things whipsered into your skin.

editing his draft can wait.

that’s not why you snuck in anyways.

#not jjk #jiraiya sensei #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya smut #i hope i did the line justice #april writes #in my head reader is a badass shinobi / anbu level stuff #so permanent isn't it but you can't quit him can you?#not like he'd let you go #bad habits die hard and all that jazz #jiraiya breadcrumbs

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jarofmayonassey · 22 days ago

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Half Life: Interference (first 5 chapters on ao3 now)

"A few things happened in quick succession when the Resonance Cascade occurred. First, Gordon Freeman's vocal chords were fried out, rendering him incapable of speech. Second, he was flung backwards, and given strange, eerie visions of aliens and monsters from other worlds. And third, the typically empty voice in his HEV suit began speaking to him-- as if it was alive.

(Or, SQUIP's new host, and the worst 48 hours of their collective lives.)"

hey gang. have you ever asked yourself 'waht would it look like if gordon freeman from half life 1 and the squip from be more chill had to coexist and lowkey develop a situationship'? me neither cause thats an insane sentence but HERE WE ARE. this is a crossover fic that me and @harmofud are writing together and we're both too invested in it. welcome to my twisted cycle path

#be more chill #squip #bmc #bmc musical #half life #half life 2 #black mesa #gordon freeman #hl1 #hl2 #chat are you seeing this shit

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jeyneofpoole · 5 months ago

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hello as a resident franklin expedition person do you have any recommendations for further reading about it/polar history in general?

yes!!!!! for dipping your toes into the franklin expedition specifically i would start with erebus: the story of a ship by michael palin (yes, the guy from monty python. this book contains more anecdotes than hard facts but is a fun introductory read and it’s honestly really funny). probably the most well-known book about the franklin expedition is frozen in time by dr. owen beattie + john geiger, some of the information i believe has been disputed in the years since publication (published in the 80’s) but the descriptions of the exhumations of the beechey bodies are gorgeous and visceral and it’s by far one of the most ethical and humane exhumations/studies on gravesites that i’ve ever read about. THEN you can graduate to real freak territory and read may we be spared to meet on earth, a collection of all of the letters that the members of the expedition sent before and during the first portion of the journey. others to hit that i haven’t read yet are james fitzjames: the mystery man of the franklin expedition (again, some information like that concerning jfj’s birth has since been disproven, but it’s by far the most comprehensive biography of him that exists. battersby reallyyyyyy loved the guy), unraveling the franklin expedition: inuit testimony (this one is on my shelf! deals, obviously, with the widely disregarded testimony of the indigenous people of the region), and the man who ate his own boots.

now for miscellaneous polar books i would start with endurance by alfred lansing, it’s a classic and was written at a time when members of the endurance crew were still alive, so lansing had exclusive access to multiple firsthand accounts. the only nonfiction that’s ever made me cry. my most recent polar read was madhouse at the end of the earth by julian sancton and i can’t recommend it enough. about the dysfunctional belgica expedition, but also a great introduction to roald amundsen’s whole… thing. super fun. i’m also about to start the worst journey in the world by apsley cherry-garrard, which deals with the scott expedition from the point of view of someone who was actually there. it’s mostly a memoir. for a fun one i have a polar fiction rec that is NOT the terror. where the dead wait by ally wilkes was a super fun read and it’s obvious that they watched the terror and went down the same pipeline that i did. evil gay situationship in the arctic circle supplemented by cannibalism and psychosis is always very fun, they have a second book about antarctica i believe, it’s on my shelf but i haven’t gotten to it yet. thanks so much for asking ily 🫶🫶🫶

#YIPPEEEEEE #this is why people forget i’m an asoiaf blog #polar exploration

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lottiecrabie · 2 years ago

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to dust and bones. part one – matty healy

they cross paths at a bar. he’s out for blood, and hers beat tantazingly beneath her flesh. (or the worst people you know are in the worst situationship in existence)

warnings: 18+, power games, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, choking, dom!matty, bratting, general toxicity, mentions of drug use, oc

part one of two

6521 words

Alana shoots back the bitter tequila, licking hot sauce off her sweaty hands. Her face scrunches in pain, head shaking. Her sinuses clear; her thoughts leak out of her head. There’s ear-splitting music ringing around her— some god awful EDM shit she’s drunk enough to dance to.

Crowded bodies push against her. She sways to the beat, hips rolling to some seductive rhythm drumming in the deepest parts of her heart. Her skin-tight black dress rises up her legs, revealing inches of tantalizing skin.

Alana feels rugged hands graze the outside of her thighs. She smirks to herself, leaning back against the hard wall of body behind her. Fingers climb up instinctively to her waist, spreading across her stomach, tugging her into him until they’re flushed together, indistinguishable from the other.

Black curls tickle at her cheek. He’s familiar against her; the muscles and dips of him unfortunately memorized in a corner of her brain she hasn’t managed to blitz out even with all the coke.

Matty Healy. Dark angel leaning over her, nosing her perfumed neck.

“Buy a girl a drink first,” Alana whispers. Thankfully he’s close— too close to breathe properly, to make sense of her scattered thoughts— and he manages to hear over the DJ’s techno beats.

“Why would I?” Matty bites back, breath blowing against her ear. Alana forces down a shiver. “I can have her without.”

She whips to face him, a furious dash between her eyebrows. Rage climbs up her spine, taking over her head, and it’s only the second most familiar emotion she feels with Matty Healy. What an insufferable asshole, looking at her all smug when he sees the anger spreading through her veins.

Cheeks red, head swimming with the alcohol and the drugs and the deafening music, Alana tries to come up with some scathing reply. She wants to leave him burning, skin red and raw where she lashed at him. Wants to dig her nails into him, tear his beating heart from two fragile ribs.

“Fuck you,” is what she manages, of course, because the world is a blurry daze around her, and her brain is working slower than her tongue.

Matty smiles saccharine sweet at her. It feels awfully condescending on the cutting traits of his face. “But you have, princess.”

“You’re—” He cocks his head, encouraging her with gleeful eyes. Alana breathes through her nose. “—not worth my time. Go do your horny act somewhere else.”

She flips on her heels, marching determinedly to the crowded bar. Matty is hot on her trails, of course, leaning into her to tease, “Horny act? I barely even touched you.”

“The most you will.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Alana pushes her way through the swarming crowd, digging her elbows in unfortunate places to get an in. People turn to her with a snarling face, but most seem to back down at the sight of her. Perhaps they recognize her, with flushed cheeks and cleavage dipping low. Perhaps they recognize the man towering behind her, following her godly parting of the sea of bodies like the privileged kid he’s always been.

She finally manages to get to the bar, hands slamming the counter victoriously. A pretty bartender bounces to her, upping her chin in question. “What can I get you?”

Alana opens her mouth. Instead, Matty cuts in, “Dirty vodka martini for her and a gin tonic for me.” The bartender nods, getting to work.

Alana’s head flips to him, daggering him with a murderous glare. “I can order for myself.”

Matty scoffs. “You practically begged me to buy you a drink.”

She stumbles over the words in sheer offense, shrill as she gasps, “Begged— Oh, you fucking asshole.”

Two drinks slam over the counter. “Put it on my tab,” Matty says, kidnapping her martini and making his way out of the crowd. Alana follows him bitterly, already planning to rack up his bill now that he’s so stupidly offered it to her. She’ll buy rounds for the whole club just to ruin him.

He leads them to the VIP lounge, nodding at the bouncer as he moves to let them in. What a douchey move, she thinks, climbing up the staggering stairs, holding the skirt of her rising dress.

The lounge is drenched in red light. Black leather couches and satin cushions scatter the place. Gray cigar smoke lingers above their heads. Some softer RnB plays, and Alana’s ears find momentary relief. She bites her lip to contain a pleased moan.

Two dancers, impossibly tall and svelte in white lingerie dresses, move against two poles on a small stage. They’re languid and confident, swaying to a temperature rising rhythm, effortlessly seductive.

Matty sits in front of the dancers, legs spreading as he makes himself too comfortable. He rests the two drinks on a black table in front of him, looking up at the girls with a cheeky, provocative grin.

Inexplicable fire twists up in her guts. Alana drops beside Matty, practically sticking to his side, one leg crossing over the other to faintly kick his shin, which he takes in chuckling stride.

Her arm reaches over him to grab her martini. She places it between her lips, glass knocking her teeth gracelessly. He considers her, eyes following the land of skin she's uncovered through her new pose.

“Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” He teases as she finishes a new mouthful of her cocktail.

Alana offers him a deadpan look. “No.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his gin tonic, leaning an arm over the back of the couch. “Brat,” he shakes his head.

The lightning is low, casting red shadows over his face, but she can still see his dark gaze, hungry for flesh and those pathetic whines she can never hold back when he’s knuckles deep inside of her, penetrating through her skin. She draws a finger around the rim of the glass.

She hates it most when Matty gets that way, intense and greedy and so fucking clear. His stare is predatory, watching her every little move to pounce on. The game feels instantly more dangerous. Anxiety spikes; some fight or flight response she never chooses right.

Matty downs half of his drink, conspicuous Adam’s apple bobbing. She watches it religiously, remembering the purple stains she scattered around it just a few days ago.

“Don’t drink so fast. We just got here,” she says warningly. She knows why he’s speeding this up.

Matty lowers his glass just enough to offer a burning stare, hotter than she can handle in this stuffy room.

I’m gonna fuck you is written bright and clear in his eyes.

He finishes his gin tonic in another long sip, licking the last drop from his red lips. Heat spreads through her abdomen, clenching it guiltily. She flexes her hands around the stem.

Slamming the glass back on the table, Matty adventures two fingers over her naked leg. It tickles, raising the hair of her skin as she shivers openly. His palm swallows the meat of her thigh, the tempting skin she so freely offered him. His hand is cold, glacial against the fire licking up her limbs.

“Drink up,” Matty whispers, a devilish smile catching his cheek. She shakes her head, words completely lost to her.

“I’m not thirsty.” Alana’s heart smashes against her ribs. Uncontrollable thing, careless thing. It always throws her into the worst situations, leaving her sober head to clean up its mess.

“No?” Matty pouts, climbing his hand to the hem of her dress. “You look a little flushed.”

“It’s the light.” She stares up at the red fluorescents to prove her point, like he couldn’t see the mood lighting reigning over the room.

“I think you’re scared,” Matty says. He’s never been one to stretch his words, coat them in syrup to swallow easier.

She racks her throat. “Why would I be scared?” Although she promised herself not to give him an inch more, Alana gulps some of her martini to shake off the nerves (not fear, just some pesky anxiety from the lingering drugs). Matty smiles at the action triumphantly.

“Because you left me naked and tied up to my bed last time.” He leans into her, whispering playfully into her cheek. “Because you didn’t let me come, and now you’re afraid of what I’ll do to you.”

More backless bravado than sense, she grins cheekily. “It was funny. It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.”

Fingers dipping under her dress. Alana bites her lip, hiding the breathy moan that wishes to slip her lips. It’s useless; he sees right through. “Oh, I’ll make you laugh.” He bites at her jaw, not enough to sting, but enough to know he’s serious. She scrunches her nose, tilting her head into him.

Matty leans away, grabbing the martini from her hand. He places it between her lips. Instinctively, Alana opens them, and he tips the glass into her mouth. “Good girl,” he teases as she drinks. Her eyes snap to his dangerously, some unmasked threat that she’d spit it in his face if it wouldn’t ruin some really good vodka. “So feisty,” Matty tsks, amused.

He takes the glass away. She licks at the rim, catching some droplets as it falls down the cone. Matty swirls the leftover martini, staring down shamelessly at her wet lips.

“I could fuck anyone here,” he whispers. Clarity strikes through the flames, shaking away some of that daze. She frowns at him, taking a self-conscious peek at the pair of girls still twirling around their pole. Of course, Matty catches her moment of weakness, grasping it greedily as she scowls. “Yes, especially them. Have them bent over the other for me, cunts opened for my cock. Couldn’t you just see them, screaming in my sheets, rutting against each other?”

“You overestimate your skills,” Alana bites, though it’s mostly from anger at the unwelcomed images he’s forced inside her brain. “You couldn’t handle them.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Like I can’t handle you?”

She purses your lips, face crisping. She wishes it was true. That he didn’t have enough hands and tongue and cock to work with all of her, with the mess of hair she throws back carelessly as she rides him, with the nails digging into his back mercilessly, with the hips he grasps between heavy hands as he bruises her skin. That the rage and the hatred and the head-twirling passion she throws at him wouldn’t be caught, wouldn’t be swallowed to spit back tenfold. That he wouldn’t know what to do with all of her.

But he does. Goddamit, he does like no one else ever has.

Alana refuses to dignify him with an answer. Still, Matty doesn’t need one, dipping the leftover martini in her mouth. His breath is hot against her ear, sticking on her sweaty skin.

“I could fuck anyone here,” he repeats, probably to martel home some complex she’s not interested in diving into. “But I want you.”

She’d bite back something cheeky and snobbish, something near of course you do or who doesn’t or some other grand words to deflect. Right now, she’s too busy obediently swallowing what he’s giving her, but she’s sure he reads them anyway in the burn of her stare.

As if to plead the last of his case, he raises his cold hand to the final stretch, meeting the black lace of her panties. Alana moans, alcohol dripping down her chin from the startled jump, something else dripping where his fingers meet the apex of her thighs.

“Let me fuck you,” Matty breathes, biting her jaw, this time to sting, to tear apart.

Finished with her drink, he slams the glass beside his, turning back to her quickly, afraid to miss even the smallest of shivers. “Begging already?” Alana pants, out of breath.

His free thumb wipes the alcohol off her chin, bringing it back to her lips, forcing them open. She sucks his finger into her mouth. He presses against her tongue, heavy and undeniable. Drool sticks to it as she releases it, red lipstick staining the knuckle.

His other hand, much more occupied, teases a delicious rhythm over her wet panties. She leans further into the cushions, manually stopping herself from dropping her legs open for this whole lounge to see.

“Don’t give me ideas,” Matty warns. “You know how I enjoy you begging. All those pretty sounds you make, whiney and pathetic.”

His spitful hand racks through the sweaty mess of her hair, tugging at the roots. Her head bends, throat barred. He grunts at the sight.

Matty can’t stop himself any longer. He crashes his lips to hers, licking into her open mouth. It’s a messy thing, more teeth and spit than anything romantic, hands still buried in her hair. He tugs it harshly, swallowing the pitiful moans she releases.

Alana clings to his shoulders, afraid she’d drown in the satin if it wasn’t for his buoyant body slithering around her. She curses his jacket, bulletproof vest to the claw marks she’d litter on his skin. Black nail polish tainted red by the end of the night— but he’s safe for now.

Matty bites her lower lip, dragging it from her. She shudders in his arms, head swooping ecstasy climbing up her thoughtless brain. It must be the martini downed too fast. (It’s him. It’s always him.)

His hand releases her hair, finding the slope of her neck instead, digging into the skin. His thumb presses meanly at her jaw. Alana wonders if it’ll bruise.

He pushes her further into the sofa, practically swallowing her whole under his lanky limbs. She can’t make sense of the edges of him. He’s everywhere, invading her flesh, slipping under her very skin, to the beating parts of her she wishes to banish him from. Hot pleasure drips down her veins.

Matty licks into her lazily. He tastes like gin, which he knows she hates. He does it on purpose, buying drinks she’d never put to her lips just to spit it in her mouth. Alana can’t stand the taste of it. She doesn’t know why she craves the taste of him, faintly smokey from some expensive cigarette.

He thumbs at her clit vaguely, more as a smothered promise of what he could do than any real attempt at skill. Still, it’s enough to make dangerous fire course through her veins. She clenches around nothing, groaning.

“Are you gonna fuck me in front of everyone?” Alana rasps, biting and mean like he’s not playing her like his favorite puppet.

Matty hums indulgently. He presses his index into her clothed entrance, wet and sticky for him. “Do you want me to? Let them know how good you are for me even with all that talk? All those sounds you make just for me?” He nips at her jaw, climbing up to her ear. “We can give them a show.”

Alana’s heart slams against her ribs, begging to be let out and fall to his booted feet. She breathes heavily, head falling as he continues some slow circle on her clit, never enough to wipe from her head the outrageous knowledge that it’s Matty Healy blowing the flames.

“Bathroom,” Alana gasps, eyes scrunched close.

Matty laughs lowly, shaking his head in the side of her neck. “Coward.”

Still, he sits up, dragging her body with his. Her brain knocks against her skull as she comes back, taking a deep breath of air. Reality feels very far away from the tip of her fingers. She’s drowning in him, in the smell of his cologne and that awful taste of gin clinging to his lips.

The walk to the bathroom feels like a dreamscape maze, more colorful mood lightning and stepping over leather shoes than any tangible thing.

The room is dark and clinical. The floor is black marble, sleek and easy to step on, heels clicking as she adventures further into the bathroom. The light is low. Alana has to squint to make sense of Matty locking the door behind them. He turns back to her, lion stride as he loosens his tie.

He’s gonna eat her alive.

Matty crowds her space, pushing her against the sink’s countertop as he noses her cheek. Alana’s thighs hit the cold marble, shivering at the contrasting temperature. The tip of his fingers find her skin again, climbing up the goosebumps, driving under the hem.

Alana’s own hands bury in the mess of hair at the nape of his neck. Black nails dig into the unruly locks, tugging vaguely. She breathes with him, the only surrounding melody in this musicless room. What a strange feeling to be so thoroughly abandoned by distractions.

Tired of wasting time, Matty grabs her thighs, throwing her carelessly on the marble countertop. Her legs spread wide, welcoming him in the middle of her, black heels kicking beside his knees. Hands rise to her waist, trailing greedily over her skintight dress. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Alana grins. Compliments are always the worst moves, climbing up to her head and loosening whatever miraculous hold he had on it. She leans away against the gray tiles of the wall, cheeky and devilish, fingers slipping from his mane to the muscles of his shoulders. “Say that again.”

Matty tries to dip for a kiss instead, but she dodges easily, turning her head into her shoulder. He groans at her childish antics, digging his nails into her ribs. “You’re fucking annoying.”

“‘S not what I asked.”

Matty buries his face in her offered neck, leaving wet kisses as he scales up her jaw, up her cheeks. Alana giggles, wrinkling her nose, shifting in her seat. “You’re beautiful,” Matty finally whispers in her ear, gently biting the lobe. She hums, nodding at him. Roughly, he warns, “And if you keep playing these games, I’ll leave your ass so red you won’t be able to sit for days.”

The threat should make a spike of anxiety hit her. Instead, languid fire pools at her stomach. She moans, closing her eyes, pushing her hips further into his. The angle is a little awkward, just slightly too high to really get anything working. She manages to roll her pleading hips on his belt buckle.

“Greedy thing,” Matty tsks. “So fucking impatient.”

“It’s not my fault you’re all talk.”

Matty scoffs. “You’ve got a death wish.”

Alana flutters her eyelashes at him, pouting. “I thought you could handle me.”

He groans, hands burrowing back into her skirt. Calloused fingers grab at her hips, digging into the black lace of her panties. He drags it out slowly, smirking down at her as Alana scoops herself up to help him. A brief ceasefire, just because he knows all the parts of her to press into.

She giggles in his open mouth, finding him again, embarrassingly giddy. Thrill beats in her veins, cunt throbbing for him, for the good part of this relentless chess match. He kisses her indulgently, shitty grin undeniable against her lips. Alana doesn’t even have it in her to care.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees Matty shove the lacy thing in his pocket. She releases his lips like he’s burned her, scowling petulantly. “You have to give those back. I’m running out of underwear.” Every time they fall back into this poisonous push and pull, Alana loses a pair of her favorite lingerie, forgotten in the endless pockets and sheets of Matty Healy. She’d consider going commando just to spite him if he wouldn’t like it so much, love knowing he’s gotten under her skin, made her change some known habit.

Of course, Matty shakes his head with a teasing grin. “No.”

“At least buy me new ones.”

He cocks his head, considering her. “Are you gonna try them on for me?”

Alana rolls her eyes, just a little bit turned on at the idea of it. “You’re such a boy.”

Cockily, he racks her to the edge of the countertop, finally pressing her against his hard cock. Alana gasps at the sinful feel, eyes rolling back for completely different reasons. He grinds into her, the rough material of his trousers rolling against the most sensitive part of her. A traitorous whine leaves her lips; she bites it shut just a little too late.

Matty whispers smugly, “I’m a man.”

What a fucking douchebag. Alana can’t handle this back and forth he coaxes out of her, always swaying between burning anger and choking desire like the world’s most on-beat metronome.

She gracefully lets him have this one. Doesn’t even come up with a jab or a glare in bitter answer. Of course, that might be because he’s sailing up her thighs, thumb pressing into her clit as jaw-dropping relief climbs up her spine. Her head falls against the backsplash, lips parted, rolling her hips against his fingers as he circles lazily at her.

He’s fucking perfect. She wants to cut his fingers clean off, curse them for ever making her feel this way. Peeking her eyes open, Alana swears he knows this, gathering a pool of her arousal to smear it over her bundle of nerves. She gasps in the quiet air, uselessly kicking her feet.

“You’re so wet for me,” Matty says in wonder, eyes locked to the way she grinds for him, dripping on the black marble.

“First time making a girl wet?” Alana tries to brat, but it comes out weak between two moans.

He smirks condescendingly at her, tracing her swollen lips with the tip of his free hand, coating her chin with tacky lipgloss. “We both know the answer to that.”

Without warning, he thrusts two fingers into her. It’s embarrassing how quickly her cunt welcomes him home, insides rearranging to make room for him dutifully. Her face scrunches, crying against his jaw.

“Fuck, Matty.”

“Yeah?” He arches an eyebrow, curling his hand to draw a feverish wave of ecstasy out of her.

She grips his shoulders, pushing the jacket off of them, trying to sink her claws into anything. He’s relentless between her legs, thrusting and circling and working magic. Pressure builds inside her abdomen. She's mewling in his neck, panting in his ear.

Matty stares down at her in hunger. He’s got her right where he wants her, Alana knows this. But why does he keep watching her like he’s about to rip into her throat? Smug and dangerous and voracious?

An inexplicable strike of nerves hit her. His fingers dip into her faster, swiping at her clit. The cold sink and his warm body and the feel of his rough fingers inside of her are too much. Pathetic moans spill from her lips, overflowing out of her. She wrinkles her face closed, then forces it open again. Just to keep an eye on him, on his flexed arm as he wrecks her from the inside. Bliss threatens the edges of her. She tastes it on her tongue

Alana cries, “Are you gonna make me come?” It’s pathetic to ask. She’d demand it in normal circumstances, holding onto his arm, a ruinous hand over his own guiding him into her sopping cunt.

But— She left him hard and sticky last time, screaming after her as she touched up her lipstick. And now he’s looking down at her like he’s got her exactly where he wants, brain melting out of her ears, begging for him.

He leans into her with a trickster smile, licking his teeth. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Never.”

He pumps harder inside of her, adding a third finger. The world blurs around Alana. She screams, digging her nails under his white shirt. Right—

Matty thrusts out of her as quickly as he entered. A guttural cry rips from her throat, head banging on the wall from the stolen orgasm. Soaked fingers fall limply on her thigh, drying the slick on her skin. He grins, smacking her cheek with a sweet kiss.

“You fucking asshole,” Alana bites, out of breath, fury swirling around her dazed head.

“What?” He finds her lips next, catching them with a biting kiss. “Were you close?”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to watch you try.”

Matty pushes the cups of her dress down, revealing her tits, flushed and peaked for him. He twirls two fingers around her nipple, greedily watching as another wave of pleasure hits her, as the uncontrollable rage smothers for ecstasy.

Alana is half-pissed to lose that sharp sense of anger, something to strike through the blur of him, to hold onto. Pissed that he can melt away all her hatred, make her putty in his expert hands.

He dives for her breasts, biting and licking and sucking on them like a starved man. Muted pain stretches over her chest. Alana racks a hand through his sweaty curls, gasping.

“Are you gonna ask nicely?” Matty whispers, starting that torturously cycle on her clit again. “I like when you ask all sweet and desperate.” Alana shakes her head, sloppily kissing at his jaw as he teases a finger over her entrance again. “Come on,” he chuckles lowly. “Beg for it.”

“Screw you,” Alana bites, legs spreading wider for him in complete contradiction.

“Yeah, I bet you want me to.”

Matty dips a finger inside of her, pumping slowly, unbothered by her rushing him. Her hands are everywhere on him— the mane of his black hair, the cut of his jaw, the buttons of his shirt, undone by her sloppy hands, the muscle of his working arm, the belt at his hips. Pressing and clawing and tugging at him, pleading with a silent hand to work faster.

He’s uninterested in listening, especially when her mouth still refuses to grant him the sweet nothings she always moans for him. His pace is steady and consistent, entirely not enough. She smacks the counter uselessly.

“You’re the worst,” Alana whines, head flopping around her neck. Tension builds meticulously slow inside of her. She throbs around his finger, wishing for more, but he continues to deny her.

“I just want you to be good for me,” Matty breathes, holding her head up with a heavy hand.

“Just fuck me, Matty.”

Trying to speed it along, Alana pounces on his belt buckle, frantically trying to undo it with trembling fingers. It’s a messy affair; he pries them away easily. His jaw clenches, clearly unhappy with her. He exhales through his nose. The air grows electric. Alana’s pussy shamefully clenches around him.

Matty is a fucking sight. She desperately wishes it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t perfectly sculpted to fit around her stained palms. A fallen angel crashed to Earth just to lick the vodka and red off her lips.

“Can’t you ever listen?” His hand moves again, slithering around the front of her throat. He presses meanly at the sides, blood rushing away from her head. Alana’s lips part, but only quiet spills from them. “That’s all that ever shuts you up, isn’t it?”

Alana laughs gleefully at his anger, managing a choked, “Not even,” just to spite him. He digs into her arteries, surely leaving a constellation of bruises for her to cover up.

“Fine, princess,” Matty grunts. “We’ll do it your way.”

In a second, he’s got three fingers back inside of her, fast and hard, curling just right. It’s miraculous how he manages to be everywhere inside and outside of her, how he drowns her in the feel of him.

Her head disconnects from her neck. She gasps for air, purring in their shared breaths. Euphoria coils around her belly, hot and sticky and so, so close. Sweet oblivion. She barely remembers their names, barely remembers what—

“Fucking hell, Matty,” Alana screams, slapping his shoulder with no force, missing his gone fingers. “Just— Just let me come.”

“Brats don’t deserve orgasms. I thought you learned your lesson.”

Matty takes a clinical step away from her. Breathing harshly, she tries to reattach herself to the firm reality that exists around her and not this dreamed-up land the cliff of a shattering climax brings her to.

He’s so proper, still dressed while her dress bunches useless around her waist. So put together as she drools and drips and pants for him, unhinged and unmade. How fucking embarrassing.

She’d lash at him in retaliation, bring him down to her dirty level, make him feel crass inside. She has the urge to on the tip of her tongue, feels the burn all the way to her throat.

But what would Matty give her in return? Not what she wants. Not what she craves.

God, Alana hates when she has to fucking listen.

“Matty,” she sings, finding the lapels of his shirt and tugging him back into her. She flutters her eyelashes innocently at him, licking her lips. “I’m sorry.” He snorts at her. It’s another bruise to heal tomorrow. “Please, I mean it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She grabs his cheek with one hand, kissing the other one religiously. “Fuck me. Please, please, Matty, fuck me. I need you.”

With her free hand, she coaxes him back between her legs, spreading his long fingers over her sopping hole. “It’s all for you. It’s always just for you.” She licks his jaw, biting his earlobe. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this way.”

Alana presses his fingers into her entrance. They enter her together, a delicious stretch that has her sighing in relief. It’s crowded and nasty and, oh, my fucking god, she’s fingering herself with fucking Matty Healy.

He seems to be thinking the same whirlwind of thoughts, locked gaze on the spectacle of them between her thighs, working together for perhaps the first time ever.

Alana puppeteers him, pumping their joined fingers together. She’s quick to drive herself to the edge, already so restless and aware and turned on, constantly teetering the cliff he refuses to give her. She knows her best spots anyway, knows how to get herself off quick and easy.

“Are you gonna come for me?” Matty asks, still reveling in the sight of them. Alana nods eagerly. “Are you sure?”

He rips their fingers out of her again. Alana smothers a sob, pain tingling the tips of her. She wants it so badly.

Matty sucks her wet fingers clean, twirling his tongue around her metal ring. “Come on, Alana. Don’t you trust me?” She shakes her head childishly.

She thinks she might go insane. How fitting, completely going off her rockers because of Matty fucking Healy. Her entire body is in a frenzy, feverish and electrified, buzzing with stolen orgasms. He could blow on a bitten nipple and she’s half convinced she’d come on the spot.

But he’s not going to, is he? Alana pouts pitifully to herself, cursing the chess games she plays and then has to suffer from. She knows she put herself in this situation, pushed him too far and now has to watch as he whips back tenfold like a tense elastic.

All she can do is follow along, pleading and praying and begging for a release he’s just not giving her.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” Matty coos.

“Please. Please, I can’t—” Alana shakes her head. “I’m so close. Please, let me come.”

He racks two hands through the tangled mess of her hair. “You’re so pretty when you beg. If only they could hear you. If only they knew how fucking pathetic you are for me.”

Alana cries, nodding just to please him, “I am. I am.” She throbs around nothing. “Fuck me, please.”

Matty pouts at her. “See, it’s not so hard.”

He pushes her from her perch on the countertop, catching her as her legs tremble beneath her weight. He leaves her no time to adjust to gravity again, turning her hips around and bending her over the sink.

She gasps at the cold feel of the marble on her tits. His hand presses strongly between her shoulder blades. Alana manages to throw a look back his way, mesmerized by the way he undoes his buckle with one hand, by the strings of curls falling over his forehead, by his swollen, red lips parting as he pants.

By his cock as he pushes his trousers just down enough to reveal it, hard and leaking, swerving just right.

Alana bites her lip, eyes rolling at the sheer idea of it.

“‘Gonna fucking ruin you,” he mutters more to himself than her.

Of course, she can’t stop herself from breathing back, “Haven’t managed to yet.”

He tsks, spanking her naked ass. It rings deliciously down her leg. “Can’t ever stop bratting.” She giggles giddily, shaking her head.

Matty grabs himself by the base, guiding himself between her thighs. His tip rubs at her dripping entrance, still teasing her when she’s near ready to explode from the lack of him.

“Matty…” Alana warns.

He chuckles. “God, you’re impatient.” He thrusts into her, bottoming out.

A scream rips out of her throat. Alana slams her hand against the counter. How fucking right he fits, curving just perfectly inside of her. She bites her tongue, bliss loosening all her tense muscles.

No matter how fucking shit this thing with him is, this, him inside of her, will always be holy.

Matty grabs her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and pounds into her. He has a wild, brutal rhythm going on, sliding in and out of her before she can register any of them, until all she knows is to moan, pleases and so goods and mores falling off her lips before she can think them.

His skin slaps against her, the rough leather of his belt hitting her ass with each stroke. Mostly, he’s silent for once, too. Pretty, mean words robbed from his throat as he grunts and whines openly. How victorious it makes Alana feel, drowning in the sounds of him like he’s not invading every inch of her. Like she’s won.

Her tongue burns. Ecstasy weeps down her spine. She clenches around him, again and again. “Matty—” She warns, out of breath. She’s learned her lesson. “Matty, I’m—”

“I know, baby.” He whispers hotly, driving into her faster. “What a good girl. Are you gonna say please?”

“Please,” she yells, face scrunching, cunt throbbing as she—

Her walls close around nothing. Alana chokes at the lack of him, too sudden and too quick for her to register until it’s too late. Matty robbed her of an astronomical orgasm again.

She lays there pitiful, pillaged of all fight. Her cheeks feel wet and scratchy and— oh, God, she’s actually crying.

“Oh, baby,” Matty coos, taking her arms and dragging her into the warmth of his body. Her head rolls on his shoulder, letting him play her like his favorite ragdoll. He wipes at her tears. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s too much.”

“You can handle it.” He grabs a handful of her tits, using his other hand to guide her vision to the bathroom mirror. “Look at you,” he whispers. “Look how fucking beautiful you look.”

Alana’s hair is a nest, pretty layers tangled around her face. Her face is flushed; eyeliner dripping down her eyes, lipstick smearing her chin, cheeks red from leftover blush and those pathetic tears. Her chest is blotched scarlet, freckles of growing bruises littering her skin. She’s a mess.

Yet, Matty looks at her with devotion. I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful.

He works slowly into her. His hips grind against her ass, deliciously reverbing in her cunt. Just this is enough to send burning ecstasy down her limbs. It’s this heady mix of pure pleasure and the striking fear that he won’t let her have it that reigns over her head.

Matty makes heavy eye contact in the reflection of the mirror. Pupils dark and penetrating, watching her every hitched breath with fascination. He wants her so much, it chokes her.

His strokes grow faster. Alana whimpers, gripping his arm, terrified of the orgasm building inside of her. She’s run out of words to beg with. All there’s left is pleading eyes, still wet with tears.

Matty sees the message loud and clear. “Shhh,” he whispers. “Trust me. You have to trust me.”

Alana shakes her head. Trusting him is an impossible task, bigger and grander than he’s ever demanded of her. She can’t. She can’t let herself.

He snaps inside of her, cruel and relentless, building her back to that epic cliff. He noses the side of her neck, moaning over and over, “Just trust me. Come on, baby. You have to trust me.” He licks her cheek, shushing in her ear. "Just trust me. Just trust me."

She thinks it’s the meanest he’s ever been with her. Demanding her to trust him at her most vulnerable when it’s him— and it’s her— and she can’t— and she has to.

He's irredeemably cruel. Doesn't he know that he's asking the world of her? How can he ask her to just trust him?

Still, that incessant burning edge. Pression building in her stomach. He presses over her belly, cooing, “Pretty girl.”

She wants it so bad. She wants him so bad. He'll give it to her. She just has to believe that he'll—

Her face scrunch and—

Wiping waves of oblivion. Her head falls into his shoulder, jaw growing slack. Hot, white pleasure strikes the deepest parts of her. Her fingertips buzz, oxygen just a little sweeter, just a little lighter.

Her brain loses all coherent thoughts. She’s a mess of burning fire, licking up her limbs, screaming uselessly Matty, Matty, Matty. It’s all her heart can chant, crashing down a cliff. She smashes to the ground, gracelessly and furiously. Doesn’t stick any kind of landing; just pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

This is why Alana falls into him all the time. Why she keeps this ridiculous tango, choking and poisonous. For the momentary relief of not existing, of just being a body in his skillful hands. She purrs, relieved of any burden, relieved of him, even.

Matty follows quickly after her, spilling inside of her with the sweetest moans she’s ever heard. She laughs happily, gravity still very far from her.

He lingers inside of her, dropping his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily against her naked skin.

“Fuck, Alana.”

“Fuck, Matty.” He chuckles, rubbing his forehead lazily against her. Alana peeks one eye open, nervously watching the ruins of them after their catastrophic pass through each other. “We’re a mess,” she laughs.

It’s always strangely like this when they’re done. Light and breezy. Easy.

Matty smirks, kissing her shoulder. “Mostly you.”

She slaps him, laughing an offended gasp. “Shut up!”

He thrusts out of her. Cum leaks down her thighs, which only makes her vaguely blush. Matty tucks himself back in his trousers, buckling his belt. He works at his half-unbuttoned shirt next, then his forgotten jacket kicked at their feet. Alana watches him solemnly.

When he’s done with himself, he turns her back to him. With gentle fingers, rough at the tips but oh so careful with her, he lowers the skirt of her dress, raising the cups over her bare breasts again. It’s weird to have him like this. Sort of sweet.

He kisses her nose, then smiles ruefully. “See ya.”

Alana frowns as he steps away from her. “What? That’s it?”

He looks back at her, tightening his tie. He arches a bored eyebrow. “What? Did you want to suck my dick clean?”

Alana’s lips part in affront. Fucking Matty Healy. Asking her to trust him just to slap her in the face. She can't believe she considered him any kind of sweet. Considered them anything but an unwatchable forest fire spreading in front of their very eyes.

“Only to bite it off,” she spits, fists clenching in anger.

He smirks. “Kinky.” He opens the door, stepping through. It slams behind him.

It’s dark and cold in the bathroom. Alana crosses her arms, craving a drink and a cigarette. God, she’s a fucking mess.

#THIS IS FOUL #terrible people being terrible and sexy together!!#goodluck yall #matty healy smut #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #imagine #smut #writing #to dust and bones #ewb

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bloodlessbelmounte · 3 months ago

Text

Eternity Will Bring You Near - Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary:

Wade understood that Logan was from a world where Alpha, Beta and Omega were everyday terms, not exclusive to red-pilled incel fuckheads who kept inventing new performative male genders. Wade would've been classified as a Beta. Logan, however, was an Alpha - Wade's read enough fanfiction and yaoi manga to know what that means. Though it doesn't explain why Logan keeps sniffing him.

Pairing: Alpha!Worst Wolverine/Deadpool

Genre: A/B/O, Smut, Domestic-ish

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Blood, Mild Gore/Body Horror, Masturbation, Additional warnings to be added as more chapters are uploaded.

Beginning Note: This was originally meant to be a crackfic but the bitch decided to become a multichapter project instead. I never thought I would get brain rot this severe over a movie of all things. The toxic old man yaoi really is a hell of a drug.

Cross posted to AO3

Heya kiddos- well actually no I hope you’re not kiddos. The following events aren’t exactly G-rated. Scratch that, not G-rated in the slightest. See the author’s girlfriend asked them if they had written anything gay before because and I quote “You’re the type of person I imagine would – you are very gay” and was very surprised to find her partner had, in fact, not written gay porn for a rabid audience (though they once wrote reader insert smut for one of the most rabid fan-bases – BTS anyone?). Lucky for her, the author’s autistic ass is currently hyper-fixated on my movie and has watched it twice. Now I know what you’re thinking: another re-imagining of the icon and highly erotic Honda Odyssey scene that the Tumblr girlies are going feral over? Sadly no, there are over a hundred-and-sixty interpretations of that situationship on AO3 already and the author is not up to that task. Self-conscious and insecure fuckface they are. Oh b-t-dubs, this will have mixed perspectives. So without further ado, let’s fucking do this. Maximum effort.

Deadpool didn’t imagine his epic team-up with his hero of heroes to end this way. With his noble self-sacrifice, blue anti-matter coiled around his wrist, coursing through his veins and dismantling him atom by atom and him helplessly reaching for the matter contained on the other side of this fucking bridge. No, to be honest, he imagined it ending with maybe a few drinks in a bar to celebrate victory before trying to convince Wolverine to hate fuck him. When have things ever gone his way?

You will never save the world. Ya couldn’t even save a relationship with a god damn stripper.

“Not now, flashbacks.”

Grunts of effort and pain as he was on the verge of dislocating his shoulder to just fucking reach the other fucking side. He had to save them. Give Peanut the restart he deserved. Give this world the hero it deserved. Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer’ was ringing through his ears as he knew he needed a miracle. And just like a prayer answered, Wolverine was right there with him, gripping tightly to his reaching hand and bridging the gap. He had a few precious seconds to appreciate the washboard glistening abs that were explosively -gloriously- exposed to his greedy eyes before Madonna and the pain crescendoed. Oh, what he would’ve done to at the very least get a bit of frottage from that meal of a man. Deadpool and Wolverine’s shouts of agony as energy tore through them intermingled, part of the chorus only he could hear.

White. Everything was white. Burning hot and blinding. Then there was…

Nothing. No pain. No heat. Just weightlessness.

Until his body collided with a wall with a thunk and sprawled onto the ground. He couldn’t get up immediately, his healing factor working overtime to patch up the spider webbing network of atomised damage. Once the pain was tolerable enough, Deadpool stumbled up to his feet with gritted teeth. What did people say? Pain lets you know you are still alive. Well, he was definitely alive then. The smoke and debris in the air made it hard to breathe let alone see through his mask, that wouldn’t do. Ripping the miraculously intact material off, Wade idly wondered why his clothes were fine. Did the universe decide he was too much of an eyesore to strip? Or more logically, Logan’s metal skeleton made him more conductive. Shit.

Wade scanned the destroyed room, trying to catch a glimpse of neon yellow. Panic seeped in when he couldn’t immediately spot the older mutant. Please don’t be vaporised.

“Wolvie? Peanut?!”

A groan came from across the other side of the wreckage. Groaning was good. Groaning – in this case – meant pain or annoyance, which meant functional nervous system. Good. Good. Now, how to get across. Bridge is out of the question, it’s royally fucked. Which left clambering over crumbled walls that blocked the walkways. Goal set, Wade navigated his way over to roughly where he heard the groan emanate from, muscles protesting the whole time. Bright yellow peaked out from underneath the rubble. Logan’s knee to be precise. Wade sighed.

“Maximum effort.”

Wade got to work, moving aside the bricks that had landed on top of his partner, revealing a barely lucid Wolverine and- Holy shit. Big fuck off piece of metal shelving right through the stomach. Wade was pretty sure the only reason Logan wasn’t bisected was because of those metal bones of his.

“Take a deep breath, Honey Badger, this is going to hurt worse than the reviews for the Borderlands movie. Can you believe they’ve gotten a nine percent critics score on Rotten Tomatoes while we have a seventy-eight? They weren’t too happy about all the rectal stabbings. Have they not heard of queer allegory? Though we’re ninety-five from audiences. Must be all the sexual tension between us.”

As Wade was prattling on – partly running his mouth as always and partly to distract Logan – he unsheathed his katanas and slotted them into the wound and wiggled them under the metal.

“The fuck are y’doing, Bub?” Logan seethed through gritted teeth, trying to sit up only to be pushed back down again by the merc.

See Wade wasn’t always an idiot- “Hey I take offence to that.” -but he could have a smart idea every once in a while, such as now. Knowing that he did not possess the strength to pull out - “My pull-out game is strong I’ll have you know.” - the sheet of metal, a proper application of force would allow him to lever it out. Taking turns with what katana he pushed down on, he eventually worked the shelf out far enough for him to straddle the other man’s lap and rip it out the rest of the way with a wet squelch. Next to come out were his beloved weapons which he wiped in his elbow crease then re-sheathed.

Immediately Logan’s thatched lickable abs started to knit themselves back together. And Wade couldn’t stop his hands from wandering; tracing up his chest and neck to grab those blowjob handles, lean down, and finally kiss the crotchety old fuck like he’d been dying to for the past seventy-two hours. Because in for a penny in for a pound, who knows if he’d see him again when all is said and done. Logan went stiff beneath him and Wade froze in place, knowing in his bones that he was going to get pushed off. But then Logan relaxes and his arms wrap around Wade’s waist to pull him closer, his tongue sweeps across the seem of scarred lips asking for entry. Which is enthusiastically granted. Blood and iron assaults Wade’s taste buds as teeth knock and tongues dance. Of course, being over two hundred would make Wolvie a great kisser, the man wasn’t contractually allowed a flaw under Disney. As much as Wade would have loved to carry on sloppily making out and maybe slip his hand down what remains of Logan’s suit, he knew that even though he wouldn’t mind beating the crap out of a bureaucrat with a raging hard-on, the man beneath him probably would. And so semi-reluctantly Wade broke away with a sigh, Logan’s hands shifting to lightly grasp his hips.

“We should show that motherfucker upstairs just how alive we are.”

Of course, you gays, gals, and non-binary pals know what happens after that. We march our asses up to those pencil pushers resulting in two iconic lines – one of which is an Oscar-worthy delivery of my favourite word. There were some extreme levels of sexual tension between B-15 and Peter, Logan and I regenerate my timeline meaning my plan fucking worked and Logan got to stay here. We also got a fat stack of compensation each for our efforts. Now we cut to shawarma and see things from a grumpy puppy’s perspective.

Logan knew to expect some differences between this universe and his original such as there still being living X-men. And he knew that there was the fundamental difference of a lack of secondary sexes here but the distinct absence of pheromones everywhere made the air here seem… cleaner? Almost overwhelming in its purity. The scent of pollution, of food being prepared, of dog piss on the pavement undiluted. No Alphas peacocking. No Omegas trying to suppress and get by. Just “average” people living average lives. Like what was happening in front of him.

Logan, with arms crossed over and leaning against a wall, watched in amusement (not that he’d ever admit to it) as Wade went to place his order at the shawarma place he had led him to.

“I’ll have one beedo beedo, a chocobo supreme, and a mountain boo bah. What would you like Honey Badger?” Wade asked his elbow on the counter top, head resting on his hand as his body was turned to face his partner, ignoring how the server was looking at him like he’d grown three heads.

“Sir, this is a shawarma joint, we only do shawarma here. I have no idea what a beedo beedo is-” The kid behind the counter tried to inform the ADHD-riddled regenerator only to be met with a finger over his lips as he was promptly shushed.

“We do the talking sweetums, you just be a little patient. Wolvie? Anything in mind?”

Some rest would be a good start, then a shower and bottle of whiskey. An explanation on that kiss back there. But food was a good start.

“Ignore his ramblings, he’s had multiple head injuries over the last few days. We’ll have two beef and one chicken, all the salad. Obviously tarator sauce in the beef and toum in the chicken. As for drinks, give us whatever beer y’d recommend.” Logan noticed Wade’s jaw drop out the corner of his eye as he rattled off a proper order. The kid behind the counter pushed the finger on his lips away and nodded, inputting the order and printing off the details to pass to the cook. “What? Did y’think I’d never had this before?”

Wade blinked at him, “Well… uh… to be honest yeah. Didn’t take you for the adventurist foodie type.”

“Need I remind y’of just how old I am, Bub? I was around when immigrants introduced this to the country.”

“Oh, so you’re the original trendsetter for your universe. Speaking of, I’ve seen the fanfictions and read the yaoi, did your world have fated pairs and heat cycles? Do male Omegas just have a dick and ass or do they have a vagina too? Or did they just have a vagina? Did you have to take suppressors for your ‘Alpha Ruts’ to reign in your primal instincts?” Wade’s eyes shone with curiosity as he fired off questions, “Oh are we going to have to deal with those now that you’re in residence here? Maybe I should ask that TVA lady to get you like an inter-dimensional prescription.”

Logan sighed and rubbed his face, he had been expecting this line of questioning. Honestly, he had expected them to occur in the Void after Wade got offended for being called a beta-

“What in the Andrew Taint bullshit is that? They have toxic masculinity red-pillers in your world too? And you’re one of them? For shame Logi Bear. That’s why you’re the Worst Wolverine.”

-and the subsequent misunderstanding was cleared up. At least in the Void, there were fewer witnesses.

“In order: Yes to both. Dick and Ass. Yes, it’s a pain to get by without them or a partner. And that’s all I’m telling y’because it doesn’t affect you.”

“That’s no fun. I need the juicy deets,” Suddenly Wade gasped and pointed at him, “Do you knot?! Bite on the nape of the neck? Oh, I think I might just pop a chub at this rate.”

Logan growled standing straight and emitting his pheromones on instinct, “Enough. As I said it doesn’t affect y’so y’don’t need to know.”

Silence. Finally silence. And the faintest smell of something sweet.

“Order up.”

Logan took his two beef and handed the chicken to Wade alongside a beer, his own stuffed into a jacket pocket. They sat outside the shop in silence and in the time it took for Logan to wolf down one and a half of his order, Wade had only finished half before he started talking again.

“You know, the Avengers discovered shawarma in the sacred timeline.” He said, mouth still full.

Logan glanced over at him, “They’d be lucky to have y’.”

Wade had a considering look in his eye as paused chewing then nodded. The guy still probably had his insecurities and self-doubt that Logan definitely exacerbated in the Honda. Just as they were about to take another bite, barking and the sound of scampering paws were heading right at the pair. It was that fucking dog.

“Oh~”

“Come on,” Logan groaned, head falling back.

“Fuck!” Wade threw his half-eaten wrap on the ground and began the daintiest clap Logan had ever seen done by someone other than a white girl, “Come over here my little munchkin! Yes, it’s you~. You’re a survivor.” Wade picked up the ugly little thing, squeezing her tight and kissing her on the head. “Oh, all is right in the world. Yes, it is.” Wade turned to him, eyeing him up and down, “So what are you going to do next?”

Logan shrugged, “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“That right? I’ll probably see you around,” A small smile was playing on his lips as he continued to gauge his response.

An impulsive thought wormed its way into his head, before he knew it he found himself quirking an eyebrow at the merc and proceeded to lie.

“Probably not. See y’, Bub.”

With that, he stood up and walked away as Wade continued to pet Dogpool. He threw the remains of his meal onto a table. A waste really. But all part of the plan. His pace was slow and measured, he was waiting. And when he heard the call of:

“Logan!”

He stopped, a small smile unable to be contained as Wade finally called him by his name. Not one of those childish nicknames. This had been what he was waiting to hear. He turned to face Wade, his expression schooled into a neutral facade.

“Stay with me- us.” Wade offered, pointing between himself and the dog.

Logan walked back over to him, “I thought y’shared a one-bedroom apartment with a lovely blind woman named Althea. Doesn’t sound like y’have much room for me.” Not much room in the apartment or his life. He wasn’t part of Wade’s world.

“There’s always room for one more. We have a pull-out sofa you can use. Not much privacy but it’s home. I only share a bed with Blind Al because I’ve been incredibly touch-starved since the breakup and need my bedtime cuddles.”

Logan huffed a chuckled, “That’s why I had to tie y’up, Bub.” A lie. In reality he had been planning to abandon Wade in that car. “Well, I’m not one to turn down a free roof over my head until I can sort out something more permanent.”

Before he knew it, he was following Wade to his home which was a lot closer to the TVA base and, subsequently, the shawarma shop than he had expected. Just down the street really. Meeting Al was sweet, it almost felt like being introduced to a parent back when he was a young man. And much like a mother, she swiftly turned in ire to Wade and slapped him on the arm with such precision Logan almost doubted her disability.

“Wade W. Wilson, you disappear after blowing out your birthday candles only to return with havoc in the streets and a man on your arm. You could have told us you were dating again. Peter was worried sick about you.”

It had been his birthday? The merc had spent his birthday trying to save his friends -his world – and was rewarded with a thorough verbal dressing down and a night of carnage in a car.

“Oh well, you know, it was the usual. I got abducted, told our universe was dying because someone had to go and nobly sacrifice themselves for the next generation of mutants. So then I hopped through multiple universes to find me a Wolverine who wouldn’t stab me on sight. Found this fella right here and got sent to the universal (not the studio) trash heap. Where I then proceeded to get my brain finger fucked by a bald long-nail-bedded bitch. Seriously they began at like her knuckle. Props to the costume department for that mildly disturbing detail.” Al’s inability to see didn’t stop Wade’s wild gesticulations as he described the events that happened to him. “And after a daring escape from her clutches, I had the best birthday car romp in a while. Became a real pin cushion for ‘im.” Wade sent Logan a wink.

Logan cleared his throat and avoided eye contact, a slight heat taking root in his ear at the implication behind those words. Al gagged.

“Wade, what I’m about to say is without a hint of homophobia: I don’t need to hear any more about your repulsive sex life. It’s bad enough I can hear you choking the chicken in the bathroom.”

Wade was laughing to himself as he meandered away from his now two room-mates and it was only slightly awkward until he returned with sweatpants and a tank top in hand. He shoved them into Logan’s chest along with a towel.

“Shower is through that door there,” He pointed to his right, “You reek of alcohol, blood, and Marvel H Christ knows what else. I doubt I smell much better – not like the Void had personal hygiene products lying around – but your odour can only be described as one of my twenty-eighteen suicide attempts from the second movie before I rewrote the events that triggered that spiral.” Wade looked off to the side, “You readers know which one I’m on about.” He mimicked an explosion sound as he ballooned his hands apart.

Logan was taken aback for a moment, processing that the seemingly always chipper buffoon had tried to kill himself at some point. However, he decided against acknowledging the trauma dump by just grunting his thanks. He took the offered clothes and beelined for the bathroom.

Alright fuck-os let’s focus on me again.

Shut up, Wade. I’m trying to write here.

Oh sure you are. I saw you reading other fanfics and some of my comic runs. And aren’t you on vacation now? I didn’t say you could take a break.

Sigh. Anyway…

Wade placed Mary Puppins on the floor and then immediately flopped onto the sofa, energy levels depleted and a deep set ache in his muscles. He waited for the sound of the shower starting before speaking.

“We’re not dating.”

“Not yet,” Al responded, somehow managing to give him a pointed look despite a) being blind and b) wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t see her eyes.

“The man hates me. Stabbed me many times on many occasions – not that I didn’t enjoy it.” Wade grumbled, sinking further into his seat.

“So why is he here?”

“He had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t just let him wander the streets after I abducted him. Not after he saved me.”

“So Vanessa announces she has a new boyfriend after you’ve been separated for two years and you went and kidnapped one for yourself. That’s a new kind of fucked up, even for you Wade.”

“Yeah I know, I’m a bigger fuck up than Ryan Reynolds accepting that Green Lantern role. I don’t need reminding. Again, we’re not dating. Manage to get your hands on some White Girl Interrupted while Feige’s attention was on the Void?”

“You might not be but you like him. You haven’t introduced someone to me like that since Vanessa. I still don’t know who the fuck Feige is but yes I did.”

“Good because I need some right now. I’m guessing you’ve put it in your sex toy drawer in an attempt to deter me but Al you always fail to remember very little disgusts me.”

Wade slapped his lap as he got up, signalling the end of the conversation. He went back to the bedroom and immediately opened the aforementioned drawer, sticking his hand in he rifled through dildos and vibrators of various shapes and sizes until he found a rectangular packet. Bingo. Oh, he was so going to build a snowman. Oh wait, this is fanfiction, not a movie, Feige has no control here. Wade can just say cocaine.

You guys are going to have to use your imagination here because the author doesn’t know how to write cocaine usage because they’re a pure little munchkin who only ever smoked weed like five times and sniffed poppers once.

Hey stop interrupting or I’ll make this a T rating.

Suitably buzzed and the throbbing ache of his muscles dulled, Wade grabbed a towel and a set of PJ’s to change into after his turn in the shower. His timing was seemingly perfect as he entered the living area just as Logan stepped out of the bathroom towelling his hair roughly, a steam plume framing him in a haze with the lighting hitting just right. The clothes lent to him a tight fit as they clung to the man’s muscular frame, hugging spots that weren’t completely dry yet. Dear lord, was that a dick print? Look at the size of that thing! He needed to French kiss whoever invented grey sweats. Whoever they are or were, he hoped they were getting laid six ways to Sunday. Wade found himself thanking whatever foresight he had since the white tank went near translucent in places like the dips of Logan’s abs and the swell of his pecs. He quickly wiped away the drool on the corner of his lips.

“Nice milk cans you got there, Wolvie. Hope you didn’t use up all the hot water,” Wade commented, eyes still roving over the other’s effortlessly erotic form. That’s the World’s Sexiest Man 2008 for you.

Logan slung the towel around his shoulders, a flush to his cheeks – from heat, Wade’s comment, or ogling who knows – as he seemingly took a moment to study the merc’s face.

“Is… Is that cocaine in y’nose? Y’pupils are dilated. Are y’high?” Logan scoffed in response, eyebrows pinched together.

Wade wiped his nose, “Did you know your pupils can dilate as much as fifty-five percent when you look at something or someone you love? Because I’m loving what a feast for my eyes you are.” He approached the grouchy man and rubbed a thumb between his eyebrows, which was swiftly slapped away with a grumble, “You shouldn’t frown so much, it’ll age you faster. As much as I am all for our old man yaoi dynamics I don’t want you looking like the Old Man Logan who shotgun blasted me.”

Wade patted Logan on the arm as he squeezed past him to get entry into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He chucked the towel and change of clothes onto the bathroom’s counter top, knocking over the toothbrush pot and a few other bits. He then stripped off the red leather suit, having to peel it away as dried blood and various other bodily fluids had acted as fucking glue. Bare as the day he was born, Wade turned the shower on and fiddled with the taps to get the temperature just how he liked it. Steamy, the same way he liked his homoerotic fight scenes.

Stepping in, Wade rolled his shoulders and took a moment to let the water ease his tight muscles.

“That’s the good stuff,” he moaned softly, tilting his head back eyes closed.

After what felt like a suitable amount of time had passed, he grabbed his loofah and body wash and went to town on getting the caked-on grime off of his scarred skin. The water flowing down the drain was a murky burgundy as sand, old blood, and who knows what else was washed away.

When the water turned clear Wade decided to focus on… other things. Mainly the beefcake wearing his clothes at that very moment, the walking wet dream he was. Visions of those sweaty tits floated through his mind, making his cock – which had already been at half-mast – twitch in interest. God, he had been dying to rub one out since he woke up tied against The Wolverine. He grasped himself firmly and gave a few tugs to get fully hard before teasing over the tip. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as tried to stifle his whimpers. He worked over his shaft as he recalled how Logan had smiled during their scuffle in the Honda, how his blood had dripped onto the older man’s cheek and into his mouth – on those fangs. Logan had licked the blood off with an almost feral look in his eyes before launching him through the sun roof. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last with how pent-up he was. His grip tightened as he sped up his ministrations. He remembered the kiss after saving the multiverse as he came with an embarrassingly desperate groan. Logan had kissed him back. Had held him close. Yet when all was said and done, he had been ready to leave Wade behind. What a confusing, grumpy hunk. With a shaky exhale he turned off the shower.

Wade towelled off and got dressed. His chosen PJ’s for the night were lavender shorts and a Hello Kitty crop top. Hey – crop tops were invented by male bodybuilders to get around gym attire rules, so never let anyone tell you men can’t wear crop tops. With dramatic zeal, Wade threw open the door and strutted out of the bathroom. He was not expecting to have two pairs of hazel eyes looking right at him. One in disdain and one in… appraisal?

Laura. Laura was on his sofa. Why was she here? Oh god… did Laura hear him jerking off?!

“Oh.” Wade squeaked, mortified as his body tinged a dark red. “Hi there.”

The girl, so much like her father, grunted in response and turned away. Speaking of, Logan had yet to tear his eyes away and if Wade saw correctly, he seemed to be… sniffing?

“Enjoy y’shower, Red?” The smirking fucker asked, then gestured towards Laura, “The TVA just dropped her off. She has nowhere to crash so Althea kindly offered her y’spot on the bed.”

Wade gasped and marched round to stand in front of the pair, “What? Where am I supposed to sleep? On the floor?”

“I’m not going to make y’sleep on the floor in y’own home, Wade. Y’ll be bunking with me on the sofa.” Logan patted the free space next to him.

Wade stiffly sat down in the offered seat and whispered incredulously to the older man, “What about my bedtime cuddles?”

“I’m sure y’can make do without.” Logan deadpanned but that infuriating smirk was still plastered on his face.

It was quite the jump from it just being Wade and Al in the shitty one bed apartment to there now being four people in the space of a few hours.

Wade huffed and crossed his arms, “We need to find a bigger apartment… Anyone feel like Chinese food?”

There was a chorus of agreement. Wade took Al’s phone off the coffee table and opened up the delivery app he used most, his favourite Chinese take-out was top of the recommended list. He put in what he and Al usually ordered then passed the phone to Logan. His former eyebrows shot upwards as the bi-centenarian successfully navigated the menus and selected what he wanted. It was Laura who seemed perplexed by the menu and the food listed. It was a sweet moment, watching Logan awkwardly explain what everything was when asked. Despite being virtually strangers, there looked to be a genuine connection forming already. Kin recognising kin on that instinctual level only Wolverines can experience. Wade took the time to tell Al and Laura all about the epic battle in the streets and how they saved the world with the power of hand holding as they waited for their food to arrive.

“You know Peter will have told everyone by now that you’re back with company,” Al remarked, petting Mary Puppins who had situated herself on the elderly woman’s lap. “They’ll be over tomorrow, I just know it.”

Wade felt Logan go rigid beside him, was he worried about Negasonic and the other X-men in his makeshift family? Oh, that was going to be a weird meeting wasn’t it. Not because they’d be seeing a ghost of their Wolverine, no. Their Wolverine was still alive and kicking, after all it’s twenty-twenty-four at the moment not twenty-nine which was when his timeline’s Logan was scheduled to die. See, Wade had used that TVA device to jump forward in time and exhume his remains because for the TVA all timeline events are happening simultaneously. So these X-men would be seeing a stranger who looked like their Logan, and Logan would be seeing the faces of those he had already lost in his world knowing he was going to lose them here too. Wade made a silent vow to keep Negasonic, Yukio and Colossus away from Westchester when the time comes. He liked those ones.

…Wait. All that timey-whimey stuff meant that Paradox, the dickhead, was going to set off the Time Ripper five years before this timeline’s OG Logan was meant to die. Was he really so impatient to ‘prune’ the timeline that he wasn’t willing to waiting for the self-sacrificing fuck to actually do the thing?

“Everyone except Weasel – his actor has multiple sexual assault allegations against him and that’s not a good look for us,” Wade interjected in a most likely misguided attempt to lighten the mood. All it got him, however, was Laura and Logan staring at him. “Hey, I don’t keep people like that in my social circle. I’m a good boy. Consent is sexy and if someone doesn’t take no for an answer, stab ‘em. Solves everything.”

Laura nodded at the sagely advice then looked towards the door and stood up seconds before knocking resounded from the entry way. Wade handed her the tip money as she walked by to answer. Food secured, Wade stood up, washed up some cutlery that would be needed and handed them out as Logan helped Laura to sort out the food and Al turned on the TV – Golden Girls was already playing. They mostly ate in silence whilst Wade made comments about the episode that was met with “Shut up” from various people. It wasn’t long until Al was retiring for the night and taking Laura with her to sort some things to wear. The girl was briefly sent out with bedding, blankets and spare pillows for the sofa.

“We should probably get the bed set up, sounds like we’re in for a long day tomorrow,” Wade suggested while clearing away the take out containers.

“We should… but we still have those beers from the shawarma place. In the fridge, if y’d like to have them now,” Logan offered, collecting up the dirty cutlery to put in the already overflowing sink. He grunted at the sight of it.

Wade retrieved said beers and handed one to Logan who released a single claw and used it to pop the cap off. He then did the same to Wade’s, who found that all too attractive, he had to think of puppies being kicked to stop himself from popping a boner then and there.

“Cheers. To saving the world!” Wade toasted, clinking his bottle against Logan’s.

“To saving y’world,” Logan grumbled, immediately taking a deep swig.

“Any particular reason you wanted to share a drink with me, Peanut?” Wade asked, sitting back down on the cushion he had previously occupied, eyes following Logan as he sat on the opposite side of the sofa with legs spread. Slut.

“Deserve it after the shit we’ve been through. Not everyday people like us nearly die.” Logan answered, gesturing between them.

“Thank you, by the way, for not letting me face death alone in the end. Despite the noble sacrifice, I wasn’t lying when I said I was scared,” Wade said, shifting in his seat to bring both his feet up. It just never felt right to have them on the floor.

Logan growled, “Couldn’t exactly let y’. As I said, I had nothing left to live for. Would have left me stranded here with no fucking clue who anyone was if y’had succeeded. Asshole move on y’part.”

Wade nursed his beer as Logan spoke. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his rushed plan to save everyone. He placed his drink on the coffee table and tried looking anywhere but at the man casually spread across his sofa. Candid moments came as naturally as bottoming to him. Not at all.

“In that moment, when you offered yourself up and held that picture, I thought I needed to save those I cared about. Apparently, in the three fucking days we’ve known each other for, you became the tenth person in my world. Saving everyone meant saving you too – despite the stabbing each other.”

The silence that came afterwards made him uncomfortable, had him reaching for his beer to keep his mouth busy. He could hear Logan gulping down his before hollow glass clinking on MDF resounded through the room with an accompanying sigh. Wade finally looked at the other man, who just seemed tired. Ready to call it a night.

“What’s done is done, Bub. Just glad we both survived to see another day.” Logan pointed to the mostly full bottle in Wade’s hands, “Y’gonna finish that?”

“Oh, uh yeah. Hang on.” In a similar display to what Logan had done in that dive-bar he dragged him out of, Wade necked the bottle of beer, some of the liquid dribbling out the corner of his mouth. He impressed himself with how he managed to chug it down without needing to breathe – he thought those binge drinking muscle memories had long since faded. Once empty, Wade lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze drifted over to Logan whose eyes, which were darker than usual (but that may have been down to the lighting), were locked on Wade’s throat.

“You good there, Honey Badger?”

Logan blinked a couple of times and shook his head, “Yeah just… just lost in thought. Let’s get the bed set already.”

Wade nodded and picked up their bottles, depositing them in a plastic bag that contained other used glass items. He then manoeuvred the coffee table out of the way so Logan could pull the bedframe and mattress out. It all felt rather domestic; pulling the bottom sheet into place, setting up the blankets and pillows together. The lights were turned off and the two men got under the covers. Wade really did try to go to sleep but for all his effort he was left tossing and turning.

“Will y’quit it? Is your ADHD so severe you can’t stay still even in your sleep?” Logan groaned, arm slung over his face.

“I wasn’t lying about needing bedtime cuddles, Logi Bear,” Wade hissed back.

Logan huffed and threw the arm closest to Wade over the younger man, “Fine. Y’can cuddle this arm. But just the arm.”

“Yay!” Wade cheered, eagerly rolling onto his side and wrapping his limbs around the offered arm like it was a tree to be climbed. “Goodnight, Wolvie.”

“G’night, Bubba.”

Did he just fucking call me Bubba?!

Wade was out like a light, the physical contact anchoring his racing thoughts enough to drift off peacefully.

That’s where you’re gonna leave it? I thought we were going to Pound Town?! THIS IS RATED E DAMMIT!

This was getting too long for a oneshot Wade. You’ll still get your trip to Fuckville don’t worry. It’s not tagged slowburn. Now go the fuck to sleep and I’ll see you next chapter.

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadpool x wolverine #deadclaws #deadpool

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kifkay · 5 months ago

Text

Jobs the Winx pick after they’re done adventuring [NewGen au]

the Winx, although still friends and partners, had officially disbanded! now they’re off to their solo adventures. this is an AU, where not all of the Winx-Specialists pairs ended up settling down together - because, let’s be honest, high school sweethearts rarely do.

Stella:

In her mid-to-late thirties, Rhodos abdicates and officially passes down the crown of Solaria to Stella.

Stella and Brandon are still dating and very much in love.

Before becoming Queen, Stella tries out a lot of occupations — she owns a fashion boutique, starts in a couple of (failed) movies, runs a couple of charities which help repatriate Domino survivors.

Once, she even directs a documentary about the Winx and the Specialists. It ends up having very… controversial reviews, but the Team thinks it’s fun.

As queen, Stella advocates for friendly relationships between Solaria and many of the other planets - including Domino, Andros, Zenith. Even Eraklyon, although her and Sky don’t get along much these years.

Her and Brandon foster a girl, Mara, whom Brandon had rescued from a branch of a weird cult that settled in Solaria. Despite previously agreeing to at least hold off on having children, they love Mara to bits and are very protective over her.

Bloom:

Previously: Travelling Architect. Her one true calling. Bloom vastly enjoys being able to travel planet to planet, and come up with breathtaking architectural designs. This also gives her an opportunity to visit her girls more often.

As of now: Domino Palace Archivist. Queen Daphne’s mysterious illness has re-surfaced. Furthermore — it is progressing alarmingly fast. The royal family must be prepared for the worst, and so the second-born princess is called back to the castle urgently. For the next five years, Bloom serves as the Archivist of Domino’s records and history, as well as being low-key groomed to take over the realm - at Daphne’s own insistence.

In that period, Bloom finally moves on from her decade long on-and-off again situationship with Sky. She marries a warlock curse-breaker Saffi, with whom she has a daughter — Vanessa Mari.

Bloom also inherits her mother’s seat in the Company of Light and holds quite an important position there. Helia, who inherited Saladin’s seat, becomes her close ally and friend. Their family spend many weekends together, vacationing on beaches and having picnics.

Flora:

Currently: Guardian Fairy of Linphea, focusing on protecting various eco-systems of her home-world.

She is more of an alchemist and a researcher these days, rather than an active combatant. Flora arrives in places that have been de-stabilised by either extreme bouts of magic or human intervention, and seeks to heal them.

On a mission to a particularly messed up place which reeks of dark magic corruption, Flora meets an old friend — Mirta, who has been commissioned as a dark magic consultant! They get dinner afterwards, and well… it just goes great after that.

Flora is loving being a step-mom to Mirta’s daughter <3

Musa:

She becomes a musician and a singer, like she always wanted. Musa doesn’t reach amassing success, but she has a loyal fan base who love her for her amazing lyricism and vocals.

Tecna serves as her manager for quite some time, until she resigns for… reasons.

Musa was so sure she would marry Riven one of those days - but then he starts acting weird. Distancing himself. Holding secrets. Eventually, the specialist makes a huge spectacle of publicly severing all contact with the Team - and her. They break up, because of course they do.

Then, Riven goes off the grid. Completely disappears.

Time goes by, Musa stops touring and becomes a music composer. Her clientage is huge and spans many planets.

She has two daughters, one son, one husband and one ex (not Riven), who succumbs to a horrible, magically corrupting illness which, seemingly, comes out of nowhere.

Aisha:

Her and Nabu are going strong. She is the crown princess to the throne of Andros and he is her consort.

Being back in the palace of Andros — constantly reminded of horrible treatment and stifling loneliness she has been subjected to as a child — is hard on Aisha.

She starts regressing, becoming more withdrawn from her friends and acquaintances. Aisha is still a rebel at her core, willing to stand up and fight for what she thinks is best — but. she is just. so tired.

Nabu is always at her side. They have happy times; times, when the darkness and the apathy retreat to let Aisha breathe.

Aisha acts as Andros’s ambassador. Her, Stella, Sky and Bloom & Helia (who had both inherited seats in the Company of Light from their parents/grandparent) often work together.

They have two children, Manar and Sagar.

In recent years, Nabu had gotten ill. loosing his energy, his strength, his magic. none of the healers can explain the sudden shift in a seemingly healthy man; they only theorise that he might be suffering previously-latent repercussions of his comma and entanglement with the Dark Circle.

Aisha spirals again and distances herself from everybody but her closest family.

Tecna:

like Stella, Tecna alternated many professions.

throughout their years at Alfea, Tecna - thanks to her well-rounded and all encompassing education in Zenith, which included music theory, - has helped Musa in her artistry. Giving feedback, searching for gigs, sharing artists she might learn from online.

when Musa officially starts her music careers, she asks Tecna to be her manager - to which the girl readily agrees.

Tecna also freelances on the side: developing flying software for the Red Fountaine, writing codes and whatever else she finds interesting. Zenith tries desperately to get her to work for them, but she is not really interested.

Tecna is not interested in any romantic relationships, but stays close with almost all of her friends. Even Riven!

After years of working together, Tecna resigns as Musa’s manager. It’s a clean break and neither is terribly upset: Tecna is Musa’s kids’ godmom, for Dragon’s sakes! They stay close, although Tecna is awfully tight-lipped about her “new project with Timmy”.

The project Timmy and her are working on is — well, neither Internet nor any planet has records on it.

Currently: Tecna is working her way up as a Zenithian lab researcher. She doesn’t seem to be making much headway, but Tecna doesn’t lose hope. Eventually, she’ll get where she needs to be…

The Specialists will be up next! hopefully, the text is coherent enough <3 trying out something new

#winx club #winx headcanons #winx #winx au #winx rewrite #winx newgen #winx bloom #winx brandon #winx flora #winx riven #winx sky #winx specialists #winx stella #winx aisha #winx musa #winx layla #winx tecna #winx timmy #winx helia

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lovingperfectionsblog · 2 years ago

Text

Till Death.

Carlos Sainz Jr x Driver!Reader

Summary: Unexpected medical leave is forced upon you and you’re no longer allowed to race, and you’re pissed about it.

Warnings: Unexpected pregnancy, accident, angst, language, fighting, mentions of (unprotected) sex, situationship type relationship, mentions of death.

Word Count: 2586

Authors note: Sorry for this one everybody  I wish the ending was a bit better, but here we go. Enjoy quali everyone and I hope y’all enjoy <3

_____

“Could we keep this to ourselves for now, please?” You hated this. You hated that you’d been stupid and not used protection one fucking time, and you’d hated that you were begging a doctor to not put you on mandated medical leave and most importantly you hated that you’d fallen for your biggest rival in F1.

It’s not that your rivalry was ugly, honestly, it was probably the best one on the grid, starting out a little nasty until you two had grown to be best friends in front of the entire F1 world’s eyes and then secretly turned lovers. You’d both said it had just been for fun, that it didn’t mean anything, but to you it did, and you were happy with the little arrangement, rivals, friends, lovers, and now, pregnant.

Fuck.

“Listen, this is going to be dangerous for both you and the baby, I cannot in good conscious as your doctor approve of you getting in that car to race tomorrow” you hated how she was looking at you right now. You’d come in because you felt a little sluggish, your boss wanting to make sure all was okay as you fought for second place in the championship, nearly at equal points with Carlos, but close to 2 hours later, you were now hearing your worst case scenario, “I think you’re done for the year, just until the kids born, if you choose to keep it.”

“One more race, give me that, please, don’t tell anyone, not yet, just let me get through tomorrow, I’ll come to you first thing for a check-up after the race, just let me say goodbye” Both of you knew this was unchartered territory for F1, and both of you knew that the backlash was going to astronomical, especially considering who the father was.

“Jesus, this is going to get me fired, but, one race, you see me straight after, try not go too fast, no accidents obviously, please, and as soon as your race is done, I’m talking to your boss” it was fair, you knew you were asking her for a lot in terms of her career and you couldn’t be more thankful that she just understood, and she was being fair. You knew it was more than you could actually ask for, “you also have to tell Carlos”

“How did you know it –“ The look she swung your way was enough to shut up that train of thought, “after the race, I promise, he won’t let me race otherwise, after the race.” The nod you received was confirmation enough that she’d keep your secret, just until the end of the race, you’d have until the end of the race to decide what you were going to do, to build up the courage to walk away from your dream and to tell your best friend you loved him and were having his kid.

______

“Red flag, red flag, slow down” Carlos knew something weird was going to happen during this race, his father always told him to trust his gut and something about this race felt wrong.

“Is everyone okay?” Carlos immediately asked, although his race engineer knew he was really asking if you were okay.

“Crash between Yuki and Y/n, he seems okay, she hit the wall, doctor immediately called for an ambulance, so we aren’t sure what’s going on.” Carlos felt his blood going cold as he heard that it was you.

“Why are they bringing out the ambulance so quickly?” Carlos tried to keep his voice steady, he knew everyone knew you guys were a thing, but no one, not even you, knew the extent that he had cared for you, praying every weekend that this would be the weekend he was brave enough to do something about your relationship. To officially make you his. Although, so far he had never been brave enough.

“Will let you know as soon as I find out, she seems like she’s fine though, as far as anyone knows, will find out more from McLaren now” his engineer really was trying his best to find out what was going on, witnessing the panic Carlos was trying so hard to keep at bay.

“Keep me updated” Carlos had never been so happy to see the safety car, knowing they were about to be lead into the pits, where he could find out more on your condition.

_____

“Doc, why’s the ambulance being sent out?” Andreas was as confused as everyone else, with little to no information, the doctor had ordered the ambulance out, a call not normally made this soon.

“We need to make sure she’s stabilized and get her an ultrasound asap” she stood next to your team principle, waiting for the paramedics to bring you in, waiting for the moment she would have to tell your secret.

“You think she’s going to need it?” Andreas didn’t want to question the doctor, but he just needed to know what was going on with his driver.

“It’s to check that the baby is okay” she could literally feel the air shift the second those words left her mouth.

“You knew she was pregnant? And she was okay to race? Jesus, what happens now?” This wasn’t what Andreas needed half way through this season, but it’s where he was and he knew he’d have to drop you as a driver for the rest of the year.

“Medical leave, this was her last race, well, provided the kid is okay,” and with that the ambulance rolled in and she was off, leaving Andreas to figure out the mess, “I’ll keep you updated” was the last thing she shouted towards Andreas before she was fully engrossed with the paramedics.

____

As soon as Carlos had gotten out of his car at the end of the race, along with all the other drivers, he was making his way to your garage, hoping to find out exactly what was going on with you.

“You can’t be here Carlos!” Andreas shouted towards the driver, half joking, half serious, as he spoke to Lando about the season going forward, yet the drop the bombshell of his teammate dropping out of the championship.

“Just coming to check in on Y/n sir” he laughed as he came up next to the other two, confident that you were okay, considering the relaxed demeanour in the garage.

“You have done enough with my driver thank you very much, now stay away from my other one before you take him out of the championship too” he laughed, assuming Carlos knew that you were pregnant.

“What? What do you mean I took her out of the championship? Yuki was the one that crashed into her?” Carlos suddenly became panicked, terrified that he hadn’t read the room correctly and that crash was significantly worse than anyone was letting on.

“Yeah, but he isn’t the one who couldn’t keep it in his pants and got her pregnant” Carlos registered Andreas laughing, and he knew Lando was looking at him wide eyed with an even wider smile, vaguely registering that he was being spoken to, but all he heard was a ringing in his ears and faint, he felt faint. He was going to faint.

Before he could really register much else he was making his was to the medical bay, completely ignoring every single person he was moving past, as soon as he got that medical bay, he might just need them to make sure he wasn’t going to faint.

______

He barrelled into the medical wing to see you lying on a bed, doctor next to you, both eyes landing on him as he stood there panting, “your pregnant?”

“I think I should go.” The doctor immediately made her way out the room, closing the doors behind her to give you two some privacy.

“So, I take that as a yes, you’re pregnant?” he was nervous to approach you, terrified you were about to tell him that the baby hadn’t survived the crash, the small nod you sent his was confirming you were, “the crash?”

“Survived, it’s okay still kicking around in there, the cars are designed quite well” you tried to make light of the situation, already sensing that this may turn into a fight.

“Did the doctor just tell you? Oh my god, I can’t believe I wasn’t here with you when you found out, oh my god, I’m gonna be a dad.” he was still too nervous to get near you, still trying to put all the pieces together, suddenly noting your silence and avoiding his eyes, “She just told you right?”

Silence.

“Did you get in that car knowing you were pregnant?” he suddenly felt faint again, there was no way you’d put yourself and your child, his child, in that car.

Silence.

Next minute a medical tray with all your documentation was flung against the wall, an outburst of anger you’d never expected from Carlos ever.

“MY CHILD!” his breath was ragged, there was an unmistakable tear in his eye, and what you can only assume was hatred, “MY FUCKING CHILD! YOU WILLINGLY PUT YOU, THE WOMAN I AM IN LOVE WITH, AND MY FUCKING CHILD IN DANGER!”

“Carlos, please-“

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.” Now was the moment you’d have to come clean. You hated that this was how he had found out. You’d obviously never intended on any of this happening, but here you were, standing in front of the father of your child, as he finds out that firstly, the kid exists, and secondly, that you’d nearly killed it before it even had a moment to exist, before Carlos even had a moment to be excited about being a dad.

“And you got in the car anyway?” Carlos was crouching on the floor now, head in his hands, this was not how he wanted any of this to ever go, none of it.

“Yes, I got in the car because it’s my job Carlos.” Suddenly you felt angry, he had absolutely no right to dictate what you could do, child or not.

“No! No, your job right now it to make sure you are safe at all times! I am not about to lose you! Not you and not my child!” Next second you were off the bed, Carlos standing up making his way towards you, both of you toe to toe at this point, the argument only gearing up.

“YOU DO NOT GET TO TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO! WE’RE NOT EVEN DATING CARLOS!” The stress was probably not good for any of you, especially not your child, but there was no way you were backing down here.

You were right, he wasn’t even dating you, he was essentially just fucking his best friend, because he was a coward and couldn’t do anything about it and now, you were carrying his child and he was a fucking coward who had no goddamn power in this situation.

“I’ve been wanting to date you, you have to know how I feel about you, but this, Jesus fuck, this! I want nothing more than to marry you and have a family with you and yeah, the order is a little messed up and I so badly want to be happy right now and Lord knows I fucking am that the woman I am in love with is having my child, but you made a choice that I’m not sure I’m going to be able to forgive you for any time soon.” Carlos felt like the happiest and angriest person on the planet, he didn’t know what to do or say and he was sure everything he was saying was wrong, but it was time he was fucking honest with you.

“Fuck you Carlos! You can’t forgive me? Well, what about me? What about what you did to me? I am pregnant Carlos, that means I’m out, I’m not allowed to drive, I physically can’t and then I’ve got to stay with the baby, this is my entire career! Every single fucking thing I have ever fought for, for my entire life, IS GONE! And then when everyone finds out it’s your fucking kid? Well then, you’re the hottie you got some, but I’M THE GIRL who’s a SLUT and fucked her way to where she is and trapped another driver to stay with her because clearly I’m not good enough to stay in F1? Do you get that! You lose nothing Carlos, I lose everything, so don’t you dare try to take away my choices too, not you. Everyone is about to take away most of them anyway, I can’t have you taking them away too.” Fuck these pregnancy hormones and fuck the fact that you were crying, but you couldn’t help it and you couldn’t help the fact that the second Carlos wrapped his arms around you, whispering every right thing to you, along with a litany of apologies, you crumbled, and you sobbed and you hated that this is what it had all become.

“Do you want to keep it?” This was the last thing you’d expected Carlos to ask, “because you’re right, this affects you more than me, and I have been a coward and I just should have asked you to be mine ages ago and that still stands, I want you to be my girl, but right now, this affects you and I will go along with everything and anything you want, no questions asked, what do you want?” and as he waited for your response, you felt a million kisses being placed in your hair as your face was tucked into the crook of his neck.

“I kind of hate myself for this, but I do want it, I want this baby and I want you, but I want to come back to my career too.” There was no room to hide how you truly felt, not now, all cards on the table and full vulnerability, “It’s just unfair, that’s it, but I’ll get over it.”

“Okay, it’s decided, you’re my girl and I am yours, wholeheartedly, you’re not racing anymore, end of discussion, because that is what’s safest, and I will quit, or make a plan, or whatever, but if you aren’t racing because you’re pregnant, then so am I.” Carlos always knew he would be faced with important defining moments in his life, everyone had to face them, but he didn’t realize how quickly they came and he didn’t realize how easy the choice was going to be to make, like he just knew, like he just had to trust his gut, and his gut was screaming at him to do this, to make you happy, to keep you safe, he’d changed every life goal in a second without a doubt in his mind. This was it.

“You can’t give up-“ he’d kissed you before you could even finish the sentence, he wished he could make you understand but he knew this was going to take a lot of time, for both of you, for him to forgive you, for you to come to terms with a of this, all of it, for you both to come up with plans for the future. He needed to let you know that he was just as scared as you clearly were, but he was in it, with you. Till death.

“Honestly, I am giving up so little so I can get so fucking much.”

_____

Taglist:

ricsaigaslec

amulhermaisfelizdomundo

miniminescapist

0-atmilk-latte

d0ntjudgemy50shades

#Carlos Sainz Jr x You #carlos sainz jr x reader #Carlos sainz Jr #f1 imagine #Carlos sainz Jr Imagine

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wutheringmights · 8 months ago

Note

can i ask for the hot mess commentary plz?

sure

Before we crack into this, take a moment to read what I said about the neck thing. I write that up a long time ago, but it provides some important context and is a good refresher on the secret history of Spirit's bi awakening.

Also, the director's commentary for this chapter is here, in case you want to review that.

Good? Okay, let's go at it.

So.... they had sex. Yay. Insert jazz hands.

I feel like I actually have way less to talk about here than I did for the neck thing. Granted, a lot of the neck thing is behind the scenes stuff. I guess that's a good place to start.

You may recall the informal hiatus CTB went on after Spirit came back to Warriors's era. I used a lot of that time to actually work out how to end CTB and what character/plot points I would need to hit to have a satisfying conclusion.

During this time, I was listing out things about Spirit and Warriors that I need to return to. Spirit had his codependent histories with the greenhorn and Zelda, or really his strategy for offering himself up as a means of feeling more in control, that needed to be explored. I needed to do some kind of follow-up with Warriors's latent attraction.

The two topics were similar enough to make me want to tackle them at once. But the moment I did, my brain decided that they should hate fuck. (I definitely was also thinking about my old concept of Spirit's unrequited crush-- I still write the characters like that happened, even if it never actually made it into the story.)

Why hate sex? Honestly, it would be kinda funny. Plus, it's a good writing exercise to ask yourself what would happen if your characters in conflict did (not really).

I knew immediately it could only end badly for everyone involved. But I knew I needed Warriors to hit an emotional low point to motivate him to do his Castle Town plan. I knew I wanted Spirit's big speech to come at a time when he and Warriors were emotionally connecting again, and that the response to that speech needed to push him back to Time.

Shit, I thought. This might be what they do.

But, like. I love protecting my peace. I have been skirting around the edges of homo eroticism with Spirit and Warriors as much as I dared. I didn't want to invite angry anons. But then.... did I really care? I understand where people are coming from, but at the same time... this is such a minuscule non-issue. Truly, and with emotion: who even cares?

First off, we already established with the neck thing that whatever fucked up thing these two have going on does not count as shipping. And second, if it does count as shipping, then fine! It's shipping then. This is what the plot is. I've been working on this story for too long to compromise now. I'll reap the consequences, whatever they may be.

I decided to keep it on the books, half believing I would change my mind once the chapter came up.

I was feeling very confident about my choice, up until the day of posting. That was then I got slammed in the face with regret. Luckily, there hasn't been any issues. I may have overestimated as much the general populous care about CTB. If there was ever any confirmation that this story has the world's most niche audience, this is it.

And you all have been great. There's been a lot of encouragement and kind words from you the readers, after you all stopped yelling, of course.

(Though I was prepared to be an obstinate jackass to anyone who tried to complain. I found a loophole and was ready to exploit the hell out of it. I was so ready!)

Funnily enough, everyone's reactions to the past few chapters helped to reassure me the most. There was been a lot of jokes about Warriors and Spirit having the world's worst situationship (lol).

So them having sex turned into an important character and plot moment. Warriors and Spirit got built up and tore down in self-destructive ways. This experience becomes the wake-up call Warriors needed to decide that he was ready to stop being the hero and get his life back.

A lot of people expressed surprise that Warriors and Spirit would go through with it even after talking it out. To be honest, I was a little surprised too! I was half convinced that Warriors had grown enough to stop the self-destructive cycle and turn Spirit down. But when looking at the scenes leading up to them being alone-- from Twilight denounce his friendship with Warriors, Toto turning him away, and Warriors generally in an emotional rut over his intellect and lost beauty--I realized that Warriors was already in the middle of another downward spiral. He would go through with this, if only to feel valued. It was the war all over again.

Also, apparently half of you guessed that Warriors would get cigarette burns from Spirit eventually. I hope you all were happy with the results!

When I posted that snippet from the chapter, apparently all of you knew that a kiss was coming. Ooops. I'm a little glad I surprised all of you with what happened next afterward.

On to funnier things:

I meant for there to be more compare/contrasts between Warriors's nights with Icarius and Spirit. The only one I really managed to do was Link being unable to sleep next to Icarius vs Warriors falling asleep easily.

Because this chapter and the last were supposed to be one, this scene was supposed to come out around Valentine's Day. Could you imagine?

I had the silliest time trying to figure out how to get Warriors and Spirit alone in a room together. I had this grand plan about them needing to get a room in a different inn from the others, whether because they were too tired to walk home after dancing or because they were too drunk to remember the way. Then I realized that Ganondorf could just give the Chain enough money to get more rooms. I realized this way later than I should have.

If you're wondering.... they switched....

I wrote that Warriors thought that sex with Spirit felt like an argument. That is because they are both the bossiest motherfuckers in bed. They both want things done their way or else. It's combative. Unfortunately, they both like the challenge.

I did have an idea for how to end this whole matter in a funny way, both involving someone from the chain finding out.

In my first idea, Time barges into what he thinks is just Warriors's room, in the middle of some kind of rant. Then he sees both of them sitting in bed, pauses, then promptly walks out. Warriors and Spirit quickly get dress before there's a knock on the door. When Warriors opens, Time walks in casually and starts his rant again while pretending none of this had happened. He would wait until Warriors was alone to be like WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!

My other alternate scenario involves Warriors and Spirit getting a room in a different inn. In the morning, Spirit is hurriedly trying to leave when there's a knock on the door. This time, it's a few members of the chain asking if he's seen Warriors anywhere. He says no. All but one walk away. The one who stays (probably Legend) would lean and discreetly tell him that he knew the room was under Warriors's name, so if they were done, could he tell Warriors to get his ass outside? Cue Spirit burning up in embarrassment.

EDIT: I actually had a third silly scenario idea. Similar to the others, Twilight barges in to talk to Warriors about Midna (they're still friends in this scenario; this was an idea from a long time ago). Warriors is still in the bed, but luckily Spirit is in the bathroom. Warriors tries to have a normal conversation without alerting Twilight that something was amiss. And it almost works until Spirit just walks out of the bathroom, waves, and goes to put his clothes on. Cue Twilight's 404 error.

So, yeah! That's the Hot Mess. As always, it's been really fun to see everyone's reactions. Warriors and Spirit are both extremely polarizing, and I love hearing everyone's hot takes.

Does this count as toxic yaoi? Not until I see an AMV to "Numb" by Linkedin Park. Luckily, Warriors and Spirit will never do this again. Probably.

#same rules as last time: please keep this out of the main tag #it's been fine so far but let's not tempt fate lol #feel free to ask follow up questions as well #me rambling #lu ctb #ctb lore #ctb spoilers #the hot mess #ctb commentary

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disregardcanon · 5 months ago

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caught up with maws and here are some concepts for a self-indulgent jimmy and lex dated between the pep talk and the s.t.a.r labs debate ambush au

we have a few episodes in between for more time for general lane to be the worst house guest, lois and clark to be bad at communicating, and jimmy and lex to go on some little dates where they both think "oh wow he's so cute and so wrong and i could FIX HIM"

jimmy is keeping this from clark because like, his best friend is having enough of a crisis having to live with his girlfriend's alien-hating father, right? he doesn't need to know that jimmy is going on dates and trying to fix someone that fought on the opposite side like, two months ago. it would just stress him out

jimmy of course is blindsided when he gets to the S.T.A.R. Labs jumpscare debate against the guy he's in a situationship with. he goes more in depth about how jimmy's reporting as flamebird inspired him to look beyond the usual and try to protect the world from all the threats Others Don't See and how he's better than playing second fiddle to this superhero guy that's using him just like his friends that he's WAY cooler and more talented than and he could clearly come to The Right Side with his Skills and Hot Bod and Keep Earth for Earthlings.

this is all very clearly Super Personal and makes it obvious that not only did jimmy give him A Pep Talk that One Time but was in... some kind of relationship with him. this guy that's saying all these terrible things about clark and turning all his words against him.

after that, give us a bit more time for lois to deal with the emotional fallout of her dad leaving her. maybe two episodes? clark and jimmy are in a rough spot so they can't stay together, but lois isn't ready to talk to her boyfriend about Feelings so jimmy's the one that ends up on her couch and they watch cheesy romcoms and don't really talk about anything important. clark keeps isolating because neither of them are quite ready to have this conversation but he just... needs someone to talk to that isn't one of his parents he doesn't want to upset.

lex keeps hacking through the block on different sites that jimmy's blocked him on and trying to get him to try things again. WE COULD BE GREAT super villain dating pitch while jimmy's just. spiraling out. the most he's done is tell lois what happened with clark in a roundabout way. lois is still so obsessed with her own hurting that she doesn't even do the cursory google search that would show her the ex is probably Lex Luthor.

then and only then do we get to metropolis's hottest bachelors, bachelorettes and bachelorexes. jimmy is in major rebound mode so him immediately latching on crush wise to this cute, volatile girl who doesn't seem to know fuck about feel like a natural conclusion in the I Am Rebounding And Lonely From All Sides equation.

jimmy brings kara to the event to try to talk to clark and things go Just As Bad, but the bachelor guy who is in the coalition with lex is like yo your man brought the other kryptonian that went off the deep end and tried to kill the one that's pretending to be nice. that might be your chance to get in with him again

as jimmy and lois chase after kara and clark, jimmy turns his phone off because every lex is blowing it up.... AND spinning the story as jimmy just being his genius but naive ex boyfriend. look i've got pics! time stamps! this security footage of jimmy unknowingly leading that girl into the event! don't you agree with me that he's clearly being used? this new kryptonian girl was using him to get to superman, how do we know that my very clever but kind-hearted and naive ex isn't being suckered by the other one too? i am just being A Concerned And Kind Former Partner! jimmy dumped me because i Spoke The Truth About the Alien! cult behavior! preying on the innocent impressionables of metropolis! save our Earthlings from Those Evil Kryptonians!

jimmy, who has turned off his phone, is not going to find out how much damage has been done to his, superman, and lois's reputations until it's already done.

#maws #maws spoilers #maws au #maws season 2 #lex luthor #jimmy olsen #luthsen

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macontheweb · 5 months ago

Note

Hey Mac! Spotify recently threw a song by the National my way, which made me listen to a few more and man, this is good.

I know you like them too so I thought I'd come by and ask what your personal faves by them are 👀🙏

Hey Alex! Ooh I love that you're enjoying them so far. Thank you for giving me the space to talk your ear off about one of my favourite bands!! I feel like every time I go down the rabbit hole with The National I discover a few more faves, but I'll try to keep this manageable for a tumblr post lol.

I Need My Girl

The National's lead singer Matt Berninger called it "the most direct, earnest love songs we’ve ever written." It's so simple - a song about a man yearning for his wife - but it gets me every time. I know you love a moment of slow, sweet melancholy, so I think you'll like it too.

youtube

Mistaken For Strangers

This one reminds me of the friend who introduced me to The National. When he got drunk he would always point to his own jacket during the "showered and blue-blazered" line. In a song about losing friends, what a thing to remember one of the great friendships of my life while listening to it. </3

youtube

Day I Die

Speaking of that friend, I went to my first National gig with him. At the time, I didn't really know any other tracks apart from this one, Guilty Party and I Need My Girl, but I'd latched onto this song because it made me Feel Things about a situationship I'd been in a couple of years earlier. When they launched into this live, it was so electric. "Don't do this / I don't do this to you" still makes me want to scream.

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Bloodbuzz Ohio

I'm a great lover of The National's lyrics. There might come a point where you're listening to them and you have to stop what you're doing because a line hits you in a place you never thought you'd be hit at like...three pm on a Wednesday. For me, one of those lyrics is from Bloodbuzz Ohio: ""I still owe money to the money to the money I owe / I never thought about love when I thought about home." Maybe my second favourite song they've ever written.

youtube

Slow Show

A song for the socially anxious - it's about being out somewhere and just wishing you were home with a person you loved and could feel truly comfortable with. Also, I have been known to make this song about my blorbos at every available opportunity.

youtube

Apartment Story

As much of a sweet little love song as The National has ever turned in, and a love letter to happy domesticity. Has a very 'us against the world' vibe.

youtube

Graceless

Hands down my favourite song. Its exploration of depression and meds is still unrivalled by anyone imho. I spent the worst parts of the COVID lockdowns blasting this in my living room, and when they performed it at my local gig, I cried buckets.

youtube

(Very) honourable mentions:

Guilty Party

England

This Is The Last Time

Afraid of Everyone

Brainy

Don't Swallow the Cap

About Today

Terrible Love

Phew, okay! I'm sure that's way more than you were asking for. Enjoy anyway, my friend ❤️

#ask box #the national #long post

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sweetsungie · 2 years ago

Text

the silence between two special songs | h.j | part 4

pairing: souncloud! jisung x reader (ft. dancer! hyunjin)

genre: college au, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst, mature content, fwb, mutual pining, unrequited love, rapper jisung, english major reader

series: the silence between two special songs

word count: 22k

warnings: cursing, fluff, total angst fest, marijuana use, smoking, a lot of making out, jealousy, mentions of sex, oral (f. receiving), teasing, dirty talk (???), slight dry humping, heartbreak, toxic situationships :(

synopsis:

falling in love with someone was one of the best and worst things a person could do. you'd remember the first time your heart skipped a beat at the sound of their voice and how perfectly their lips fit into yours. you'd remember how they encapsulated every single fiber being within you that you could no longer breathe when you were around them; likewise, you didn't want to.

you'd remember all the good things about them.

but then you'd remember the first time it ached knowing that they cared about you, but not enough. how they loved you, but not the way you wanted them to.

not the way you wanted hyunjin to.

and not the way jisung wanted you to.

•°. *࿐

a/n: this was such a hectic couple of weeks ughhh!!! i hope you guys enjoy this chapter though, a lot of heartbreak and angst and feels and ahhhhh :’(

as always though, the series spotify playlist is linked below so listen as you read, if you can (i’ve updated with skz replay 2022 hehe)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

comment to be a part of the taglist <3

masterlist

series playlist

You believed that loving him was like chasing after the clouds.

“We never made it, did we?”

You knew it was impossible, but you still craved it, just for the excitement, the thrill it gave you; for the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

But after a while, you realized it was pointless.

Absolutely pointless going after something that was completely out of your reach.

It was scary to find someone that made you happy.

You would start giving them all your attention because they were what made you forget everything and consume anything. And for a split second—that felt like forever—you would find yourself realizing that everything bad in your life had disappeared.

They would be the first person you would want to talk to in the morning and the last one before you slept, just so you could start and end your day with a smile. It all sounded great to have that someone, but it was scary to think about how easily they could just leave and take that happiness away with them.

But still, it was the best thing in the world and you wouldn't trade it in for anything else.

“Fuck Hanji—” You sobbed, back arched, nails digging, and fingers gripping into the sheets below you. This had to be your fourth orgasm of the night—no, maybe fifth. Who knew? You honestly weren't keeping track anymore.

All you knew was that this shouldn't be happening… again.

Jisung’s voice was muffled. “Mhm I know baby, let it out.” He peered up from in between your legs, watching you unfold before his very eyes into a blissful contracting high, over and over, all because of his mouth. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

He, out of all people, knew that he really should not be doing this.

He shouldn’t keep coming back to you—not like this. Not when he had his heart delicately worn on his sleeve and you were the one to play with it.

Words suddenly didn't seem to exist anymore as you struggled to keep your trembling legs apart. Ultimately you failed, nearly trapping the boy’s head in between your thighs as you rolled over to your side.

And although Jisung should’ve been regretting it, scolding himself to stop after the first time he made you finish tonight, he couldn't keep a smug smirk from forming on his lips. He lifted himself up to watch you fucked out, eyes shut.

Sure, he was used to it by now. But he could never get tired of the view.

He rolled you so you were wholly on your back again, your body limp as you were still in the process of regaining any sense of strength you had. Lowering himself onto his forearms, he leaned himself slightly onto the top of your chest, upper bodies pressed together. Like always, he wanted to feel you closer.

Kissing you gently at first, soft skin gliding over softer skin, he pulled your lower lip between his, drawing on it slightly. “Another?” His warm breath blew across your cheek, a hungry look in his eyes.

It should’ve felt like you've both done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, maybe even stole some candy from a kid—but as his embrace became more heated, his hand clasping around your neck and stroking up and down until he felt you relax—it felt like complete bliss.

You shuttered so easily against his touch. The barest tip of his tongue moved forward to tease your upper lip. You welcomed him, and he began to explore your mouth with purpose, catching you almost unaware.

The lack of words from you was what caused his hand to wander. It trailed down the side of your waist, down your hips, and right in between your legs again before grazing a finger against your wet, throbbing bud.

You moaned against him, your hips lifting from the contact. It was ridiculous how needy you had gotten within the past few weeks. Ever since you had gotten a taste of what a real orgasm felt like, you just couldn't stop.

Partly because it felt so good in it by itself, and partly because, well, it felt so good that you seemingly forgot about all your worries.

Ever since break had begun, there had been a constant routine in place.

You’d wake up, think about Hyunjin, go on your morning walk, read, take a nap with a random movie playing in the back, think about Hyunjin some more, read again, and get into bed.

Then, you’d end up not being able to fall asleep. So, you’d spend some time on your phone—an hour, maybe even two. Just long enough until you’d run out of applications to fornicate with, ultimately leading you to think about Hyunjin again.

What was he doing? What did he wear today? Did he have a good day? A bad one?

It was embarrassing, pitiful, and pathetic and all you wanted to do was shame yourself in the mirror because of how utterly miserable you were acting over a boy.

So later you’d result in texting Jisung, and bother him until he’d understand what was going on with you. He had mastered the language of ‘girl’ after spending his whole life dealing with you.

And because of that, he’d end up calling you even though he was flooded with work right next door at his desk and was too lazy to get up and talk to you in person.

You’d always let it ring twice—sometimes two and a half just because you didn't want to seem too desperate for what you had in mind.

"I'm bored," you’d sigh dramatically.

He would simply laugh as his heart quickened, mind running back and forth between yes, no, yes, no, until he was stuck on yes as if some malware had corrupted his system. A beautiful, yet dangerous virus.

After what happened the first night, you had told Jisung multiple times that he didn't need to do this anymore. You felt bad because it seemed like he was just doing this for you.

When you made the first move, he was hesitant and overly nervous.

"Are you sure?"

He paused for a second before nodding his head. "Yes,” and he told you honestly. He had made a contract with himself before even entering your room that he’d forget the consequences—just this once. He could have everything.

He’d insist and tell you that he didn't mind—that if you needed to release your stress, he could help you. And because of this, it didn't help that he seemed to be feeding into your addiction. You had no choice but to believe it.

So now, if it wasn't for the sudden discomfort you felt against his fingers, you would've kept going to have your next climax—because you needed it, and because you wanted it.

But it would all happen again tomorrow, right?

Wincing from the overstimulation, you pulled away from his swollen lips slightly. “Mm—I don’t think I can go again.” Your pelvis was growing sore and the space between your legs began to ache.

He nodded, his mouth moving against the surface of your skin for a few moments more before halting his movements. He lifted himself, falling over beside you with a sigh.

Turning to look at him, you took in his flushed-out face. “You want next?” You asked, beginning to reach for the waistband of his sweatpants before he stopped you.

He shook his head, eyes closed with sleep. “No, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad.”

“Easy for you to say. You never let me go down on you,” you huffed out. “I feel like it’s not fair.”

It was true. Based on the laws of orgasms between more than one person, it wasn't fair. Everyone involved should be able to feel the sweet sensation of release. But Jisung felt like he didn't deserve that—especially not from you.

And it wasn't as if he hadn't lost all his self-respect already, he somehow managed to save the last shred of it by not letting your lips anywhere near his dick.

Surely, you both have had sex multiple times by now, with the two of you chasing your highs. And if he was lucky, sometimes he’d even finish twice. But something about the thought of you solely out to please him, and only him—He’d lose his mind once and for all.

Jisung was nothing but a humble servant. It was better this way for him. Opening an eye to glance over at you, he plastered a ridiculous smile onto his lips. “Don’t feel bad for abusing my skills.”

Your mouth fell agape and you slapped his chest. “Bitch, I literally just offered!”

His hands came up to shield himself, now fully awake. He laughed until you huffed out in playful frustration. “I just want to sleep with you, that’s all.”

“You can silly.” You engulf him in a kiss and he hummed, pulling away ever so slightly.

“But like in the innocent way.” He wasn't sure if you understood where he was going with this.

You groaned dramatically, a humorous smile forming on your lips. “You're so boring…”

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, quizzically, and you nodded. “If I’m being honest, I was expecting you to get down on one knee while asking to give me head… so if anyone's boring, that’s all you.”

You paused for a moment. "Now, you're the stupidest person I've ever met. Did you know that?"

He let out a complacent laugh. "I get that a lot. Good thing you help me with my homework! But you love it, don't you?" He teased, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around his finger.

Whatever. You rolled your eyes, "I don't know, do I?"

His phone sounded with his ringtone. "I sure hope so.”

As he turned over to your nightstand to grab his phone to answer it, you sat up, cringing at the big mess you made between your legs. You needed to shower quickly before Minho came home and hogged all the hot water.

He was finally coming back after a full week away for break. He had gone on vacation with his parents and cats and you couldn't wait to hear about it tomorrow.

“In the morning?” Jisung groaned slightly from beside you. He sat up, leaning to grab one of your plushies that found its way onto the ground, and lazily hugged it to his chest. “That’s so early… Yeah, yeah I know… Fine… I’ll see you then.”

And with that he hung up, tossing his phone down on the space in front of him. His expression screamed with slight annoyance and despair and you couldn’t help but teasingly question him over it.

“What's with the face?” You chuckled, tossing on a shirt.

“I have to go to the studio tomorrow at like seven in the morning,” he exhaustingly hurled his head back onto a pillow.

Immediately your eyes brightened and you hopped back onto the bed beside him. “I wanna go!”

For the past couple of days since break had begun, Jisung, Chan, and Changbin had been trying to rent out a spot at a studio to record and plan for their third mini album.

This was a big deal for them because they were never able to do it in any other place besides their small studio setup at their houses. So they did a lot of research and were slowly trying to expand their resources.

Jisung looked at you with the utmost confusion ever, “Did you miss the part where I said it was at seven in the morning?”

“So what? That means we get an early start to our days!”

Now he was really fucking confused. “Let me get this straight. You—Y/N—wants to get an early start to your day? It must be opposite day.”

Your jaw dropped, “What do you take me for? I can get up early.” He gave you a look that screamed with ‘in your dreams.’ It made you scoff at his audacity. “You really underestimate me.”

He lightheartedly rolled his eyes, trying his best to fight an amused smile at your annoyance, “Hmm, I guess I do.” He could feel his face beginning to heat up and he mentally cursed himself out for it. “Either way, the answer is no.”

"Why?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "Because you talk too much it’s distracting."

You raised your eyebrows and pointed at yourself. "Me? I’m the one who talks too much?"

He nodded in response, just to get you worked up for his own personal enjoyment. And it worked considering you glared at him for a couple of seconds.

“Jisung, you and I both know that you’re the one who never shuts up.”

“Woah, now I’m just offended.”

“How?”

“Because you make it seem like it's a bad thing Y/N.”

“Well, that's because you made it seem like it too—You know what? Never mind, I don't wanna go anymore.”

If anybody heard you both, they would've assumed you were an old bickering couple.

He bursted out laughing and kept trying to reach for you—trying to touch you to apologize. You had to tell him to stop many times until you relentlessly gave up. "I’m sorry," he cheekily grinned, poking the fat of your cheek, "Forgive me."

“Shut up, Han.” You swatted his hand away.

Placing a hand on his chest, he gasped. “Ouch, not the government.” After a moment, he exhaled loudly like he had been keeping in a breath for too long. "You know what?" He said to you. He slid his fingers through yours and squeezed your hand.

"What loser?" You were still kind of mad at him.

"You're my favorite person.”

He felt you laugh a little and it made him smile.

"Oh yeah? Out of how many people?" You asked.

"All of them babe,” he winked. “So, fine, you can come.” You squinted at him for a few seconds, suspicious of his sudden switch-up. “What?” He laughed, giving your hand another squeeze. “C’mon, I’ll buy you coffee and food too.”

“I feel like this is a joke and you're just trying to get my hopes up.”

“Definitely the case.”

You pushed him away from you, jokingly. “Fuck you.”

But when he brought himself back to you, touched your bare arm, and then cupped your chin, he turned your head to face him. “Kidding.” It felt as if the stars were dancing across his skin. "You can actually come. And if it helps I’ll give you kisses all over your face,” he proudly stated, lifting a finger, “but don't even dare try to nap on Changbin’s shoulder either, even though he has more muscles than me! You can only nap on mine… or the arm of the sofa.”

You laughed, shaking your chin from out of his grip. "Are you always so greedy?"

His eyes glinted, "With you, yes.” Easily, yes.

“Gross, Sungie. You made it sound real for a second,” you faked a gag. "But okay. I’ll go if you want me to so badly.”

The two of you didn't know what to call it, what was happening between you, but you both liked it. It felt silly and fragile and good.

Usually, he would’ve argued back but he’d let you have it just this once. “As aggravating as it is, I do.”

You laughed, “See, this is why you're my favorite person, too, Ji.” You snuggled your head against him. “By a long shot.”

Silly, fragile. good, and everything else in between.

By the time you both needed to leave the next morning, it managed to take a lot of willpower in getting the both of you out of bed than expected.

It didn't help that you and Jisung were running off of only a couple of hours of sleep either, so the thought of ever getting out of the warmth of your sheets was pushed far back in both of your minds.

But soon enough, you realized that someone had to take one for the team and get up first, or else neither of you would ever make it. Yet every time you mustered enough energy to attempt to get up, Jisung would always pull you right back in into the warmth of his embrace.

And of course, you had no other choice but to let your body fall into his control.

This was why the both of you were an hour late.

As expected, Chan lectured the both of you when arriving—more so Jisung, since the older boy didn't have the heart to blame you entirely for his friend’s laziness. Although, he knew in reality you were all the more reason for it.

“I told you that we should’ve said six instead of seven,” Changbin butted in from where he was seated. “If we did, he would’ve come right on time.”

Jisung flicked him off, “Shut up. This isn't even fair because you live with Chan. If you were me you would’ve overslept too.”

Changbin mocked him in a childlike manner and Jisung nearly launched himself on top of him. This was normal behavior between the both of them so you and Chan simply laughed as a result.

Soon after the bickering ended (with Chan having to interfere of course), the boys finally began to work and you found a spot in the back where there were couches to catch up on some reading.

Despite the fact that you had read a lot during the break already, you had only been reading the book Hyunjin had given you. And you were nearly finished with it, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to actually complete it.

This was why you were stuck reading some random book that you ordered online a couple of days ago now.

You weren't too sure as to how long they had rented out the studio for, but you had assumed it was for a good part day by the looks of it. A couple of hours had passed by now, with the three of them in and out of the recording booth. It was interesting at first watching the music process behind the scenes, but now you were starting to grow bored.

What did you expect though? They paid for this room so surely, they would be doing what they planned on doing which was working.

You sighed to yourself, flipping to the next page. Where was your free coffee and food? Maybe you should bother Jisung about it soon because he made a bold claim about it yesterday.

You looked up to watch him from where he was at. You could hear his light mumbles as he repeated the lyrics. He was sat across, his back facing you, and tapped his pen against the table whilst he made up a random tune to go along with it. You resisted the urge to let your eyes linger on him for too long.

Although you couldn't see it from where you were sat, his eyes traced his notebook as he lazily swayed himself in his chair. But you didn't need to see his face to know that he had a faint crease between his eyebrows as he focused.

And suddenly you felt something pool in between your legs at the thought. You imagined your mouth moving down to his neck and breathing in the scent of his skin so he would gasp. You imagined taking in the taste of him, running your hands down his chest, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso.

You tried to not make it obvious that you were openly studying him.

But ultimately, you failed as you suddenly felt a pair of eyes on you—and it was Chan’s. He had caught you staring and immediately after, your cheeks flushed red. Undeniably enough, he most definitely did not know the reason behind your stare, but still, you felt icky.

Why were you so aroused all the time? It was embarrassing.

You would have shaken your head if you could have found it.

"Alright, tell me what you think," Jisung said to the boys beside him, passing his notebook. It woke you up from your daze. He leaned back in his chair, spinning around in it briefly to face you and give you a quick smile.

But, looking at your flushed-out appearance, curiosity quickly washed over him as he wondered what had been on your mind.

The boys soon gave their input, agreeing with some of his additions. “But maybe you should ask Y/N. She has a fresh eye,” Chan suggested suddenly.

Jisung’s eyes widened slightly, at your name. He needed to stop getting flustered so easily. He was just unsure of where his friend was taking this so abruptly.

He took his notebook back, silently hoping that Changbin wouldn't agree with Chan.

“That’s true. Sometimes a new person could help,” Changbin added before turning back to look at you. “Y/N, come here real quick. We need your input.”

With a sigh, you stood up from where you sat and walked over to them. Jisung hesitantly passed you his notebook and a minute passed before you finished reading what he had wrote.

You were silent for a moment, reflecting.

"Hmm… I think," you said slowly as you leaned over to place his notebook in the space in front of him. His eyes followed your actions. "I think that you really can drive a person crazy by simply refusing to look at them. I like it.”

You were referring to a specific line you had read.

Jisung chuckled to himself softly, tracing his tongue lightly against the bottom of his lip. He turned around in his chair properly so his back was facing you again and he couldn't see you anymore.

His elbows now rested on the table as he sucked in against his teeth. "I suppose there isn't anything quite like being ignored by someone you have feelings for, huh?"

It was nearly two in the afternoon before you decided you were pretty close to disliking books. You had spent so much time today reading and pausing and reading and pausing—you were so tired of looking at pages.

You also didn't have any room to voice your complaints. You were the one who basically begged to go last night but now you were slowly starting to regret it. And sure, it would've been easier to just leave right then, by yourself, but a part of you wanted to prove to Jisung that you wanted to be there.

It was your stupid and really lame way of trying to show your appreciation to the boys because this was their first time in an official studio. But the clock was moving too damn slow, probably even slower than usual.

You sighed to yourself, throwing the paperback book onto the opposite side of the couch. That was enough of that. How much longer was this going to take…

“Alright, let’s take it from the top.”

It took everything in you to not groan loudly for everyone to hear you. Today wasn't about you and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. And it worked… for maybe another half an hour until you just couldn't take it anymore.

You picked up your phone and began to type away.

you: i’m bored

No response. You waited a few minutes before texting again.

you: like realllyyyyyyy fucking bored

Nothing.

you: han jisung

Okay, clearly, he was busy working right in front of you… but still. His phone at the very least should’ve lit up. Maybe he was on do not disturb. You were growing irritable.

You stood up, ever so abruptly, and walked over to him. You grabbed his phone that was facing down. He was too busy looking at whatever was on his laptop screen before shooting you a glance from the side.

“Yes?” He asked and stopped typing.

You unlocked his phone and placed it on his keyboard before walking back to the couch. Luckily the other two boys beside him were too busy on their own devices to pay attention to what happened.

It took a few seconds before your phone lit up with a text.

jisung: oh

jisung: me too

jisung: wanna cuddle?

You rolled your eyes still a bit moody but quickly typed nonetheless.

you: yes

jisung: wait

jisung: i was joking

you: oh

You paused briefly, unsure of what to say next. Now what.

jisung: fuck it lol

jisung: bathroom? 🫠

Your eyes glanced up from your phone, and Jisung casually stole a look at you before setting his phone back down. It was like you both knew what the answer was going to be. Almost immediately after, you stood up and told the boys that you were going to the bathroom.

You were very, very restless.

But the second you stepped out of the room, you realized that you didn't know where anything was. Maybe this would be the perfect time to reflect on your poor, polluted thoughts from earlier.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice suddenly called out.

You turned to the voice at the end of the hallway behind you, and soon after, you took a stumble backward. It was Seungmin and Hyunjin.

The same voice, which was Seungmin’s, spoke once more. “Thank God we found you! We’ve been lost for the past ten minutes walking around this building.” His hands carried two brown bags and he made his way to you. “Where are the boys?”

You were still quite startled by the sudden sight. Then everything processed once Hyunjin took his first step towards you. You looked absolutely disgusting right now. Your hair was a mess, your body was engulfed with a hoodie that was quadruple your size, and you probably still had morning face—you just didn't feel too good about yourself.

The two of them finally met you where you stood, frozen. “Oh—um… hey guys,” you coughed out. Gosh, you were making it so awkward.

“Hi,” Hyunjin waved at you with his usual dimpled smile. His hands were full as he held a cup tray of sodas.

“So, do you know where the room is?” Seungmin prodded, impatiently.

You swallowed, your eyes struggling to break away from admiring the long-haired boy. “Y-Yeah sorry. It’s just down there.” You pointed over at a door on the right side of the hallway.

Seungmin thanked you shortly after and headed towards the door. It took him a couple of seconds before he realized Hyunjin wasn't by his side but rather, still in front of you.

“You coming?”

Hyunjin looked over his shoulder, “Hm? Uh, in a sec. You can head in without me.” You could hear the ice in the sodas clink together as he turned back to face you.

The beanie Hyunjin wore prevented his hair from getting into his eyes. The color was periwinkle and it complimented his skin nicely.

Yeah, you definitely felt and looked like shit.

Silence followed subsequentially after Seungmin disappeared behind the studio door. You cleared your throat, “I didn't know you were back.”

His eyes brightened a bit when you spoke. Usually, he had to be the one to start the conversations when it came to you. “I came back last night.”

You nodded slowly, wanting to hear more about it. “How was home?”

“I mean, it was nice seeing my family and KKami,” he shrugged, “the weather wasn't too cold either, so that was nice.”

He paused, trying to think about what more he could say.

“... Ah—and I worked on my art a lot! I would love for you to see it.”

“Oh…” Your eyes grew slightly bigger at the second half of his response. “Me?” You were feeling like you didn't hear him properly.

“Yes! When you have time, of course,” he nodded giving you a warm smile. “But um… art aside, overall, I missed everyone a lot,” he proceeded to say regarding the conversation. He felt himself getting off track.

You wondered who fell under the category of everyone.

It had been so confusing these past few weeks with Hyunjin and you weren't too sure about what he was thinking. Maybe before you would have had an inkling, but now? You had no clue.

All you knew what that every time you looked at him you were sure of how you felt. You’d passed by each other and your heart raced and you were sure of how you felt. One day he was acting cute with you and the next it was awkward and you’d never speak.

“I’m sure everyone missed you too, Jinnie.”

It just made you unsure about everything on his end. He was never yours to begin with, but you couldn't live without him.

He laughed softly, “So does that mean you missed me then?”

You sucked in a breath, quietly, unsure of how to respond. Was he flirting? You weren't too sure if this was considered that. He was probably being nice… just like he was nice for inviting you to see his art.

Just as you were about to answer, the studio door opened, revealing Jisung.

His eyes instantly widened as he took in the view of the both of you, “Oh—um, sorry.” He suddenly felt bad for interrupting your time with Hyunjin. He quickly walked back into the room not bothering to wait for the both of you to respond.

You and Hyunjin both looked at each other for a moment before deciding to follow Jisung into the studio. Whatever was left of your slightly awkward conversation soon died out and suddenly you didn't need to go to the bathroom anymore now that Hyunjin was here.

Once entering, Seungmin was in the process of unpacking the food he had bought for everyone out of the bags. The smell alone made you want to smother him in a big hug because you were starving. You hadn't gotten a proper meal today yet because of how late you and Jisung were and there just wasn't any time for that beforehand.

By the time everyone sat and ate, the room was full of conversation. It seemed to be a mutual understanding between both you and Jisung that you both just weren't going to be needing the bathroom anymore anytime soon.

It was pretty obvious by how you sat beside Hyunjin and nearly laughed at everything he said.

Jisung was pretty sure that whatever it was that had you laughing so loudly every other minute couldn't have been that funny. He was a much better comedian than Hyunjin. Well, that's what he liked to believe anyway.

Soon enough everyone took the lunch break a bit too much to their leisure because Changbin was currently standing at the front of the room—with Chan by his side as his special assistant—in the middle of a game of charades.

This was obviously not the time for it, especially when the boys had paid money for this room to get work done. But a few games didn't hurt.

Changbin grabbed spun Chan around so everyone could see his back, and smacked his butt.

“Bin, you’re clearly mimicking Minho.” Seungmin blandly said immediately, which made everyone laugh. “Who else smacks ass?”

The boy sighed dramatically in defeat before plopping down on the couch. “You guys could’ve at least tried to act like it was good.” He took a long sip of his drink before speaking up, “Hyune, you’re next,” he called out. “Make it hard or else Seungmin’s going to win.”

Seungmin gave Changbin a quick sarcastic smile before directing his attention to his phone.

“I’m not good at this,” Hyunjin complained, laughing. He stood near the producing tables in an effort to somehow mimic one of the members of 3Racha someway. He was honestly just going to make it up on the spot.

Which he did… sort of. It was just really, really bad.

Changbin looked at the boy confused, “You need to be a little clearer than that my guy.”

“Take it easy on him,” Chan chuckled. “Just try it again Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin grabbed a pair of headphones from the table, not realizing that the wire had tipped over Jisung’s drink. It wasn't until his eyes caught a glimpse of the white cup on its side and sheets of paper starting to darken from the liquid seeping through it that he gasped.

"Oh shit!” He set the headphones back down and quickly picked up the cup hoping to prevent any more damage. But honestly, it was already too late.

Chan immediately stood up, speeding over to the scene. It took him a moment before he slowly lifted a notebook and looked over at Jisung who was busy listening to whatever nonsense Changbin had to say.

And as Jisung caught a glance at Chan’s expression, his lingering smile faded when he realized the notebook Chan had in his hands was his, except completely soaked with soda.

He shot up from his seat to see what happened and his heart almost broke at the sight. He saw his notebook—the one which housed literally every song from the past few years, ruined. There was no way this actually happened. He had to be dreaming.

“Hanji—Shit—I’m so sorry!” Hyunjin felt terrible.

Your eyes widened and you walked over to them to see what the commotion was about.

Jisung was completely silent. He honestly had no words. He was just overwhelmed with so many emotions and was afraid that if he did speak, he’d regret what would come out.

You gasped, as you watched him carefully go through the pages to see how much was destroyed. “Ji…” You knew how much this meant to him.

He sighed and closed his notebook, setting it right back down on the wet table.

And he walked out of the room.

Hyunjin’s face was pale, all the color basically sucked out of his face. This was all his fault, he thought. Why did he always have to go and ruin everything?

Chan swallowed, not knowing how to break the silence that overtook the entire room. He honestly never saw Jisung that angry before—neither have you. He was silent, not showing an ounce of emotion, and simply just left.

The tall boy began to panic. “What do I do? I fucked up—”

"It was an accident,” Chan sucked in a breath of air, picking up the notebook from the mess again and setting it off to a drier side of the table. He also knew how important this was for Jisung but he saw no point in shaming Hyunjin for it. It was already done. "Ahh... Binnie, can you grab some napkins? Let me go and check up on him.”

And you were about to offer to take his place and talk to Jisung yourself, but Chan already walked out of the room.

There was music that sounded loudly throughout the entire apartment.

It was nearly eleven at the night and soon enough your neighbors would start knocking at the front door because of it.

“What the fuck is he still on about?” Minho grunted as he stood up from the sofa. He was in the middle of trying to finish his show.

Your bedroom door was open so you glanced over at Minho from where you were seated at your desk, and watched him as he went and knocked on Jisung’s door.

Ever since the incident at the studio, Jisung had been so quiet—completely silent in fact. You felt like you were walking on eggshells around him for the first time in your life and it scared you because you never saw him like that before.

Usually, when he was upset, he’d get over it after a day or two. But now it had been almost a week since and you didn't know how to tackle it.

Sure, you’ve definitely been mad before—definitely too many times to count—but you always had him to help you out of it. He’d always suffocate you with hugs, bring you food, and refuse to leave your side until you cracked a smile.

But now that the situation was flipped, you weren't sure if acting all bubbly and joking around would help him feel better the way it had always worked on you.

Minho knocked again much more adamantly, “Jisung.” Still nothing. “We will get a noise complaint if you don’t turn your stupid music down.”

A few moments later, the music stopped and Jisung swung his door open. He brushed past Minho, who furrowed his eyebrows at the boy's borderline rude demeanor, and then proceeded to zip up his coat and put his shoes on by the door.

Where was he going?

Once he walked out, the apartment fell silent. You felt like a bystander, especially by the way you watched this all happen from your room.

If this was what he was like when he was mad, order would never be restored on Earth. There was no way.

The remaining boy, let out a loud breath, sitting back down on the couch and pressing resume. “I’m trying my best to give him the benefit of the doubt but…”

“I know,” you sighed. You understood where both of them were coming from. Jisung had been acting out irrationally ever since and it was so irresponsible. He hadn't even been replying to Chan or Changbin—so much so, they were worried and came over to check up on him.

But still, you felt sorry for him.

That was years of his hard work down the drain.

You grew worried about him now, wondering where he actually went. He probably shouldn't be alone out in public and you were afraid he’d get into trouble somehow. Maybe he went to the roof? You were name-dropping a few places in your mind, but the roof seemed like the most plausible option.

Standing up from your chair, you grabbed a hoodie and threw it on. Before leaving your room though, you made sure to grab the new notebook you had bought for him a couple of days ago. You weren't sure if he already had a new one by now, but you still wanted to give him it just in case.

You walked over to the front door to put on your shoes and Minho said, “Let me know when you find him.”

Of course, Minho was still upset with Jisung’s behavior, quite frankly he wanted to explode, but he was still his best friend. He knew that this was just his own way of coping with what happened.

You nodded, giving him a light smile before heading off to the rooftop of your building. You really hoped Jisung was there, frankly, you honestly had no other locations in mind that made sense.

He rarely went out and when he did, it was to his friend's houses. But since you already knew that he wasn't actively talking to any of them, that wouldn't be the case.

Once walking out of the elevator, you heard soft faded sounds of music playing from the farthest end of the roof. You smiled to yourself softly, quickly realizing that it had to be him.

You quietly walked over to him, sitting down beside him without a word. He was in the middle of taking a hit from his pipe, later blowing out the smoke. And now that you were there beside him, you honestly didn't know what to say. You didn't think that far ahead.

He glanced over at you, offering his pipe which you gladly accepted. You placed the colorful glass in between your lips as he lit the weed that was inside of it.

None of you said anything yet and for the first time, you felt an awkward tension arise between the both of you. You weren't good at consoling other people. It was just something that you struggled with your whole life.

So after taking a hit, you breathed out a simple, “I’m sorry.”

After a few more moments of silence, Jisung lightly scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I’m sorry. You didn't deserve that,” you frowned. “How can I help?” He shook his head, releasing smoke into the cold air again. “Seriously, Ji I—”

His voice snapped and was much sterner this time around, “Stop it, Y/N. It doesn't matter anymore. It’s done and there's no going back now.”

You flinched at his tone and immediately his features softened once he realized.

“I…” He sighed. This was why he had been avoiding everybody. He didn't want to blow up or say anything that would make anyone feel bad. It would've made him feel even worse—seeing you now, made him feel worse. “I’m sorry. I really don't know why I’m like this.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I know I’ve been annoying and I feel like shit knowing I’m stressing everybody out,” he quickly refuted. “I feel terrible for feeling this way, but I’m upset. I can’t not be upset.”

Within these past few days, he had been going through trials and tribulations. He knew Hyunjin didn't do it on purpose so he couldn't be too mad at him about that. He was just upset. And it was stupid because he was upset at Hyunjin more for stealing your heart away than ruining all the work he had down for the past few years.

It annoyed him so much because of this.

Hyunjin stole you and now the only other thing Jisung had for himself—his music.

He took a deep breath to himself, feeling a bit lightheaded now from all the weed he had smoked.

And he guessed that was how a person knew they loved someone: when their heart ached; when their stomach dropped; when their lungs felt like they were caving in, just because of the thought of them with someone else.

You placed something on the faux grass that suddenly captured his attention: a new notebook. “I know that it may not have everything your old one had, likewise, it never will—but I hope that you could at least make new memories with it?” You suggested.

His quiet music still played from the speakers of his phone and he could've sworn to himself that the world was moving in slow motion. Any normal best friend would've gotten their grieving friend another notebook if that was the reason for the sadness. It’s obvious.

But, the gesture was too much for his heart to handle. Especially when he was this high. Especially when he was this upset about himself—and you—and Hyunjin—and life.

Immediately his heart rate increased. “I love you,” he blurted out.

You laughed sweetly, not paying attention to the weight of his words. “I’m glad you like it, Sungie.”

“Too much—I love you too much,” he continued, quietly this time.

You shoved his shoulder gently. “Quit it. You're making me blush.” You tried to make the conversation turn into something light-hearted. Something you hoped to help his mood.

But he was slightly feeling even worse. You weren't taking him seriously.

After talking with Chan that one night a few weeks back, Jisung had tried his best to get you out of his mind. But even still, he found himself thinking of you late into every night, hoping that there was a chance that you might’ve fallen asleep thinking about him, even for a second.

He found himself making lists in his head of what new things made you laugh every day, just so he could hear it more and more. He found himself unable to look away even when you were just carelessly reading a book; sometimes, especially then.

He could not erase your beauty from his mind, because the moment he'd look at you from that different perspective, he could not go back. After seeing you as beautiful, he could never again just look at you with indifference.

So he kissed you—without warning, without permission, without even deciding to do it but simply because he couldn't have done anything else—he kissed you.

He was in pain, hurting, and all he wanted to do was feel you—you were the source of quite literally everything good and bad in his life. And he needed that breath you were holding because it belonged to him, and he wanted it back. So much so that he kissed you deeply enough that as he fought for what was his, you forgot whose air you were breathing.

The smell of your hair, the taste of your mouth, and the feeling of your skin seemed to have gotten inside him, moreover, into the air all around him. You had become a physical necessity.

"Ji…" You mumbled against his lips.

You were on the roof with a beautiful boy, and he was trying to tell you that he loves you, but you didn't care to listen. He loves you, you know?

The formerly quiet music was now concealed by both of your loud breaths. Once he moved his mouth to suck onto your delicate neck, lightly biting, that's when you whimpered, unable to keep your composure.

Seemingly so, it affected him the same because he pulled you on top of him so you straddled his waist. He didn't like the space between you and him. He moved his lips against your jaw, and your chin, and painstakingly slow down the left side of your neck until he was kissing the hollow at the base of your throat.

"Jisung." You breathed out again, your eyes beginning to feel heavy from the sensual feeling between your thighs. You weren't expecting this to happen. He tugged at your hoodie, beginning to pull it off, but you jumped at the sudden contact of coolness hitting your exposed skin. "Shit– Ji, we can’t," you whispered, pulling your hoodie back down.

"Why not?" He asked.

“Because.”

He tilted his head up slightly to look at you, his hands continuing to explore underneath your hoodie. “Because?”

Seconds later, his lips hovered themselves against yours again, lightly brushing over them. He gave you the one thing that you wanted most. He made you feel desired. You knew it was wrong but the very thought of his hands gliding up against your bare torso and touching you made you blush in all the right places.

“Honestly I thought you’d participate more,” he hummed. You moved your hips against his very much clear hard-on and he bucked his hips. "Fuck." He caressed as much of you as he could reach and kissed you hard. Tightening every muscle in his body. He had to force himself to not go back downstairs and throw you on his bed.

So what if Minho saw?

He wanted to go slow with you, for his sake. But it was just so hard. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he’d actually need foreplay to get hard with you.

You let out a half-chuckle, amused by how affected he was. “I'd participate.” You stopped grinding your hips and pushed away his hair from his forehead, endearingly. "But not today.”

It didn't quite hit him that he had basically confessed that he loved you until he felt you try to move from off his lap. His grip around your waist tightened.

He wondered if it could be so hard for you to love him.

Maybe tonight wasn't the night for you to know that. Maybe someday he’d tell you again, but instead, he’d write it and put the message in a bottle and throw it into the ocean hoping it would somehow reach you when the timing was right.

“Can we just stay like this?” He asked, suddenly afraid to look into your eyes. “Please.”

You gave him a warm smile, nodding.

He bit the inner corner of his cheek and squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of it maybe stopping him from saying anything he’d regret tomorrow. He leaned forward, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of your neck.

“Could it really be so hard to love someone like me?” he repeated to himself.

Letting out a wisp of smoke into the air, he reopened his eyes.

“Perhaps, it is.”

You checked your phone briefly to see if Minho had texted you but all your eyes captured was the time displayed. You began to get lost in the ticking of the clock you had imagined in your head.

“It’s 11:11 make a wish,” you whispered, setting your phone back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him closer and squeezed him a little tighter.

“I’ve got mine,” Jisung replied instantly and you were too curious to keep yourself from asking what wish provoked such a quick response. “Can I tell you?” He questioned, wondering if sharing a wish truly kept it from coming true.

“I don't know, write it down in your new notebook and tell me in a month,” you offered.

“How about in 20 years?” He asked with a contagious smile that you knew was there although you couldn’t see it.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Sure, that works too.”

He lifted his head from your neck and pulled away slightly. He stared at you while you were in the middle of asking him if he had felt better now, but the look in his eyes made you pause, "What?" You asked self-consciously.

He shook his head lightly. "Nothing," he said, maddeningly. You scrunched your nose in distaste. "I just," he said slowly, carefully. "I just want to hang out with you my whole life. You know?”

You made your way to the art studio with your hands both carrying a coffee each and with a pastry bag hugged against your chest. It was raining and you probably looked ridiculous without an umbrella, but you didn't mind as you were on your way to see your man that wasn't your man but was at the same time.

It was complicated.

Surely, the both of you hadn't been spending nearly as much time as before. But, you had hoped that now that he had invited you back to the art studio, things could go back to how they were.

Finally arriving, you used your shoulder to push open the parted door of the art studio since your hands were clearly already occupied. As you opened the door, Hyunjin turned his head to meet you, and his pink lips automatically curved into a smile.

Then, it took him half a second before gasping at the sight of you basically drenched from the rain.

He quickly stood up from his stool to assist you, "Oh no!" He helped you by taking the coffee and pastry bag from your hands and setting them down on a nearby table. “Let me get you an extra sweater.”

“Hyunjin, it's okay,” you waved off. “I’m not cold.”

He shook his head not wanting to hear it. “No, no—you can get sick. Wait here, let me get it from my bag.”

It took him a minute before locating his extra sweater from his dance bag. He quickly draped it over your shoulders and your heart did that thing again. The thing where it sped up ever so instantly. You were entering dangerous territory by having his clothing encompass you like this.

It smelled too much like him.

He gave you a dimpled grin, "Thank you for bringing these. You really didn't need to… especially since you got soaked in the process."

You chuckled, “Don't worry about it. I hope the pastries survived.”

He passed you one of the coffees you had brought. "They should be okay.”

It didn't really hit you until now that you were back at the place where you kissed Hyunjin for the first time. It had been a while since it happened and you couldn't help but feel your mouth grow dry from the thought of reliving it.

You took a sip of the lukewarm drink and looked at him.

It didn't take long for you to see the boy of your dreams staring right back at you, with his smile so wide and bright. He held a big canvas in his hands, ready to show you, and you felt content. You felt secure and safe around him. And when he looked at you, he made you feel so whole.

And it was simple, really. You wanted the feeling.

The feeling where the world stopped and started all at the same time. You wanted to feel the rest of the world fade away when that one person was holding your hand. You wanted to know a pair of eyes in a crowd that saw only you. You wanted that warmth—the kind of love that filled every space within you and spilled out into the rest of your world.

Coloring it with hope. And love. And that feeling that only true love can awaken in a heart.

The feeling of being whole.

Although his look alone could make you feel an adrenaline rush like you were high off him, there was something about the way he watched you as you were busy observing his work. It was like you had years of artistic experience and it was your opinion that only mattered to him.

It was almost six in the evening and there you were, still sitting beside him on a stool while he explained what everything meant in his piece. It was exciting and meaningful and pure—it was him.

He stopped speaking for a second, noticing your sudden gaze on him. You were too busy in thought. You really couldn't pinpoint a single flaw on his face.

He let out a breathy chuckle, "If you’re looking for a way out, I can stop." He didn't take much offense in it as art could sometimes be boring after a while, but you shook your head rather swiftly in response.

"No! I’m awake,” you cleared your throat. “I was just looking at you," you confessed bluntly.

He laughed loudly, his head dipping back slightly. "You're cute."

“You’re cute too.”

"I guess we make a pretty good team, then," he responded. You hadn't noticed how quiet the room had gotten afterward.

It was funny how much tension could construct itself out of thin air.

He stood up, grabbing a much smaller piece of work to replace the one you had just looked at. “Does this kind of remind you of anything?” He asked. You looked at the canvas, unable to understand what he meant. He saw how confusion narrowed in between your eyebrows and he giggled. “It's based on the book I gave you a while ago.”

You looked away and took a few moments to think to yourself before meeting his eyes. They were the ones that didn't seem to stray away from you during your short departure. “I haven't finished reading it yet.”

Of course, it was the truth but, you were nearly close to doing so. You could easily depict what he was trying to express in his work but you didn't want to ruin it.

You recalled how the girl in the book didn't fall in love with the boy when she first saw him. She didn't feel any change in heartbeat. Having those feelings for a random boy that she just happened to see often never crossed her mind.

But then the girl began to notice him, in the ways he spoke, how he chose his words carefully and politely. She began to notice how he always held the door for people and how he respected them. She noticed how he smiled at others and how he got others to smile and her.

She noticed all of those little details and moments and combined they showed her how beautiful of a person he truly was—-maybe that’s what made the girl fall in love with him completely.

He quickly removed the canvas and flipped it over, “Oh! I shouldn't spoil it then, huh?”

A small breath left your nose and you nodded. “Yeah. You can show me after I finish, okay?”

His eye contact was goosebump-inducing as his lips began curling into a smile while he muttered a sweet, "Okay."

You wished you could explain his eyes instead, and how the sound of his voice gave you butterflies. How his smile made your heart skip a beat and how every time you were literally just around him, you felt so nervous but so complete.

You just wished that you could show him how much he meant to you. Exceptionally so, that you wished you could let him take a look into your mind so that he would see for himself just how much you were in love with him. He was your world and you honestly would’ve spent every day for the rest of your life proving this to him if you could.

That you were wholeheartedly his. You’d always be for him.

“Let me show you this one instead!” He offered, setting another similar-sized canvas on the easel.

As he spoke, you looked over at him, wondering how you could begin to describe your feelings. His smile was so consuming that all you could see were the tops of his cheeks, and the fact that he could literally blind you with happiness was a perfect representation of the kind of effect he had on people.

He made you happy.

He didn't know the spell he casted over you. He didn't know how every time you were around him it felt like you were living your own self-made fairy tale. You were detached from the world, fallen completely into his—and you never wanted to leave.

You wanted the fairytale to go on and on, never wanting the story to end. You wanted to stay in this time and place forever, because, with him, there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

You looked at him like he was art and you held onto his words like they were falling stars.

"You give good advice," you said shortly after he finished explaining his thought process behind this piece of work.

He sheepishly smiled, "I know."

"... Maybe you should start taking it," you looked into his brown eyes in deep thought.

"Hm?"

You shrugged, tilting your head as you thought to yourself for a couple of seconds. You knew that ever since he had come back, he was having trouble readjusting to everything here. You acted like you didn't notice but he was so close to falling apart and you didn't want him to deal with it alone.

"I mean, you always call art beautiful and courageously mean it, but how is it that the most beautiful person doesn't realize that he too is all of those things and more?"

Maybe you were digging up a hole that he wanted to keep buried and maybe you did regret those words as soon as they left your mouth—but it was said and no matter how much you tried to somehow take it back, it was done.

He looked down at his lap, clearing his throat as he bit down on the bottom of his lip lightly.

Maybe you did cross a line this time. "You know what, forget I said any—" you started.

"Sometimes, I don't know…I just feel like," he groaned, not appreciating his inability to form his thoughts into coherent sentences. "I just feel like I don't really matter anymore—well, not Hwang Hyunjin me, but like me, me.”

He was the boy who fed into his insecurities and starved himself of potential.

“And it’s not like it's anybody’s fault! It’s really not—it’s just…” He was struggling immensely. “I want people to be happy, I always do. But now I feel like I’ve found myself trying more.”

He never usually said much, but his mind was a storm, his creativity insatiable; he was an enigma. Truly a mystery to you, but the depths of his eyes spoke volumes. His head housed the most intelligent conversations and although he never spoke them out loud all the time, you knew it.

He never said much, but in the end, that didn't matter. You read him so clearly and he had no idea.

You sighed, “Are you still hung up on what happened with Jisung?”

After that day, Hyunjin felt the worst he’d ever felt in a while. His thoughts were brutal. They were vicious, and mean, and picked out every flaw that he had.

His mind always won against his heart and they became too much for him. His heart became heavy and he needed to remind himself to breathe and that he was okay—that everything was okay—clearly knowing that it wasn't at all.

“Kinda,” he exhaled before he ran his hands down his face trying to sober up his dilemma. Suddenly his phone rang and it startled the both of you.

He glanced at the contact and sighed to himself again before turning to look at you with a frown. He felt guilt wash over him as he saw the contact although you couldn’t see it for yourself.

You were too busy trying to find the words to tell him that you liked that he trusted you enough that he was willing to confide in you.

He paused for a moment, and as you were about to say something, he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry, I need to go.”

“Can you like… stop using your phone?” You snatched Jisung’s device from his hands and hid it underneath your leg. “We’re watching a movie.”

He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. “Well, the movie you chose is lame. Right Lix?”

Felix looked up from his phone, “Huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “You guys suck.”

It was the weekend before finals began and you had sacrificed your studying time to hang out with your friends. Felix was finally free from his theatre escapades for the semester and suggested a night of baking and watching movies.

You weren't even too sure how Jisung managed to sneak his way into these plans. He had been spending an awful amount of time locked in his room lately, granted, he was trying to catch up on everything he lost. But today he had left for a couple of hours, probably to meet up with his friends, and somehow made it just in time for the movie to begin.

Yet, of course, they took you for granted and clearly wasted your time though.

Felix set his phone down, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m done.”

You squinted at him, testingly. “Really?” He nodded and gave you a pinky promise.

“Okay, wait—why won't you take Felix’s phone too?” Jisung pointed out from the side. You shushed him before redirecting your attention back to the movie.

In their defense, the movie was actually pretty bad. You didn't want to agree with them though because technically, it’d be your fault for choosing a horrible film then.

As a matter of fact, before watching the movie, you wished Minho hadn't been busy preparing for his dance final so he could stay and spend time with you all. But now, you were thankful he had other plans. He would’ve eaten you alive for wasting his time like this.

Once the movie came to an end, Felix ran to the kitchen to check on the brownies.

Jisung held his palm out to you, “Phone please.”

“You’re so annoying.” You chuckled, placing it into his hand nonetheless. “This is why you don't have an ‘M’ on your palm, loser.”

You were referring to the old childhood myth behind the meaning of palm lines.

Apparently, if the lines managed to create an ‘M’ letter, then it meant that you would get married in the future. It was stupid, you both knew it. But it was a debate you two had sometimes when you were younger.

“I might not have an ‘M’ but,” Jisung opened your hands and began to trace tiny little circles on the lines of your palm, "didn't you know? I can read palms too." He concluded it with a sarcastic gasp.

Your eyebrows rose as you looked at the boy with an amused expression, "Oh really?" He nodded and you studied the boy for a few moments not believing him in the slightest, but went along with it anyway. "Fine, what's my future then?"

"Us."

You sat up, now laughing as you threw a pillow at him. "I can't believe you just said that.”

He brought a hand up in defense, "Listen, I just made that up on the spot. You should be proud of me that I am still able to do that even though my brain is fried."

Not bothering to entertain him any longer, you joined Felix in the kitchen and the both of you snacked on brownies. As much as you wanted to say you did most of the work when it came to baking it, Felix was the pro. He had many years of brownie baking on his belt.

The both of you managed to spend the rest of the evening talking about life and honestly anything else that was interesting or new. You could tell that both of you needed it. He’d been overworking himself the entire semester so to finally be done, was so rewarding. Plus, talking to Felix was always like a breath of fresh air.

By the time he left, it was nearly ten o’clock. You weren't too sure if Jisung was still home since his bedroom door was closed and he wasn't anywhere in the living room. So, you went back onto the couch and kept yourself busy with your phone.

You should've really been studying though because shortly after, Jisung peeked his head through his door. It seemed like it was all the more reason for him to bother you.

“Is he gone?” He whispered even though it was sort of loud.

You raised an eyebrow, “Who? Felix?” He nodded. “Yeah, he just left.”

Without a word, he walked over to where you were on the couch and basically snuggled up against you—more so his entire body nearly on top of you.

"Ji, what are you doing?" You questioned him.

He nestled himself in a little more, "Making sure you're comfortable."

"And how will you accomplish that by lying on top of me?"

"I won't." A shadowy grin appeared on his face although you couldn't see it. "I'm just doing that because I like lying on top of you.”

"Well, I don't," you rolled your eyes. His chest brushed against yours, sending a velvet shiver through you.

"That's a lie."

You huffed, letting his clinginess be. This was normal Jisung behavior anyway. So, you stuck to using your phone some more.

After a few silent minutes, the faded noise of the television still present, Jisung lifted his head up to look at you. "Just so you know, if you want my lips on any piece of you, I'm more than willing to appease you,” he said suddenly.

Your mouth dropped.

"And my willingness to comply extends to my hands, my fingers, and my dic-”

"Oh, my gosh," you cut him off. “You could’ve just said you were horny instead of listing all your… services.”

"Services?" He tipped his head toward you. "That sounds so dirty."

“Jisung.”

“Yes?”

"You're so annoying." You sighed, obviously frustrated by him.

He lightly smirked, "What? How?" You gave him a look. “So annoying, that you wouldn't walk straight the next day? Or, so annoying that you want me to get off of you?”

You couldn't help but feel the familiar chills run down your back and hit you ten times harder. Suddenly you were too desperate for his touch and taste in a matter of seconds. Desperate enough that your inner thighs begged for a kiss and you wanted his lips to make it rain.

"What's with the weird eyes? Relax, I was joking," he laughed and began to lift himself from your body.

You pulled him back on you almost immediately, "I was just thinking about how big you are."

You briefly glanced down at your joined hands. He carefully stroked the length of your palm with his thumb. And when you looked at each other again, his eyes were a little darker.

"Yeah? I'll fit you just right."

Now guiding your hand to rest over his hard-on, you felt the entire length of him. He let you, of course, but still kept a distance probably in an attempt to tease you. It was bothersome.

So you took it upon yourself and kissed your way up to the corner of his lips, and he finally turned his head and swallowed your sigh in his mouth.

The kiss was wet and rough, maybe a little annoyed. Your tongue slid against his, and a flame pulsed to life in your lower belly. Goosebumps scattered your skin and you pressed your thighs together.

You looked over your shoulder at his bedroom. It was so close it would take maybe a few big strides to be pushed back down onto his mattress. His tongue could be on your skin in under thirty seconds.

"If you're going to fit me so well, show me then.”

He nipped your bottom lip, "I will."

In a matter of seconds, the both of you stumbled into his room, making sure to close and lock the door behind you. Minho would probably be home soon so the two of you needed to be careful.

"Kiss me," he whispered and that was all it took for you to kiss him like every fiber of your being was dying, and he was your medicine. And oh did it feel like it, because suddenly, you were more alive. You felt stronger. You consumed him like a drug, inhaling and exhaling.

People made mistakes. They kissed the wrong people and pretended to be okay. They would do anything to distract their hearts, and they would do anything to deviate it from missing someone.

Was that what you both were doing? Surely, that was the case...

There was no doubt that Jisung had this extraordinary energy about him that consumed and calmed you all at once. The way he dismantled your defenses and challenged you at every turn helped you to become a stronger and more passionate person. And despite your resistance to admitting it, you felt capable of anything around him and couldn't help but believe that he brought out your best self.

He brought out the best in you, and you didn't mean better manners, or a sense of maturity, or whatever else this tired world expected of you. You meant that he just made you want to climb roofs, run wild, and act inappropriately, take risks, and pursue your dreams with passion and integrity.

Around him, you were living.

And to him, you were not just the two a.m. thoughts when he was alone in his bed. You were the three p.m. laughs when he was busy with his friends, the six p.m. dinner when he was in the kitchen, and the ten p.m. songs when he was writing new lyrics. You were always on his mind.

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever felt, and he was convinced you’d remain the most beautiful thing he’d ever feel. Did you know how limiting that was?

To think at such a ripe young age he’d experience the most exhilarating person he’d ever meet, and he’d spend the rest of his life just… settling. To think he tasted the most natural rawest form of sugar and everything else would be refined and synthetic.

That nothing beyond this moment would add up. That all the years beyond him could not combine themselves to be sweeter than you.

He grabbed the back of your neck and then kissed you deeper and slower. He kissed you until your heartbeat continued to throb between your legs. A frenzy burned through your blood.

You pressed your body to him, tracing your nails down his clothed stomach, and tugged at the belt loop of his pants. He made a rough sound in his throat, but his lips began to slow down against yours.

When you realized he was pulling away, you moaned in frustration.

His thumb brushed over your mouth. "Are you sure you're in love with Hwang Hyunjin?" His tone was ridiculing and teasing.

"I am," you protested trying to close the distance between your lips again.

You were surely acting like it, he wondered. He stifled a light laugh and you could feel the coolness of his breath against your face. “Then tell him.”

And it wasn't until later that night he regretted even bringing Hyunjin up. He was prepared for what was to come, but it still hurt.

The both of you lay in Jisung’s disheveled sheets, finally clothed again.

"Jisung?" You voiced out, your fingers traced his arm lazily and you were trying to fight off the heavy slumber you felt dawn over you.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever regretted it?" You asked.

He paused for a moment. “Regretted what?”

“You know… kissing me… sleeping with me. All of it.”

"Of course not," he stated. Even though he wasn't too sure what the truth wholly was. No matter how happy you made him, he believed that there would always be a part of him that kind of regretted everything. "Why would you even think that?"

You shrugged and settled your head on his shoulder. "I—I’m not sure. I guess it’s just—"

That night you let him see what made your world spin. And for you, those were your dreams.

But not just any dreams—dreams about love and passion. You shared with him your words and your feelings. There were quotes, stories, and hopes. All the inner workings of your mind were captured in these dreams. Dreaming about the boy you loved was the only thing that kept you sane.

You turned Hyunjin into a metaphor and thought of him as everything from a drug to a hurricane.

And there you laid, legs entangled, speaking about a boy that you loved again to another who struggled to cope with his own feelings. Your eyes glistened as you spoke of Hyunjin. You spoke about him like he would move mountains for you.

But Jisung, he would've moved mountains for you too. You didn't know that though. You would never know that. Because as he gazed at the galaxies in your eyes like star watching was one of his favorite things to do, you were too lost in your thoughts of another to notice anything.

You loved Hyunjin’s everything just like Jisung did—but with you. He guessed, the only difference was that he knew you wouldn't have chosen him.

So that night, you smiled and leaned on Jisung’s shoulder, half-clothed, as you told him your masterpiece. It was breathtaking. It was you—undeniably you.

You giggled and turned to him and placed your finger against his lips—and all he could think about was what it would've felt like to have you say all these things about him.

But then you said, "I want to tell him." Your voice was so quiet and he realized just how still the whole world felt as your breaths became the same.

His heart stopped. “Oh.” He didn't expect you to take to his advice from earlier. It happened in the heat of the moment and he wasn't thinking straight. It was a joke. And part of him began to hope that you were joking with him too, calling the whole thing off—to take it back right now.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “He better not be an idiot. I hope he knows he’s got something special.”

Jisung wouldn’t show it, and he really hoped you couldn’t tell either, but it felt like a ton of bricks were laid perfectly on top of his heart.

You laughed weakly as you still felt tired. "It’s just—” You were stuck over how to ask him. “How do you know when it's over though? That it wouldn’t work out?"

Sleep crept up to your eyes and you closed them, letting them rest. “Just for a moment,” you told yourself.

The boy beside you heard your breaths get heavier and gazed down to see that you had fallen asleep before he could even answer.

A sad smile crept onto his lips and he softly pressed a kiss to your temple.

"It's in the silence.”

The last dance practice for the semester had just come to an end and you were in between the idea of either throwing up your lunch or just running away forever. Neither seemed really plausible though considering you actually enjoyed your lunch and you had your last final tomorrow, so you needed to be present.

Either way, you were nearly about to defy all things appropriate and dissipate with good reason, of course.

Confessing. You nearly struggled to breathe for a moment. It shouldn't be too hard. Hyunjin had to feel something for you, right? After all, you both had been through together—all the memories—he had to.

Before, it sounded insane to even contemplate, but your mind otherwise convinced itself that something was definitely there. All the talks, laughs, glances across the rooms—something had to be there.

And as much as you wanted to call it bluff just so it wouldn't get your hopes up too much for when the truth came out, you couldn't bring yourself to do so. No matter how many times you fell into your thoughts, they all somehow reminded you about everything beautiful that came along with him—Hyunjin.

His soft skin, his scent, the crescents in his eyes that shined a bit too much it was almost blinding. He was endearing and captivating, and everything you had ever wanted. Surely, the most exquisite in human form.

He had to feel the same.

You found yourself outside of the dance studio knowing who was waiting behind the door, and you shuttered at the thought of leaving the room either the happiest girl in the world or the saddest.

You didn't want to sound too selfish, but you wanted him all to yourself. And it was with that desire, you felt the need to confess.

Sure, your late-night conversation with Jisung somehow, someway, made you actually want to pursue it. A part of you was bluffing when you told him that you would do it—you were half asleep in fact. You were hoping for your friend to talk you out of it—out of the so-called crazy idea—but he didn't.

And now that you were separated from Hyunjin by only a door, you couldn't help but want to take the easy way out of it, which was simply just leaving.

But you were bound to tell him at some point, regardless of Jisung’s input—regardless of your nerves and lack of confidence.

Well, that’s what you liked to believe anyway. You just didn't expect it to be so soon.

You hesitantly opened the door, walking in to be greeted by the boy that you couldn't ever stop thinking about. Although practice had already concluded a while ago, he was still in the middle of the empty studio in the midst of practicing. You wanted to simply melt onto the ground as you locked eyes through the mirror.

He was a symbol of your weakness.

He didn't have to do anything to make you fall for him, and you didn't fall for him because of what he could or couldn't do for you. You fell for him simply because he was unapologetically himself—you fell for him for everything he was and everything he was not.

He was so perfectly flawed, but also perfectly himself.

He turned around to face you, "Y/N?"

You were still by the door, scared to fully make your way into the room. "Hey..." Your eyes trailed him as he headed towards his bag.

"What are you doing here?" He grabbed a water bottle from inside. It gave you enough time to make your way to him, slowly, at your own pace. He took a long sip, parting from the bottle with a soft smile. “I thought you were studying for your exam.”

You exhaled lightly, letting out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, I was going to."

He placed the clear bottle back into his bag and peered over at you. Slightly knitting his eyebrows together, he refocused his attention back toward you. “Do you want me to help you?”

“Huh? No, no… that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I’m just messing around in here before the studio closed for the semester but I can make some time—”

You shook your head, “Jinnie. I…” Your train of thought was faulted by the look in his eyes. He waited for you to finish but he distracted you. Was he aware of how you just couldn't speak anymore?

You just didn't understand how anybody could look the way that he did. He had the prettiest eyes and the warmest yet most killer stare. You wanted answers. You wanted him to take accountability for it—for everything.

But quite frankly, you didn’t even think he would ever because he probably didn't know it.

"I... I just wanted to talk to you about something,” you finished quietly.

Hyunjin grew quite curious and it was evident in the way his eyebrows softened at your tone. He nodded before sitting on the ground and patting the spot beside him for you to join him. You sat down, both of your bodies parallel to each other.

You sighed.

He wasn't sure what direction you were headed in. Something was clearly bothering you. Many thoughts flooded into his mind as he listed different possible explanations that could've left you this way.

“Is everything okay?”

"Do you know what you do to me?" You abruptly stated as the butterflies in your stomach began to erupt—so much that they could've lifted you up.

He stopped his mind from wandering further and froze. This was what was happening?

You shouldn't be doing this.

"I get lost in your eyes, all the time actually—and whenever I hear your name I get tripped out so easily..."

Were you making a fool out of yourself? You really didn't know. Your mouth was just moving on its own and you lacked control.

"—And you'd always look into my eyes and show this wide grin. I always asked why you did it, but you’d shake your head and ignore the question." You tried your best to avoid his piercing eye contact. "Maybe that's why I fell for you."

You finally met his gaze but he broke it away almost immediately. That was when you felt your heart shatter into a million little pieces like a sheet of glass.

You thought that somehow, someway, you were getting closer to the truth and knew it. You see, deep down, a part of you always knew that nothing would really happen between the both of you. You believed that maybe those types of things were only possible in a world you could only possibly dream of.

Surely, Hyunjin seemed to just be the person of your dreams... so much so, you felt sorry that you fell. You were so sorry. Sorry that despite his refusal to look at you now, you still found his soul absolutely enchanting, fascinating, and breathtakingly beautiful.

It took him a minute before taking a deep sigh, "Y/N."

You always dreamt of all the moments you were never going to have. You guessed that this was just your way of dealing with the fact that he didn't want you—and he probably never will. And despite how badly you wanted him to reciprocate your feelings, what you both had was ruined.

And so you came up with a separate reality in which everything was okay, where he was by your side and where he finally would fall.

Hyunjin wanted to tell you that he knew your favorite color and your favorite book and the way you’d always talk to yourself whenever you got annoyed. He wanted to tell you that he prided himself in the fact that he memorized the way your mouth would curve into a smile.

He wanted to tell you that he would be there for you on the bad days too. He wanted to continue to hear you laugh and see your eyes glow in gold, just to know that you were happy.

And he really wanted to tell you too that you had completely captivated him—but instead, he sympathetically looked at you, his eyes finally meeting yours once again.

He knew that you both couldn't be together because he was supposed to be in love with someone else, and well because, someone else had fallen for you too.

Hyunjin noticed it for the first time a couple of months back that Jisung was in love with you.

He nearly called himself stupid when he realized it. How could he have been so blind? So oblivious to everything. How could no one else realize that when you walked into the room, Jisung would suck in his breath at the very sight of you?

There was that silence. The kind of silence Jisung spoke about. You weren’t too sure if you imagined him saying it but it didn't hurt any less.

"I-I’m sorry—I don't know why I just said that.” You were beginning to panic.

He looked over at you, tracing every feature of your face like he had a million times before, and his heart began to beat to the rhythm of your short breaths. He turned away. “We can’t do this. I…”

This all could've been easily solved if he had brought himself to confess that he felt something for you. But he couldn't.

It made sense to him—it all did. How you’d always admire him silently when he wasn't looking. He always saw something in your eyes when he did catch you staring though; a shine of wonder.

If only you knew how much those little moments mattered to him too.

But now you were left confused and heartbroken by the boy who always told you that you were amazing, but seemingly enough, wasn't good enough to commit to.

"We started this at a strange time in my life,” Hyunjin said softly. “I was broken and sad and in serious need of someone to listen. I was that guy that needed someone by his side to feel validated. And you were beautiful and charming and most importantly broken too.”

You hated how you felt like shit and you hated how he looked at you—as if he felt bad for you.

He sighed, “I didn't realize you were just as damaged as me when I met you. But that's why we clicked, wasn't it? I was messed up over a girl—over life—and you were the one constant that made me feel sane.”

Your breathing stilled. Messed up over a girl? Until it clicked. “Bora?”

He looked at you with concern, as if he never meant to hurt you the way that he did.

“I still love her Y/N.”

It was silent for a moment before your voice broke, "Still?”

Jisung hadn't told you? Hyunjin wondered to himself. He had expected Jisung to tell you about her the second she showed up that night at the club and also at the party.

You on the other hand wished you could rid yourself of the parts of you that beg for understanding. The parts of you that desire an answer to the question, “Why did you choose her over me?” Because there was no real answer. It was never about you. He simply chose to be with her. You were an innocent casualty.

But still, you were always going to love him more, weren't you?

Words didn't seem easy anymore to Hyunjin. Everything he’d said and will continue to say would only worsen everything. “I—uh, I met her when I was away and I just… We just fell in love and—I’m sorry.” He felt ashamed.

“Why are you sorry?” You quickly refuted. “You can’t help how you feel.” You cleared your throat, shifting in your seated position. The boy beside you could tell how much the color drained from your cheeks. "It was my fault for getting attached to you," you said and your voice cracked, "both of us knew it wouldn't have worked out anyway.”

His heart stung.

He wanted to tell you everything that you wanted to hear—to make you happy. To tell you that he felt the same way, unapologetically. But he couldn’t—not when he knew couldn't be the guy you needed him to be.

If he told you that, you would've told him that anything he did would've been enough and begged him to stay. To have him would make you throw away quite literally any sense of morality just because he was who he was, and you loved him because of that.

Every day you woke up and thought about him, and you hated it. Why did you have to be the one to get so attached? It didn't seem fair.

And it wasn't right—Hyunjin knew that. So he wished that you’d become full of so much happiness that it healed every part of you. There was a whole world out there waiting for you. Great cities and art and music. Genuine beauty, and you could have it all, but without him.

You guessed, deep down, you both were bound to end, and he would be the one to end it. You just kind of hoped that maybe he would have loved you too—enough to fight against it, you know?

He pulled you into his chest and you didn't fight it. You were in the process of growing numb. "I care about you Y/N, I will always be here for you,” he assured you while gently running his fingers through your hair.

Hyunjin was everything you needed, but you weren't that for him. You knew he cared about you, but you also knew that he didn't care enough to try. And yet, you didn't know which was worse.

You should have never texted him that one day that led into another and another and soon became a daily thing, morning and night, to text him and pray he would respond as fast as he did.

You shouldn't have ever gotten your hopes up as high as you did when Jisung told you there was the slightest chance that Hyunjin was interested in you. You should have never kissed him back that night in the art room; it wouldn’t have led to even more hope.

Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt this bad.

Hyunjin only wanted you when it was okay for him. You were the second option. You were his backup when he had nothing else to do. You were the one he’d give up for someone else. Easily replaceable.

His second option.

But knowing this didn't change the fact that now when you pictured him and Bora together, you wondered why it was her instead of you; and when you thought of him holding her hand, you wondered why it was her instead of you; and when you imagined him kissing her lips, and touching her face, and lying in bed beside her at night, you wondered why it was her instead of you.

When you thought of the moment when he chose to share his life with her instead of you, you couldn't help but analyze your components, piece by piece, in an attempt to figure out which fault of yours led him to that choice.

You really wanted to be her. You so badly wanted to be her.

Yet, tables tended to turn quite quickly on this Earth now that his presence was no longer on your plate, how bitter. And now you were left a mess wondering if you had ever meant anything to him at all.

Letting him hold you, you whispered something that confused him, "No, you don't care. But that's okay."

It didn't take too long for Jisung to get back home that night.

You had locked yourself in your room for the rest of the evening, hearing Minho come and leave the apartment every so often. You were hurting so badly that you were even desperate enough to sacrifice Minho knowing everything, just so you could cry your heart out and be heard by someone.

But that was easier said than done. If you had to tell Minho the entire story, it would have opened your wound even more. Plus, if you were being honest, he probably didn't even think that you were home to begin with. Usually, he’d call out for you or knock on your door, but he didn't.

So instead of bringing yourself to his attention, you rather continued to fester in the darkness of your room, trying your best to deal with everything alone. And you were attempting—like really, really trying to do it so you could push the thought of Hyunjin out of your mind.

But with a knock at your bedroom door, everything was ruined.

You stayed silent for a few moments, looking at the dimly lit white-framed door.

“Y/N.” Jisung muttered, lightly knocking once more. “What’s going on with you? I’ve been texting you all night.”

You weren't too sure of what to respond with. You hadn't been on your phone since everything happened and you were pretty sure it was still somewhere at the bottom of your school bag.

“I know you're in there, your sneakers are by the front door.”

Wiping your wet nose, you rolled your eyes. He was so stupidly annoying even at a time like this. He’d never let you rest over your damaged sneakers.

You stood from where you sat and walked over to unlock the door for him. As much as you wanted to be alone, there wasn't any reason to hide yourself from Jisung. Not like this—not anymore. He knew everything about you and he’d continue to do so, always.

When you opened the door, he immediately noticed your tear-stained cheeks and his heart dropped. Had you done it?

You tried your best to smile at him. "Hi, Sungie."

It was so much easier to act like none of it mattered, and to pretend to wear a smile than to confess that your heart was broken from losing someone who was never even yours to begin with.

But there didn't seem to be a reason to fake it in front of him. He deciphered everything about you within a matter of seconds. He didn't fall for your act and without a word, he engulfed you in a hug.

You didn't resist, instead, letting your body go limp as the boy hugged you. You didn't want to cry anymore, but the feeling of his arms around you made it so fucking hard. You were just so tired and drained.

The both of you stayed like that for what felt like minutes, his hands stroking up and down your back. As much as you were hurting during every moment of it, Jisung felt like his world was crashing down too. Seeing you like this, so quiet, so hidden—you didn’t deserve it.

"It's his loss," he hummed against you.

Your heart fell for a moment. You lifted your head from against his chest and voiced your concerns quietly. “W-What?”

He sighed, gently brushing the hair that stuck onto your forehead away. “Hyunjin. It’s his loss.”

He wanted to tell you—to express to you that you deserved to be chosen undoubtedly over and over and over again—not merely considered.

Seeing you like this did so much more to him than you could have ever imagined.

But you wanted to tell Jisung that—to Hyunjin, he didn't lose anything. He just wasn't interested. It was as simple as that. He was good at making people believe that they were more important than they actually were.

Jisung was hesitant when asking, “What happened?”

You tipped your chin back to look at him fully. “Nothing happened,” you admitted, eventually. You shoved aside your pride and felt the words scorching your tongue. “He just… didn't want me the way that I wanted him.”

You kept telling yourself that if Hyunjin wanted to talk to you—wanted to be with you, he would’ve. It’d only take a second of his time to text you, maybe even to tell you that he had made a mistake and loved you all this time.

In all honestly, you were disappointed that he occupied your mind and that your heart still jumped whenever you thought about receiving a text or a call hoping that it was him. Simply hoping that he would tell you that he wanted you instead of her.

"And I think he knew," you continued after a while, "It just didn't matter enough for him to care."

Jisung was struggling to keep his composure against you when in reality, he really wanted to give Hyunjin the worst punch in the world for doing this to you. But what did he expect though? His friend had been seeing another girl this entire time, quite frankly, he should’ve told you about Bora to begin with.

Was this all his own fault then?

He gently grabbed your hands, interlocking his fingers with your own. Your palms were warm—fingers so soft. It was something he always loved.

He guided the both of you over to your bed to sit. “You know what I see?” For a few moments, he studied you, taking in your frayed tank top and bare legs.

You tilted your head, waiting for him to go on. The moonlight that peered into your room from the window dimly lit the carpet beside your bed. It gave you both just enough light to take in each other.

“I see a beautiful girl with an amazing heart and a corrupted mind,” he said.

Confusion marred your otherwise flawless features.

He continued, “Thoughts and ideas damaged by broken promises and lies. I see a girl whose mind is constantly battling with her heart because her heart chooses to feel what her mind chooses to ignore.”

To Jisung, you deserved someone who loved you with every single beat of their heart, someone who thought about you constantly, someone who’d spend every minute of every day just wondering what you were doing, where you were, who you were with, and if you were okay.

You needed someone who could help you reach your dreams and who could protect you from your fears. You needed someone who would treat you with respect, and love every part of you, especially your flaws.

You should be with someone who could make you happy, really happy, dancing on air happy.

You paused for a short while, unable to figure out what to respond with. He was more than right—you weren't dumb. Your mind could tell wrong from right, but your heart struggled immensely to comprehend that. You really wished it did though. It would have made everything a hundred times easier.

Suddenly, the rain, which had been lightly falling all night, began to pick up in speed. You closed your eyes getting lost in the sound of it, the thought of the cold water against your skin spread peace throughout your body for a moment.

One of Jisung’s hands remained interlocked with your fingers, and the other was caressed your bare thigh. He held you like you were his lifeline and he was scared to release you.

"You have to let it all go.” He traced his thumb over yours, still moving every so softly to keep your emotions at bay. “The way he kissed you, the way he smelled, the way he touched your waist and pulled you in. You have to try to let it go and you have to try to let him go."

“It’s not that easy, Jisung. I can’t just forget.”

You understood that love wasn't always flowers and chocolates. It wasn't always afternoon cuddles or laughing together at two in the morning. Sometimes it was crying and begging them to stay.

Sometimes it was screaming at the wall because you heard something you didn't want to hear and a part of you just broke inside. Sometimes it was staying up all night, wondering why you weren't enough. Or it was sometimes self-doubting yourself because you wanted to know what she had that you didn't.

“I know that,” he mumbled. “I know that it’s hard.”

You see as much as you thought you knew everything about the boy beside you, you didn't.

Jisung was aware that love was sometimes scrubbing your skin at four in the morning in the shower, trying to wash away their smell. Of course, it wasn't fucking easy. Love wasn't always romantic. It was painful and it would sometimes tear you apart.

To him, words were beautiful. To produce them, he allowed his fingers to move about in a rhythmic and rather therapeutic manner. Those movements then delivered his thoughts and emotions into the minds of human beings who couldn't be reached by the sound of his voice.

He thought it was time for him to start understanding that you were now just one of those people that was out of his reach. He wanted to ask you what it felt like to be told you were perfect in every way and will always be taken care of.

He wanted to convey the emotions that ripped through someone like himself. He wanted to express the hope and loyalty that was instilled inside him—the kind that was built up wall after wall, only to feel as though they were peacefully torn down by someone like you, who pulled him deeper into your love.

“I know that it’s hard, Y/N,” he repeated, “and you’re right, it’s hard to forget.”

You nodded, “If I could I woul—”

He cut you off. “But I just can't do it.” He bursted out, his eyes suddenly began to fill to the brim with tears.

Your eyes widened at the sight, taken off guard by his abrupt tone and reaction. “What?”

He shook his head and looked up to keep himself from looking at you. “I just can't watch you love him like that.”

“Like what?” You asked, cupping his face so he could meet your eyes. You traced in his dark orbs, hoping to quickly find an answer to his unexpected outburst. “What are you talking about?”

Jisung knew you would never look at him the way you did Hyunjin. He felt like he was being selfish with his emotions now.

“Like he’s everything you ever wanted.”

And suddenly now, while you both stared at each other at that very second, he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted more, he wanted more than just looks and brushes of arms and legs and the stupid endless teasing and meaningless fucking on your end.

He wanted to taste your lips and your neck and everything, again, like always. But this time, he wanted to pull you in and never let you go.

"I'm in love with you," he blurted out. "I’ve been for all my life, actually, but you've never noticed because you never paid attention."

Your heart dropped nearly twenty stories and you felt lightheaded. He could feel your body tense up as you sat still, slowly struggling to breathe properly.

"I have never loved anyone as I love you." He continued, confessing. Was there a chance you could believe him this time? "I can't put it into words—there are none that come close to expressing how I feel."

You shook your head, loosening your grip against his palm and removing his hand from your leg. “Jisung, stop it. You don’t love me—”

This had to be a joke. Just like when he said it before on the rooftop—yeah, that's what it was. He saw you in your emotional state and thought this would be a funny prank to get you to laugh, right? You were still very upset from earlier so he should've expected you to not—hmm, maybe if he pulled this stunt again next week, you would’ve cracked a laugh from it.

Your mind was very convincing to you.

“I love you!” He shouted, the impact of his words lost on you.

“Be fucking for real.” You still weren't taking him seriously. “This isn't funny.”

“Funny? I have loved you since the day I met you, and since then, you’ve been driving me crazy Y/N. My thoughts can't fucking move without constantly being drawn back to you.” Hand-dropping, his voice cracked as he continued. “You’re it.”

You were his world. But he wasn't yours, and he would never be.

He proceeded to pour his heart out, unable to realize what damage he was creating while doing so. "It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He was so vulnerable, and you tried your best to understand how suddenly, in a matter of seconds, his heart was in your hands.

“I can’t describe it anymore, it is you. You are the only one that I will ever want. I belong with you. You are my home. I look at you, and somehow I can see us fifty years from now on the front porch of some old house in the middle of nowhere and we're together.”

You stayed silent as everything ever good in your life came crashing down on you. This didn't sound like a joke anymore. And suddenly, just by searching his dark eyes from where you sat, the countless times he tried to express to you of his endless love began to show. Each time he poured his heart out to you, you never noticed.

He paused to take a breath. “And as pathetic as it sounds, I need you. You are the only thing that matters to me. You are my only constant. You are my good."

“No, no, no. You must be confused.” You shook your head for what seemed like forever. “Please just talk to me tomorrow—”

You attempted to stand up in an attempt to open your door so he could leave but he grabbed your arm. “What?” His voice broke. You were starting to make him feel like a crazy person.

You sat back on your bed with broken stars in your eyes and burnt promises on your tongue, and you told him after a brief pause, “Jisung, you and I both know that your life would be so much easier without me.”

He continued to sit by your side, taking your hand into his like before. He was close enough that your arms and hips and legs still touched and he said, “But not better.”

By now, your eyes were looking around at everything except his. In some measure, you wanted to cut open his mind and let yourself into the secret world he had created just for you, but, you were scared of what you would find.

This wasn't what you had expected. It wasn't anything you could have ever imagined. Because he tried to be poetic in the way that he loved you, but it was so passionate he couldn't string words together in any way that made sense to you.

So there it was; the silence.

You wanted to speak—to answer—but words couldn't formulate your emotions the same way he couldn't describe the way it felt to have his heart ripped to pieces.

During the haunting stillness, Jisung finally figured out why it hurt so much. He was stuck in limbo, the liminal space between what you both were and whatever came next. It wasn't good for either of you.

Sure, he attempted to move on after listening to Chan’s advice but he couldn’t. It took him days of staring at the ceiling at four in the morning and numerous discussions with himself before he woke up one morning and decided that he wanted you still.

However, he knew, logically, that what you both had was done now; your silence is more than enough proof.

But he couldn't help but wonder if this time, the silence—your silence—fostered hope, that small "what-if" in the back of his mind. And even the smallest glimpse of hope was enough to keep him here in front of you, trapped in this uncertainty.

Despite how bewildered you still were, you gingerly pushed the fallen strands of hair from his eyes. He was still your best friend. Of course, you loved him. You’d always love him.

And he was aware that he had always been just your boy friend you’d come to whenever you needed sympathy or company. Not your boyfriend, but your friend that was a boy.

“I just—I just don't deserve you,” you finally whispered.

Of course, in a sense, he did deserve so, so much better, but all he wanted was you. He knew that he should have refrained from doing anything with you. He was doing just fine before… everything—before you came back into his life as the person he loved.

Because loving you now was just so fucking destroying.

He opened his mouth to tell you what you didn't want to hear, but you shook your head, not letting him speak.

Tears burned your eyes, “No, Jisung. I don't. You're so amazing and caring and someone like me doesn't deserve someone like you,” you assured him, his grip tightened around your hand.

Please, don’t do this.

He was too pure and too sweet to love you.

Nevertheless, he wanted you to know everything. That he’d still love you through every emotional part of the roller coaster you had brought into his life. He loved you on the days that you were pleasant and kind and also on the days you were unrecognizable to him.

He loved you through changing circumstances and the rapid movement of time. He was loving you now, even when you decided that you didn't love him.

"I don't care," he said and he didn’t. He brought himself closer to your lips. "Do you even know?" He drew back for an instant, his eyebrows knit together. "Do you know what it's like around you? I can't..." He ran one hand through his hair and stared at you. "I can't breathe whenever you're around."

He was just so deeply in love with you, but you never cared to notice. You always cared about another boy, and not the one that mattered. He loved you so much and you took it for granted. You always went crying to him about your problems, and the boy beside you always lit himself on fire to keep you warm.

And judging by the way you treated him, it was only a matter of time before his flame went out.

“Why didn't you tell me before?” You asked him, your eyes darted wildly across his although your vision was more than blurry by now. “You were my best friend.”

His lips and hands shook at the sound of the cold rain pounding against your window, and his stomach turned because, at once, he struggled to find air to breathe.

What was he supposed to tell you? That you weren't just a best friend to him? That his soul ached for you every time he wasn't busy talking? That he couldn't bear to hear you talk about him in a way that got his hopes up?

Or was it that he couldn't watch you love Hyunjin the way you were supposed to love him?

“I couldn't bring myself to tell you,” he resulted in saying.

“Why? Because of who—Hyunjin?” You searched for an understanding. It took him a while before he nodded hesitantly at your question, afraid of how you’d take it. “But this goes way farther back than Hyunjin. You had so many years to tell me—to be honest with me.”

It was easier then.

Before, Jisung hadn't touched you, he hadn't kissed you, he hadn't done nearly enough stuff with you. It was completely different now and he didn't think you understood that.

“I know but—”

“Do you even know what Hyunjin said?” You continued to ask, cutting him off.

Suddenly it felt like a crime to look into your gaze. Jisung was avoiding it like a plague.

“This entire time, he had been in love with another girl,” you confessed, wincing as you relived yourself swallowing the biggest pill ever imaginable. It cut your throat and nearly made you bleed out. You couldn't believe what you were saying.

“Bora?” His eyes finally snapped over to yours, widening. “H-He told you about her?”

You nodded, feeling the tears you’d been failing to desperately keep in, continue to roll down. “Yes, and I was so stupid and blind and I just wanted to cry and cry and cry—so I just need you to tell me the truth,” you sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You didn't want secrets anymore. You couldn't even begin to understand how your best friend had been in love with you for so many years. It didn't seem real. You didn't want to accept it.

But somehow, someway, you both were in love, he was so sure of it.

It hadn't been processed to you yet that Jisung had said the girl's name—Bora—ever so immediately as he did. You didn't think much about it until you could see the look of shame wash down on his face.

He had been keeping the information between Hyunjin and Bora from you for how long? It was pitiful and downright unacceptable considering you were his best friend. How could he tell you now?

But you wanted honesty, right? You wanted to know everything.

“If you want to know the truth,” he still couldn't even look at you anymore, “I’ve known about their… situation.”

He could hear the breath you sucked in quietly. You shook your head, unable to wrap your mind around his confession. “No, you didn't.”

Please, please, please. This couldn't be true. Please.

“Yes—”

“No. You didn't know Jisung. You couldn't have known.” You were still so adamant about not believing him. None of this was supposed to happen. He didn't know—there was no way he had known about Hyunjin and Bora this entire time. “You also can't love me, it’s not possible.”

He grabbed your chin, holding you firmly, and stared into your vacant eyes. “Please, why are you doing this? Why don’t you believe me?” He whispered to you like two children shading a secret.

You pushed his hand away, standing up from where you were sitting. “You didn't fucking make me look stupid for all these months—you didn't make me look stupid for all these years. Jisung, tell me that you didn't.” You began to break down.

You both were in love, he was so sure of it.

“I couldn't help it. I couldn't help it, I'm sorry.” He couldn't even begin to express the guilt and the pain he was experiencing. He didn't even dare to value them either. You were all he could see.

This was when he realized that this was a mistake.

He stood and attempted to hold your hand again, to which you took a step back. He wanted it to go back to how it was. “Please understand that I was in pain,” the words were now being pulled up from his throat like a clown’s handkerchief trick, but he was choking, “I never meant to ruin things. I never meant to ruin us.”

Part of you wanted to forgive him. You were so heartbroken because you not only lost the boy you loved earlier, but also your best friend tonight.

You knew that Jisung wasn't a selfish person, and he probably had his reasons. You wanted to see the brighter side of everything but you couldn't. Not now anyway. Not when he had told you his true feelings that he had kept a secret for so long.

It felt as if your whole life with him had been a lie.

But he was your best friend and even if you tried with all your heart, you could never fully hate him. So the other part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him back so badly, even if it wasn't the truth. You wanted to tell this boy who you knew would give you the world if you asked, that his feelings were reciprocated, but they weren't.

You believed that maybe could’ve been, though. They could’ve been if you weren't so hung up on someone that didn't love you.

And you wanted to tell him that, but you thought it would’ve hurt even more.

You finally took the first step closer to him to hold his hand, just as he tried before. It was what he wanted right? He let you.

It was funny how something that should’ve felt so good could feel so bad when the circumstances weren't right. And your circumstances were definitely not right. But you squeezed his hand anyway, letting him know that you were feeling exactly what he was feeling, and you were just as torn as he was.

Jisung dropped his forehead against yours, your eyes closing while you both just silently breathed through whatever this moment was. You could feel everything he was not saying.

You could even somehow feel the kiss he wasn't giving you. But if you both slipped back into the moment you shared last night or even the night before, it would’ve ripped his wound open even wider, until that was all he was.

And as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew just as much as you did that this wasn't a good idea.

So Jisung stood there, defeated, trying to break the silence, but secretly afraid that if he stayed he’d only break everything more.

With your features blurring past his closed eyes, just like how he had memorized you his entire life, he breathed out. “I’m sorry—I don't think I was supposed to tell you any of that.”

let me know your thoughts about this chapter! i’m interested to hear your opinions :) stay healthy <3

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#stray kids #skz #skz han jisung #skz fanfic #skz imagines #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #series #chapter four

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