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pucksandpower · 4 months ago

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Thick Thighs Save Lives

Day 15 → Thigh Riding 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

“You okay?” Max’s voice cuts through your haze, pulling you back to reality. You blink twice, realizing you’ve been staring — no, more like ogling — at the man standing in front of you.

You cough, trying to play it off. “What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Your voice cracks, and you hate it. You’re not convincing anyone, least of all yourself.

Max tilts his head, concern flickering in those blue eyes. “You sure?” His Dutch accent is thicker when he’s confused, or worried. Right now, you think it’s both. “You look … distracted.”

Distracted. That’s an understatement. But what are you supposed to say? Sorry, babe, I overheard some fans talking about your thighs, and now I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to-

Nope. Not happening.

Instead, you shake your head too quickly, like that’ll fix the mess in your brain. “Just … hungry, maybe,” you mumble, though you know hunger isn’t exactly what’s going on.

Max gives you a sideways look, one eyebrow raised. “Hungry?” He repeats, not buying it for a second. You can tell by the way his lips twitch into that small, knowing smirk of his.

“Yeah, hungry,” you lie again, pulling at the sleeves of your jacket like it’s suddenly too tight, or too hot, or both. “Long day, y’know?” You hope the vague excuse will get him to drop it. You’re begging the universe for mercy at this point.

But Max isn’t one to let things slide, especially when it comes to you. He steps closer, and now, all you can think about is the fact that the fans weren’t wrong. His thighs really are massive — like, practically sculpted by the gods or something.

You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down for half a second. You catch yourself just in time, but Max catches you too.

“You’re acting weird,” he says, and there’s a teasing lilt in his voice now. He’s grinning, and you hate that he’s grinning, because it means he knows something’s up. “Did something happen?”

“No,” you blurt out. Too fast. Way too fast. You force a smile, trying to steer the conversation somewhere — anywhere — else. “I’m just, uh, thinking about … qualifying! Yeah, qualifying. How’s the car?”

Max’s grin softens into something more genuine, like he’s willing to play along for now. “The car’s good. Feels fast. We’ll see.” He shrugs, his eyes still studying you, probably wondering what the hell is actually going on in that head of yours.

“That’s good,” you say, nodding like an idiot. “That’s great. Fast is great.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “What’s really going on? You never look this … distracted.”

You swallow hard, heat rising to your face. Damn it, he’s not going to let this go. Your mind is racing, trying to come up with something, anything, that sounds remotely believable. “I told you,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m just hungry.”

“Uh-huh,” Max says, clearly not convinced. He crosses his arms over his chest, which only draws your attention back to his entire … well, everything. You try not to look, but your eyes have a mind of their own.

For a second, you’re sure he’s going to press further, but then someone calls his name from across the paddock. It’s one of the engineers, probably needing him back before qualifying starts. Max looks over his shoulder and gives a nod before turning back to you.

“I gotta go,” he says, still watching you carefully, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that doesn’t make any sense. “But we’re talking about this later.”

You nod, thankful that the conversation is ending before you dig yourself into a deeper hole. “Yeah, sure, later.”

Max looks at you for a second longer, his eyes narrowing in that way he does when he’s thinking, really thinking. Then he gives you a quick smile, one of those small, private ones that’s just for you. “Take care of yourself,” he says, his voice soft but insistent.

“I will,” you reply, managing to sound more normal than you feel. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks,” he says, turning to walk away, and that’s when it happens.

Your eyes, without your permission, drift downward again. His back is to you now, his long strides taking him toward the garage, and it’s impossible not to notice the way his legs move.

His thighs — God, those thighs — are straining against the fabric of his race suit. It’s like every muscle is defined, every step making them flex in a way that you’re suddenly very, very aware of.

And it’s not just the size. It’s the power behind them, the way you know he’s spent years building that kind of strength, how it’s the kind of thing you only really notice when you’re close to him, or, in your case, when you’ve been thinking about it all day because some fans pointed it out, and now it’s all you can think about.

You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound. Your heart is racing, and your palms are starting to sweat, and all you can focus on is the way his legs look as he moves further away from you.

You should be ashamed of yourself. You are ashamed of yourself. This is ridiculous, and yet …

Max stops halfway to the garage and glances back over his shoulder, probably to check if you’re still watching. You quickly snap your gaze upward, hoping he doesn’t catch you staring again. But it’s too late — there’s that grin on his face, the one that says he knows exactly what’s going on.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, managing a weak smile. “Yeah,” you lie again. “I’m fine.”

Max shakes his head, clearly not buying it, but he doesn’t press any further. He gives you one last look before heading back toward the garage, and as he disappears inside, you let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You’re still staring at the spot where he disappeared, and without even thinking about it, you run your tongue over your bottom lip.

You can’t help it. You’re salivating.

You’re only human, after all, and some temptations are impossible to resist.

***

The hotel room is quiet, except for the sound of the zipper on Max’s backpack as he tosses it aside. It’s late, the race adrenaline slowly wearing off, but you’re both still buzzing with energy. Max is already getting undressed, down to just his Red Bull t-shirt and those jeans that hug his body like a second skin.

You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, hands fumbling with the buttons of your own shirt, your mind somewhere far away. Or maybe not that far. Maybe your mind is right where it’s been for the past thirty-two hours — on him. Specifically, on those damn thighs.

Max turns his back to you for a moment, pulling his shirt over his head, and when he faces you again, you’re frozen, mid-button, staring. His thighs strain against his jeans, the fabric pulled taut around them as he shifts his weight.

You know you should keep undressing, keep moving, but you can’t. All thoughts leave your mind, replaced with the memory of the way they looked under his race suit, the way they flexed as he walked, the way-

“You’re staring again.”

His voice is low, teasing, and it snaps you out of your trance. You blink, cheeks burning, and quickly look away, but it’s too late. Max has already caught you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he moves closer.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” He’s standing right in front of you now, his eyes searching yours, but he already knows. Of course he does. The way he’s grinning tells you that much. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

You swallow hard, trying to find some way out of this, some excuse, but nothing comes. He’s so close, close enough that you can smell the faint traces of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin, and all you can think about are those jeans, how tight they are around his legs, how-

Max reaches out, gently tipping your chin up so you have to meet his gaze. “You can tell me,” he says, his voice soft now, almost coaxing. “What’s got you all flustered, hmm?”

You can’t look away. He’s too close, too knowing, and suddenly, you feel like you’re caught in a trap. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. What are you supposed to say? That his thighs are all you’ve been able to think about? That the way they look in his jeans is driving you crazy?

Max’s eyes flicker down, and you know he’s noticed where your gaze keeps drifting. His smirk deepens, and when he speaks again, his voice has dropped, taking on a huskier tone. “Ah. I see.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He knows. Of course he knows. You feel your heart start to race, and suddenly, the room feels too small, too hot.

Max steps even closer, his hand sliding from your chin to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He murmurs, his eyes dark and intent, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “I would’ve taken care of you sooner.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep some semblance of composure, but it’s no use. Max is looking at you like he knows exactly what you need, and worse — he’s right. He moves his hand to the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed, and you follow, unable to resist.

When you reach the edge of the bed, Max sits, his legs spread slightly apart, and you’re left standing there, feeling like the world’s worst combination of flustered and exposed. He’s still in his jeans, the denim pulled tight over his thighs, and your eyes are immediately drawn to them again. You don’t even try to hide it this time.

Max chuckles, low and deep. “Come here,” he says, his voice a command wrapped in a velvet whisper.

Your feet move before your brain can catch up. You step between his legs, heart pounding in your chest, and Max’s hands find your hips, pulling you down until you’re straddling his thigh. The moment you make contact, your breath hitches, your body reacting to the firm pressure beneath you.

“See?” Max murmurs, his hands sliding up to your waist, his touch gentle but insistent. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You can’t answer, can’t find the words. All you can do is nod, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as you shift on his thigh. The friction is immediate, electric, sending a shockwave through your body. You gasp, and Max’s grip tightens.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands guide your hips, slow at first, drawing out the movement, letting you feel every inch of him beneath you. The rough fabric of his jeans rubs against you, the friction unlike anything you’ve felt before. It’s overwhelming, almost too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you want, what you need.

Max watches you, his eyes dark and hungry as you move against him, your breaths coming faster, more ragged. He knows what he’s doing, knows exactly how to drive you crazy, and he’s taking his time, savoring every second of it.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. At my legs. You couldn’t stop, could you?”

You shake your head, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. The heat between your legs is building, and every time you shift, every time you drag yourself over the firm muscle of his thigh, it sends a pulse of pleasure through you.

Max grins, his hands tightening on your waist, guiding you faster now, urging you on. “I knew it,” he says, his voice low and full of satisfaction. “You just needed this. You needed me.”

You moan softly, your head falling forward against his shoulder as the pressure builds, your body practically trembling from the intensity of it. Max’s grip on you never wavers, his hands controlling the rhythm, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You can’t hold back anymore. The tension in your body snaps, and you cry out softly, your hips bucking against his thigh as the pleasure overtakes you. Max holds you steady, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you as wave after wave of sensation crashes over you.

When it’s over, you’re left breathless, slumped against him, your body trembling in the aftermath. Max’s hands slide up and down your back, soothing, gentle, as he waits for you to catch your breath.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of warmth. “You did so well.”

You don’t have the energy to respond, your head still spinning from the intensity of it all. But then, as the haze begins to clear, you feel something — wetness — on the denim covering his thigh. You pull back slightly, your face flushing with embarrassment as you realize what you’ve done.

Max just chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice full of mischief. “I don’t mind.”

You bury your face in his chest, mortified, but Max’s arms come around you, holding you close, his laugh rumbling through his body.

“I told you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your hair. “I know exactly what you need.”

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the hotel suite. You stir in bed, slowly coming to consciousness, a vague sense of discomfort pulling you from sleep.

For a moment, you’re content to stay buried under the sheets, your body heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction from the night before. But then the feeling sharpens — a tenderness, right between your legs. You shift, and the soreness becomes more pronounced.

Your eyes snap open. Oh.

The friction from last night, the way you rode Max’s thigh with reckless abandon, comes back to you in vivid, heated flashes. You groan, face half-buried in the pillow, not from embarrassment this time but from the distinct ache you feel in your most sensitive spot. Your poor bundle of nerves, now sore, throbs slightly when you shift your legs.

You turn your head to glance at Max. He’s already awake, leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone, his hair still a mess from sleep. He looks over at you when he notices you stirring, his mouth curling into a soft smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep. You shift under the covers again, wincing as the soreness flares once more. You press your legs together instinctively, hoping it will somehow dull the ache.

Max’s brow furrows. “You alright?”

You pause for a second, debating how much you actually want to admit. But the soreness isn’t something you can brush off, not when every slight movement reminds you of it. You let out a small sigh and tilt your head to look at him.

“I’m … sore,” you admit, biting your lip. “Really sore.”

Max’s lips twitch, a hint of amusement lighting his eyes. “Sore where?”

You give him a look, half-exasperated, half-embarrassed. “You know where,” you grumble.

He chuckles softly, setting his phone down on the nightstand. “I might need a little more detail. I’m a driver, not a mind reader.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it’s mixed with a groan as you shift your hips again. “You know,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes. “There.”

Max raises an eyebrow, still amused, but then his expression softens with concern. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly, wanting to reassure him. “It’s not that. I guess I just … overdid it. Denim can be rough.”

Max nods, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Wait here,” he says, sliding out of bed with the ease of someone who’s used to early mornings and late nights in uncomfortable places. You watch as he rummages through his luggage on the floor, tossing aside various items before pulling out a small tube of ointment.

“What’s that?” You ask, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Max returns to the bed, sitting on the edge. “This? It’s some kind of cream I used for a cut I had a while back.” He holds up the tube for you to see, the words on it clearly medicinal. “I think it might help.”

You hesitate, unsure. The idea of Max applying anything down there is both intimate and a little embarrassing. But the soreness is getting worse, and the thought of relief is too tempting to ignore.

“You trust me?” Max asks softly, his eyes locking with yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I do.”

Max smiles at that, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before squeezing a small amount of the ointment onto his fingers. “Let’s take care of you, then.”

You shift slightly on the bed, opening your legs a little to give him room. Your breath hitches as he moves closer, his touch gentle and careful. His hand slips beneath the covers, fingers finding the tender spot with a sensitivity that makes you melt.

“You sure this is okay?” He murmurs, his gaze flicking to yours for reassurance.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, though the feel of his fingers, even in this innocent context, has your pulse racing.

Max is slow, deliberate, applying the ointment with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. His touch is cool at first, but then the warmth from his skin mixes with the soothing sensation of the ointment, and your body starts to relax. The ache begins to ebb away, replaced by a gentle, comforting warmth.

“Better?” He asks after a few moments, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You can only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as the tension leaves your body. But it’s not just the relief from the soreness that’s making you feel this way. It’s the way Max is touching you — careful, considerate, and yet undeniably intimate. You hadn’t expected something as simple as this to feel so … intense.

Max’s fingers continue their slow, deliberate movements, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, though his voice is huskier now, like he knows stopping isn’t something you’re going to ask for.

Your breath catches in your throat as he presses a little more firmly, the friction now bordering on something else entirely. The tenderness is still there, but now, so is something deeper, something stirring inside you that you can’t ignore.

“Max …” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

He doesn’t respond with words, just a small smile as his thumb grazes over your clit, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. He’s not trying to push you, not really, but his touch is becoming more deliberate, more focused.

And you’re unraveling.

The gentle pressure of his fingers, the slow circles he’s tracing, the way he’s watching you so intently — it’s all too much, and yet not enough at the same time. You shift your hips, instinctively seeking more, and Max’s eyes darken as he registers your need.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the same spot again, drawing another gasp from you. “Does it feel good?”

You nod, unable to find the words. Your body is responding without permission, a slow burn building in your core, the ache from earlier completely forgotten now. It’s been replaced by something else — something hot and electric, coursing through you with every touch.

Max leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

You can barely think straight, let alone articulate what you need, but you manage a breathless, “More.”

His fingers move with more purpose now, pressing harder, rubbing in just the right way that makes your body arch toward him, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is almost overwhelming, the pleasure mixing with the relief, and you feel like you’re coming undone in his hands.

Max watches you, his eyes dark and intense, clearly enjoying the way you’re responding to him. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “Just let go.”

And you do. You let go of the last bit of restraint you’ve been holding onto, your body trembling as the tension builds higher and higher. Max’s hand never falters, his touch steady, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re breathing faster now, your heart racing in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, spreading through your body like wildfire. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you need it, need him.

“Max,” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as the pleasure surges through you. “I’m-”

“I know,” he whispers, his thumb pressing down just right, and it’s all it takes to send you spiraling.

Your body clenches, the release crashing over you in waves as you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand. Max holds you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re left trembling, your body spent and your mind blissfully blank.

When it’s over, you collapse against the pillows, panting, your heart still pounding in your chest. Max pulls his hand away, careful and gentle, and leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, his voice full of warmth and affection.

You manage a weak smile, still catching your breath. “Better. Much better.”

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havenhyunjin · 23 days ago

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daisy - hyunjin

a continuation of is it casual now?

—Surely that was all that was going to happen; Hyunjin was going to agonizingly friendzone you again, even if he maybe wanted you too. Complimenting you, saying he didn’t deserve you, repeating that he loved you had to be just a way for him to try to let you down easier. word count: 4.8k

warnings: mature, explicit sexual content ahead. 18+ only please! best friends to lovers; angst; hurt/comfort; mild alcohol intoxication; unprotected consensual sex (be responsible); oral sex (f receiving), fingering, creampie.

a/n: this is an accompanying written piece of the text au "is it casual now?". i believe it can be read as a stand-alone, but the texts are cute too. <3

The daisy necklace felt cold and heavy against your skin. It was a sharp reminder of all that was wrong, and yet it was an anchor at the same time. Perhaps that was the problem; anchoring yourself to land that seemed to want nothing but to get away from you.

Surely, Hyunjin didn’t mean for anything to escalate to this point. When he insisted you remain best friends, like you’d always been, the rationale was to avoid exactly what was happening. He knew two things for sure: Relationships end, and he couldn't live without you. The only logical step was to keep things between you two platonic; that way it wouldn’t end.

He failed to take into account another unequivocal truth: You loved each other ardently.

It is the kind of love you can’t contain. The harder you try, the more it will manifest on everyday choices, on shared moments, on breaking hearts.

As of right now, it manifested in the hot tears streaming down your face, sitting on a lonely bench in the middle of the night. It manifested in the alcohol sweating off your pores, failing to make you forget. It manifested in your shaking hands, holding your phone as you try to separate yourself from this narrative once and for all.

please let me come get you. we have to talk in person, we can’t do this over texts, you read Hyunjin’s messages, having half a mind not to cave in instantly. The masochistic part of you that had accepted the crumbs of Hyunjin’s love was clawing its way out, but she was kept at bay.

You couldn’t take another “just friends” speech from him, and you told him as much over angry, sad texts. As if he was helping your masochistic part give in to him once again, he replied that he loved you. He loved you so much his world was spinning off its axis, terrified of losing you.

Theoretically, that was all you would ever want to hear, but you heard it all before too. And of course, you didn’t want to lose him either, but your soul was dying a little bit more every day that you saw him and you couldn’t envelop yourself in him to show him your love. You said you needed time and space to move on, and be capable of being his friend.

He pleaded to let you see him once again. You tried fighting back one last time. The resolve quickly faded. Maybe you were a weak woman in love, but anyone else would’ve given in too. i love you, i need you. please, daisy. i don’t want you to get over me. you’re the most wonderful woman in the planet and i don’t deserve you, but i will try.

Agreeing to see him by turning your location back on for Hyunjin to find you, anguish, regret and hope merged into one convoluted emotion that you were far too wrecked to process. You didn’t even have enough time to try to stop crying when you recognized Hyunjin’s car on the street in front of you. He ran to you, and before any other thought crossed your mind, your brain betrayed you by noticing how stunning he looked. As if he didn’t look like that all the time, and as if your brain hadn’t fantasized about him enough times to last you your whole life.

His hair was tied in a messy half ponytail, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. His face was contorted in emotions you couldn’t read, not for lack of trying. His eyes were desperate, his hands were shaky, his steps were steady, his mouth was unmoving.

“Daisy, it’s fucking freezing,” was the first thing he said in front of you, immediately taking his jacket off to give it to you. You didn’t want it, you knew it was a torture device, but it happened too quickly for your dazed mind to protest. He didn’t really talk as he helped you up from the bench, leading you to the passenger seat of his car, and you were simply moving automatically. He put your seatbelt on before closing the door behind him and walking to the driver seat. All you did was close your eyes, not ready to face him again, not ready for more rejection than your sanity could take.

Surely that was all that was going to happen; Hyunjin was going to agonizingly friendzone you again, even if he maybe wanted you too. Complimenting you, saying he didn’t deserve you, repeating that he loved you had to be just a way for him to try to let you down easier.

Your internal dialogue raged on, because Hyunjin simply drove in silence in the direction of your apartment. Surely he would be leaving you there to cry yourself to sleep once again as soon as he said whatever he needed to say.

When he parked his car, he also opened the door for you and tried to help you out but you flinched away from him. His touch didn’t just electrify you; it burned through your layers of clothes like the daisy necklace did. The sharp reminder of your anchor sailing away.

“Daisy, can I come up? I’ll leave as soon as you’re inside if you want me to,” Hyunjin said, wincing after you flinched away.

His heart was aching. His internal dialogue was as tragic as yours. He knew for sure you wouldn’t give him a second chance at being brave enough to love you. He knew this was going to be the last time you’d let him that close to you. He knew you didn’t trust him anymore.

All he was hoping for was a few more minutes with you as you went up the elevator and before you closed your door to him forever. All you were hoping for were a few more minutes with him before you had to say goodbye to him out of pure survival instinct.

So you agreed for him to walk you to your door. You saw him punch in your code, and open the door for you. You put your head down as you walked in, and hesitantly turned around to face him, reaching to take his jacked off yourself. You willed yourself to look into his eyes.

Hyunjin was crying. He was trying hard to keep the tears from falling, he was furrowing his eyebrows and he wasn’t looking back at you, instead staring at the corner of your wall behind you.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen him cry before. He cried watching Inside Out, when you graduated, when he laughed too hard, when his little fish died. But this wasn’t the same. His lips quivered a little, his eyes were almost closed, his cheeks were red, his hands were closed in fists. He was in agony.

Your masochistic side, and the side of you that loved Hyunjin like the forest loves the flame, teamed up against your decision to say goodbye. You could not bear to see him hurt that way, even if it meant more pain for you. So you wrapped your hand around his wrist and led him inside, speechlessly closing the door behind you.

“Daisy, I…,” Hyunjin started to talk quickly, knowing you were granting him the chance to do so. You closed your eyes, ready for the big blow. Ready for a wretched feeling of heartache you never thought Hyunjin would cause you. Ready for him to close the possibility of ever letting you love him. Ready for him to never take the leap for both of you. Ready for your fears to drag you away from each other.

You weren’t ready for the soft, cold hands that wrapped around your cheeks, and the hot minty breath against your face. You weren’t ready to find a pair of brown, yearning eyes looking deep into yours when you opened them. You weren’t ready for the touch of his nose against yours as he leaned in. You weren’t ready for the all consuming feeling of his plump lips on yours.

But you welcomed it. You welcomed it like the feeling of a warm blanket on a rainy day, like the smell of your childhood pillow, like the taste of your favorite candy on Christmas, like the sound of a perfect melody, like the sight of a sunrise. You welcomed it like finally coming home.

The daisy necklace felt hot against your skin. It was a sharp reminder of all that you desired standing right in front of you, somehow anchoring you and making you fly away at the same time. Perhaps that was the paradox; anchoring yourself to land that you thought was drifting away, but right now was holding you like a treasure.

Surely, Hyunjin didn’t mean for anything to escalate to this point. When he insisted you needed to talk, he logically knew his first step couldn’t be to kiss you. He knew two things for sure: You couldn’t just be his friend, and he couldn't live without you. The only logical step was to communicate your feelings, fears and concerns to each other; that way he wouldn’t have to live without you.

He failed to take into account another unequivocal truth: You loved each other ardently.

It is the kind of love you can’t contain. The harder you try, the more it will manifest on everyday choices, on shared moments, on magnetic forces between you two.

As of right now, it manifested in a kiss that would put every other epic kiss to shame. It manifested in your hands wrapped around his neck, holding onto him for dear life. It manifested in your heavy breathing as you both gasped for air, immediately crashing back into each other.

You didn’t really have to talk anything out anymore. Your bodies melting into each other, transforming into a single entity was enough of a declaration, but Hyunjin wouldn’t have it that way. He needed to know that you knew.

You hesitantly pulled back as he grabbed your chin to create a small distance between your lips.

“Baby, I love you,” Hyunjin said barely above a whisper. Barely above a prayer he hoped would be heard by you, his goddess.

“I love you,” was all you could truly reply. What else could you say? How else could you say it other than dripping with devotion?

The pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly, the cracks in your heart embalmed in healing, gently, kindly, steadily by his four words.

You leaned your face into his right hand, almost unconsciously, craving Hyunjin’s warmth. His heart did somersaults, and he wanted nothing more than to give you every bit of affection you could ever crave until the day he died.

“I know what I said before, and what I thought was the best, but I was wrong. I was so wrong, Daisy,” he said as he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, unable to look at you until he cleared the air, otherwise he’d just give in to your lips again. “I thought everything would be better if we didn’t take the risk of us not working out.”

You nodded, attempting to ease his mind showing him you understood the reasoning. You tried to open your mouth, but he wasn’t done talking, so you simply placed a hand on the nape of his neck to try to soothe him.

“I know it’s dumb and cliche, but I couldn’t have you be another thing that didn’t work out in my life. I’ve done stupid shit, I’ll probably keep doing stupid shit, and I got all this baggage you already know about, and it isn’t an excuse but I just thought I should save you the trouble of dealing with it more than you already do,” Hyunjin rambled on, stumbling into his words and thoughts. He had planned out his speech, at least parts of it, but it was all coming out messy. He wanted to organize his thoughts, but he was desperate for you to understand that he wanted you, needed you, loved you, and the past few days weren’t because he saw you as just a friend, but because he saw you as so much more.

All you could do was make him look you in the eyes, forcing eye contact to ground him.

“I don’t want to fuck this up. I won’t. I’ll be everything you need, if you’ll take me,” Hyunjin murmured, his eyes nearly watering as his emotions overcame him.

“I’ll be everything you need too, if you’ll take us,” you replied, holding your faith in him close to your heart. He wouldn’t hurt you; not on purpose, not irretrievably. He would do everything to fix what needed fixing, he wouldn’t leave you hanging, he wouldn’t take you for granted. He would love you. You would love him.

“You’re already everything,” he blurted out, as sincere as he’d ever been, before crashing his lips back into yours.

Hyunjin knew he wasn’t done expressing his feelings and fears, and that there were some that he barely even recognized. But he also knew he would have the time to do that, and you would be gentle enough to grant him that grace. You wouldn’t judge him, you wouldn’t run out of patience, you wouldn’t walk out on him. You would love him. He would love you.

So Hyunjin gave in to you, and you gave in to him.

His kiss was desperate and passionate, leaving you breathless and dizzy, trying to steady yourself on his chest. Any alcohol in your system had already been replaced by the adrenaline of holding your entire world in your hands, and finally being able to be this close to him.

Soon enough, you started leading him to your room, even with an unmade bed and a few scattered items. He wasn’t unfamiliar to your room, knowing the scent, layout and quirks of it very well. However, he suddenly felt like an outsider you were inviting in for the first time, and he wasn’t sure of what to do. Hyunjin’s mind started to race. Did you want to sleep? Did you want him to hold you? Did you want more? Did you want to wait?

As his thoughts started rushing, your touch was the one to ground him yet again as you motioned him to come closer to you, kneeling on the edge of your bed with him standing in front of you. He didn’t need words, your hands under his clothes touching his skin telling you everything he needed to know. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you, and you needed to feel close to him.

His shirt came off first, your core warming at the sight. Greek gods would be put to shame besides Hyunjin, sculpted and soft against your fingertips. He was shy under your intense gaze, opting to help you out of your blouse instead. Once he caught a glimpse of your skin under the soft lamp light, he was done for. Still asking for your consent when unhooking your bra, you nodded and threw it at the floor yourself.

Hyunjin watched as you laid down under him, your breasts slightly moving and your nipples hardened with the temperature change. He knew he was staring far too much, but anything he had ever imagined before paled in comparison to what he was seeing. Any dreams and fantasies he’d had of you naked underneath him as he touched himself, were far off the real thing.

You blushed at the attention on your chest, pulling Hyunjin in for a kiss as he went into bed with you. He happily returned it, and quickly moved his hands to unbutton your jeans, humming while asking for permission once again, as if you were ever going to say no to the man you desired with every cell of your being.

You lifted your hips up enough for him to pull down the item along with your underwear, and you couldn’t help but whine as you felt yourself truly exposed beneath him. He only barely noticed, busy admiring every curve of your legs, thighs and most of all your naked pussy.

His cock was painfully hard, twitching at the mere sight. He didn’t know how he was not going cum immediately upon tasting you, feeling you, but he would be damned if he didn’t have you right now.

Hyunjin gently spread your thighs, whimpering ever so silently as he looked at your slick folds. “You’re so wet, my baby,” he looked up, making eye contact with you and licked his lips.

The sight was a pure, unadulterated wet dream. You should be even more wet, having the most beautiful man in the world between your thighs, lowering his sinful lips and tongue on your sex.

You arched your back and instantly held the roots of his hair in your hands as he licked a long, tortuous stripe around your slit and pussy lips. Kitten licks right into your already swollen clit followed, and you shut your eyes closed cursing under your breath. “You taste like fucking heaven, baby,” he said right into your core, making you whine. Hyunjin was slowly, almost imperceptibly, rutting his hips against the bed to give some attention to his clothed, aching cock, drunk on your taste and moans.

He was a man starved, alternating between fucking his tongue right into the hole he would fuck with his fingers next, picturing how tight and good you would feel around his cock later, and giving fast consistent ministrations to your sensitive clit.

You would never last long, much less as he worked one finger inside you wrapping his lips around the bud. He was met with more resistance pushing a second finger in, his long hands proving to be a challenge to take like you knew his dick would be, but you were excited to have it.

Hyunjin never stopped his consistent pace on your clit, relaxing you and recoiling you at the same time. He knew he needed to prep you with at least three fingers if he was going to fuck you, feeling how tight you were, vibrating in anticipation. He worked slower, almost painfully so. Once he felt his index and middle finger slide in and out of your pussy with ease, he leisurely pressed his ring finger to your entrance.

You were lost in the feeling, grinding yourself on his hand and moaning his name over and over again. You took all three fingers in, opening up for him even more as he scissored them inside of you, not once stopping his steady, erotic make out session with your clit.

Hyunjin was all about pleasing you, so he curled his fingers inside of you, drinking in your every movement, sound and wetness pouring out of you. “Let go for me baby, give it to me,” he encouraged, only barely stopping his constant stimulation on your clit.

You were soon enough cumming in his mouth and hand, giving Hyunjin the sweetest taste he ever had in his life, and seeing stars, cross eyed at the feeling of an angel gifting you the first orgasm of the night. He cleaned up the remnants of your orgasm, not baring the idea of any of it going to waste and smiling up at you. You smiled back, chuckling shyly, as he climbed up to kiss you for you to taste yourself on him. It was intoxicating, remembering him eating you out as you tasted the evidence.

The aftershocks of the high subsided once you remembered Hyunjin hadn’t cum yet. He wasn’t even fully undressed, and suddenly you couldn’t bear the thought. Half sitting up, you undid his belt impatiently and helped him as he pushed his pants and boxers aside, kneeling on the bed. He was fighting every impulse to moan at every single friction, at just the sight of your hands so close to his leaking cock.

Your mouth was watering, pressing your thighs together even if it meant overstimulating your sensitive core. Hyunjin’s effect on your body was insane, amping up every passing second. He was decidedly big, and you silently thanked him for how he opened you up before. You ached to have his thick cock deep inside you, and you also craved the taste of him on your throat. You thought you should do the latter, returning the favor, but Hyunjin quickly pinned you back down to the bed.

“Baby, I want to fuck you,” he whispered against your ear, his hands running along your waist and finding the flesh of your breasts. He continued by pressing sensual kisses on your neck and groping your tits, “Will you let me fuck you, Daisy?” A smile was on his face as he realized how you were only wearing your half daisy necklace, and he was wearing his. A wonderful, possessive reminder. You were finally his, and he had always been yours.

“Hyun, please,” you barely whimpered out, dazed in lust, lightly scratching his back as you felt his cock so close, yet so far from your hole. You didn’t even have to beg, he would give you anything and everything you could ever ask for.

As he positioned himself over you, while you spread your legs for him, he framed your face between his hands on the bed supporting him. You looked into Hyunjin’s eyes, knowing they were matching the passion behind yours, and knowing you both understood how life-changing this moment was.

You put your hands on his neck as he finally pushed inside you with a soft thrust. Hyunjin went slow, intentional, as he felt you adjust bit by bit. He didn’t break eye contact, even though he was ready to cum any second. You felt so tight, warm and wet on his cock, he could barely even think, he could barely do anything other than look at you and understand he was home.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he said as he began to bottom in, leaning in to catch your lips in a kiss he hoped conveyed the wave of love combined with lust that he was feeling. “You were made for me, baby,” Hyunjin continued praising you, because it was truly all he could do.

And you were made for him. The stretch stung, but pain melted into pleasure all the same as he kissed you, as he whispered all those sweet, dirty words. Soon enough it was all pleasure, it was all him finally inside you, finally taking what was his. Your moans were nearly uncontrollable, even more so as he began thrusting into you at a delirious, gentle pace.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered into his lips, punctuating each word with his thrusts. Hyunjin almost smirked, beaming off your praise. He wanted to pick up the pace, but he also never wanted the moment to end. He was losing it, the taste of your pussy still lingering in his tongue mixed with the pleasure he felt as he fucked all his love into you. It was enough to bring him to heaven.

He pulled your legs higher up, wrapping them around his waist to take you deeper. As you moaned in a higher pitch, he swallowed the sweet sounds into his mouth. Every emotion was heightened; the desperation, satiation, love, adoration, yearning, all enveloped into the intensity of your sex.

“So fucking perfect,” he mumbled softly, barely above a prayer he wanted only you to hear. You knew you’d kneel to pray to him just the same. All of his movements and words made your cunt clench, feeling impossibly full and yet like it wasn’t enough. Like you needed him to be whole. At every spasm, Hyunjin’s cock twitched inside you, controlling himself not to let his impulse to press you face first into the mattress and take your pussy from behind win. He knew he could do that another time, and he knew he needed to show you his devotion right now.

You could feel him restraining himself, and with one quick moment you pushed him to the bed on his back for you to straddle him. His cock slipped out with a pop that you both groaned at, and he immediately held onto your waist as a reflex, looking at you quizzically.

“Let me ride you, baby,” you asked softly, positioning yourself over his cock and taking it inside you again at a new, toe-curling angle.

Hyunjin could’ve cum right then and there, holding on to your soft skin. As you started bouncing up and down his length, he didn’t know whether to focus on your beautiful face contorted in pleasure, the erotic sight of where you two were connected, or the near pornographic vision of your tits moving in his face along with your necklace, his necklace.

He was gone. He had been gone for years, knowing deep down nothing would ever satisfy him if he couldn’t have you. And now that he did, now that you were truly, genuinely taking your place as his goddess divine on top of him and his cock, he also realized he’d never be truly satisfied. He would never get enough of you, but he would spend every waking moment of his life adoring you. Even if centuries wouldn’t be enough with you, he will gladly spend his lifetime worshipping you, and every inch of your body.

Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling himself up to begin tracing kisses, love bites and marks around your neck and breasts. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared, swore, between every single kiss.

Your movements were becoming more erratic when riding his cock, your words barely making their way out only because you couldn’t fathom not saying I love you back. Everything you did brought you closer to your high, and you could barely take it anymore. Even less when Hyunjin pressed his thumb right into your clit, and took one nipple into his mouth, licking circles in it. He was trying to make you cum before him, relishing in the sweet sounds coming out of your mouth. You were going cross eyed at all the stimulation, feeling the coil inside your stomach so close to snapping.

“Fuck, just like that baby. You’re taking me so well,” he hummed, encouraging you as you picked up the pace riding him even if your legs felt like they were giving out.

He placed you down on the bed as he felt your legs faltering, thrusting into you at a harder, faster pace. You held him by his arms, spreading your legs and closing your eyes shut as your moans became uncontrollable. His name was all that you even remembered, whining it out for him to dream about forever.

“Finish for me, baby,” he said, kissing you deeply, his cock inside you hitting just the right spot for the coil to snap.

The earth-shattering orgasm hit you all at once, tidal waves flowing over you as Hyunjin held you in the aftershocks. He fucked you through it, your pussy spasming, almost pulling him deeper inside you and letting him reach his own high. He filled you up with his pearly white cum, and you felt complete.

He didn’t let go of you, as he laid in the crook of your neck panting, still inside you. He put only slightly more weight on you, careful not to hurt you, but relaxing into your body.

You were breathing heavily too, still riding the ecstasy Hyunjin made you feel. As he felt you shaking, he pulled out and laid down beside you holding you into his chest. “I got you, baby. I got you…” he softly whispered in your ear, placing a kiss on your temple. You hugged him tight, smiling as he traced patterns on your back. “You are perfect,” he repeated, as he kept telling you before.

You looked him in the eyes, the crystal glaze of love over them, and pecked his lips softly. You looked at his daisy necklace, reaching out to touch it with your fingers and tracing your own patterns on his chest and neck. No words were needed, the air between you two only trapped inside your bubble of a dream come true.

“I love you, Daisy,” Hyunjin promised once again. “I love you, baby,” you promised right back.

The daisy necklace felt like safety and protection against your skin. It was a sharp reminder of all that you held dear to your heart, and it was the ever-present anchor that tied you to your one true love. Perhaps that was the endgame; anchoring yourself to the land that you had made your home in.

Surely, Hyunjin had willed this all to happen, even if he didn’t realize it. As he held you close, skin to skin, his every desire and need was fulfilled. He knew two things for sure: He was yours, and he couldn't live without you. All he could do, all he wanted to do, was to make you his, until the very end.

He now knew another unequivocal truth: You loved each other ardently.

It is the kind of love you can’t contain. The harder you try, the more it will manifest on everyday choices, on shared moments, on new opportunities.

As of right now, it manifested in the calm and warmth of his embrace. It manifested in the kind, caring kisses you pressed all over his face. It manifested in your souls molding into a single one.

#skz #skz au #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fluff

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cherrynflowergarden · 3 months ago

Text

જ⁀➴ bitter truths|| dealer!matt x doll!reader

sturniolo masterlist add yourself to the taglist

she was laughing, leaning against her desk as she chatted with noah, a guy from her college. her eyes sparkled as she giggled at something he said, her entire posture relaxed and comfortable in his presence. but matt, standing by the door, could feel something dark twisting in his chest as he watched them. he didn’t get jealous—but he’d seen noah around. he knew the guy. he wasn’t some harmless friend and he surely didn’t have the best intentions. and watching her so openly enjoying his company made matt’s jaw clench.

he cleared his throat loudly, catching her attention. she glanced over, her big smile faltering as she noticed the coldness in his eyes.

“oh! matt,” she said, pulling herself away from noah. “this is noah, from my psych class. he’s been helping me with some notes.”

noah nodded politely, but matt didn’t return the gesture, his arms crossed tightly, eyes narrowing. “right. helping,” he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. her expression softened, her brow creasing slightly as she sensed his tension.

“can we talk?” he said, his tone stiff. “alone.” he added, bitterly eyeing noah.

she looked at noah apologetically. she barely had a chance to say goodbye before matt grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the room. she could feel the anger radiating off him, heavy, simmering, the kind that made her stomach twist.

she shifted under his gaze, trying to hold her ground, but his intensity made her stomach twist.

“what the hell are you doing, doll?” his voice was cold, almost a snarl. “hanging around with a guy like him?”

she frowned, taken aback by his tone. “he’s just a friend, matt. he’s helping me with some notes—”

“a friend? you don’t get it, do you?” his voice was mocking, filled with a bitterness she hadn’t heard from him before. “people like him don’t want to be friends with someone like you. you’re just easy prey.”

her eyes widened, a hurt expression flashing across her face. “matt, why are you being so—”

“realistic?” he interrupted, eyes narrowing. “because someone has to be. you think everyone’s got some good in them, that everyone’s gonna treat you the way you treat them. but that’s not how the world works, doll. you’re too blind to see it.”

her lip trembled, but she took a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. “you’re wrong, matt. i know what he’s like with me. just because he doesn’t fit into your world doesn’t mean—”

“oh, please,” he cut in, rolling his eyes. “you really think you know what you’re doing? you don’t have a clue. you’re just letting him string you along because he’s nice to you. that’s all it takes, isn’t it?” his words were sharp, condescending. “anyone gives you a bit of attention, and you’re ready to trust them with anything.”

her face flushed, her chest tightening at his words. “i thought… i thought you trusted me, matt. trusted that i could figure things out.”

“trusted you?” he scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. “y/n, i’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt. but you’re too stubborn, too naive to see that half these people only see you as an easy target.”

the word naive cut through her like a knife, each syllable laced with disdain. “so that’s what you think of me?” her voice was barely above a whisper. “some… some helpless girl who can’t take care of herself?”

“isn’t that exactly what you’re proving right now?” he snapped, his patience finally snapping with it. “you’re so desperate for everyone to like you, so willing to see the good in people, that you don’t even realize they’re laughing behind your back. they see you as this silly soft girl they can use and toss aside.” his voice was harsh, each word landing like a blow.

tears pricked at her eyes, but she held them back, swallowing hard. “i… i thought you saw me differently.”

he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “doll, you’re… you’re sweet, alright? you’re too sweet for your own good. ‘t’s gonna ruin you if you don’t learn to see through people like him. and right now, you’re just proving me right. you’re proving you don’t get how people are.”

she flinched, his words making her chest ache. “maybe… maybe i don’t want to see people the way you do, matt. maybe i want to believe in people. i thought you’d get that.”

“get that?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “’m done trying to understand why you’re so determined to get hurt. you don’t get it, do you? you’re weak and you refuse to see it. you refuse to admit that you need someone to watch out for you.”

the words echoed in her mind, his voice searing into her heart. weak. naive. silly. and what hurt her the most was how he addressed her by her name and not as doll. she felt a tear slip down her cheek and quickly wiped it away, but matt didn’t soften, didn’t reach out to her.

for a moment, she couldn’t even speak, her throat tight with unshed tears. “if that’s really how you see me, then… maybe you don’t know me at all.” her voice was shaky, laced with hurt she couldn’t hide.

he watched her, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t move. he didn’t apologize or reach out to stop her as she turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last. she kept her gaze down, trying to block out his words, but they echoed in her mind, relentless.

days passed. she avoided his texts, his calls, even ignored the harsh banging on her door and every attempt he made to reach her. every time she saw his name flash on her phone, her chest tightened and the hurt bubbled up again. she knew matt was protective, that he cared, but his words had felt like a betrayal, like he didn’t trust her to know what was best for herself.

an; angst bc i'm sad(⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠) also tell me do we like this small title font more or the quote font one?

taglist; @mattsdolll @izzylovesmatt

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redflagshipwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Mamabat 10 part 2/2

masterpost

Sam craned to listen to secondhand sounds of combat. It was all filtered through Val’s headset, so it was vaguely electronic.

“Up!” Said a female voice. Was that Robin? Sam tried to piece it together. The little one had been Robin, she'd thought. Could have been a boy or a girl. Robin looked around Dani's size.

Ah, hell. She pushed down the recurring dread that thoughts of Dani brought up.

Dani was probably fine. She just wasn't answering them because she was fabulously busy in Malaysia or Guam or somewhere else gorgeous and fascinating. She wasn't in one of those labs. They hadn't left her in a lab for a month. Sam’s hands were shaking. She squeezed them hard, angry with herself. Good thing she wasn’t in that fight, she’d be useless like this. Useless!

The percussive sounds of fast, expert violence came through Val's sound system. “Damn,” Val said. “Nice swing.”

The answer was a feminine laugh. Man, who was that? “Not half bad yourself,” said the unknown girl.

Sam untensed, a little. They didn’t sound stressed. It was probably going fine.

There was a groan. “Spoiler, please,” said Red Robin, in a tone he probably thought was too soft to be overheard. Ha. Val was using Vlad's creepertech, and Vlad was one of the best creeps out there. Sam felt weirdly proud of him for a moment. It bordered patriotism. Their freak was the best freak in the business. Eat your heart out, Batjerk.

“Like you're the only one who can pick up girls on the job?” The girl who had to be Spoiler said.

Sam snorted. Good luck with that one! Val was spectacularly unavailable. She should know, she had tried.

“Spoiler, Red Robin, and Robin.” Sam listed aloud for Tucker. “What do we know?”

“All known associates of Batman, Gotham operatives, estimated active dates are at least a couple years each. Robin is clearly an inherited role, but this current one… been in for two years, I think.” Tucker listed off. “I think Spoiler and Red Robin were both former Robins, that's not too subtle.”

Sam snorted. Her breath fanned out as visible moisture in the cold night air.

“Likely older teens or early twenties, both of them. Robin is obviously pre puberty. 13 at the oldest.”

Val made a subvocal grunt that meant she agreed with Tucker's assessment

That fit. And she really didn't like it. Sam felt her hackles rise up. What was wrong with Gotham? Her group was all child vigilantes, sure, but they'd had no adult help. They'd also all been 14 or older when they got involved. Except for Dani. God, Dani, please don't be in that building. Sam had to relax her grip on the bazooka handle because she squeezed it so hard that the metal creaked.

Danny was older now. But she didn't like that this was who he'd ended up with. Sam gritted her jaw hard and tried to keep her temper on a low simmer. She didn't have enough facts to think Batman would put Danny in danger.

“Clear.”

The operation inside seemed to continue smoothly.

“That should be all the staff members on the premises,” Red Robin said. “First lab, coming up.”

“Behind me.” Batman practically growled the order.

A door opened. Sam held her breath.

“...Are those samples?”

Val grunted slightly. Why? What was going on? “Cores,” Val said. “Basically, people who have been injured into a coma. Left like that, they're gonna die slowly. Starvation.”

“What do we do?” Spoiler cut in. “I mean- what can we do?”

“Is there a way to transport them?” Val dodged the question. “I don't- yeah, that's good.”

“Can you provide treatment?” Batman pushed. “Where will you take them?”

Val let out a long, annoyed sigh. “I don't trust you enough to go into the details.”

“Why should we trust you, vixen?” Spat a very young voice.

“Vixen?” Spoiler repeated quietly, incredulously.

“Robin, you can't say things like that!” Red Robin hissed. “Ow- little asshole.”

“Enough. Thank you.” Batman cut off the chatter. “Let's clear the facility.”

They found more cores in the labs. Sam felt her stomach condense tighter and tighter into a knot as they came across research areas time and time again.

They hadn't taken the GIW seriously enough. They'd thought they were incompetent and funny. How long had scientists been experimenting on captured ghosts here? How many of them had totally withered away?

“Fuck,” Sam said quietly, and wiped her eyes off with her arm.

They were clearly finished. No Dani, not unless she was one of the cores rolling around on GIW shelves like she wasn't a person.

Batman and crew came out. She could hear Batman clearly making some kind of call to…. To a Green Lantern, she thought, to pick up the GIW agents.

Oh. That…

“Probably legit,” Tucker said on the line. He let out a big sigh and his chair clicked when he leaned back, no doubt crossing his arms behind his head. “I guess we should talk to ‘em. Should I come out there?”

“Yeah, do it,” Sam said. “You want a pick up?” She moved the bazooka from a ready position to rest across her back instead.

Tucker hummed. “That would probably be a little cooler than using my bike.”

Val snorted, but didn't chime in. Sam dipped back to town and let Tucker climb on behind her. He crouched to hold onto the board with both hands, because he was a sweaty nerd with no balance.

“The bike might have been cooler,” Sam teased, and then she accelerated hard. She met them back in the field where Batman had landed his plane. As soon as she veered into sight, all of the bats looked at her, clearly ready for a fight.

“Calm down,” Val ordered. “You're all so jumpy.”

Sam snorted and came to a sharp stop. She braced against Tucker's weight (she knew he'd be jostled.) She aimed her hardest glare at Batman. Fuck everyone else. “Danny said you wanna talk.”

Behind them, unseen, Val double-checked the straps of a new black bag. Sam had no doubt it was full of helpless cores.

Batman frowned at her slightly. “...Samantha Manson.” He looked behind her. “And Tucker Foley.” He didn't seem surprised, exactly, but he didn't seem happy to see them either.

“Old man,” she shot back. “You've got half an hour. But first off, what the hell kinda game are you playing with Danny? Because this-” she waved a hand at his child soldier platoon. “is some bullshit, okay. What's going on?”

Val shot vertically up with a whoosh of air that blew Spoiler’s hair out. All four bats whirled in time to see her blast off into the distance.

“Focus!” Sam snapped her fingers. “Why are you here?”

A muscle twitched in Batman's jaw. “My only intention with Danny is to ensure his safety. I have some concerns about the GIW and about his home situation that I want to look into.”

Sam scoffed. “Bit late.” She wound some hair around her finger. “They're gone. All of them. You saw what's left of the GIW. The Fentons disappeared the day after the GIW did.”

She heard the first hint of urgency and upset in his voice when he pressed, “Jasmine Fenton?”

“Gone.”

#red mama bat #dc x dp #dp x dc

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erwinsvow · 8 months ago

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can we have rafe try to grovel ?? :((((( shy reader deserves better !!! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/erwinsvow/751213087399510016/what-if-rafe-ever-hit-shy-reader-from-built-up?source=share

he will grovel!! side note i dont know how i feel about this its just for the sweet anon who wanted part two

the moment rafe shuts the door and traps you in the room, between his body and the wall, you know some part of you has just broken that you'll never fully be able to fix.

everything in your body tells you to look up at rafe and do something. slap him back, push him away, turn around and storm out of the room and try to at least show him you're just as mad as he is—but none of that actually happens.

hot tears keep spilling down your cheeks, and you stay frozen like that for what feels like forever, staring at the floor of rafe's bedroom. the sound of rafe's heavy breaths fills the space, though you can barely detect it over the way your heart is pounding in your ears.

you want to leave. but you don't know where you even would go. before the events of the last hour, there was no where you wanted to be more than wherever rafe was. and now, staring at the floor instead of up at the boy who you had gladly given your heart to only for him to snap it in half with his bare hands and deliver it back, you stay frozen, waiting for rafe. you are always waiting for rafe.

"kid, i-" you finally look up, through wet lashes and almost painful eyes fluttering slowly, and rafe stops talking the moment you do. you don't know why, but it doesn't take you long to figure it out. there's a mark on your cheek the size of his hand, probably an imprint from his ring too.

it's such a shame—you always loved that ring.

you snap out of your thoughts when rafe keeps talking, though there's still blooding rushing in your ears. he sounds muffled, his mouth moving and expression looking, you can only imagine, somewhat close to yours—sad and angry all blended together. you keep blinking slowly, listening but not really listening, waiting for him to finish so you can leave.

how stupid you must seem to him, and to yourself, you think pathetically. he just hit you, and you're waiting for him to finish, so you don't impolitely interrupt. you should drive straight from tannyhill to a therapist's office—though you think not even a licensed professional could help you figure out what exactly is wrong with you.

the thought makes you laugh, corners of your mouth turning up and a rush of air leaving your throat. half a laugh, half a sob. the gutting realization has just hit you—whatever was wrong with you, rafe was the only one in the world who seemed to understand you.

"baby?" rafe asks, and you actually snap out of it this time—looking up at your boyfriend, wondering if he knows you haven't heard a single thing he's said so far.

"i think i should go home," you reply, wondering where your keys are and where your wallet is. you don't keep track of these things anymore, usually since rafe drives you everywhere and pays for everything.

"okay. i'll bring you, just let me go get-"

"no, i-" you stop yourself—about to apologize again. everything running through your mind makes you choose your words carefully. "i'm gonna go home."

"you didn't drive here, kid. i picked you up, remember?" rafe looks back at you and you feel a fresh wave of tears take over. you hadn't remembered.

"oh."

"listen, kid, i'm so-"

"i'm going home," you repeat firmly, mostly to yourself. "i'll just-i'll walk."

"y'not walking. it's dark and-"

"rafe, stop." the way you say it, he actually listens. you don't sound like yourself, you can tell from the way he looks at you, rafe's face doused with concern and apprehension. you look away, turning to face the door. "i'll be fine. i need to go."

"c'mon, kid, don't go," he says, and every bone and muscle inside you wants to listen, to do what he says like you always do. you feel more hot tears coming up, stopping them seems impossible yet you know crying is useless. it already happened and the damage is already done.

you turn around from your position, knowing it's a mistake. rafe gets closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. he holds your face like he always does, except there's one big difference—you flinch the moment he starts moving.

"baby," rafe says quietly, and everything in you stops for a moment. brain lagging, breath catching, even the tears stop for a second while you look up at your boyfriend. "i'm so sorry. i am so sorry. i fucked up, okay? i know i did, but please don't go."

"rafe, i can't stay," it comes out just as quietly, a notch above a whisper. "you hurt me." it comes out wrangled in a sob. rafe wipes away some of your fresh tears with his hands.

"i-i know. and i'm gonna regret it forever, but-" rafe stops, and you stop too. you chew on your lip nervously, realizing it's going to bleed from how much you're biting down. "can-can i at least bring you home? please?"

"okay," you give in-but you shouldn't have.

you don't even know how you're gonna explain the mark on your face to your parents, or why you're home so early when you said you were sleeping over. every movement feels exhausting—grabbing some of your things and walking down the stairs to getting into rafe's truck. the drive to your place isn't very long, only ten minutes, and you stare out the window the whole time. it feels like hours with the way rafe looks at you at each red light.

rafe pulls into your driveway and you look up at him expectantly, though you're not sure why.

"can you-can you turn the headlights off? i don't want them waking up," you say, after what feels like ages of silence.

rafe turns the lights off but doesn't say anything. it's not until you reach for the doorhandle that he does—it's almost muscle memory for him. he leans over you to pull the handle and open the door for you, but you flinch so hard when he moves that he can't even get the door. instead he looks back at you while you stare up at him. without any words, you both know what the other is thinking.

"goodnight, rafe," you say, your own hand on the door now.

"wait, kid," he says, and you stop your movement immediately. even in this situation, you can't help but listen. "can i see you tomorrow? please?"

"i don't think that's a good idea."

"c'mon. we-we have to talk about this. i can't just.. not see you. i'm gonna go crazy."

"i need to go rafe." the second you say it, you start feeling bad about it. it's so engrained in you—trying to avoid hurting rafe in any and every way possible, that the very idea of not giving him what he wants makes your chest ache painfully. "i.. i have to think about it."

he leans over, slowly this time so you don't get scared again, opening the door for you like he always does. you climb out, getting your bag and trying to pretend everything's fine until you get inside your room.

"good night, kid. i'll talk to you tomorrow."

without replying, you walk inside. rafe's truck stays in your driveway until you lock the door, and he doesn't drive away until minutes after.

surprisingly, you make it to your room before you start crying. and you don't stop crying until the sun comes up.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #tw abuse

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p0orbaby · 3 months ago

Note

Could you write something about reader having surgery? Leah worrying about her & getting super stressed out x

Leah’s pacing. Of course she is. She’s wearing the trainers that squeak on the hospital floor, the ones you begged her to throw away three months ago. “They’ve got character,” she said then, like that was a reasonable argument for keeping footwear that sounded like an off-brand comedy gag every time she took a step. Now, the sound feels like a metronome for her anxiety.

She’s also muttering under her breath, something about waiting rooms being designed to drive people mad. “Why is there always a random fish tank?” she asks no one in particular, gesturing at the gurgling monstrosity in the corner. “Like, is that meant to be calming? Watching a clownfish swim into a plastic castle?”

Kim, who you bullied into babysitting Leah while you’re in surgery, hums noncommittally and sips her tea. It’s the worst thing she could’ve done because it prompts Leah to snap, “You’re too calm. Why are you so calm?”

“Because it’s a routine procedure,” Kim replies, her tone so even it borders on condescending. “She’ll be fine, Leah”

But Leah doesn’t look convinced. She crosses her arms, leans against the wall, then decides against it and resumes pacing. “Routine doesn’t mean risk-free,” she mutters. “What if they mix up her file with someone else’s? What if they give her a kidney transplant instead of fixing her knee?”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Kim asks, barely suppressing a laugh.

Leah whirls around. “Anything’s possible, Kim. Hospitals are chaos. I’ve read articles”

Kim just shakes her head and goes back to scrolling her phone, clearly regretting agreeing to this.

Leah’s still fidgeting when the surgeon finally appears. The man is smiling, calm and professional, but she doesn’t let her guard down. Not even when he says, “The operation went smoothly. She’s in recovery now”

“Define smoothly,” Leah demands, squinting at him like he’s lying. “No complications? No close calls? You didn’t drop anything inside her, did you?”

“Leah!” Kim hisses, mortified.

The surgeon, to his credit, only blinks. “She’s fine,” he repeats, clearly accustomed to this brand of hysteria. “You can see her shortly”

Leah doesn’t wait. She marches down the hall like she’s storming the pitch, the squeaking of her trainers echoing behind her.

When she reaches your room, you’re half-conscious, propped up in bed with a silly-looking hospital gown that does nothing for your dignity. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of her trainers, and you manage a groggy smile.

“You’re here,” you mumble, your voice sluggish from the anaesthetic.

“Of course I’m here,” Leah says, pulling a chair up to your bedside. “How do you feel? Do you need water? Ice? A lawyer in case something went wrong?”

You blink at her, too out of it to process her rambling. “I think they gave me morphine. I feel amazing”

Leah exhales sharply, her hands twitching like she wants to touch you but isn’t sure where. “Good. That’s good. You look… fine. A bit pale. But fine”

“Thanks,” you slur. “You look sexy”

She finally smiles, though it’s small and a little wobbly. “You scared the hell out of me, you know”

You try to reach for her hand but miss by a mile. “Sorry. Love you”

Her expression softens, and she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “Love you too. Just… don’t ever make me do this again, yeah?”

��No promises,” you mumble, already drifting back to sleep.

Leah stays by your side the entire time, even when the nurse comes in and politely asks her to stop squeaking her trainers against the floor.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader

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gyorouis · 4 months ago

Text

𐙚 BIGGEST PLOT TWIST - CBG.

— it takes you a moment to register who you're looking at, but when you do, your heart skips a beat, it was choi beomgyu.

genre: angst, romance, slow burn (?), fake dating, crack

pairing: playboy!beomgyu x afab!reader

warning: mild language, emotional tension, mentions of avoidance and regret (if i missed anything, pls lmk!)

wordcount: 14.4k (now what...)

now playing: silent sanctuary — kundiman ୨ৎ

“who?” you ask your friend as you hurry to the next class, adjusting the strap of your bag that’s slipping off your shoulder. “who were you talking about again?” you repeat, a bit more impatiently this time, your mind still half-focused on the upcoming quiz.

“beomgyu,” your friend replies nonchalantly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i think he’s interested in you.”

you stop dead in your tracks, nearly causing a traffic jam in the hallway as students swerve around you. “choi beomgyu?” you ask, voice tinged with disbelief. “that choi beomgyu?”

your friend just nods, her expression suggesting she’s surprised you hadn’t noticed sooner.

“no way,” you mutter, shaking your head as you start walking again, though your pace is slower now, thoughts racing. “why would he—”

before you can finish the thought, you crash into something solid. something very solid. you stumble back, muttering a quick apology as you bow your head, but the words catch in your throat when you hear a low, almost lazy voice.

“meet me at the field later.”

you look up, startled, and find yourself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes, the kind that seem to see right through you. it takes you a moment to register who you’re looking at, but when you do, your heart skips a beat. choi beomgyu. the choi beomgyu.

he’s taller than you expected, his messy hair falling over his forehead in a way that’s almost annoyingly perfect. headphones hang around his neck, the kind that scream ‘i’m too cool to care about anything.’ you’re too busy taking in the details of his face—sharp jawline, slightly upturned lips, a faint scar on his eyebrow—to realize he’s still waiting for a response.

“so?” he prompts, raising an eyebrow.

“so?” you echo, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that choi beomgyu is standing in front of you, talking to you.

“meet me at the field later,” he repeats, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

“why would i?” you manage to say, though your voice doesn’t come out as confident as you’d hoped.

he just shrugs, like it doesn’t really matter to him whether you show up or not. then, without another word, he starts walking past you, his presence as overwhelming as the scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

“beomgyu!” you shout after him, more out of frustration than anything else. in a fit of impulse, you grab the nearest thing—your book—and throw it at him. it hits him square in the back, but he doesn’t even flinch. he just glances over his shoulder, smirks, and keeps walking like nothing happened.

“no way… you’re his target for this month?” your friend whispers, eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

“what the fuck is wrong with that guy?” you grumble, stomping over to pick up your book, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. you clutch the book to your chest and head to your room, already dreading whatever chaos beomgyu is about to drag you into.

after a day of mentally wrestling with the absurdity of the situation, you find yourself standing in the middle of the field, arms crossed, glaring at beomgyu who’s leaning casually against a tree. the late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the grass, but you’re too irritated to appreciate the scene.

“all right, i’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anger bubbling under the surface. “let’s get this over with. what do you want?”

beomgyu straightens up, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he saunters over to you. “i’m glad you came,” he says, his tone almost too cheerful for your liking.

“don’t get used to it,” you snap back. “just tell me what you want so i can get on with my life.”

“well,” he starts, dragging out the word as if he’s savoring the moment, “i want you to be my girlfriend.”

you stare at him, blinking once, twice, as if you misheard him. “what?”

“you heard me,” he says, leaning in closer, his smile never wavering. “you. girlfriend. me.”

you can’t help but burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the empty field. “hell no! why would i do that? you can use any other girl on campus, why me?”

beomgyu’s smile fades slightly as he sighs, a sound that’s surprisingly genuine. “because if you don’t, i’ll tell your mom that you smoke.”

your laughter dies in your throat as the threat sinks in. “you wouldn’t.”

he raises an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk returning to his lips. “oh, i definitely would. you know how much your mom loves her position at the church. i see you every sunday, acting all sweet and innocent. i don’t think she’d be too happy to find out her little angel has a rebellious streak.”

your mind flashes back to that afternoon a few weeks ago. you were behind the campus, hidden by the trees, sneaking a cigarette to calm your nerves after a particularly rough exam. you thought you were alone—until you heard footsteps and turned to see beomgyu standing there, watching you with a knowing smirk. you had cursed under your breath and quickly stubbed out the cigarette, but the damage was done. he had seen you. and now, he was holding it over your head.

“you’re blackmailing me with this?” you ask incredulously, trying to wrap your head around the ridiculousness of the situation.

“desperate times call for desperate measures,” he says with a shrug, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“why?” you demand, crossing your arms tighter as you glare at him. “why do you even need a fake girlfriend?”

he sighs again, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “i want to win her back,” he admits, his voice dropping slightly as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud.

“who?” you ask, though you already have a sinking feeling you know the answer.

“mari,” he says, confirming your suspicion.

you scoff, remembering the campus gossip from a few weeks ago. everyone was talking about their breakup, how mari had dumped beomgyu out of the blue. some said she had grown tired of his playboy ways, others whispered that she had found someone better. you hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time—beomgyu’s love life was the least of your concerns—but now, it’s coming back to bite you.

“and you think dating me is going to make her jealous?” you ask, still incredulous at the audacity of his plan.

“exactly,” he says, a hint of desperation in his voice now. “she’s insecure about you. she’s envious of your achievements, your grades, how everyone seems to think you’re perfect. i know she’ll want me back if she thinks i’m dating you.”

you stare at him, mouth slightly open in disbelief. “are you fucking kidding me? why the hell would she be insecure about me? she’s mari. the girl who dumped you because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

beomgyu winces at your bluntness, but he doesn’t deny it. “look, i know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. she always felt like she couldn’t measure up to you, and if she sees us together, it’ll drive her nuts.”

you shake your head, backing away from him. “no way. i am not getting dragged into your drama. go find someone else to be your fake girlfriend, because i’m not interested. fuck off, beomgyu.”

you turn on your heel, ready to march off and leave this ridiculous conversation behind, but beomgyu calls after you, desperation creeping into his voice. “please. you’re the only one who can make this work.”

you pause, not because you’re considering it, but because you’re genuinely baffled by his persistence. “why me? why does it have to be me?”

he hesitates, then mutters, “because you’re the only one she’s ever seen as competition. if she thinks i’ve moved on to you, she’ll come running back.”

you blink at him, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “are you seriously asking me to pretend to date you just to win back some girl who’s insecure about me? you realize how insane that sounds, right?”

“i know,” he admits, looking genuinely frustrated now. “but it’s the only plan i’ve got. please, just think about it.”

“no,” you say firmly, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even make sense. i don’t know you, and you definitely don’t know me. there’s no way anyone would believe we’re actually dating. it’s just not going to work.”

you turn away from him for good this time. “i’m not going to be your pawn in some stupid game. you can deal with your own problems, beomgyu.”

and with that, you walk away, leaving him standing alone in the field, still trying to figure out how his plan went so wrong.

you walk away, determined to end this bizarre conversation, but beomgyu isn’t one to give up so easily. the next morning, you find him waiting for you outside your first class, leaning against the wall with a smug grin on his face.

“good morning, girlfriend,” he greets you, loud enough for a few students nearby to hear.

you glare at him, refusing to dignify his greeting with a response. instead, you push past him, but he quickly falls into step beside you, still grinning.

“so, did you think about it?” he asks, as if you’ve been considering his ridiculous proposal.

“not for a second,” you reply flatly, quickening your pace, but beomgyu easily keeps up with you.

“come on,” he coaxes, his tone almost teasing. “it’s not like i’m asking for much. just a little fake dating, a few hand-holding sessions, maybe a staged kiss or two...”

you stop walking and turn to face him, your patience already wearing thin. “beomgyu, do you honestly think that’s going to convince me? i have no interest in being part of your weird love triangle.”

“it’s not a triangle,” he corrects, as if that’s the main issue. “it’s more of a... strategic partnership. we both get something out of it.”

“and what exactly do i get out of this?” you ask, folding your arms. “other than a headache and a reputation i don’t want?”

“i’ll make sure you never have to stand in line at the cafeteria again,” he offers, grinning like he’s just proposed the deal of a lifetime. “plus, you’ll have the most popular guy on campus as your boyfriend. that’s gotta be worth something, right?”

“you mean the most annoying guy on campus,” you mutter, shaking your head. “no thanks, beomgyu.”

“okay, okay,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “how about this: i’ll do all your homework for a month.”

“you can barely do your own homework,” you point out, continuing to walk.

“true,” he concedes, quickly catching up to you, “but i can get someone else to do it for me. i know people. you’ll get straight A's, guaranteed.”

“beomgyu, do you seriously think i’m that desperate?”

“desperate? no. smart? definitely,” he replies, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “i mean, who wouldn’t want a personal assistant to take care of all the boring stuff?”

you stop again, turning to him with a deadpan expression. “do you hear yourself right now? do you really think any of this is convincing?”

he shrugs, not the least bit deterred. “i’m just trying to make it worth your while. besides, think about all the fun we could have. we can prank mari together, stage a dramatic breakup when it’s all over. i’ll even let you be the one to dump me in front of everyone.”

“tempting,” you say sarcastically, “but still a no.”

“you’re really making this difficult,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “what do i have to do to get you to say yes?”

“nothing,” you say firmly. “because it’s not happening. i’m not interested in fake dating you, or real dating you, or anything that involves you.”

he’s silent for a moment, his usual cocky demeanor slipping just a bit. “you know, i’m actually a decent guy when you get to know me.”

“i’m sure you are,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “but that doesn’t change the fact that i don’t want to be involved in your plan. besides, i don’t even know you, and you don’t know me. there's no way it would make sense that we would date.”

“then let’s get to know each other,” he says, a spark of determination in his eyes. “who knows? maybe you’ll actually like me.”

“highly doubtful,” you retort, turning to walk away again. “find someone else, beomgyu. i’m not interested.”

“but you’re the only one who can pull this off!” he calls after you, but you don’t bother responding.

you keep walking, determined to put as much distance between you and beomgyu as possible. but as you head to your next class, you can’t help but wonder how long he’s going to keep this up—and just how far he’s willing to go to get what he wants.

it’s a friday morning, and you’re already running late for your first class. the last thing you need is another encounter with beomgyu and his relentless pursuit of your agreement. as you swing open the door to your dorm room, ready to dart out, you freeze.

there he is. choi beomgyu, standing right outside your door with a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers in his hand. you groan inwardly, ready to tell him off again, but then you notice something—mari, the girl of his dreams, is also there, coming out of the room next door.

beomgyu straightens up immediately, his usually confident expression tinged with nervousness. he steps forward, holding out the flowers like a peace offering. “mari, these are for you,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

but mari doesn’t even glance at him. she just walks past, not even sparing him a second look. the flowers droop in his hand, along with his hopeful expression. he watches her walk away, the defeat so clear on his face that you almost feel bad for him. almost.

you find yourself stuck in place, watching this whole scene unfold. beomgyu’s shoulders slump, and he looks down at the flowers as if they’ve personally betrayed him. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at the empty hallway where mari disappeared, looking more lost than you’ve ever seen him.

against your better judgment, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he’s not just the arrogant playboy you’ve pegged him for. maybe he’s just a guy who got his heart broken and is trying desperately to fix it.

before you know it, you’re walking toward him. “beomgyu,” you call out, and his head snaps up, surprise flashing in his eyes when he sees you.

“hey,” he says, quickly trying to mask his disappointment with that familiar smirk. “come to finally say yes?”

“no,” you reply, but there’s less bite in your voice than usual. “i came to talk.”

his eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting that. “talk? about what? because if it’s about how ridiculous my plan is, i’ve already heard it.”

you roll your eyes. “no, idiot. i’m reconsidering your offer.”

he blinks at you, completely thrown off. “wait, what? you’re... considering it?”

“don’t make me repeat myself,” you snap, though there’s no real heat behind your words. “but before i say anything, we need to lay down some ground rules.”

beomgyu’s smirk returns, and he looks like a kid who just found out christmas came early. “oh, i’m all ears. name your terms.”

you cross your arms, trying to ignore the weird flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze. “first of all, no public displays of affection unless it’s absolutely necessary. and by necessary, i mean only when mari’s around.”

“deal,” he agrees instantly, like he’s already won.

“second, you keep your hands to yourself. no holding hands, no random hugs, and definitely no kissing.”

he holds up his hands in surrender. “got it. i’ll be on my best behavior.”

“third,” you continue, “this ‘relationship’ ends the second mari comes running back to you. no strings attached, no drama, we’re done. understood?”

“crystal clear,” beomgyu says, his grin widening. “so... does this mean you’re in?”

you hesitate, glancing down at the sad bouquet in his hand. it’s clear how much this means to him, even if it’s for the most ridiculous reason. you sigh, knowing full well you’re going to regret this.

“fine,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes. “but this is strictly business, okay?”

“of course,” he agrees, though you can see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “strictly business... with maybe a little bit of fun on the side?”

“no fun,” you correct him, trying to stay firm.

“right, right,” he nods, though his playful grin suggests otherwise. “so, when do we start, girlfriend?”

“don’t call me that,” you grumble, already regretting your decision.

“too late!” he singsongs, spinning around with a dramatic flourish. “oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “what have i gotten myself into?”

“don’t worry,” beomgyu says, turning back to you with a wink. “you’ll thank me later. just wait till you see how jealous mari gets. she’s going to be begging me to take her back.”

“you’re delusional,” you mutter, but there’s no denying the tiny thrill of excitement that courses through you. maybe this won’t be so bad. or maybe it’ll be an absolute disaster. either way, you’re in for a wild ride.

“let’s get one thing straight,” you say, stepping closer to him, “i’m only doing this because i feel bad for you, not because i think it’s a good idea.”

“oh, i know,” beomgyu replies with a cheeky grin. “but by the end of this, you might just find out that fake dating me isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“we’ll see about that,” you retort, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “just don’t mess this up, okay?”

“me? mess up? never,” he declares, puffing out his chest like a cartoon character.

you shake your head, already wondering how you’re going to survive this ridiculous arrangement without losing your mind—or worse, your heart.

you’ve barely had time to wrap your head around this whole fake-dating scheme when beomgyu drags you to meet his friends. the walk to their usual hangout spot is filled with his relentless chatter, and you try to mentally prepare yourself for the chaos you’re about to walk into.

“okay, remember,” beomgyu says, stopping just outside the door to the coffee shop. “just act natural. they’re going to love you.”

“they better,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “if this blows up in our faces, i’m blaming you.”

he just grins, as if your words are a challenge he’s more than ready to take on. “don’t worry. you’ll be fine.”

before you can reply, he pushes the door open, and you’re hit with the sound of laughter and the smell of coffee. the coffee shop is cozy, filled with a mix of students and locals, but your attention is immediately drawn to the group of guys at the back, who are currently in a heated debate over something that sounds like video game stats.

“yo, guys!” beomgyu announces with an exaggerated flourish as you walk in beside him. “look who i brought!”

you’re greeted by a chorus of surprised, then curious, expressions. soobin is the first to speak, his eyes widening as he takes you in. “whoa, beomgyu, did you finally bring someone who isn’t a disaster?”

“hey!” you protest, though you’re more amused than offended.

“don’t worry,” beomgyu says, nudging you with a smirk. “she’s definitely not a disaster. this is y/n.”

yeonjun squints at you, then at beomgyu. “wait, you’re dating now? i thought this was all just a bad joke.”

“it’s not a joke,” beomgyu says smoothly. “we’re officially... pretending to be a couple.”

hueningkai blinks at him, then bursts into laughter. “oh, this is going to be good. you two look like a sitcom couple.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t worry about it,” taehyun says with a grin. “it’s just hueningkai being hueningkai. so, what’s your story, y/n? what made you agree to date our resident playboy?”

you start to explain, but soobin cuts you off, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “i bet you didn’t know beomgyu is a world-class procrastinator, right? he’s probably going to forget to call you or something.”

“hey!” beomgyu protests, looking genuinely offended. “i’m not that bad!”

“so, tell us,” yeonjun asks, his gaze shifting between you and beomgyu. “what’s the deal with this fake dating? is it a revenge scheme or something?”

“more or less,” you say, giving them a quick rundown of the situation. “beomgyu wants to make someone jealous, and he’s roped me into it.”

taehyun snorts, shaking his head. “classic beomgyu move. always the dramatic one.”

“hey!” beomgyu says again, though he’s trying to hold back a smile. “i’m not dramatic. i’m just... creative.”

“creative?” hueningkai asks, looking genuinely puzzled. “is that what we’re calling this?”

“let’s just say,” you say, deciding to join in the fun, “it’s been an interesting experience so far.”

as the conversation continues, it becomes clear that beomgyu’s friends are a lively bunch, each adding their own flavor of chaos to the mix. there are jokes, random interjections, and a lot of laughter. by the end of the meal, you’re starting to feel like part of the gang—or at least, like you’re not completely out of place.

as you and beomgyu leave the cafe, you find yourself laughing more than you expected. “your friends are... something else,” you say, shaking your head.

“they’re the best,” beomgyu says with a grin. “you did great, though. handled them better than i expected.”

“don’t get used to it,” you reply, though there’s a hint of warmth in your tone. “i’m just here to do a job.”

“sure, sure,” beomgyu says, nudging you playfully. “but i bet you had fun.”

“maybe,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “just don’t make me do this every day.”

beomgyu's plan to make mari jealous starts to take on a life of its own. what began as a strategic move to win her back morphs into something more complicated as you and beomgyu spend more time together.

you two are in the library, ostensibly studying, but the moment mari walks by, beomgyu wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. you pretend to be engrossed in your notes, but you can’t help but notice the satisfied smirk on beomgyu's face as he leans into you.

“this spot is really quiet,” he says, his voice low. “better for studying together, don’t you think?”

“sure,” you reply, trying to sound disinterested but feeling the warmth of his closeness. “if you say so.”

mari glances over, her eyes narrowing slightly before she walks away. as soon as she's out of sight, beomgyu lets out a dramatic sigh and releases you.

“that was exhausting,” you say, rolling your eyes. “i’m pretty sure we were laying it on thick.”

“hey, we have to sell it,” beomgyu says with a grin. “besides, you did great. mari’s definitely jealous now.”

later that week, you find yourselves at the campus cafe, where you and beomgyu have a standing routine of grabbing coffee after class. beomgyu is, as usual, trying to make you laugh with his ridiculous anecdotes, while you’re genuinely enjoying his company.

“so,” beomgyu says, leaning across the table with a mischievous grin, “what’s the verdict? are you having fun pretending to be my girlfriend?”

“oh, definitely,” you say sarcastically. “it’s like living in a sitcom where i’m the unwilling star.”

“hey, i’m not that bad,” beomgyu protests. “i can be quite charming when i want to be.”

“sure,” you reply with a smirk, “just make sure you don’t charm yourself into a real relationship. i’d hate to see you fall for me.”

“not going to happen,” he says, shaking his head. “but thanks for playing along. mari’s definitely noticed.”

beomgyu starts driving you home after class, a gesture that feels almost normal by now. he’s blasting music and singing along, much to your amusement.

“do you always sing like you’re auditioning for a reality show?” you ask, laughing as he hits a high note.

“only when i’m with you,” he says with a wink. “keeps things interesting.”

when you arrive at your place, you both linger outside your door, chatting casually. but as soon as beomgyu’s car is out of sight, you find yourself glancing at your phone, half expecting a text from him.

one day, you’re waiting outside your last class for beomgyu to show up, and you spot him walking towards you with a bouquet of flowers. it’s all very cliché, but it’s also kind of sweet.

“seriously?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “flowers? is this part of the act?”

“yep,” beomgyu says with a grin. “i figured it might add a nice touch.”

you take the flowers, laughing despite yourself. “thanks, i guess. though i’m pretty sure this just makes us look like we’re in a rom-com.”

“yeah, whatever works,” beomgyu replies, shrugging. “besides, you look cute holding them.”

the more you two spend time together, the more natural it starts to feel. one day, you’re both in the middle of a heated debate about which pizza topping is superior. as you argue, you realize that you’re genuinely enjoying his company, and maybe you’re even starting to forget that this is all supposed to be fake.

“pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity,” you declare, laughing as beomgyu tries to defend his preference.

“you’re just not cultured enough to appreciate it,” he says, rolling his eyes. “i bet you don’t even like pineapple in general.”

“it’s not about liking pineapple,” you reply. “it’s about the fact that putting it on pizza is just... wrong.”

“you’re wrong,” beomgyu says with a smirk. “and i’m right. end of story.”

“we’ll see about that,” you say, sticking out your tongue playfully.

as the weeks go by, the lines between fake and real start to blur. you catch yourself feeling excited when you see beomgyu, and you even start to look forward to his antics. one day, taehyun catches you and beomgyu in one of your usual playful arguments.

“so,” taehyun says with a smirk, “how’s the fake dating going?”

you and beomgyu exchange a glance, and beomgyu shrugs. “it’s going well. why do you ask?”

“just curious,” taehyun says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “it looks like you two are having more fun than you let on.”

“we’re just getting into character,” beomgyu says with a grin. “nothing more, nothing less.”

“uh-huh,” taehyun says skeptically. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

beomgyu’s plan to win mari back is working better than expected, and the fake dating is starting to feel oddly real. you and beomgyu have settled into a rhythm of constant interaction, and your fake relationship has begun to blur with reality.

one afternoon, you’re hanging out at a local park, where beomgyu has suggested you both go for a “romantic stroll” as part of your act. it’s a beautiful day, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying the time spent together.

“i have to admit,” you say, smiling as you walk side by side, “this isn’t half bad.”

“see, i told you,” beomgyu says with a grin. “it’s all about making the best of it.”

you’re both casually chatting about your favorite movies when you spot mari walking towards you. immediately, you cling to beomgyu, leaning into him with exaggerated affection. beomgyu plays along, draping his arm around you and pulling you closer.

“hey, did you miss me?” he asks with a playful wink.

“oh, absolutely,” you reply, looking up at him with faux adoration.

mari’s eyes flicker with annoyance before she quickly walks past. as soon as she’s gone, you and beomgyu burst into laughter.

“that was something,” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“yeah, she definitely noticed,” beomgyu agrees, still chuckling. “good job.”

sometimes, though, you both forget about the act entirely. one evening, you’re lounging on beomgyu’s couch, the room dimly lit by the flickering glow of the TV. the movie is playing softly, but neither of you are paying much attention to the plot. instead, you find yourselves more engrossed in the warmth of each other’s presence.

beomgyu is sprawled out comfortably, and you’re leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. the fabric of his hoodie feels soft and comforting against your cheek. you both shift slightly, trying to find the perfect angle that makes the moment feel even more intimate. his arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you closer. the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath creates a soothing rhythm, and the scent of his cologne is faint but pleasant.

“wait,” beomgyu says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. he glances over at you with a mischievous grin. just as you were about to shift away, he gently cups your face in his hands, his palms warm against your skin. you freeze for a moment, your breath catching as his fingers lightly brush your hair away from your face. beomgyu’s touch is tender and surprisingly intimate, and he adjusts himself to make you more comfortable, guiding you back into a position where you can both settle in.

“you’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft. his touch lingers just a bit longer than necessary, and you can feel the warmth of his hands spreading through you. as you look up at him, his gaze is steady and affectionate, making you feel unexpectedly cherished. the room seems to shrink around you both, leaving only the gentle hum of the movie and the comforting presence of each other.

when taehyun sees you two like this, he can’t help but tease.

“hmm…” he murmurs with a smirk, “looks like the fake dating has become a bit too real.”

you and beomgyu exchange a glance, and beomgyu shrugs with a grin. “maybe. or maybe we’re just really good at this.”

“sure,” taehyun says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “just remember, i’m watching.”

the night was comfortably cool, the perfect backdrop for a sleepover at soobin’s place. the living room was strewn with blankets and pillows, snacks scattered on the coffee table, and the remnants of a half-finished pizza sat in a greasy box nearby. the boys—yeonjun, soobin, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai—were lounging around, their limbs tangled in a mess of relaxed exhaustion. they’d spent the evening playing games, arguing over who had the best strategy, and yelling at the screen during the latest action movie they’d decided to watch. the room buzzed with the warmth of camaraderie and the occasional burst of laughter.

“i’m telling you, that boss was a complete cheat,” yeonjun groaned, stretching out on the floor with a hand thrown dramatically over his eyes. “like, how are we supposed to beat something that can regenerate every five seconds?”

soobin chuckled from where he was sitting against the couch, a game controller still in his hand. “you just have to be good, yeonjun.”

“says the guy who died like five times before i even got to the boss fight,” yeonjun shot back, making the others snicker.

“hey, i was figuring out the strategy!” soobin protested, but even he was laughing now.

“yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” taehyun added with a smirk as he sprawled out on the other side of the couch, idly tossing a pillow in the air and catching it.

hueningkai, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for a while, suddenly piped up, “so, beomgyu, how’s the whole fake dating thing going with you and y/n?”

at the mention of your name, all eyes turned to beomgyu, who had been absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. he looked up, a slightly startled expression on his face, before a casual smile spread across his lips.

“oh, it’s going pretty well, actually,” beomgyu replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “we’ve been doing our thing, you know, making sure mari sees us together and all that. she definitely seems to be noticing.”

“is she jealous yet?” yeonjun asked, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye.

beomgyu hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “i think so? she’s been giving us weird looks every time she sees us together. i’d say the plan is working.”

“but how’s it working for you?” soobin asked, an eyebrow raised. “like, do you actually enjoy spending time with y/n, or is it just all for the show?”

beomgyu opened his mouth to respond, but hueningkai beat him to it, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched his friend. “you seem to be enjoying it a lot,” hueningkai said, his voice light but pointed. “like, when you were just talking about it now, you looked… happy.”

beomgyu blinked, caught off guard by the observation. “what? no, i mean, yeah, it’s fun. y/n’s cool to hang out with and all, but it’s just for the plan, you know? to make mari jealous.”

“is it, though?” taehyun asked, tilting his head with a curious expression. “because you seemed way more into talking about y/n than you did when you mentioned mari.”

beomgyu frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “what are you talking about? of course i’m focused on mari. that’s the whole point.”

“but are you?” soobin chimed in, leaning forward with a thoughtful look. “because from what we’ve seen, it looks like you’re more focused on y/n these days.”

“you even stopped mentioning mari’s name in the group chat,” yeonjun added with a teasing grin. “but you bring up y/n all the time. and don’t think we didn’t notice you humming that song she likes the other day.”

beomgyu’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the right words. “okay, maybe i’ve been spending a lot of time with y/n, but that’s because of the plan. we have to make it convincing, right?”

hueningkai shook his head, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you’re convincing someone, all right. but i’m not sure if it’s mari.”

“oh, come on, guys,” beomgyu said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. “you’re reading way too much into this. i’m just playing my part.”

“sure,” taehyun said, his voice dripping with skepticism. “but here’s the thing—sometimes people get a little too into character, if you know what i mean.”

beomgyu’s gaze flickered between his friends, his mind racing to come up with a counterargument. but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that they might be onto something. lately, he had found himself looking forward to spending time with you, even when it wasn’t necessary for the plan. he enjoyed your banter, the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, the way you leaned into him when you were watching movies together. but surely that didn’t mean anything… right?

“i’m not… i’m not falling for her, if that’s what you’re trying to say,” beomgyu finally said, though his voice lacked the usual confidence. “i’m just… having fun with the whole thing. it’s all part of the game.”

“hmm,” yeonjun hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “if you say so, but don’t be surprised if you wake up one day and realize you’re actually into y/n.”

“that’s not going to happen,” beomgyu insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “we have an agreement. we’re just helping each other out.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night,” soobin said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “just don’t come crying to us when you realize you’ve caught feelings.”

“i’m not catching feelings,” beomgyu muttered, though his voice sounded less convincing by the second.

the conversation drifted to other topics, but the doubt lingered in beomgyu’s mind. he replayed his interactions with you, trying to convince himself that it was all just part of the act. but as his friends continued to laugh and joke around him, beomgyu found his thoughts drifting back to you, to the warmth of your smile, the comfort of your presence.

and for the first time, he wasn’t so sure if he was just playing a part anymore.

as the week went on, the lines between what was real and what was pretend began to blur for beomgyu. it started subtly, with small moments that seemed insignificant at first but gradually became more difficult to ignore.

the first time was when you both were walking home from campus. the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and for once, you weren’t paying attention to whether mari was around. beomgyu had his hands shoved in his pockets, trying to act casual, but then you stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk. without thinking, beomgyu reached out and grabbed your hand, steadying you. instead of letting go, you kept your fingers intertwined with his, and you both walked the rest of the way like that, your hands swinging gently between you. neither of you said anything about it, but beomgyu couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips.

a few days later, you invited beomgyu over to your place to help with some studying. you had an important test coming up, and beomgyu had offered to help you review the material. you both sat on your bed, textbooks spread out in front of you, but as the hours passed, the studying slowly turned into something else. you started playfully quizzing each other, turning the most boring facts into jokes that had you both laughing until your sides hurt. at some point, beomgyu’s head ended up on your lap, and you absentmindedly started running your fingers through his hair while you talked about everything except the test. it felt natural, easy—like you’d done this a thousand times before. neither of you even noticed the time passing until it was late, and beomgyu found himself reluctant to leave.

another day had passed, you and beomgyu are slumped at your place again for another study session. the day had been long and exhausting, and you both needed a break from the relentless grind of academic life. you set up in your room, where you both sank into the comfortable chaos of textbooks and notes strewn about.

as you worked side by side, the air between you felt charged with a different kind of energy than usual. your conversations had taken on a more personal tone, and you found yourselves laughing and teasing each other more frequently. the proximity of being so close, sitting on the edge of your bed with barely any space between you, felt oddly intimate.

eventually, you found yourselves lying back against the pillows, the study session long forgotten. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your desk lamp, casting shadows on the walls. you were discussing something trivial, your faces only inches apart, when the conversation started to drift away from the mundane and towards something more personal.

beomgyu’s gaze dropped to your lips, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place. he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, and the touch was surprisingly gentle. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause around you.

he moved closer, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. it was as if the entire room had shrunk to just the two of you. his lips were so close to yours that you could almost feel the softness of them, but just before the kiss could happen, you instinctively pulled back.

“beomgyu…” you began, but your voice trailed off, unsure of how to voice the confusion and intensity of the moment.

beomgyu didn’t pull away. instead, he held your hand to the side, his fingers intertwined with yours. his eyes were searching yours, and then he slowly lowered his forehead to rest against yours. the touch was light, almost electric, and it made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

he smiled, a goofy, tender smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “we should probably stop before we both do something we’ll regret,” he murmured, his voice warm and soft.

you couldn’t help but smile back, despite the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. “yeah,” you said, though the word felt inadequate to describe the mix of feelings bubbling up.

you stayed like that for a while, foreheads touching, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that felt like it was suspended in time. it wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was something that seemed to say more than words ever could. the tension between you both was palpable, but for now, this closeness was enough.

by the end of the week, you both had a habit of texting each other goodnight, a ritual that wasn’t part of the original plan. it had started as a simple check-in, a way to make sure you were both still on the same page with the whole fake dating thing. but soon, the texts became longer, more personal. you’d talk about your day, share random thoughts, and sometimes even vent about things that were bothering you. one night, as you both lay in your respective beds, you texted him about how stressed you were about an upcoming project. without thinking, beomgyu called you, his voice soft and comforting as he reassured you that you’d do great. you talked on the phone until you were both too tired to keep your eyes open, and as you said goodnight, beomgyu realized that he was looking forward to these conversations more than anything else.

each of these moments felt like something more, something real, but neither of you acknowledged it. you both continued the act, telling yourselves that it was all for mari’s sake, but the truth was becoming harder to deny. the time you spent together wasn’t about making someone else jealous anymore—it was about enjoying each other’s company, about the comfort and happiness you found in each other. and the more it happened, the less beomgyu could ignore the fact that his feelings were beginning to shift.

you’re sprinting down the hallways to beomgyu’s dorm room, the excitement bubbling inside you like a pot about to boil over. you’ve agreed to have dinner together, and for some reason, today feels different. the anticipation is almost palpable, and you find yourself grinning as you approach his door.

when you reach his room, beomgyu is already standing outside, waiting for you. as soon as he sees you, his face lights up with a warm, genuine smile. his arms open wide, and you don’t hesitate to leap into his embrace. the hug is snug and comforting, and you relish the moment, closing your eyes and breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. it feels like a slice of normalcy in the midst of everything else.

but after a few moments, the cozy warmth of the hug starts to feel a bit too intense. you pull back slightly, your mind suddenly racing. why did you react so eagerly? and why were you so excited to see beomgyu in the first place? there’s no way in hell that mari is here, so why did you just jump into his arms like that?

you push the thoughts aside and try to focus on the dinner ahead. beomgyu chats about the new place he found for dinner, and you laugh at his enthusiastic descriptions. but the question lingers in your mind, gnawing at you throughout the evening.

as soon as you woke up the next morning, you decide you need to talk to someone about these confusing feelings. you meet up with your friend in the library, a quiet spot where you can discuss things without too much interruption. you settle into a corner with a stack of textbooks and a cup of coffee, you spill everything. you recount the moments with beomgyu, the playful arguments, the unexpected intimacy, and the recent realization of your growing attachment. you talk about how he’s started to feel like more than just a partner in a fake relationship.

your friend listens intently, her expression shifting from curiosity to something more knowing as you speak. when you finish, she leans back, taking a sip of her coffee before giving you a serious look.

“uh… girl,” she starts, her tone a mix of sympathy and amusement, “you like him.”

the words hit you like a ton of bricks. you stare at her, feeling as if the ground beneath you has suddenly given way. flashbacks of your time with beomgyu flood your mind—his laughter, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel. the memories you’d convinced yourself were just part of the act now seem so much more significant.

“no,” you say, shaking your head, trying to deny it, but the truth is clear in your heart. “no way. it’s just—”

“it’s not just anything,” your friend interrupts gently. “you’re not just pretending anymore. you’re feeling something real.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and you find yourself sinking into a deep realization. everything you’ve felt for beomgyu, the warmth, the excitement, the moments of genuine connection—they’re not just part of the act. they’ve become something real, something beyond the pretense you started with.

you sit in silence, trying to process the overwhelming truth. the fake relationship you thought was just a game has turned into something you can’t ignore. and now, more than ever, you’re forced to confront the fact that your feelings for beomgyu are anything but fake. your friend reaches over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “so what are you going to do?”

before you can answer, beomgyu walks into the library, a casual smile on his face. he’s clearly lost in thought, and before you can react, he leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. the gesture is so natural, so unguarded, that it makes your heart skip a beat.

your friend’s eyes widen at the sight, and you feel yourself blushing furiously. you force a smile and quickly stand up, pulling beomgyu out of the library. “hey, let’s go. we’ve got plans.”

beomgyu looks at you with a puzzled expression, but he follows your lead. as you walk down the hall, you can’t help but replay the kiss in your mind, your friend’s words echoing in your ears. you’re left grappling with the realization that your feelings for beomgyu are more than just part of the fake relationship you started. you’re walking side by side with beomgyu, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. the kiss on your forehead from earlier still lingers in your mind, and the weight of your friend's revelation feels heavier with every step.

as you reach a quiet corner of the campus, you finally stop, turning to face beomgyu. he looks at you, his expression open and curious.

“beomgyu,” you start, trying to steady your voice, “why do you keep doing things like that? like kissing me on the forehead or hugging me? it’s starting to feel... more real, and I need to understand why.”

beomgyu’s face flushes slightly, and he looks genuinely perplexed. “what do you mean? i thought we were just playing the part. i didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“it is a big deal!” you snap, your frustration boiling over. “i thought this was just a game, but it’s like you’re crossing lines without realizing it. and now, i’m confused about everything. about us.”

beomgyu’s eyes widen in surprise, and he opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “you keep acting like you care, but when i try to talk about it, you just brush it off. what am i supposed to think?”

the argument escalates, voices rising as you both express your frustrations. emotions are raw and tangled, and neither of you is entirely sure how to untangle them.

just as you’re about to turn and walk away, beomgyu reaches out and grabs your hand, his grip gentle but firm. “wait,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “i… i don’t know why i do that myself.”

the simple, honest admission hits you hard. your eyes fill with tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. you were expecting something that would make you want to run into his arms, to hear something that would make sense of your feelings. but instead, his words are a confirmation of your fears—that he’s just as confused as you are.

you pull your hand away, your tears threatening to spill over. “if you don’t know why you’re doing this, then how am i supposed to understand? i need more than uncertainty, beomgyu. i need to know where we stand.”

beomgyu looks at you, his own confusion evident. “but... i thought... i thought we had something. i wanted to... i don’t know, i wanted to be close to you. is this too much?”

the sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache, but you can’t ignore the clarity you need. you take a step back, shaking your head. “well then i need to figure things out for myself, i guess. let go of my hand, please.”

with that, you turn and walk away, leaving beomgyu standing there, his face a mixture of hurt and confusion. he watches you go, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his shoulders. he’s left alone, grappling with his own tangled feelings and the realization that he doesn’t have all the answers.

as you disappear from view, beomgyu is left in a storm of his own emotions. he’s unsure of what he really wants or why he’s acted the way he has, but he knows he misses the clarity and the connection he had with you.

just like that, you were gone from beomgyu’s life. each day without him felt like a piece of you had been torn away, leaving a raw ache that settled deep in your bones. it was an emptiness that you didn’t know how to fill, a gnawing pain that woke you up in the middle of the night and made your days feel like a blur. you tried to push it away, to ignore the memories that crept in at the edges of your mind, but they were relentless. the way beomgyu had looked at you, the way he had said he thought you had something—it haunted you. it made you feel sick to your stomach, a twisting, nauseating sensation that wouldn’t leave.

this wasn’t what you had planned. none of this was supposed to happen. you were supposed to play the part, help him out, and move on. you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him.

the last day of the week finally arrived, and with it came the same dull ache that had been with you since you last spoke to beomgyu. you had been avoiding him, avoiding his friends, avoiding everything that reminded you of him. but it was impossible to avoid your own thoughts. they swirled around you, suffocating and relentless.

you hadn’t planned on seeing beomgyu again so soon, but he had tried to talk to you just a day after your confrontation. you had thought that maybe, just maybe, you could clear the air. but it had only made everything worse.

the memory of that conversation played over and over in your mind like a broken record.

“what are we, really? what do you want us to be?” you had asked him, your voice trembling with nerves. you hated how vulnerable you felt, how exposed.

he had looked down, his brows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. but to you, it felt like he was stalling, like he didn’t know what to say—or worse, like he didn’t care enough to say anything.

“you’re still in love with her, right?” the words had slipped out before you could stop them. you had forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood, but it felt hollow. “funny of me, i almost forgot why we’re here in the first place.”

he didn’t respond, and his silence felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“well,” you had said, standing up to leave, “i guess we can let everybody know that we’ve already broken up, yeah?” you tried to sound casual, but your voice wavered.

that’s when he had finally looked up, and you had seen it—his eyes were red, swollen, like he had spent the night crying. your heart had twisted at the sight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it. you had convinced yourself it was because of mari.

“what?” he had whispered, his voice cracking.

“let’s break the deal. this is where we draw the line, beomgyu.” you had forced a smile, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over. “one of our deals was not to fall, right? well, it broke. i broke it.”

you had laughed bitterly, trying to brush it off, but the pain was too real, too raw.

and then, in the softest whisper, he had said, “and if i told you i broke it first?”

you hadn’t heard him clearly. the wind had chosen that exact moment to gust past, carrying his words away. “what?” you had asked, your heart pounding in your chest, desperate to understand, but at the same time terrified of what he might say.

he chuckled to himself, a bitter, hollow sound that made your skin prickle with unease. it was as if the universe had conspired against him, against the both of you, making sure that this moment, this crucial confession, was lost to the wind. the absurdity of it all struck him, and his chuckle turned into a resigned laugh, a sound that held no joy, only the weight of what could have been.

“what?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, the situation feeling more and more surreal by the second. the laughter that bubbled out of him only deepened the confusion, as if the universe was playing some cruel joke on you both.

but he had stayed silent after that, his gaze dropping to the ground, a heavy, unspoken truth lingering in the space between you. it was like he had accepted the inevitable, that the universe had already made its decision, and fighting it was pointless.

you stood there for a moment, waiting, hoping he might say something—anything—that would make sense of this mess, but nothing came. the silence was deafening, a void that swallowed any last remnants of hope you had left.“i’m going now,” you finally said, your voice trembling as you turned your back on him, trying to keep your composure. you couldn’t bear to stay any longer, not when the weight of unspoken words hung so heavily in the air. “congrats on winning her again in advance.”

and with those words, you walked away, leaving beomgyu standing there, the echo of your footsteps fading into the distance as he watched you disappear. a part of you hoped he would call out to you, stop you, explain himself. but he didn’t, and that silence spoke louder than any words ever could. you didn’t see the way beomgyu looked at you, didn’t hear him whisper, “fucking coward…” to himself.

since that day, you had done everything you could to avoid him. but rumors had a way of finding you, and when you heard that mari had been seen with beomgyu again, it had felt like a punch to the gut. you had told yourself it was just gossip, that people were reading too much into things. but now, standing there in the hallway, frozen in place, you couldn’t deny what you were seeing.

there they were—mari and beomgyu, walking together, her arm looped around his as if nothing had ever happened, as if you had never existed in his life.

fuck.

the sight of them together sent a wave of nausea crashing over you. you barely made it to the nearest bathroom before the bile rose in your throat. you retched, your stomach heaving violently, but nothing came out. it wasn’t food poisoning or heartburn. it was heartbreak, pure and simple, tearing you apart from the inside out.

you gripped the edge of the sink, breathing heavily, trying to steady yourself. you couldn’t let this get to you. you were stronger than this. you knew these feelings would fade eventually, but right now, they felt like they were drowning you.

you splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the tears that had mingled with your sweat. when you looked up into the mirror, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your eyes were red-rimmed, your face pale, and you looked… broken.

“get a grip,” you whispered to yourself, your voice shaky. “you’re more than this. you’re more than him.”

but even as you said the words, you didn’t believe them. the image of mari wrapped around beomgyu was seared into your mind, a painful reminder that you had fallen for someone who was never yours to begin with.

you took a deep breath, trying to gather your strength. you couldn’t fall apart now. not when you had been so close to moving on, to putting this all behind you. but the truth was, you weren’t ready. you didn’t know when you would be. all you knew was that the pain was still there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for any excuse to pull you back under.

as you stared at your reflection, you realized that you had two choices. you could let this destroy you, or you could find a way to move on. but how do you move on from something that was never real to begin with? how do you heal from a wound that was self-inflicted, from a love that was built on lies?

the questions swirled in your mind, unanswered and unrelenting. you didn’t have the answers yet, but you knew one thing for certain—you couldn’t keep going like this. something had to change. you had to find a way to let go of beomgyu, even if it felt like tearing your own heart out in the process.

the days passed slowly, each one dragging you further into a state of numbness. it was as if the world had lost its color, everything dull and muted in the wake of your heartbreak. and every time you saw beomgyu with mari, that numbness would briefly be shattered, replaced by a sharp, stabbing pain that left you breathless.

the first time after that hallway encounter, you saw them at the coffee shop near campus. they were sitting at a table by the window, mari laughing at something beomgyu had said. you froze in your tracks, heart pounding in your chest. and then beomgyu looked up, his eyes meeting yours. there was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t guilt, but it wasn’t indifference either. it was something that made your stomach twist in knots, something you didn’t want to identify, didn’t want to recognize.

you quickly turned away, pretending you hadn’t seen them, and hurried out of the coffee shop, your chest tight with the effort of holding back tears.

the next time, it was in the library. you had been trying to focus on your work, burying yourself in your studies to distract yourself from the thoughts of beomgyu that never seemed to leave you alone. and then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw them—mari and beomgyu, walking down one of the aisles, his hand resting lightly on her back as they searched for a book.

you tried to look away, to focus on the words in front of you, but your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to them again and again. and then, as if he could feel your gaze, beomgyu looked over at you. again, that look. that look that held something you couldn’t decipher, something that made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

you quickly gathered your things and left the library, your hands shaking as you tried to hold yourself together.

and then there was the time in the cafeteria, when you saw them sitting together at a table, sharing a meal. beomgyu’s eyes met yours as soon as you walked in, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had stopped. there was that look again, the one that made you feel like you were on the verge of understanding something, but the moment you reached for it, it slipped away, leaving you more confused and hurt than before.

you didn’t stay in the cafeteria. you couldn’t. you turned on your heel and walked out, the ache in your chest growing stronger with each passing day.

it was unbearable, this constant reminder of what you had lost, of what you had never truly had in the first place. and every time you saw them together, it felt like a fresh wound, reopening the pain you had been trying so hard to heal.

but what hurt the most was that look in beomgyu’s eyes. that look that you couldn’t understand, that you didn’t want to understand. because deep down, you knew that if you tried to figure it out, if you tried to decipher what it meant, you would only end up hurting yourself more.

so you avoided him as best you could, avoided the places you knew he would be, avoided the people who might mention him. but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t avoid the memories, couldn’t avoid the thoughts that haunted you day and night.

and every time you saw him, every time you caught that look in his eyes, it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were falling all over again. but this time, there was no one to catch you. no one to stop the pain from tearing you apart.and so, you kept running, kept trying to escape the feelings that threatened to consume you. but no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t outrun the truth. you had fallen for beomgyu, and now you were paying the price.

you were tucked away in the quietest corner of the library, the soft rustle of pages turning the only sound accompanying your thoughts. you’d chosen this spot deliberately, hoping to escape into your books and leave everything else behind. but even in the silence, your mind was anything but quiet. every word you read seemed to dissolve into thoughts of him—of beomgyu, and the way he had infiltrated your every waking moment.

the door to the library creaked open, but you didn’t look up. you heard footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, until they stopped right beside you. the chair opposite you scraped against the floor as it was pulled out. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you could tell by the way the air seemed to shift around you, by the way your pulse quickened involuntarily.

“mari’s not here,” you said flatly, eyes still fixed on the page in front of you.

“i know,” beomgyu’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “i’m not here for her.”

“then who?” you finally turned a page, though you hadn’t read a single word.

“you. i need to talk to you.”

you clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. “we’ve already talked.”

there was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “please?”

“what did i say?” you mumbled, your resolve wavering slightly.

he shifted in his seat, leaning closer. “can you at least look at me while you say it?” he whispered, the proximity of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words pressing against your heart. “fine,” you said, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “no. i don’t want to talk to you.”

beomgyu’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to find something, anything, that might contradict your words. “come on,” he said softly, his voice laced with a kind of desperation you weren’t used to hearing from him. “one last time?”

you stared at him for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “say it here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

beomgyu bit his lip, his expression troubled as he looked down at the table, gathering his thoughts. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling as if he was about to say something that had been weighing on him for a long time. “look, i know you’ve been seeing mari and i around these past few days and—”

“and i don’t care,” you cut him off, the words coming out harsher than you intended. you looked away again, trying to ignore the sting of tears that threatened to spill.

he pursed his lips, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “i know you don’t,” he said quietly. “but i… i care about what you think.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. you froze, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend what he had just said. there was something in his voice, something raw and vulnerable that you hadn’t expected. and just like that, all the walls you had built around your heart started to crumble.

panic surged through you, and without thinking, you stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. you didn’t care that people were staring, didn’t care about the noise you’d made. all you cared about was getting away from him, from the confusion and the pain that threatened to consume you.

you ran out of the library, your footsteps echoing through the empty halls as you made your way to the school field. the sky was already painted in hues of gray and blue as the sun began to set, but you barely noticed. you stopped in the middle of the field, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force the tears back, but it was no use. they fell anyway, hot and heavy, as you let out a shaky breath. you hated this feeling, this sinking sensation in your chest that made you feel like you were being swallowed whole. why did he have to say that? why did he have to make things even more complicated when you were already trying so hard to move on?

you exhaled loudly, swiping at the tears that kept escaping despite your best efforts. and then you heard it—the sound of footsteps pounding against the grass, getting closer and closer. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. you could feel his presence before you even saw him.

when you finally did turn, there he was—beomgyu, panting as he stopped in his tracks a few feet away from you. his hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a desperate look in his eyes that made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

“why do you have to do this?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“do what?” beomgyu said, still trying to catch his breath.

“this,” you gestured between the two of you, your voice thick with emotion. “why can’t you just leave me alone?”

he looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“fuck, can’t you understand that i’m avoiding you?” you said, your voice rising with frustration.

“i know,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. “that’s what i’m wondering.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “wondering? you’re actually wondering why i’m avoiding you?”

“yes,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation. “why? why are you avoiding me?”

before you could answer, a loud crack of thunder echoed in the distance, and as if on cue, the sky opened up, rain pouring down in thick sheets. you could barely hear anything over the roar of the storm, but you could still hear him. you could still hear the hurt in his voice, the confusion, the desperation.

“you’re supposed to be fine now,” you said, your voice trembling. “mari’s back. you have her back already. don’t break a sweat over me.”

beomgyu took a step closer, the rain soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. “why did you stop seeing me after that day?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

you shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “didn’t you hear me? go back to mari now.”

but he didn’t move. instead, he took another step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “why did you stop seeing me after that day?” he asked again, his voice firmer this time, demanding an answer.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. you could feel the tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks, could feel the way your resolve was slowly crumbling under his gaze. “because i crossed the line,” you finally whispered, the words barely making it past your lips.

beomgyu’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was silent, the rain continuing to pour down around you. then, he spoke, his voice soft, almost tender. “did you even ask if i crossed the line too?”

you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. “what?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the rain.

“you didn’t even ask if i crossed the line too,” he repeated, his eyes searching yours for some kind of understanding.

“why would i?” you asked, your voice wavering. “why would i ask that?”

“because i was waiting,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “i was waiting for you to ask me. until now. i was waiting, y/n.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. the rain was coming down harder now, soaking through your clothes, but you barely noticed. all you could see was him—all you could hear were his words, echoing in your mind.

“waiting for what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, could feel the way his words were slowly breaking down the walls you had built around your heart.

beomgyu took another step closer, and now he was only inches away from you. his hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had mixed with the rain. “i was waiting for you to ask me,” he repeated softly, his voice full of emotion. “because i wanted you to know that i crossed the line too. i crossed it the moment i realized i cared about you more than i ever cared about anyone else.”

your breath hitched in your throat, your mind reeling as you tried to process his words. “what are you saying?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“i’m saying that mari and i aren’t back together,” beomgyu said, his eyes locked onto yours. “we never were. we both decided we didn’t want to get back together. and do you know why?”

you shook your head, unable to speak, unable to think.

“because i realized that what i wanted—what i needed—was you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

you felt your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “beomgyu…” you started, but he cut you off.

“no, listen to me,” he said, his voice urgent. “i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve made mistakes. but i need you to understand that this… this thing between us, it’s not something i can just ignore. it’s not something i want to ignore.”

“but i can’t…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“why?” beomgyu asked, his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer.

“yeah, i was also wondering why?” yeonjun’s voice snapped him back to reality, breaking the heavy silence with an uncomfortable question. his arm was lazily draped around his girlfriend’s shoulder, fingers tracing slow circles on her arm like it was the easiest thing in the world.

beomgyu’s shoulders tensed. he tried to shrug it off, but the weight of the past still clung to him, suffocating. “i don’t know,” he muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “can we just... change the topic?”

his friends exchanged glances. the table fell into an awkward silence, the kind that makes you painfully aware of every second dragging by. beomgyu could feel the weight of their stares, each one laced with concern, curiosity... and pity. god, he hated pity.

soobin was the first to speak up, his voice soft but probing, “don’t tell us you still haven’t moved on?”

beomgyu’s jaw clenched. he didn’t answer. instead, he dropped his gaze to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through the home screen—anything to avoid meeting their eyes. the memories of you, of that night, of your final words, were like ghosts that refused to leave him alone.

“come on, gyu,” taehyun chimed in, leaning forward with that look of hesitant sympathy. “it’s been years. you can’t keep... holding on.”

but beomgyu didn’t respond. his thumb hovered over the screen, frozen. he couldn’t tell them that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go. that the thought of you—your voice, your smile, your scent—still haunted him.

and then, he heard it. a voice. not just any voice, but a name, your name, cutting through the low hum of the party like a punch to the gut.

his heart stuttered. slowly, he lifted his head, searching through the crowd, scanning faces. and that’s when he saw you. or rather, your back—long, wavy hair cascading down, brushing just above your waist. you were wearing a black silk dress, elegant and simple, the kind of dress that made you look effortlessly beautiful.

he blinked, trying to convince himself he was hallucinating, that it couldn’t be you. but then you turned.

and there it was. that smile. the smile he hadn’t seen in years but could still picture perfectly.

the room around him seemed to blur, the voices of his friends fading into the background. everything, everyone, became a distant hum as his eyes locked onto you. it was like the world had pressed pause, and all that existed was you.

“gyu?” yeonjun’s girlfriend whispered, gently nudging him. “you okay?”

he wasn’t. he wasn’t okay at all.

because there you were, laughing, hugging someone, completely unaware of him, and it hit him all over again. the overwhelming realization that you had moved on, that your life had continued without him in it. the years of unanswered questions, of wondering what could’ve been, came crashing down.

“is that...?” kai trailed off, squinting at you from across the room.

“it is,” soobin said quietly. “it’s y/n.”

beomgyu swallowed hard. his throat was dry, his palms clammy. he didn’t know what to do, how to react. he had imagined this moment—seeing you again—a hundred times in his head. but none of those versions had prepared him for the way his heart would ache, seeing you look so... happy.

he caught a glimpse of your face as you turned, your smile lighting up the room—god, that smile. it was the same one that used to make his heart race, the one he’d replay in his mind for years after you disappeared. but this time, something was different. you weren’t just any girl in the crowd; you were you, the one person who knew him in ways no one else ever could.

his heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered over to him, and for a split second, your gazes locked. there was a flash of something in your eyes—something unmistakable, like recognition mixed with longing—but then, almost instantly, you looked away, breaking the connection as if it had burned you.

beomgyu’s breath caught. he saw it, that hesitation, that tiny crack in the facade. it wasn’t just indifference; it was fear. fear of what? of him? of the past? or maybe—just perhaps—of the feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

you turned to the friend beside you, laughing at something she said, but beomgyu knew. he knew that look, that nervous shift in your posture, the way your fingers tugged at the hem of your dress as if grounding yourself. you were avoiding him—not because you didn’t care, but because you cared too much.

and that realization hit him harder than he expected.

he wanted to walk over, to say something, anything that could close the distance between you, but his legs felt like lead. the years of unresolved tension, the things left unsaid, all weighed down on him, keeping him rooted in place.

“gyu?” soobin’s voice broke through his daze, soft and full of concern. “you okay, man?”

but beomgyu barely heard him. his mind was consumed by the look you had given him, the way you’d turned away, not out of indifference, but out of fear. you were scared—just like him.

and now, for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure whether that made things easier... or infinitely harder.

you knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. after a few polite exchanges with old classmates and empty laughter at jokes you weren’t really listening to, you slipped away from the crowd. outside, the cold gleam of the moonlight bathed the night, offering a quiet escape from the chaos inside.

you leaned against the railing, the cool night air brushing against your skin, making it prickle. the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from the party felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. out here, everything seemed easier—away from the noise, away from the weight of the past. but then you heard footsteps approaching, and you knew that brief moment of peace was about to end.

you felt his presence before you even saw him. it was the way the air subtly shifted—the familiar, electric tension that always seemed to fill the space between you and him.

and now, here he was, standing just a few feet away, the same intensity in his gaze that always made your heart race. there was no avoiding it this time. this conversation, this closure—it had been hanging in the air for too long, waiting to happen.

beomgyu stopped beside you, his presence unmistakable, even without a word. neither of you spoke for a moment, both too aware of the unfinished business lingering between you. it was inevitable—you knew this conversation was coming the moment you saw him tonight. you just didn’t expect it to feel this hard.

“been a while,” he finally said, his voice quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile calm of the night.

“yeah,” you replied, eyes still fixed on the skyline ahead. “it has.”

more silence. you could sense him struggling to find the right words, just like you were. it was strange how, after everything, the words seemed harder now than they had ever been.

“i saw you inside,” he started again, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “wasn’t expecting that.”

you let out a small breath, not quite a laugh. “neither was i.”

his gaze flicked over to you, and even though you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you could feel it—could feel the weight of it, how he was waiting for something. an explanation maybe. or maybe just permission to ask the questions he hadn’t been able to all this time.

“why did you leave?” he finally asked, the question hanging between you, unfinished and unresolved.

your grip tightened on the railing, and you stared hard at the city lights, hoping they’d provide some kind of answer. “i don’t know,” you said, though you both knew that wasn’t the full truth. “i guess… it was too much. everything. you and me, what happened… i couldn’t handle it.”

beomgyu didn’t say anything right away, and you could tell he was processing it, trying to figure out what you really meant. “but you never gave me a chance to fix it,” he said quietly, almost like he was afraid of sounding bitter.

you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “i know. i thought… if i left, maybe it would be easier for both of us.”

he let out a low, humorless laugh. “easier? is that what you thought?”

“i don’t know what i thought,” you admitted, finally turning to face him. the way his expression shifted when your eyes met—it was like seeing all the pieces of something broken but still sharp, still able to cut. “i wasn’t ready, gyu. i couldn’t keep up with how fast things were going, and instead of telling you that, i ran.”

he watched you for a moment, his lips pressed together like he was holding back everything he’d wanted to say for years. “and what about now?”

the question was simple, but it carried so much weight. what about now? were things really any different? had time changed anything? you wanted to say something definitive, something that would make sense of the mess you’d left behind, but the truth was, you didn’t know. you hadn’t let yourself think about it for so long.

“i don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging just a little. “you know, it wasn’t about me choosing you back then,” he said, his voice more measured now, quieter. “i chose you, but it felt like you didn’t choose me. and i get it, i didn’t know what you were going through. but you didn’t give me a chance to understand.”

his words hit hard because they were true. you hadn’t chosen him, not really. not when it counted.

“i was scared,” you admitted. “of what we had. how much it mattered. i didn’t want to mess it up, so i thought leaving would keep things from getting worse.”

he nodded, a slow, deliberate motion like he was processing the layers of it. “and did it?”

you shook your head. “no.”

the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with everything unsaid. you both stood there, letting the moment stretch between you, the years of distance and unresolved feelings catching up.

“so what now?” he asked, the question open-ended, without any pressure or expectations behind it. he wasn’t asking for a second chance. he wasn’t asking for you to make a decision right here, right now. it was more like he was asking if there was still a way forward, whatever that might look like.

“i don’t know, gyu,” you said honestly, looking down at the space between your feet. “i don’t know what happens next. but i didn’t come here expecting… this. to talk to you. to face all of this again.”

“me neither,” he said softly. “but here we are.”

another pause. you both knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed tonight, maybe not even ever. but there was a calm in the way he was looking at you now, like he wasn’t trying to fix it. he just wanted to understand, to finally have some clarity, even if it was incomplete.

“i didn’t expect seeing you again to still feel like this,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

he smiled then—not a wide smile, not even a particularly happy one, but one that showed a kind of quiet acceptance. “yeah. me too.”

you weren’t sure what to say next, if there was anything left to say. but the air between you felt lighter now, less heavy with the weight of what you had both been carrying for so long.

“maybe we weren’t ready back then,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “maybe we needed the time apart. but if i’m being honest, i never stopped thinking about what could’ve been.”

you looked at him, really looked at him this time, and saw the quiet honesty in his expression. “me too,” you admitted.

beomgyu let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to being this open. “it’s weird, right? how time changes things, but also doesn’t. i thought by now i’d have it all figured out. but here i am, still trying to make sense of it.”

“i guess we’re both still figuring it out,” you said, offering a small smile.

he glanced at you, his expression soft but serious. “whatever happens next… i just want you to know that you didn’t mess anything up. at least, not in the way you think. maybe we didn’t work out back then, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t important to me. you still are.”

the weight of his words settled between you, but it wasn’t suffocating. it felt… freeing, in a way.

“thank you,” you said quietly, not knowing what else to say, but feeling the sincerity of his words sink in.

beomgyu’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then he nodded. “i guess this is where we leave it for now.”

you nodded in return, knowing that this conversation wasn’t about a grand reconciliation or a definitive ending. it was just… what it was. two people who had shared something, acknowledging that they didn’t have all the answers but were willing to let the uncertainty hang between them without needing to force it into something more.

“take care of yourself,” you said softly, the words feeling right even though they were simple.

“you too,” he replied, and for a moment, you could swear there was a flicker of something more in his eyes. not hope exactly, but not closure either.

and as he walked away, disappearing back into the party, you stood there, feeling lighter than you had in years. the future was uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty didn’t feel so heavy.

maybe, just maybe, there was room for something new between you both—whatever that might be.

and for now, that was enough.

gyo's note: hey guys! first off, i owe you all an apology for not posting in such a long time. uni has been absolutely hectic, and balancing everything has been a bit overwhelming. i’ve missed being here and sharing my stories with you all, but i needed to focus on my studies for a bit. i hope you understand. to make sure i stay consistent without falling behind in uni, i’ve decided to post twice a month—every tuesday and thursday. this way, i can still share updates and new stories with you all without compromising my schedule too much. i hope this works for everyone!

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7ndipity · 8 months ago

Text

Time For You

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just a lil blurb about Yoongi surprising his S/o at work bc he’s a softie.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to my lovely ⭐ anon for this request! It’s a lil short, but I hope you like it!💜

Masterlist

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It had been one of those work days that seemed to drag on longer than normal. Nothing was particularly wrong, it wasn’t any busier or more hectic than usual, but you were still acutely aware of the hours seeming to creep by at a glacial pace.

‘Just a little longer’, You promised yourself. Just a few more hours and you would be home, in your cozy apartment with your warm bed and your sweet boyfriend, who you planned to cuddle within an inch of his life as soon as you saw him.

As if summoned by your thoughts, one of your co-workers came over as you were finishing up helping a customer, sporting a knowing grin.

“Hey, Y/n? There’s a guy over there that says he’s going to start crying if you don’t look at him?” She said, nodding off to the side.

Glancing up in confusion, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your eyes landed on a familiar figure standing over near the door. His face was partially hidden by the hat that he tugged down , but you could recognized that sheepish, little grin anywhere

You quickly switched places with your co-worker before practically sprinting over to Yoongi, half tackling him in a hug.

“What are you doing here?!” You exclaimed, trying to keep your voice low to avoid drawing attention, but unable to hide your happiness at his sudden appearance.

“We were filming a few blocks over, so I thought I’d come by on my way home and check on you.” He said, glancing up at you shyly.

“Aww, were you worried about me?” You grinned, reaching up to cup his face. “You big softie.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He groaned, trying to squirm out of your hold.

“Hey, you were the one threatening to cause a scene because I wouldn’t look at you.” You chuckled.

He grumbled out something you couldn’t make out before holding out a small bag to you. “I also brought this, but if you’re gonna be weird about it-”

You quickly snatched the bag away before he could finish, peeking inside at the contents before looking back up at him in surprise.

“You brought me cookies?” You questioned.

“I happened to pass that bakery you like on my way here, no big deal.” He shrugged.

You said nothing, staring up at him as he tried to hide the growing flush in his cheeks.

“What?” He asked after a moment.

“You love me.” You grinned.

He huffed.

“It took cookies for you to realize that?” He asked dryly, fiddling with the edge of his hat, a habit of his that you had come to know meant he was embarrassed or flustered.

“No, but it’s a nice reminder.” You said. “It’s nice when you make time for little things like this.”

“I’ll always make time for you.” He answered softly, the sudden sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

Yoongi had always had a way of pulling your heartstrings with just a few words, even before you had started dating, a simple comment like “I miss you” had been enough to cause your heart to skip a beat before taking off at high speed.

As much as you liked to tease him for being whipped for you, you were just as down bad for him.

You suddenly remembered you were standing in the middle of your workplace, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I- uh, I have to get back to work.” You said quickly.

He nodded, understanding.

“I’ll see you at home.” He said, stepping away, but you followed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.” You said softly, stepping back. “Thank you for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome.” He said, his cheeks flushed fully red.

“I’ll see you later.” You promised.

“See you later.” He repeated, turning quickly and heading for the exit.

You caught him giving a quick glance back at you from the door, sending you a little wave before ducking out, leaving you stood grinning after him.

“He’s really something special, isn’t he?” Your co-worker commented, watching you with an amused expression. “My boyfriend never does stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “He really is something special.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi blurb #yoongi fluff #yoongi drabble #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts blurbs #7ndipity #⭐anon

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thebeesatemyknees · 1 year ago

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141 with a gf who has been cheated on in the past and it kind of destroyed her confidence?? Like just how they would prove themselves as true and how they would go about a relationship with her. Love your writing, friend!!!! <3

141 with a (fem)partner who's been cheated on in the past

Some headcanons about things that Simon Ghost Riley, John Price, Kyle Gaz Garrick and Johnny Soap MacTavish do to reassure you after learning that your previous partner/s cheated on you.

Word count: 1k || No warnings. || Reader: FEM reader. Pronouns "you", but feminine terms used ("missus, girl, lady") [I could make a gender neutral version too if anyone would want it!]

Simon Riley, who, half joking half serious, reminds you that he’s a difficult bastard to get close to. So you don’t have to worry. I mean, look how much time it took you to make him open up and let you become part of his life. He has a hard time openly admitting how he feels about you and how he only has place for you in his heart and mind. So instead, he jokes that you’re the only person on this planet, crazy enough to approach him. Though sometimes, when you have late night conversations, he admits in a hushed voice, that as much as he enjoyed the solitary life, leaving it behind for a lifetime with you was the best decision he's ever made.

Although he prefers to avoid crowded places, he starts taking you to pubs more often to prove that he’s right about being unapproachable. It also gives you a reason to dress up all pretty, so he can shamelessly compliment you and tease you about wanting to show you off.

If someone is silly enough to walk up to you two and try chatting him up, he immediately cuts it short, not even trying to be polite – “No, we’re alright. We’re busy.” And if they’re persistent, he uses his “Lieutenant Ghost” voice on them – “You’re interrupting my date. With my girl.” He keeps his hand on you for the rest of the night.

He asks you if he should get your name tattooed on his arm and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But he is dead serious. Have you seen his tattoos? Not to be judgemental, but… He wouldn’t mind tattooing your name on himself once he thinks you’re the one.

John Price, who relies on communication. He asks you to talk to him whenever something feels wrong – whether it’s caused by your thoughts or something he’s done. But he doesn’t just wait for you to bring the issue up either. He’s a true leader and he’s very observant. Sometimes he notices the heavy thoughts starting to cloud your mind before you can even cotton on. He’s also really good at reading between the lines. If you ever do that self-sabotaging thing, where you ask his opinion about other women on the street or on the internet, he immediately gives you a stern look and, without even looking at the lass you’re pointing at, gives you a lengthy pep talk. Why would he even need to form an opinion about another woman’s appearance, when he only cares about you?

He’s got the patience of a saint when it comes to you. He’s told you what he feels towards you and how you are the only one for him many times already. And he would repeat himself, over and over again. Until he loses his voice.

If he got approached by someone and offered a drink, while you’re hanging out in a pub, he would point towards you and say “I’m alright, but you can buy my lady a drink if you insist,” with a cocky smile on his face.

Kyle Garrick, who attacks you with “I love you”-s and compliments whenever you start doubting yourself. Literally. Won’t let you finish your self-derogatory comments, even if they’re well hidden in what you’re saying. Starts yelling ILYs from afar. Then once he gets closer, he grabs you and holds you close, repeating it against your ear until you laugh from the sensation. But he doesn’t ignore your worries. He often sits you down so that the two of you can have a conversation about your feelings, your boundaries, behaviours and things he can do to assure you of his loyalty.

He has pictures of you everywhere and he’s proud to show you off. There are polaroids of you alone and both of you together in his wallet, in his car’s sun visor, in the pocket of his uniform. You’re his phone’s wallpaper. He posts pictures of you on social media. Obviously, he does all that while making sure it won’t affect your safety. And as for him bragging about you, you probably learnt about that from Price. What you don’t know though, is that he went out of his way to introduce you to his captain in hopes of Price telling you how often he talks about you. And only you.

If someone tried to chat him up while he’s with you, he would give them the nastiest, most offended glare possible. He looks at them, at you, at them, at you… He throws a simple “Uhh, no thank you,” while he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest, using it to ground himself. Before the person can even turn away, he’s looking at you with a “can you believe this shit” stare. He gets upset for the both of you.

Johnny MacTavish, who’s physically glued to you.While off duty, he doesn't give you much space for doubts or anxieties cuz he follows you everywhere. You’re going to run some errands? He’s coming with you. He’s going to run some errands? Can you please come with him…? One time, when you went to the toilet in the middle of the night, you found him sitting half-awake on the floor next to the bathroom door. Later, he can’t even explain why he did it. He wasn’t even fully conscious. It was pure instinct – you go, he follows.

He takes you to buy matching rings. You can take your relationship at your own pace, but others don’t have to know it. He’s more than happy to pretend to be already married to you. Especially when he’s deployed away from home. And when he comes back, he proudly shows you a tan line on his ring finger, proving he’s been wearing it the whole time.

If someone approaches him and offers him a drink, he scoffs and tells them that HIS MISSUS can buy him his drinks just fine, thank you very much. If you’re there with him, he turns to you and, before the person can walk away, he starts playfully flirting with you, saying you can take him home if you buy him a drink. If you’re for some reason not there, he immediately calls you (or at least texts you if he’s with the lads) and proudly tells you about how clever his response was.

I hope that some loose headcanons like these are alright.

Also, if this happened to you – I'm really sorry and I wish you all the best! And if anyone needs to hear it: remember, the fault is never in the person who got cheated on but the one who cheats. Screw them. You deserve to be treated kindly.

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therealcocoshady · 8 months ago

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Request

Little Lilly hearing reader or Marshall say a swear word and her repeating it at random times .

Time Out

Author’s Note : Thank you for your request ❤️. I had a fun time writing this and I hope you like it ✨. Please keep these fluffy and cute requests coming because they heal my soul ✨. (Other requests are also welcome)

2020

- Fuck.

It was almost inaudible at first, and he wasn’t sure he had heard that quite right. A tiny, childish voice using a big swear word. Definitely odd. Marshall turned his head, only to see that Lily had spilled juice all over the leather couch. She was pursing her lips, obviously frustrated. His three year-old was always annoyed when things weren’t proper. She hated having paint all over her finger, loathed having dirt on her dress after playing in the garden and, whenever she spilled something, it was as if she had witnessed the eruption of WWIII. Her being upset that she had spilled juice wasn’t surprising, but her using such a colorful language definitely was. It was the first time he heard her swearing and it almost broke his heart. It was probably a bit dramatic on his part, but it was further proof that his baby was growing up. She had just turned three and her language had gotten so much better in the past few months. However, he didn’t expect it to include swearing words. She was only three years old ! If memories served, his eldest daughters were a bit older the first time they swore.

- it’s fine, baby, he said. It’s just a little juice. We’ll clean it up. But you don’t get to use that word, ok ?

- What word ? She asked innocently.

- The one you just used. Ok, Lily ? No using that.

- Ok, Daddy.

There it was. Better. Lily was an extremely polite little girl and he prayed that she would stay that way. He decided not to make a big deal out of it. After all, he wasn’t even sure that she understood what she was saying. It probably wasn’t on purpose. Although, he wasn’t quite sure where she’d heard that word. Ever since he became a Dad for the first time, almost three decades ago, he had always been careful to mind his language around children - especially his own. One might argue that his making a living relied on the use of swear words - which wasn’t technically wrong - but there was no way in hell he would allow his kids to use them freely at home.

After tucking Lily in bed that night, he brought it up to you.

- So… Lily’s swearing now, he said with a frown.

- Swearing ? You asked. What did she say ?

- Fuck, he explained. I don’t even know where she heard that one.

- That might be me, you confessed. We went to the Starbucks drive-thru the other day and I spilled coffee all over my blouse. I might have let it out…

- Fuck, babe ! He scolded.

- You just said it ! You defended yourself.

- But she’s not around, he groaned. She’s three ! She has no business hearing that kind of word, let alone repeating it…

- I know, you said apologetically. Look… she’ll probably forget about it.

- I guess, he shrugged. I hope so. She’s only three. Even Stevie waited until she was five to use swear words.

- You must have had fun conversations when they found out you make a living by using swear words, you giggled.

- You don’t know the half of it, he chuckled. I mean, the kids always understood that it’s just me making songs. Mostly because we never used those words at home. And I would very much like it to be the same for Lily.

- She said it only once, you pointed out. Of course we’re not raising a rude little girl. She’s always so polite. I’m sure it won’t happen again.

Only it did happen again. A couple of days later, she let it out while you were sitting at the dining room and she accidentally dropped her cutlery on the floor. Both Marshall and you looked at each other.

- Fuck ! Lily said in an annoyed voice.

- Lily ! You scolded.

- Baby, remember what I said ? Marshall said sternly. No using that word. It’s a swear word and we don’t use that, understood ?

- But Mommy-

- I shouldn’t have used that word, you said. It’s a bad one.

- And if I catch you using it again, you’ll get grounded, Marshall warned.

You gave him a funny look. Out of the two of you, Marshall had always been a more lenient parent to Lily. He told you in the past that, when he was raising Alaina, Hailie and Stevie, he was more of a disciplinarian than Kim but, if you were being honest, you had trouble imagining him like this. Maybe it was because he adopted Lily when she was two, or because you had never had trouble scolding her yourself, but he was always so soft with her and, in fact, he had never raised his voice to her. He was very much the « cool » parent, to her. That being said, you could tell he was adamant on her respecting that rule - as he should because you were very much in agreement.

A couple of weeks went by and you didn’t catch your little girl swearing again, much to your relief. On a Saturday afternoon, you went for some shopping and Marshall had to pop by the studio to work on a beat he produced for some artists signed to the label and he took Lily with him. She was used to being in the studio and always had fun. She had her little habits, some toys and usually played peacefully while Marshall was able to work. She was on the couch, drawing when she saw that her marker had left some stains on her fingers.

- Fuuuuck, she whined.

Marshall immediately looked in her direction and sighed. He already hated what was about to happen but it had to.

- Lily, come here ! he said sternly.

- What Daddy? She asked in an annoyed voice.

- Quit the attitude, he sighed. Come here.

« She’s three » he thought. « she can’t start acting like an edgy teen when she hasn’t even started preschool yet ! ». He had her sit on the chair next to his and look her in the eyes.

- What did you say ? He asked.

- I said what, she repeated.

- Before that, he asked. What’s that word you used ?

- Fuck, she mumbled.

- That’s right, he said sternly. And what did I say about using that word ?

- That… I… shouldn’t, she said as she avoided his gaze.

- Right, he said. So now, you’re taking a time out.

- But Da-

- No buts, he scolded sternly. If you can’t draw without swearing, you don’t get to draw at all. And look at me when I talk to you, Lily.

She looked at him with tears welling in her eyes. It was the first time he scolded her like this, using his « big voice ». Her look immediately made him feel guilty and all he wanted was to hug her and apologize. It took everything in him not to, and he had her sit in the chair in silence for three minutes while he kept on working. She was looking down, her lip quivering. After a couple of minutes he looked at her. She had one minute left but he gave up. Toddlers don’t have a great time notion anyway and he was a ready feeling guilty for scolding her.

- Ok, bug, time out’s over, he said.

- Ok Daddy, she said in a sad voice that immediately guilt-trip him.

- You don’t like time outs, do you ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- No, she said.

- And I don’t like scolding you either, he explained. But I’m your Dad, and it’s my job to put you on time out when you do or say bad things. And if you use that word or any other swear word, you’re taking a time out. Ok ?

- Ok, she said in an almost inaudible voice.

- Now, I understand that sometimes, you’re frustrated, but we don’t use words like that, he said in a softer voice. You can groan, you can sigh, you can use normal words, but not this. Now, I want you to apologize.

- I’m sorry, Daddy, she said as tears welled up in her eyes again.

Guilt got the best of him and he pulled her in for a hug. Scolding her broke his heart and he was thankful that you were the one who did most of it because he wasn’t able to handle seeing sadness in the eyes of his princess. How he had managed to handle scolding the older ones over and over when they were growing up (mostly because his ex didn’t), he wasn’t sure. Had he always been so soft ?

- Don’t cry, baby, he said. It’s fine. You’re forgiven.

- But I don’t like it when you’re mean, she whined.

- I’m not mean, he chuckled. I still love you very much. Just because I scold you doesn’t mean I don’t, you know ?

- Ok, she sniffled.

- You want to go back to drawing ? He asked as he put her down.

- Will you draw with me ? She asked.

- I can take a little break, he said.

They went to the couch and started drawing together. They heard Royce and Denaun come inside the studio.

- So I told her to fuck off, you know ? Denaun said.

- Shit man, that bitch is a fucking- oh hey guys ! Royce said as he saw them.

- Time out, Lily said in a stern look.

Marshall immediately covered his mouth so that she wouldn’t see the smile he failed to contain.

- First of all, you say hello properly to Ryan and Denaun, he said. Also, you don’t get to put people on time out, Lily. I do.

- Hi, Uncle Ryan, Hi Uncle Nauny, she said as she went to hug them.

- What’s that time out thing ? Denaun asked as he picked up Lily to carry her.

- We’re learning not to use colorful language, Marshall chuckled.

- Oh, Royce said. Yeah, we shouldn’t have said that, Lily, you’re right. Sorry.

- Do they get time out, Daddy ? She asked as she looked at Marshall.

- Hell no, Denaun said. We’re grown ups, we don’t get time out.

- But you said the words, Lily argued.

- Yeah guys, time out, Marshall said with a grin.

- Seriously, man ? Royce asked.

- Yeah. Time out, Marshall said. Rules are the same for everybody.

He went to the kitchen area with the guys while Lily kept on drawing. They failed to contain their laughter. Ever since Marshall had adopted Lily, they enjoyed teasing him on his « Dad » demeanor, and how he was on a different mode when she was around.

- She’s got some attitude, Royce said.

- Probably got that from her Mom, Marshall chuckled.

- Wait until I tell Y/N you said that, Denaun grinned.

- Don’t, Marshall said. Otherwise I’m getting a time out.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall and lily

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

Just Not Home

Lewis Hamilton x race engineer!Reader

Summary: and I can go anywhere I want … anywhere I want, just not home

The Bahrain sun hovers low over the paddock, stretching long shadows across the asphalt. It’s the first day of preseason testing, and everything feels like a half-forgotten memory — almost familiar, but not quite.

Lewis stands by the Ferrari garage, his arms crossed over the crimson of his new uniform. The Prancing Horse on his chest gleams under the fluorescent lights, a betrayal written in gold thread. He looks down at his phone, scrolling idly, but you know it’s an act. He’s waiting.

So are you.

The Mercedes garage hums around you with the buzz of drills and the low rumble of the cars firing up. It’s your world. It’s been your world for over a decade. But not his anymore. Not after last season.

And then you see him.

He looks up at just the right — or wrong — moment. His gaze locks with yours, and for a second, everything around you dissolves into static. There’s no garage, no engineers, no cars. Just you and him, separated by too many steps and too much history.

You hesitate, then force your feet to move, weaving through the pit lane toward him. He doesn’t look away.

“Didn’t think you’d come over,” Lewis says when you’re close enough to hear. His voice is steady, calm, but his eyes betray him. They’re searching your face like they haven’t seen it a thousand times before.

“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” you reply.

He exhales sharply, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I always want you to.”

It’s too much, too soon. You look down, focusing on the grease smudges on your hands. “How’s it feel? Being in red.”

Lewis glances down at his suit as if he hasn’t already spent hours adjusting to the unfamiliar color. “Strange. Feels like wearing someone else’s skin.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. The silence stretches, heavy and awkward, until he breaks it.

“Do you hate me?”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“For leaving,” he clarifies. His tone is too casual, like he’s trying to keep it from hurting, but you know him too well. “Do you hate me for going to Ferrari?”

You laugh, short and humorless. “Hate you? No, Lewis. I don’t hate you. I just-” You pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t know what I feel. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” he repeats, rolling the word around like it tastes bitter. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

There’s another pause, filled with the distant roar of an engine.

“I miss you,” he says, quietly, like it’s a confession.

You look at him, really look at him. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, but his eyes — those damn eyes — are soft and full of something you can’t name.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that. Not here. Not now.”

“Why not?” He steps closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. “Why can’t I say it? It’s true.”

“Because it doesn’t change anything!” Your voice rises, drawing the attention of a few passing mechanics. You lower it again, swallowing hard. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re here, and I’m there, and that’s how it’s going to be.”

“I didn’t want to leave,” he says, his voice breaking just slightly on the last word. “You think I wanted this?”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I had to.”

The words hang between you, heavy and unspoken for far too long.

“Had to?” You echo, your tone sharp. “No one made you, Lewis. No one put a gun to your head.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit.”

He flinches, just barely, and you immediately regret the harshness. But you don’t take it back.

“You could’ve stayed,” you continue, your voice trembling now. “You could’ve stayed, and we-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “But you didn’t. You chose this. You chose them.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to walk away. But then he speaks, his voice low and raw.

“You think I wanted to leave the team? Leave you? I didn’t. But I don’t know. It’s like …” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Now I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere. Just not-”

“Home,” you finish for him, and the word tastes bitter.

His eyes snap to yours, and there’s something raw there, something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Just not home.”

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s too much, too honest, and you don’t know how to respond.

“Why are you telling me this now?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I need you to know.” He looks at you, his eyes pleading. “I need you to know that it wasn’t about leaving you. It was about finding ... I don’t know. Something I’ve been chasing my whole life. But it’s not here either. I thought it would be, but it’s not.”

“Lewis,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks on the word. “I’m so sorry. For leaving. For not telling you sooner. For everything.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but it doesn’t help. His words are everywhere, wrapping around you like a net you can’t escape.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you admit.

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he replies. “I just ... I just wanted you to know.”

The silence between you is deafening, filled with all the things neither of you can say.

Finally, you look at him, really look at him, and for the first time, you see it. The weight he’s been carrying, the regret etched into every line of his face.

“I don’t hate you,” you say again, softer this time.

He nods, swallowing hard. “I know.”

And then, as if by some unspoken agreement, you both step back. The gap between you widens, filling with everything that could have been and never will be.

“Good luck this season,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

“You too,” he replies.

And just like that, it’s over. You turn and walk back to the Mercedes garage, each step heavier than the last. You don’t look back.

Neither does he.

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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

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hey jordie :) can i have jjk boys when you wipe off his kisses just to see his reaction? 🤭

GOJO SATORU

if you wipe his kiss off your face, you will be attacked. hollow purple with more kisses.

you did it as a joke ofc, simpling brushing your fingers over your cheek where satoru had casually left a little kiss. and you're not surprised when he gapes at you in offense. but before you can laugh it off and tell him you were only trying to get a rise out of him, he's tackling you into the couch cushions and smothering you in kisses.

these kisses are more deserving of getting wiped off of course, they're loud and wet and he's shouting a dramatic "mwah! mwah!" between each one.

(if this happens in your shared apartment with megumi and tsumiki just down the hall, they're racing to shut their doors)

"you don't lave to like it, but you will accept my love!"

"satoru! i was only messing with you!" you screech as you try to paw him off of you.

"well i didn't like it" his kisses soften as they pepper over your nose.

"you mess with me all the time" you huff.

"yeah, well, that's okay. cause it's me"

your eyes are rolling, but when he leans in to give you a proper kiss, you can't help but reciprocate. your play-kiss-fighting definitely turns into a full and proper makeout session. ___

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

pls don't wipe his kiss away. he will not take it as a joke. he will think he did something wrong.

he'd just sat next to you on a bench in the courtyard. you were reading your book and he had nothing better to do than keep you company- which happened to be his favorite thing to do. he pecks your cheek softly and casually in greeting, and when he saw you raise your hand to wipe at the spot, his heart plummets.

you don't turn to him, opting to keep an eye on him in your peripheral, so you don't quite catch the way he's crestfallen by your action.

"everything okay, sweetheart?" he asks gently, hoping maybe you'd just had a rough day and it had nothing to do with him.

"yeah, i'm fine" you hum nonchalantly before turning a page.

megumi frowns.

"did i do something?" he asks, disappointment smothering his tone. "are you upset with me?"

you're abandoning your book then, head swiveling quickly and eyes wide as you realize he was taking your little joke all wrong.

he looks so hurt, you couldn't bear to keep up with the bit any longer.

"no- gumi i was just messing," you say, setting your book aside to scoot closer to him, laying your hands around his jaw comfortingly. "it was just a joke, i'm sorry"

he wants to scoff at your idea of humor- this one really rivaled gojo's- but he sticks with the dramatics and pouts further as he leans into the warmth of your hands.

"but you wiped my kiss away," he sighs. "you sure you haven't fallen out of love with me?"

your lips part in anguish before you're seizing forward, catching his lips with yours passionately, deeply, making sure to pour every ounce of your love for him into it. he's trying to keep up the act of pouting at you but it's a bit harder with the butterflies and whatnot. he has a feeling you've seen right through him when you give him a look for his blushing cheeks and lazy little half-grin. ___

OKKOTSU YUUTA

wipe his kiss away and he'll just give you another one real quick. because, of course, he wants his kiss to stick to your cheek for the rest of the day so you can carry it with you while he's away from you.

so loverboy kisses you a second time in the same spot. and once again, the back of your hand smears it off.

he frowns, but doesn't say anything. simply leans over a third time and kisses you again. it's difficult to keep yourself from laughing as you repeat your action.

this time, yuuta doubles down. he cups your face and turns your attention towards him so you can see his deep frown and furrowed brows. then he turns your head so your cheek is presented to him once more, and he places a soft kiss there. he can feel your skin heating up in his hands, and then he's smiling, happy to have an effect on you still.

"don't wipe my kiss away," he mumbles, placing another one there for good measure. "makes me feel bad"

you giggle, taking one of his hands in yours and squeezing it affectionately.

"i was only teasing, you know" you tell him.

he lets out a strangled, fake little laugh.

"yeah," he scoffs. "yeah, i knew that" he says, in a not very believable manner.

you try not to laugh too much at him, opting instead to press a sweet kiss to his lips to keep yourself from doing so. ___

INUMAKI TOGE

thinks it's sort of funny when you wipe his kiss off. were his lips too moisturized for your liking? did he smear a little on your cheek? he immediately assumes it's some silly reason like that, not assuming for a second that you could be upset with him.

so when you wipe at your cheek and go back to what you were intently doing without a word or even a second glance, toge's pulling his collar down again...

... and licking your cheek.

"toge!" you scold, wiping the wetness away with the back of your hand. it was annoying, sure, but you can't help but laugh at how proud his little grin is. "what was that for?"

he wipes at his own cheek the way you had previously when you wiped his kiss away. you roll your eyes and huff.

"it was a joke," you explain through a smile. "i was just messing with you, to see what you'd do. i didn't think you'd lick me!"

he brightens then, happy that you hadn't wiped away his kiss for any other reason. when he leans in and kisses your cheek a few more times, he's glad you let him, and you leave them there, too. ___

#satoru brainrot #megumi brainrot #yuuta brainrot #toge brainrot #gojo satoru x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #inumaki toge x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 1 month ago

Note

Hello, could I request an imagine with autistic reader and Mick where she keeps trying to break up with him because she gets embarrassed or insecure but he always ends up convincing her to stay?

You are enough||Mick Schumacher x autistic!Fem!reader

Word count — 836

Summary — after a while you begin to doubt yourself about your relationship with Mick but being the best boyfriend he is he reassures you that you are enough for him.

The living room was still, the rain outside the only sound. You stood near the window, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if trying to keep from falling apart. Mick sat on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. His presence was steady, grounding, but that only made the guilt gnaw at you harder.

“I think…” you started, the words feeling jagged and raw in your throat, “I think we should break up.”

Mick’s brows furrowed, his head tilting slightly as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What? Why? Where’s this coming from?”

You avoided his gaze, staring down at the floor. “Because I’m not good at this,” you said quietly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “At being with you. At being in a relationship.”

He stood, but didn’t come closer, giving you space. “What do you mean? You are good at it. You’re good at us.”

A sharp laugh escaped you, bitter and unintentional. “No, I’m not. I never know what you’re feeling or what you’re thinking unless you say it out loud, and even then, I still second-guess myself. And then when I get overwhelmed, I shut down, and you have to fix everything.”

“Fix everything?” Mick repeated, his voice gentle. “You don’t need to be fixed, and I don’t think of it that way at all.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as you tried to find the right words to explain what felt impossible to articulate. “But you don’t get it, Mick! You’re patient, and you’re good at this—at understanding people. And I’m… I’m just a mess. I can’t even figure out how to tell you how I feel half the time without freezing up or saying the wrong thing.”

Mick stepped forward, his voice soft but steady. “You think saying the ‘wrong thing’ means you’re bad at this? Babe, everyone struggles with communication sometimes. I’d rather you try and stumble through it than not talk to me at all. And if you freeze up, that’s okay too. I’m not going to get mad at you for needing time to process.”

You looked up at him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “But what if it’s too much one day? What if I’m too much? What if one day you get tired of waiting for me to figure out how to be normal?”

His face softened, and he slowly reached out, letting his hands rest lightly on your arms. “You’re not too much. You’re just enough—exactly enough. And I don’t need you to be ‘normal,’ whatever that even means. I want you to be you. That’s who I love.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed. “But I don’t know how to show you that I love you back. I try, but it feels like I’m never doing enough. You deserve someone who can give you everything you need without overthinking every little thing.”

Mick frowned, his hands gently sliding down to take yours. “You don’t think you’re showing me you love me? You do it all the time, babe. When you text me to make sure I got home safe. When you remember things I said weeks ago and bring them up. When you tell me about the stuff you’re passionate about, even when you think I won’t care—guess what? I care, because it’s you.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his words.

“You might not say, ‘I love you’ in the same way I do,” he continued, “but I see it in everything you do. And it’s enough. You are enough.”

“But it’s so hard, Mick,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Sometimes I can’t figure out how I’m feeling, let alone how to explain it to you. And then I feel stupid for not knowing.”

Mick’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand. “You’re not stupid for having a hard time with emotions. If you don’t know how you feel, that’s okay. I’ll wait. And if you can’t explain it, that’s okay too. We can figure it out together.”

Tears welled up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy. “But what if I get overwhelmed again? What if I shut down and can’t talk to you?”

“Then I’ll sit with you until you feel ready,” Mick said simply, his voice unwavering. “I’ll remind you that you’re safe and that I’m here. You don’t have to go through that alone anymore.”

A choked sob escaped you, and Mick gently pulled you into his arms. “You don’t have to do this perfectly,” he murmured into your hair. “There’s no right way to be with someone, and I don’t expect you to get it all right. I just want you to let me love you.”

You buried your face in his chest, the storm in your mind slowly quieting as his words settled over you. “You promise you won’t leave?”

“I promise,” Mick said without hesitation. “We’re in this together, no matter how hard it gets.”For the first time, you let yourself believe him.

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goblinontour · 20 days ago

Text

Heaven In A Hurry

in which alex isn’t sober

warnings: smut, also fluffy, piv, semi-public, and talking about pee but it’s not really gross, i think it’s cute, but just saying

word count: 9.3k

Going out wasn’t a rarity or anything new for him. He’d been through them all throughout the years: dim-lit dives that reeked of stale beer and regret, velvet-roped sanctuaries where the drugs sparkled more than the people. From innocence to indulgence, from indulgence to ruin, from ruin to whatever state he found himself in now. Actions his body once carried out against his better judgment — no judge left up there to judge, no jury either. Just a man and his decisions.

But that wasn’t the him you knew. Not anymore. The Alex you knew stayed home and turned pages in a paperback until the print blurred into smudges and he forgot what day it was. The Alex you knew smoothed down his hair with meticulous fingers, brushed invisible lint off his collar, and sighed when he realised he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days.

So when he told you he wanted to go out, you almost laughed. Almost. But the words had been so sure, so intentional, that the laugh died in your throat and was replaced by something closer to worry. You’d almost called his online therapist — not that you’d ever admit that to him. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but the concern was there, coiled like a spring in your chest.

Was that wrong? You weren’t used to this. To him wanting to go to such a thing. A big party on New Year’s Eve full of booze and who knew what else? Alex hadn’t touched anything above a 4% ABV in months. Said it “messed with me brain.” But that excitement — that excitement!

“Are you serious?” you’d asked, and he’d laughed like you’d told the best joke in the world.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, sprawled on his stomach across the bed like a boy telling his secrets. You sat next to him, absentmindedly messing with his already messy morning hair, tugging it this way and that until it stuck out like he’d just rolled out of bed — because he had done just that.

“I dunno.” you murmured. “You’re just…you’re not really a big party guy these days.”

He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. His eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. It made you want to reach out and hold it in your hands before it could disappear. “That’s exactly why I want to go. New year, new me, or whatever the kids say.”

You snorted. “Pretty sure the kids stopped saying that in, like, 2014.”

“Then it’s retro now.” he shot back, grinning wider.

There was something about the way he looked at you then, like he was daring you to challenge him, daring you to say no, expecting you to. You couldn’t, of course. Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when his excitement was so infectious it made your chest ache.

“Alright.” you said softly. “We’ll go.”

“Yeah?” His face lit up, all sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, like he couldn’t believe you’d said yes.

“Yeah.” you repeated, and his smile grew so wide you thought it might crack him open.

He sat up then, pulling you closer until you were half-draped over his lap. “And we can come home early if you get too tired, hon. I promise. The second you’re done, we’ll leave.”

“It’s fine, Al. I can handle it.” you said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright.” he said, but he didn’t look away. His fingers traced patterns on your arm, and his voice dipped low, almost shy. “It’ll be good. I think it’ll be good for us. For me.”

And the way he said it, so earnest and so soft, made your chest ache again all over again. You wanted to bottle this version of him up and keep it safe somewhere, away from the jagged edges of the world.

There were dark circles under his eyes, a shadow of something he never spoke about. But he was glowing. You let yourself soak it in, the warmth of his voice, the spark in his eyes, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on your arm, afraid you might change your mind already.

“Yeah.” you said again, quieter this time. “We’re going.”

There was nothing out of the ordinary about him. To anyone else, at least. He looked like every other man who walked in with an air of effortless confidence, the kind of charm that made you second-guess your instincts about people. Just another face in a crowd of glitter and shadow, one more figure under the pulsing, fevered light. Maybe his boots were a bit too shiny for their own good. They were really shiny, polished to the point of absurdity — his “special pair” reserved for nights like this. Nights that didn’t feel like his. Bordering on kitschy, they should’ve looked ridiculous, but somehow, he made them work. He always did. The sharp black lines of his outfit, the slight smirk that hovered on his lips like an afterthought, the way his hair fell in careless waves that begged for your fingers. He was a study in contrasts, as though the whole night had dressed itself around him.

There were too many people, too many bodies pressing in from every side, a cacophony of bodies and lights and voices blurring into something that made your head throb. Enough people to even make you overwhelmed, and you weren’t the one with a history of being unraveled by scenes like this. The music wasn’t just loud — it was oppressive, vibrating through the walls, through your chest, through your skull until your thoughts blurred and tangled. It was the kind of noise that made you want to run. But he stood there, composed and calm, his hand brushing against your lower back.

Was this really what his life used to look like? Every night, every day, for months and years? It made your stomach twist. You couldn’t think of a worse environment for someone like Alex. Someone whose mind was a maze of thoughts that twisted in on themselves, too sharp, too endless. Too many people, too much noise, and the constant hum of too much everything. This wasn’t a place for him. Maybe it never had been. Maybe this was what broke him in the first place.

You glanced up at him, half-lit by the shifting strobes, and something in your chest ached. He looked beautiful, in that effortless way he always did. The kind of beautiful that made you feel clumsy, made you want to stare too long, to trace the angles of his face with your eyes until you could memorise every shadow. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones catching the light in a way that seemed almost deliberate. And his eyes — God, his eyes. Dark and watchful, flicking across the room like he was cataloging everything, seeing things you couldn’t.

But you also saw the subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the way his mouth tightened at the corners when he thought you weren’t looking.

“What d’ya wanna drink?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, low and close to your ear. His breath brushed against your skin, tickling just enough to make you squirm. It wasn’t intentional, but you knew he wouldn’t deny that he liked the reaction.

“Vodka cran.” you said, louder than you meant to, trying to compete with the music.

“Vodka cran?” he repeated, his lips curling into a lopsided grin, pulling back just enough to look at you with mock incredulity. “What are you, fifteen?”

“Yes.” you shot back, deadpan. “Precisely.”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Gonna get me in trouble, little girl.” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. It was meant to be playful, but the way he said it made your cheeks burn.

“Ew.” You wrinkled your nose, pushing at his chest. “Don’t say that again.”

He laughed, a sound that made your stomach twist in the best way. Before you could fake being more annoyed, he kissed your cheek, soft and fleeting, leaving a warmth that lingered long after.

“Are you drinking?” you asked then, turning to face him fully.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied, too quickly.

“I just…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I thought you were taking a break.”

“It’s a party.” he said, shrugging as if that explained everything. His hand dropped from your back, and for a moment, he seemed smaller somehow. “I wanna…loosen up a bit.”

It came out forced, and you knew it. He knew you knew it. You didn’t believe him, and you could tell he knew it.

For a moment, the noise around you seemed to dim, leaving only the two of you in the uneasy silence that followed.

He shifted on his feet, looking away. You watched him move his weight from one foot to the other. It wasn’t that he didn’t like this — the music, the people — but he needed something to blur the edges, to make the room tilt just enough that he didn’t feel so himself. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to be Alex Turner right now. Not the Alex Turner who overthought everything. Not the one who couldn’t fit in, who couldn’t let go, who felt too much and showed too little, who was too bitter, too sharp, too him. Just for a little while, he wanted to disappear into the crowd and not be the pretentious fucker they all secretly couldn’t stand but wouldn’t admit it because, well, manners. He needed to fit in, just for a night.

“What are you drinking, then?” you asked, trying to lighten the moment.

“Tequila.” he said after a beat, running a hand through his hair. “With club soda. Or tonic. Whatever they’ve got.”

“Sounds horrendous.” you said, trying for a teasing tone.

“You know me…” he replied, draping an arm over your shoulder. His fingers found a strand of your hair, twisting it gently, absently, like he couldn’t help himself. He needed something to keep his hands busy. “All bitter.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his side despite yourself. He kissed the top of your head, a gesture so small and quiet it almost felt like it didn’t belong here, in this cacophony of sound and light.

“I’ll be right back.” he said, pulling away reluctantly. “Don’t move. Or do. But don’t leave.”

“Where would I even go?” you asked, gesturing to the sea of people around you.

He didn’t answer, just smiled that small, crooked smile of his before disappearing into the crowd. You watched him go, his too-shiny boots catching the light with every step, and felt the first flicker of unease in your chest, a pang of something you couldn’t name. This wasn’t his world anymore, but he was trying so hard to pretend it was. For you? For himself? You weren’t sure.

And yet, as the music thumped on, you stayed exactly where he left you, waiting, the music pounding in your chest, the crowd pressing closer. And as the minutes stretched on, you wondered — not for the first time — what he was looking for out there, and whether he would find it before it found him.

By his third drink, Alex had softened in every way that mattered. Your couple-months-sober Alex was drunk. Not the sloppy, reckless kind of drunk you had heard about from his stories — the kind that turned nights into shame-soaked mornings — but the kind of drunk that made him soft, warm, and weightless. His sharp edges dulled, his usual careful precision melting into something looser, something warmer. He was teetering on the edge of his own body, words slurring into affectionate nonsense, his movements uncoordinated but so endearing you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed.

You were sitting in a chair, your feet aching from the heels you’d worn for reasons you couldn’t even remember now. He was perched on the arm of said chair, his weight tipping slowly into your side like he couldn’t help himself. At first, it was just a knee brushing against your thigh, but soon enough, his entire torso was draped over you, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck like he was trying to burrow his way into you. His head lolled, his body heavier with every passing moment, until it felt like you were holding up more of him than the chair was.

“You want me to rub your feet?” he’d asked earlier, slurring slightly, his eyes earnest and wide in the way only a tipsy Alex could manage.

“No, Al.” you’d said, biting back a laugh. “I don’t think the other people here would appreciate that view.”

He’d frowned, clearly displeased with your reasoning, but he’d forgotten about it the second you’d squeezed his side and brushed your fingers through his hair. He was heavy and comforting in a way you didn’t want to analyze too much.

Now, he was half-listening to the conversation happening around you, his mind somewhere else entirely.

“Santa, man…” he mumbled suddenly, half-asleep but still trying to contribute to the conversation buzzing around you about something you hadn’t been paying attention to.

“Al?” you asked, glancing at him with a mix of fondness and exasperation.

“Yeah, babe?” His voice was too loud, cracking over the music and cutting through the din of the room. Heads turned briefly in your direction, but Alex didn’t seem to notice — or care. His eyes were half-lidded, his smile lazy, his fingers tracing mindless patterns against the fabric of your dress.

You’d been concerned since that first order of tequila. But this wasn’t the Alex who fell into black holes of regret, the Alex who hurt himself because it was easier than feeling the weight of his own thoughts. This was a different version of him, one who laughed too loud and leaned too close and let himself need.

Louder, louder, and touchier, his hands restless as they slid over your arm, your waist, your thigh. Everything about him was amplified in this state: the warmth of his skin, the weight of his body pressing into yours, the way his words spilled out unfiltered.

His head dipped forward, his nose brushing against your collarbone, then lower, nudging into the soft swell of your cleavage. You sighed, shifting in your chair as he nuzzled there like it was the most natural thing in the world, his lips grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver up your spine.

“Stop it.” you said quietly, though there wasn’t much conviction in your voice.

“What?” he asked, his tone all faux innocence. He kissed the exposed flesh, soft and unhurried, like he was tasting sunlight.

“Alex.” you hissed, your cheeks flushing as you tried to shift him upright. “Not here.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy and half-focused. “Why not? You’re beautiful. They should see how lucky I am.” He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “You’re so pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart clenched in your chest. He could be so unguarded like this, so sincere it almost hurt.

“Because,” you said, brushing a hand through his hair, glancing around nervously, “we’re in public, and you’re drunk, and I don’t think you want your grand declaration of love to be remembered as that time you kissed my tits in front of strangers.”

“I’m not drunk.” he protested, though the slight slur in his words betrayed him. “I’m just…tipsy.”

“Tipsy doesn’t mean you get to bury your face in my boobs in front of strangers.” you said.

He pouted, his hand catching yours and holding it against his cheek and his bottom lip jutting out in a way that would’ve been ridiculous if it weren’t so endearing. “Fine.” he mumbled, reluctantly pulling back. But he didn’t go far, his head finding its way back to your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

“I like it here.” he murmured after a beat, his voice quieter now, almost shy. “With you.”

The words landed somewhere deep inside you, threading through the cracks in a way that made it impossible to pull them back out. You sighed, brushing your fingers through his hair again, the strands soft and slightly damp from the heat of the room. “I like it too.” you admitted.

You traced your thumb along his cheekbone, feeling the faint scratch of stubble beneath your skin. He was soft and pliable in a way that made you ache because long gone was the Alex you’d first met but never forgot, all sharp lines and distant glances who hid behind his own brilliance like a shield. Hello you, Alex you saw in stolen moments, the one who let himself lean into you like he needed you to keep him steady because he did.

The conversation around you had shifted, the group laughing about something you hadn’t been paying attention to. Alex, again, didn’t seem to notice. His world had narrowed to you, his fingers brushing against the hem of your dress, his lips grazing your shoulder like a prayer.

You wondered if this was what it felt like for him — being unravelled. To be stripped down to the raw, trembling core of yourself, every defense laid bare. You thought of his hands, the way they trembled when he lit a cigarette, the way they tightened into fists when he thought no one was looking. He was always holding himself together, always carrying too much. But now, here, he was letting you carry him instead.

“Do you need to lie down?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the music.

He shook his head, his hair brushing against your neck. “No. I need to stay here.”

“Okay.” you said, leaning into him just enough to let him know you were still there.

“Hey.” he followed with a giggle that seemed to bubble up from nowhere. There was something funny, apparently — something you hadn’t been let in on yet, some inside joke only he knew. Like there was a punchline coming, but the joke was just you.

You turned your head toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?”

“Yes. No- I mean…” He leaned in so close his breath tickled your ear, his words barely there but still somehow heavy, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I really wanna fuck you right now.”

His giggle followed, sweet and shy, self-conscious thing that softened the confession. His hand wasn’t shy at all. His hand was already trailing higher on your thigh, tracing the edge of your hemline with deliberate slowness, as if testing how much he could get away with.

“Right now?” you asked, keeping your tone light, though your pulse was suddenly a traitor.

His pupils were blown wide, his smile crooked, and his cheeks flushed from the heat of the room and the alcohol in his system. “Yeah.” His voice broke a little on the word, his eyes searching yours, wide and almost pleading.

Don’t you see me? Don’t you feel me?

You brushed your hand over his hair, smoothing the strands that had fallen into his face. His legs shifted restlessly against yours, the movement almost imperceptible at first. But then it wasn’t. He rubbed his thighs together. He couldn’t stay still. He was trying to chase some relief that just wasn’t coming fast enough.

“Thought you were too old to be getting all…frisky. From a drink.” you teased, but your voice faltered slightly at the way his hand tightened on your thigh.

“Tequila makes me wanna…jump. And crawl. And…stuff.” He struggled to find the right words. His other hand slid across the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. He needed every possible point of contact with you right now. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but…”

He didn’t finish, his hand sliding a little higher, his fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. If anyone had been paying attention — anyone sober enough to care — they might have said something. Like, indecent exposure…and all that. But you were inside, and the room was dark, and the music was loud, and no one noticed the way his palm pressed against the inside of your thigh, trying to mark you.

“Wouldn’t it be considered taking advantage of you?” you asked.

His head dipped lower, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “I wouldn’t mind ya doin’ that.” he murmured, dragging like honey over your nerves.

“Oh, Alex.” you whispered, half-laughing, half-breathless.

His legs shifted again, his knees brushing yours, his body restless. His fingers tightened on your thigh, digging in just enough to make you gasp, and his lips grazed the curve of your neck, lingering like he couldn’t bear to pull away. “I mean it.” he said. “I want you. Here. Now. Please.” he whispered, and the word wasn’t small.

Please see me. Please feel me. Please.

You glanced around the room, lights flickering in dizzying patterns, the crowd a blur of movement and noise. No one was looking, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about them. This was about Alex, and the way his hand was sliding higher, his thumb tracing circles against your skin. About the way he was pressing himself closer, his breath catching as he nuzzled into the hollow of your neck like it was the only place he belonged, the way he was letting himself need you without hesitation or shame.

“Alex.” you murmured, your hand sliding to his cheek, tilting his face toward yours. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted.

He swallowed hard. No words came out. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his hands trembling against you.

“Please.” He said it again.

The bathroom down the hall was dimly lit, the kind of lighting that didn’t flatter anyone but lent everything a certain edge, a certain moody glamour that felt fitting for what was about to happen. You didn’t lock the door — it felt too final, too obvious — but you did close it with the kind of care that made Alex’s mouth twitch into a cocky grin.

His boots were loud against the tiles, or maybe it was just too loud in your head, the echo ricocheting off your skull like a warning. Not that he seemed to care. No, he was already behind you, his hands on your hips, his body crowding yours as you leaned over the sink.

The mirror was streaked with watermarks, but you could still see his reflection, the way his eyes darted over you like he couldn’t decide where to look — your back, the curve of your waist, the hem of your dress that was already riding dangerously high, your ass being the focal point. His palms were needy. Pressing into the fabric as though he’d found some invisible “touch here” sign and was determined to follow its instructions to a T.

You glanced up, catching his eyes in the mirror. “Are you gonna fuck me,” you asked, “or just stare?”

“Yeah.” he said, all soft and breathless, like that single word was supposed to answer everything.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as his hands roamed higher, his thumbs brushing over the curve of your lower back, just beneath the zipper of your dress. “That wasn’t an answer.” you said, but he was already moving, his lips pressing to the nape of your neck, his fingers curling around the fabric as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull it down or push it up.

Belts clinked. Zippers slid. Heels scraped against tile. Your dress bunched around your hips, and his hands were everywhere — gripping and pulling and feeling. You caught his gaze again in the mirror, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his mouth slightly open as though he was on the verge of saying something but couldn’t quite get the words out.

“I…” He took a deep breath, his forehead resting against the back of your shoulder. “Need…”

You smirked, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Tequila doesn’t make your dick jump?”

“Apparently.” he mumbled, self-deprecating, frustration clear in every syllable.

You caught his hesitation, the way his hands faltered on your waist, his grip loosening ever so slightly as though he didn’t trust himself to hold on too tightly. You could see it in his posture too, in the way his shoulders hunched just a fraction, his head dipping low enough that his breath brushed the back of your neck. He wanted to hide, to disappear into the floor, and yet…

He couldn’t stop touching you, tracing the curves he’d spent the entire night stealing glances at. He wanted this — you. Desperately.

But his body wasn’t cooperating, and the alcohol buzzing through his veins was mocking him for it.

You reached behind you, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his trousers, finding the button and popping it loose. They slid down his thighs, pooling around his boots, leaving him in nothing but his boxers and a sheepish expression as he looked down at himself. You slid your hand lower, just enough to brush against him, and he let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a groan. He was soft under your touch, and you felt the faintest twitch.

He didn’t say anything, just let out a small, strangled noise as your fingers brushed the skin, warm and soft and so painfully close to what he wanted. Pliant in your hand, heat radiating off him as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly.

His eyes darted down to where your hand was, teasing, waiting. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and nodded like he didn’t trust himself to speak. He wanted this — wanted you — so badly it was practically vibrating off him.

“Alex.” you whispered, his name like a promise on your lips.

“I-” He tried, but the words stuck in his throat. His hands came up to grip the edge of the sink, his knuckles going white as he shifted on his feet. You caught the way his thighs pressed together, his boots squeaking against the tile as he tried to ground himself. “It’s just- fuck- give me a second.”

His voice was rough, tinged with embarrassment, and his eyes darted to the mirror, avoiding yours. He looked almost apologetic, his cheeks flushed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “It’s the…” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Swear it’s not you. You- God, you’re-”

“Shh…” you said softly, your free hand sliding up to cup his jaw, your thumb brushing over the sharp edge of his cheekbone. “I know, baby. I know.”

You pressed a kiss to his neck, just below his ear, your lips warm against his skin. Your other hand didn’t stop, stroking him slowly, methodically, coaxing him with every gentle movement. You felt him twitch again, a faint pulse against your palm, and you smiled against his skin, brushing with just enough pressure to make him suck in a sharp breath. “Come on, baby.” Trailing kisses that were more encouragement than affection, your other hand gripping his thigh to keep him steady as his knees buckled. His breath hitched, his head falling back as your mouth pressed just below his jaw, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Jesus-” he muttered, too quiet to cover the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Focus.” you whispered, both command and comfort, your hand tightening enough to make his hips jerk forward.

He groaned, his hands finding your waist again, gripping hard enough to leave marks. “I’m trying…” he said. “I’m trying.” again, tinged with that frustration and something that almost sounded like shame.

Your laugh was soft, almost cruel, as you leaned back against him. “Don’t try.” you said. “Just feel.”

His face flushed, and not just from the tequila or the heat. He looked down at himself, then back at you, his eyes darting away almost immediately. Your thumb brushed over the tip of him. He was warm, his skin hot to the touch. You could feel him stirring under your palm, his hips jerking forward as if to chase the sensation.

“There you go.” you whispered.

“Fuck-” he breathed, his voice breaking on the word. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes squeezed shut, and his whole body tensed like he was bracing himself for something he wasn’t sure he deserved. “I just…I-”

“Shut up.” you murmured, guiding his face toward yours. His eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy, and you kissed him, slow and sweet, your lips coaxing him out of his head and into the moment.

“Feel me.” you whispered against his mouth, your fingers tightening just enough to make him moan. “You’re doing so good, Alex.”

He finally let himself lean into your touch, his body softening and melting against yours. Except for the vital part. That wasn’t softening. You felt him harden fully in your hand, the weight of him growing, warm and alive and achingly real.

“You feel that?” you asked, your thumb brushing over him again.

He nodded, his lips parting as he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.” he said, his voice raw, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Yeah, I feel it.”

“See?” you whispered, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “You’re perfect.”

He let out a broken laugh, his forehead pressing against yours, hands gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. “I’m a fucking mess.” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, less self-deprecating and more…tender.

“Yeah, you are. But you’re my mess.”

His eyes shut again, his lips parting as he let out a low groan, his hips moving in time with your hand now, chasing the friction, the feeling, you.

“Good boy.” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

“Fuck- stop.” His hand flew to your wrist, halting your movement as his chest heaved. “Let me fuck you now, or I’m going to come.”

“Fuck me.” you said.

“Turn.” he demanded, and there was nothing soft left in his voice, no room for teasing.

His mouth twitched, that half-smile he wore when he felt the moment slip out of his control. He didn’t waste another second, though. His hands bunched your dress up again, pulling the fabric high around your waist, exposing you fully to him and to the reflection in front of you. The flimsy g-string you’d chosen tonight — barely there, more for show than practicality — was tugged to the side with such rough impatience that the elastic bit into your skin.

His eyes caught yours in the mirror, holding you there for a breath too long, and then he was pushing into you. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. He slid all the way in with one solid motion. The stretch made you gasp, your hands flying to the edge of the sink to keep yourself upright. Behind you, Alex let out a sound that was almost pained, a low groan that seemed to come from deep in his chest.

“Christ.” he muttered, his forehead briefly pressing against your shoulder before he pulled back and drove into you again, harder this time. “You feel…you feel so fucking good. How do you feel this good?”

You met his gaze in the mirror, your reflection hazy but clear enough to catch the tension in his face, the way his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. His hands gripped your hips with a ferocity that would leave marks, but you didn’t care. You wanted those marks.

Each time he momentarily stopped, it wasn’t to pause or regroup. He thrust into you again, again, and again, the sound of skin on skin loud and obscene in the small, tiled room. His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing there lightly, guiding you into a deeper arch.

“Look.” he rasped, his voice low and rough. One hand slid down to spread you apart, exposing the slick glide of his cock as he dragged himself out and then slammed back in. “Look at the way you take me. Do you see that?”

No, you couldn’t see, but still you nodded, your head bobbing almost frantically, your breath catching on a gasp as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your knees buckle.

“Stay up, baby.” he barked, his hand flying to your stomach to pull you back against him, holding you steady. “Don’t fall now. I need to see you like this. Fuck, I need it.”

You didn’t trust your voice to answer, too consumed by the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, by the heat of his body against yours, by the raw, unfiltered hunger in his gaze as he watched himself disappear into you over and over again.

“Fuck.” he muttered again. It seemed to have become his favourite word. His hips stuttered for a moment before finding his rhythm. “You’re too good. It’s too good.”

“Don’t stop.” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding.

“Never.” he said.

His movements were brutal, almost punishing, but there was a little something to the way his hands moved over you, exploring every inch of exposed skin. His thumb brushed against your clit, almost absentmindedly, and the sharp jolt of pleasure that shot through you made you cry out.

“Yeah, yeah.” he groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin right there. “That’s it. Let me hear you. Let everyone out there hear you. Let them know who’s fucking you like this.”

The angle was perfect, devastatingly so. Each motion sent sparks shooting up your spine, your knees trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher. His name fell from your lips, broken and breathless, and you felt his grip tighten.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby.” he groaned, his gaze fixed on you in the mirror. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are. Do you even know what you do to me?”

“Alex.” you gasped, your voice breaking on the syllable.

“Say it again.” he demanded, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Say my name.”

“Alex.” you gasped, your voice cracking under the weight of it all, gripping that edge so, so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“Louder.” he said, his hips snapping into you harder.

“Alex-” you moaned, louder this time.

“That’s it.” he growled, his hand tangling in your hair and tugging your head back just enough for him to kiss you, messy and desperate. “You’re so fucking perfect. You know that? You’re perfect.”

You watched him in the mirror, the way his hair stuck to his forehead, the way his shoulders tensed and flexed with every movement, the way his eyes never left yours. There was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze, even as your body burned with pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m close.” he muttered, his voice almost frantic. “You’re gonna make me- shit, you’re gonna make me-”

“Come for me, baby.” you whispered.

He let out a broken sound, his entire body shuddering as he drove into you one last time, holding you there as he came undone. The tension melted from his frame as he leaned against you, his lips brushing against the back of your neck in a lingering kiss.

Neither of you moved for a moment. Then Alex pulled back slightly, his hands sliding over your hips. And then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you met his gaze in the mirror, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice soft, almost teasing.

He let out a breathless laugh, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “Better than okay. Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Better than okay.”

He chuckled as he smoothed your dress back down over your hips. His fingers lingered on the fabric for a moment before he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

The apartment welcomed you home with a heavy quietness, the kind that felt almost oppressive after the chaos of the night. It was dark, except for a single lamp that cast a soft honey-colored glow across the living room, long, warm shadows over the furniture that made everything feel quieter. The place smelled faintly of the candle Alex had insisted on lighting before you left, like he knew you’d need some kind of sanctuary to return to.

It was late — too late to be doing anything but sleeping — but you weren’t quite there yet. The adrenaline still lingered faintly in your veins, though it was fading fast, leaving behind an ache in your legs and a haze in your mind.

You toed off your heels off just inside the door, wincing as the hardwood bit into the sore pads of your feet. Behind you, Alex groaned as he stumbled in. The man was barely holding himself together, his jacket sliding off one shoulder, his shirt half-untucked and rumpled beyond saving. He kicked the door shut with a thunk and stood there, blinking at nothing in particular, like he’d forgotten where he was. He was still beautiful in that maddening way he always was.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?” you asked, unzipping your dress as you padded toward the bathroom.

He groaned again, louder this time, and shuffled after you. “You’re so mean to me.” he muttered.

Fuck, the overhead light was too bright. You reached for the dimmer switch, letting it settle down. Alex appeared in the doorway a moment later, leaning heavily against the frame, watching as you pulled bobby pins from your hair, one by one, and dropped them onto the counter. His hair was a mess, a lopsided tangle of waves that begged to be smoothed down, and his eyes, though half-lidded and bloodshot, still carried that quiet, unnameable something that made you ache just to look at him.

“You good?” you asked, glancing at him in the mirror.

He shrugged, then winced. “Feel fuckin’ sore. Everywhere.”

“Sure you’re okay?” you insisted, turning on the tap and letting the water run hot.

He groaned softly, letting his head thud against the wood. “Yeah, yeah…it’s just that…my body just feels so…ancient. Like my bones are trying to quit on me.”

“Get in the tub.” you said, testing the water with your fingers.

He laughed a “Thanks, Mum.” But he obeyed, shuffling out of his jacket and dropping it in a heap on the floor. His shirt followed, then his belt, and then his pants, until he was standing there in just his boxers, looking pale and lanky and rumpled and tired and a little shy under the soft light and somehow still managing to look like he’d stepped out of some black-and-white photo you’d find in a gallery.

You turned back to him, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna fall asleep in there, are you?”

“Not if you keep talking.” he shot back, but his smirk was faint, his eyes heavy-lidded. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow back. “Y’alright there, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” you said, a little too quickly. “Just…get in the tub before you collapse on me.”

“D’you know how much I love it when you boss me ‘round?”

But again, he obeyed with a soft grunt, stepping over the edge and sinking into the water. It took him a moment to adjust, his knees pulling up as he hissed at the heat that met his skin. Then he leaned back, letting his head rest against the cool porcelain and letting out a long, low groan that was almost indecent.

“Better?” you asked, sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching him.

“Ask me again in five minutes.” he murmured, his eyes already drifting shut. “Mm.” — five seconds later — he cracked one eye open to look at you, his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. “You’re still dressed.”

You reached for a washcloth, wetting it under the faucet before leaning over the tub to press it against his chest.

It took him a couple more seconds of looking down at your hand as it moved across his skin before he asked “What’re you doing?”

“Taking care of you.” you said simply, dragging the cloth over his collarbones, his shoulders, the faint lines of muscle that cut across his torso.

“Mm.” He closed his eyes again. “You’re too good to me, y’know that?”

“Someone has to be.” you teased, but your voice was soft, almost fond. “You’re a mess.”

“I know.” His eyes stayed closed. “But you love me anyway.”

You froze for a moment. Then you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

“Yeah.” you said softly. “I do.”

He opened his eyes at that, just a sliver, and looked up at you. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze that made your chest ache, a raw vulnerability that he rarely let you see. His hand found yours under the water, his fingers curling weakly around your wrist. “C’mere.” he mumbled, tugging lightly.

“I’m not getting in there.” you said, even as you let him pull you closer.

“Why not?” His voice was low, almost petulant. “Water’s nice. ‘S warm. You’ll like it. Come here.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not-”

“Just for a minute.” he pleaded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll make room.”

With a sigh, you stood and pulled your dress over your head, letting it fall to the floor. He watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, his gaze lingering on the curve of your waist, the line of your legs, as you climbed into the tub and settled between his legs.

The water was scalding, but his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you felt yourself relax against him.

“Happy now?” you asked.

“Getting there.” he said, his arms tightening around you and pulling you back against his chest, as close as he could get.

The water sloshed softly around you as you shifted, trying to get comfortable. His chin rested on your shoulder, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against your back.

“You’re quiet.” you said after a moment.

“Just thinking.” he murmured.

“About what?”

“‘Bout how lucky I am.” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him.

You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were closed again.

“You’re drunk.” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” he replied, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

The room was warm and quiet, the kind of quiet that made everything else feel far away. His hands rested lightly on your thighs, his thumbs tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. Actually, the whole apartment was quiet except for the occasional drip of water from the faucet and the soft creak of the tub as he shifted slightly.

“You’re my favorite person.” he said suddenly.

You turned your head to look at him, surprised by the confession, but he didn’t meet your gaze — still closed.

“That’s nice.” you said, reaching up to brush a damp curl away from his forehead. “You’re mine too, Al.”

Alex wasn’t thinking much, not in the way he usually did. His head, always busy with too many thoughts at once, was blissfully quiet now, silenced by the tequila and the late hour and the way you felt against him. He wasn’t worried about whether he was saying the right thing or touching you the right way. For once, he just…was.

And so his hands moved without thought, fingers tracing the lines of your thighs, the curve of your waist, the dip just above your hip bone. It wasn’t intentional, at first. It was instinct, the way you feel for something familiar in the dark. His palms mapped your body like they’d forgotten and were desperate to remember, skimming across water-warmed skin as if committing you to memory all over again.

“You okay?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

His hands stilled, resting lightly on the dip between your thighs. “Yeah.” he murmured, his voice low and drowsy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You’re just…too quiet.”

“Mm.” He pressed his forehead against the curve of your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. “I like being quiet with you. Feels good.”

You turned your head to look at him, your expression tinged with something between curiosity and concern. “You sure you’re okay, Alex?”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling against your back. “You’re always worrying about me.”

“Someone has to.” you said, echoing your earlier words.

“I don’t mind it.” he admitted, his hands starting to move again, idly smoothing over the tops of your thighs. “Kind of like it, actually. Makes me feel…dunno. Like you see me. Like you care.”

“Of course I care.” you said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged. “Not everyone does.”

Heavy and something unspoken for too long. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that everyone cared, that they just didn’t know how to show it. But you didn’t want to lie to him, not now, not when he was being this open with you.

Instead, you reached down and laced your fingers through his where they rested on your thigh. “I care.” you said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I know.” he said, his voice barely audible. “That’s why I’m still here, I think. I think you’re why.”

A pang right through your chest, equal parts tenderness and ache. You leaned back against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and felt his arms tighten around you once more in response.

“You’re so good for me…to me.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

“You deserve it.”

“Dunno about that.” He laughed, the sound quiet and obviously self-deprecating.

“Well…I do.” you said firmly, turning your head to look at him again.

His eyes met yours, soft and glassy in the dim light. He just looked at you, tracing your features like he was trying to commit them to memory, too.

“Y’know, I think it’s that…” he said after a long pause, “that you make everything feel a little less…heavy.”

You smiled, from your subconscious straight onto your face. “Good.” you said softly. “Because you do the same for me, I think.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his arms tightened around you said more than words ever could. His hands kept wandering, tracing lazy, aimless patterns across your skin, and you let him.

For once, you felt no need to fill the silence.

But he…

“Love, uh…don’t wanna ruin the moment, but mind if I piss in the water?” His voice came soft and slurred, half a joke, half serious, in that unmistakable cheeky tone he got when he was tipsy and too comfortable for his own good.

You tilted your head, glancing back at him, the corner of your mouth twitching, your nose wrinkling in (mock) disgust. “You’re so fucking gross.” But even as you said it, you couldn’t keep the affection from seeping into your tone.

And I still love you, you thought, exasperated at the fact. And I’ll still love you.

He grinned, all boyish charm and mischief, his wet hair falling messily across his forehead. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” he teased, shifting slightly behind you. The water rippled around you, warm and soft, and you felt his chest press closer to your back.

“We said we’d never talk about that again.” you said, sitting up slightly in the water, though the memory — humiliating, ridiculous, and still, oddly tender — flickered between you.

“‘Bout what?” His grin widened, the alcohol still fogging his head. He played innocent so poorly it almost made you laugh.

“Like you don’t remember.” You shifted your weight, your thigh brushing against his.

“Oh, I remember.” he said, his grin widening. “Bet it turned you on too.”

“Ew. Never.”

“Right…” he murmured, low enough to hum against your skin. “C’mon.” he teased, his voice dropping slightly as his hand slid down to your knee under the water, his thumb tracing small circles. “I remember…when you were sucking me and I…” He trailed off into that stupid giggle of his, high and tipsy and impossible to resist, truly unable to finish the sentence without dissolving into one of them breathy, ridiculous laughs, all while his nose brushed against your neck as he kept leaning in closer, until you could feel the way his lips curved into a smile.

“Yeah.” you said, voice flat but your body betraying you. His giggles were contagious, the sound so light and free it made it hard to hold onto your indignation. “Like I said, gross.” you muttered, leaning back against him again.

“Yeah…I wouldn’t mind ya suckin’ my dick again.” he whispered, quieter this time, his lips so close they grazed your ear.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” you replied, dry as dust, willing your heart to not give itself away, but it was still skipping a beat, and another, as his hand shifted on your waist. His palm was warmer than the water, somehow.

“Yeah.” he murmured, his hand pausing on your ribs, squeezing lightly. “Missed it.”

“Mm, is that so?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“Not my fault you’re irresistible.” he shot back, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. The movement sent another ripple through the water, and your legs brushed again, the contact sending a small, electric thrill up your spine.

His nose nudged yours, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, the space between you thick with steam and not only. His hand moved again.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” he murmured, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. He could be more annoying than a child sometimes. “You know you want to.”

“You’re so stubborn.” you said, your voice quiet.

“Yeah, but you like it.” he said, his lips brushing against the corner of your jaw.

His other hand found your thigh under the water, again, and the feeling of his skin against yours was impossibly intimate. His touch was slow, unhurried, and you wondered if he even realised how his fingers curled slightly, holding you there.

“Alex…” you said softly, your voice catching.

“Hmm?” His lips brushed against your neck again, his breath warm and steady.

“I’m tired.” you said.

“And you’re also beautiful.” he replied, so simply like he meant for your chest to start aching inside.

You could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even this small touch was something he needed to hold onto. This — his thumb tracing slow, absent circles into your skin.

“You really gonna piss in the water?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Only if you say I can.” he replied, grinning against your skin.

“Shut up.” you said, but the laugh that bubbled up in your chest betrayed you.

He would have kept his arms wrapped around you. But…but the water made every touch slick and slow, and he seemed mesmerised by the way your skin felt under his palms. His hands explored in slow, wandering motions that felt like they had no destination anymore. Like he wasn’t even aware of how much he was touching you — he just needed to.

“You’re so warm…and soft.” he murmured, voice low and a little hoarse. “Like…stupidly soft. It’s unfair.”

“That’s a weird compliment.”

“No, it’s a good one.” he insisted, his voice still carrying that drunken, boyish sincerity that made you blush, for some reason. “I’m being romantic.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” you teased.

“Shh.” he whispered, laughing against your skin. “Don’t ruin my moment.”

One of his hands wandered back up, brushing over the side of your waist before sliding across your stomach, just resting there, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull you closer or keep you where you were so he could feel every inch of you. There was a faint scratch of his fingernails against the sensitive spot near your belly button.

“You know,” he said after a long pause, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.”

“Of what?”

“Of you, baby.” he said. “Of how you feel, how you smell…how you just let me hold you like this.”

You snorted softly. “You’re really laying it on thick tonight.”

“I mean it.” he said, a little more earnestly this time. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, lingering there for a moment. “I mean, I’m also still a little drunk, but…it’s true.”

One hand slid back up to your other shoulder, brushing aside a damp strand of hair. He kissed the spot he uncovered.

“I think I love you even more when you’re wet.”

“That’s definitely the tequila talking.”

“Maybe.” he admitted, grinning lopsidedly. “But it’s true. You’re all shiny and slippery and…” His hand was back on your thigh — he really had a preference, didn’t he? — It squeezed lightly, his thumb stroking the inside of it, dangerously close to-

“Alex.” you warned.

“Sorry, sorry.” he said, but his grin only widened. “I can’t help it. You’re right here, all warm and…” He trailed off, his lips finding your cheek this time, planting tiny wet kisses.

For a moment, you let yourself relax into him, let his hands and his lips and his warmth lull you into forgetting the late hour and the exhaustion settling into your bones. His hands felt good, even through the water, and his chest against your back was solid and comforting.

Then he shuffled awkwardly behind you, just enough for you to notice.

“Alex.” you said suspiciously, turning your head slightly. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away, but you felt his chest shake with quiet laughter against your back.

You frowned, pulling back just enough to glance over your shoulder. “Are you peeing, Alex?”

He froze for half a second before dissolving into giggles, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder.

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting up straighter, but his arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

His laugh broke free, loud and shameless, and he buried his face in your wet hair, his own brushing against your neck. “I couldn’t hold it.” he admitted between giggles. “It was too warm- I swear, I tried- it was too warm, and I couldn’t-”

“Alex, I swear-” you said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held you tighter, his lips pressing against your neck in a poor attempt to pacify you.

“Don’t be mad.” he pleaded, his voice still shaking with laughter. “It’s not like you’d even notice- it’s just water now!”

“You’re disgusting!” you said, half-laughing despite yourself as you tried to push his hands off your hips.

“Disgustingly in love with you.” he countered, planting a wet, obnoxiously loud kiss on your neck. “I’ll make it up to you.” he promised, his hands moving again, sliding up your sides and back down to your hips. “Just let me hold you.”

You sighed, exasperated but not really angry, and leaned back against him again. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re drunk, you idiot.”

“And lucky you love me.” he added.

“Don’t push it.” you said.

His hands settled on your waist again, his thumbs stroking softly, absentmindedly, and he kissed your shoulder once more, this time slower, more deliberate. The laughter faded.

“You’re so pretty.” he murmured after a moment, his voice quiet and a little more serious. “I don’t tell you that enough. I love you a lot.”

You felt it sink into your skin.

He didn’t need you to say it back. He could feel it in the way you leaned into him, in the way you let him hold you, even after he’d been so utterly himself.

“I know.” you said, squeezing his hand gently.

a/n: This was meant to be posted on NYE. It was obviously not :) I finished it tonight but I didn’t look through what I had already written too much, so excuse any mistakes, please.

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x oc #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #goblinontour

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