#WAS LISTENING TO HAPPY DAYS AND AT THE PART WHERE SHE DOES THE HEART HANDS I TURNED THE VOLUME UP FOR DYNAMIC EFFECT

[bambieyedoll]

I WISH YOU’D STAYED .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

summary: jacob never meant to hurt you, but that didn’t change the fact that he always put bella first. when you finally walk away, he’s forced to face the weight of his mistakes—and the unbearable agony of being separated from his imprint. as the distance between you grows, so does his desperation to make things right. but after everything, will it be enough to fix what he broke?

pairing: jacob black x fem!reader

word count: 4,8k

warnings/notes: ANGST! heavy argument, being second place, bella mentioned, being taken for granted, imprint!reader, yearning, tears, desperate jacob, happy ending

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it had been a perfect day—one of those rare, golden moments where the world outside didn’t exist, where nothing mattered except the warmth of jacob’s arms wrapped around you and the quiet, easy rhythm of his laughter.

the rain had started in the afternoon, a soft drizzle tapping against the windows, turning the world outside into a blur of gray. but inside jacob’s small house, there was only warmth. the crackling heat from the fireplace, the feeling of his hand lazily tracing patterns over your skin as you lay curled against his chest on the couch, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

for once, there was no weight of responsibility on his shoulders, no sudden interruptions pulling him away. it was just you and him, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other.

jacob had promised you tonight.

no distractions. no interruptions. just the two of you.

and for a little while, you let yourself believe that promise.

you should have known better.

the sharp chime of his phone cut through the peaceful quiet, and you felt the shift before you even saw the name on the screen. jacob tensed beneath you, his muscles going rigid, the warmth of his touch suddenly absent as he reached for the phone.

“jake,” you murmured, a quiet plea, but it was already too late.

you saw the name before he even answered.

bella.

your stomach twisted, a sick, sinking weight settling in your chest.

jacob sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair, and you could hear it in the way he said her name—softer, gentler, laced with a concern so automatic it felt like instinct.

“bella?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your hands curled into fists against your lap, the way the warmth of his body against yours suddenly felt so far away.

you tried to block it out. tried to focus on the lingering touch of his hand on your knee, on the way his body still rested against yours. but the moment stretched too long, his attention already slipping, his focus already elsewhere.

“what happened?” his voice was sharper now, all ease gone, his posture straightening. his brows knitted together in concern as he listened, jaw tightening with every second that passed.

then, without hesitation, he stood.

your heart dropped.

“where are you?”

a heavy silence. then a breath, sharp and determined.

“i’ll be right there.”

he was already moving, already reaching for his keys, and something inside you cracked.

“jake?” your voice barely came out, quiet and fragile, but he didn’t hear it.

or didn’t want to hear it.

you forced yourself to stand, your heartbeat ringing in your ears. “jacob.”

this time, he stopped. not fully—his hand was still on the doorknob, his body angled toward the exit—but he turned just enough to glance at you.

“she needs me,” he said simply. like that was all the explanation you needed.

the words settled deep in your chest, cutting deeper than they should have.

you took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “and i don’t?” your eyes were desperately searching for his. “you promised—”

jacob’s expression faltered for just a second, something like guilt flickering across his face, but he shook his head. “y/n, this isn’t about you.”

your lips parted, a sharp, bitter laugh slipping out before you could stop it. “isn’t it?” the hurt in your voice cracked through the air like a whip, and jacob finally looked at you—really looked at you.

but it wasn’t enough.

because you could already see the outcome.

you could see it in the way he was still standing by the door, in the way he hadn’t sat back down, hadn’t reached for you, hadn’t once considered staying.

his choice had already been made.

“i just—she’s upset,” he tried again, running a hand over his face. “she needs someone.”

“she always needs someone,” you shot back, your voice trembling. “and somehow, it’s always you.”

jacob let out a breath, frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed. “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like, jacob?” you shook your head, your hands trembling at your sides. “because from where i’m standing, it feels a whole lot like every time she calls, i stop existing to you.”

his lips parted, but no words came.

and that was the worst part—he didn’t deny it.

didn’t try to convince you otherwise.

because maybe, deep down, he knew you were right.

the air between you felt suffocating, heavy with everything unsaid, with months—years—of this same unspoken battle. and maybe, if this had been the first time, you could have let it go.

but it wasn’t.

and you were so, so tired.

you swallowed hard, your voice quiet now. “stay.”

jacob’s brows furrowed, something pained flickering in his dark eyes.

you stepped closer, reaching for him, your fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt. “stay,” you whispered again. “just this once.”

for a split second, he hesitated.

for a moment, you saw the war in his eyes, the battle waging between duty and something else—something softer, something that was supposed to belong to you.

you held your breath, waiting.

but he reached for his keys.

and you exhaled, shattered.

the answer was clear.

it had always been clear.

jacob didn’t say anything as he opened the door, stepping out into the cold night, the rain still falling in a steady, relentless rhythm.

you stood there, frozen, watching as he disappeared into the dark.

and you already knew how this night would end.

the rain lashed against the windows, turning the night outside into a cold, howling blur. the sound should have been soothing, a soft rhythm against the glass, but tonight, it only made the walls feel smaller, the space between you and jacob suffocating. his small house, what once had been a place of warmth and quiet affection, now had become a battlefield.

you stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, willing yourself not to shake. not to let him see just how deep the hurt had buried itself. but the storm outside was nothing compared to the one inside you.

jacob stood a few feet away, his damp hair still sticking up in disarray from running a frustrated hand through it. his breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to contain whatever was boiling beneath his skin. the heat of his body, the energy of him, should have been reassuring—but tonight, it burned.

“you’re overreacting,” he said, his voice edged with exhaustion, like you were nothing more than a problem he needed to fix. like he couldn’t understand why this was hurting you so much.

a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it, sharp and humorless. “overreacting?” you shook your head, blinking hard. “jacob, she calls, and you run. every single time.”

his jaw clenched. “she’s my friend, y/n.”

“she’s your priority,” you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “no matter what we’re doing, no matter how many times you promise me that this—” you gestured between the two of you, the bond that was supposed to mean everything, “—comes first, the second she needs you, i stop existing.”

jacob’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the tendons in his arms flexing as if he was holding himself back. his nostrils flared, and he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “that’s not true.”

you let out a hollow laugh, barely able to look at him. “it isn’t?” the words cracked, raw and exposed. “god, jacob, do you even realize how humiliating this is? to be your imprint and still feel like i’ll never be enough?”

his face twisted like you had struck him, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

“i love you,” you whispered, and for the first time, saying it didn’t feel sweet—it felt like an open wound, fresh and gaping. “but i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep watching you put her above me, above us.”

jacob let out a ragged breath, stepping forward like he wanted to close the space between you, but you backed away. his expression crumbled, desperation flickering in his dark eyes.

“y/n,” he rasped, his voice softer now, less sharp—pleading. “please. try to understand. it’s not like that.”

you forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as your vision blurred with tears. “then tell me what it is, jacob,” you whispered. “tell me why she always comes first. why you never think about how this makes me feel. why—” your voice broke, and you swallowed hard. “why i feel like i have to fight for a place in your life when i’m supposed to be your imprint.”

jacob’s face twisted with anguish, his hands gripping his hair as he let out a frustrated groan. “i don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “i never wanted to hurt you—i swear, i didn’t. i love you, y/n. you know that.”

you inhaled sharply at his words, at how they sounded more like an apology than a reassurance. “then show me,” you whispered. “because right now, it doesn’t feel like love, jacob. it feels like i’m waiting for you to actually see me.”

jacob’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling too quickly. he looked at you like he was unraveling, like he was on the edge of something that terrified him. “you are everything to me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “you don’t get it—i feel you in every part of me. you’re the first thing i think about when i wake up, and the last thing before i—” his voice broke, and he shook his head, like he was trying to force himself to stay together. “i can’t lose you.”

his words made your heart ache, made something deep inside you want to give in—to believe him. but words weren’t enough. not anymore.

“you don’t have to lose me,” you whispered. “you just have to choose me.”

jacob’s expression shattered, his body physically flinching as if the weight of your words had struck him straight through the chest. his hands trembled at his sides, his whole frame tense like he wanted to reach for you—like he wanted to grab onto you and never let go.

but he said nothing.

and silence had never hurt so much.

you took a trembling breath, the realization settling deep in your bones. “i deserve more than this,” you whispered. “and i think—deep down—you know that too.”

jacob’s entire body went rigid, his breath coming out in shallow, uneven bursts. “y/n, please,” he murmured, stepping forward, but you took another step back.

tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “i can’t be second anymore, jacob.”

the storm raged on outside, the wind screaming through the trees, but the real storm was in his eyes—in the way he looked at you like he was falling apart, like he wanted to grab hold of you but didn’t know how. he had never looked more desperate, never looked more like he wanted to fight for something—but it was too late.

with one last look at him, at the pain written all over his face, you turned.

you didn’t wait to see if he would follow.

and somehow, knowing that he didn’t hurt the most.

the days blurred together, heavy and cold, despite the summer air hanging thick in forks. you had done everything to put distance between you and jacob—ignoring his calls, avoiding la push, staying home as much as possible. even your parents noticed something was off, the worried glances lingering longer than usual, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. how could you? how could you tell them that the boy who was supposed to love you, the one who was bound to you in ways deeper than words, had made you feel like you were nothing?

so you buried yourself in the isolation, letting it wrap around you like armor. but no matter how hard you tried, the ache in your chest never eased. the imprint was a cruel thing, tethering you to him, making it impossible to sever the connection completely. you could still feel him—like an invisible thread pulling, tugging, aching.

and jacob?

jacob was drowning.

at first, he told himself he could handle it. that you just needed space, time to cool off. you would come back once you calmed down—once you realized that what you had was stronger than a single fight. that’s what he told himself, over and over again, as the days crawled by.

but the imprint had other plans.

it didn’t let him escape the truth. the bond that had once felt unbreakable, like a safety net woven from something deeper than love, now felt like a wound that refused to heal. an open, raw ache in the center of his chest that never dulled. every second without you felt wrong—like something essential had been ripped from him, leaving only the empty space where you were supposed to be.

then came the pain. not just his own, but yours.

the imprint tethered him to your every emotion, and your heartbreak hit him like a punch to the ribs. it wasn’t sharp or fleeting. it was constant. a lingering sorrow that coated everything, suffocating, inescapable.

he felt it when you curled up in bed at night, staring at the ceiling with the same exhaustion he carried. he felt it when you ignored every call, every text, each one sending another wave of desperation crashing over him. he felt it in the way your heartbeat changed when you saw his name on your phone—and in the way you refused to answer.

sleep became impossible. every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was your face the night you walked away. the way your voice had broken. the way you had trembled, not with anger, but with hurt.

and worst of all? it was his fault.

he had caused this.

he would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling every ounce of your heartbreak as if it were his own. he would reach for his phone, fingers hovering over your name, but he knew. you weren’t ready. you weren’t waiting for him to say sorry—you were waiting to see if he would change.

the pack noticed almost immediately.

at first, they thought he was just sulking—jacob had never been one to handle emotions well, especially when it came to his imprint. but as the days stretched into weeks, it became impossible to ignore.

“you look like shit,” paul said bluntly one night, arms crossed as he watched jacob push his untouched plate of food away.

jacob didn’t even have the energy to snap back.

quil and embry weren’t much better—watching him like he was a bomb about to go off. “you should talk to her,” embry suggested carefully, choosing his words like one wrong move would set jacob off. “fix things.”

jacob let out a bitter laugh. “she won’t even look at me.”

“that’s because you fucked up,” leah cut in, unimpressed with his self-pity. “and you know it.”

her words stung, but they were nothing compared to the guilt already eating away at him.

seth, the only one who seemed remotely sympathetic, shifted uncomfortably. “she’s your imprint, man. that has to mean something to her. if you just—”

“if i just what, seth?” jacob snapped, his voice harsher than intended. “say i’m sorry? tell her it won’t happen again? you should’ve seen her that night… i made her feel like she was nothing. that’s not something you just… fix.”

silence.

the weight of his own words settled in his chest like a stone. and that realization hit him harder than anything else.

for the first time, jacob was forced to sit with what he had done. to look back on every time he had left you mid-conversation to answer bella’s call. every time he had seen the flicker of hurt in your eyes and ignored it. every time he had told himself that you would understand—that you would always understand.

he had taken you for granted. and now, he was paying the price.

it wasn’t enough to say you mattered. he had to show you.

days turned to weeks, and jacob forced himself to change. to put action behind his words. he stopped chasing bella’s shadow. he stopped making excuses. and most importantly, he accepted that losing you—really losing you—was not something he was willing to let happen.

the next time bella called, he let it ring. and ring. and ring. the phone buzzed against the wood of his nightstand, vibrating with insistence, but he didn’t move. didn’t reach for it like he always did. the act felt unnatural—like breaking a habit he hadn’t even realized he had formed. but for the first time, he chose not to run to her.

instead, he sat in the quiet and thought of you.

he thought of your laughter, the way it used to wrap around him like warmth on a cold day. he thought of your stubbornness, the fire in your eyes when you stood your ground. he thought of the way you had always been there, always understanding, always waiting.

he had made you wait long enough.

so, one evening, as the sun dipped below the trees, jacob found himself standing outside your house, his hands trembling at his sides. he hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, he had no idea if you would even open the door. the imprint was screaming at him to fix it, to hold you, to make it right.

but this time, he knew better.

taking a deep breath, he knocked.

would you open the door? would you listen? he didn’t know.

but for the first time, he wasn’t just desperate to get you back— he was ready to earn you.

the knock echoed through the silent house, sharp and insistent against the quiet.

you heard it instantly, but you didn’t move.

you knew who it was.

for weeks, you had felt jacob just beyond your reach—the imprint a constant, aching presence, tugging at you like a phantom limb. his absence wasn’t truly absence. it was a weight, pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe.

and yet, you had stayed away.

because every time you thought about him, all you could hear was the echo of your own voice breaking as you told him you couldn’t do it anymore. that you wouldn’t be second. and begging him to stay. to finally choose you.

another knock—louder this time, more urgent.

you swallowed hard, tightening your grip on the fabric of your sleeves, nails digging into your palms. he wouldn’t leave. you knew that. but opening the door meant facing him, meant seeing him—jacob, and everything he had put you through.

a ragged, shuddering breath came from the other side. then, his voice—low, hoarse, pleading.

“y/n… please.”

the sound of him nearly brought you to your knees.

jacob black never begged. never. he had always been too stubborn, too reckless, too sure of himself. but now, his voice cracked under the weight of something raw, something broken.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steel yourself. but then he spoke again, and this time, his words came out uneven, trembling.

“i know i don’t deserve for you to open this door.” a sharp exhale. “i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness.” his voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “but please… just let me say what i need to say.”

the imprint was relentless, pulling at you, forcing you to feel him. his desperation. his regret. the depth of his pain, tangled with your own. it was unbearable. you hated how deeply you felt him, how much your heart still reached for him even after everything.

because no matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how much you had tried to shut him out…

you had missed him.

more than you wanted to admit.

your body moved before your mind fully decided.

slowly, hesitantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, dread and longing intertwining in your chest.

your hand hovered over the doorknob. you hesitated.

you had spent weeks trying to sever the connection in your mind, convincing yourself that love—real love—wasn’t something you had to beg for. that if jacob had truly wanted you, if you had really meant as much to him as he claimed, then he wouldn’t have spent so long making you feel like you were just a placeholder.

and yet…

you exhaled shakily and pulled the door open.

jacob stood there, looking wrecked.

he wasn’t just tired. he was hollowed out.

his usually warm brown skin was paler than normal, his dark circles so deep they looked bruised. his hair was an unkempt mess, sticking to his forehead from either sweat or rain—maybe both. and his lips were parted, his breath catching at the sight of you like he had just been punched in the gut.

for the longest time, neither of you spoke.

then, jacob exhaled a sharp, shuddering breath. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, shaking with restraint. “y/n,” he rasped, voice raw, “please.”

you swallowed. the weeks of silence between you had been long and unbearable, but jacob? he looked like he hadn’t survived them at all.

still, your voice was quiet, guarded. “what are you doing here?”

jacob sucked in another breath like he was trying to steady himself. but it didn’t work. his control was crumbling, desperation bleeding into every part of him. “i couldn’t—i can’t—” he broke off, running a shaking hand through his hair before stepping forward just a fraction, catching himself before he got too close.

his restraint made your chest ache.

jacob had never hesitated before.

“i don’t know how to exist without you.” the confession tore from him, desperate and hoarse, like he had been carrying it for weeks. “i thought i could—i thought maybe if i gave you space, if i let you have what you needed—” he let out a ragged, self-loathing laugh. “but it’s killing me, y/n. i feel like i’m dying.”

you clenched your jaw, willing yourself to stay firm.

but then jacob did something he had never done before.

he fell to his knees.

right there, on your porch, in the dim evening light.

and when he looked up at you—god—his eyes were glassy, filled with nothing but agony and pleading. “i fucked up,” he choked out, his voice wrecked beyond repair. “i fucked up so bad.”

the weight of his pain crushed into you through the imprint, drowning you in it. you gripped the edge of the door, suddenly struggling to breathe.

“i didn’t see it,” he whispered, shaking his head. “i swear i didn’t see what i was doing to you. i thought—” he let out another broken laugh, his hands trembling where they rested on his thighs. “i thought you’d always be there. i thought you knew how much i loved you, even when i—” his breath hitched. “even when i made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

you sucked in a sharp breath.

because that was the wound that had festered most.

not that he had put bella first. but that, in doing so, he had made you feel like less.

“but i get it now. i get why you left. i get why you needed space. and i know—” his voice cracked, and he sucked in a trembling breath. “i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i swear to you, y/n… i won’t make the same mistake again.”

you clenched your jaw, your emotions warring inside you.

because damn him. damn him for finally getting it.

jacob had always been passionate—fiery and stubborn and reckless. but this? this was something else entirely.

this was raw.

this was jacob black, broken at your feet, choosing you in the way he should have from the beginning.

and yet… you hesitated.

“why now?” you whispered.

jacob blinked, his brows furrowing.

“why did it take me leaving for you to realize?” your voice wavered, thick with the weight of everything he had put you through. “why did i have to walk away for you to see me?”

pain flickered across his face.

then, he did something that nearly stopped your heart.

he reached for you—hesitant, unsure—fingers barely brushing over the back of your hand before pulling away like he didn’t deserve to touch you.

“because i was a selfish idiot,” he whispered. “because i took you for granted. because i thought—” he inhaled deeply, his gaze locking onto yours with something desperate, pleading. “i thought I had all the time in the world with you. and i was so, so wrong.”

your breath hitched.

jacob clenched his jaw, his hands fisting in his lap. “but i choose you, y/n. i choose you.” his voice was thick, unsteady. “not because of the imprint. not because i need you to fix me.” he sucked in a breath, his eyes locking onto yours with something devastatingly real. “but because i love you.”

your heart stuttered.

jacob had said those words before. but never like this.

never with this much certainty.

never with this much desperation.

your fingers twitched at your side, your eyes looking at him—at his sleepless eyes, at the way his hands shook at his sides— and you realized something.

you had left to protect yourself.

but he had changed to earn you back

slowly, cautiously—you reached for his hand.

jacob inhaled sharply as your fingers brushed against his—his entire body freezing before exhaling a shuddering breath, like he had just been pulled from drowning. when you finally intertwined them, he let out a strangled sound, squeezing yours like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

“don’t make me regret this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

jacob let out something between a laugh and a sob, his forehead nearly pressing against your knee from where he knelt. “i won’t,” he swore, his voice shaking. “i swear, y/n—i won’t.”

your fingers curled around his, hesitant but firm, and jacob’s breath caught in his throat as you carefully pulled him inside.

and then, to your utter shock—jacob let out a choked sob.

it wasn’t loud. it wasn’t dramatic. it was the kind of broken, helpless sound that came from someone who had been barely holding themselves together, someone who had been standing on the edge of a cliff for weeks, waiting to fall.

his free hand shot up, hovering near your waist—so close, but not touching. he was waiting.

“can i—” his voice was wrecked, thick with emotion. “can i hold you?”

your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. your walls cracking just a little more.

jacob black—who had never hesitated to pull you into his arms before, who had always touched before thinking—was asking.

jacob was holding himself back, his body so tense he was practically shaking, like he was afraid one wrong move would scare you away again.

wordlessly, you nodded.

his arms wrapped around you so tightly it almost knocked the air from your lungs, his body folding into yours with a desperation that nearly brought you to your knees. his face buried against your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears as he let out a shuddering breath.

his arms tightened, his whole body curling around you, as if trying to shield you from anything that could take you away from him again.

“god,” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin. “god, i missed you so much. i—” his voice cracked, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face like he needed to see you, to memorize you. his thumbs brushed over your cheekbones with the softest reverence. his breath was still uneven, his eyes still red-rimmed and wrecked, but there was something else there, too.

hope.

and then—before you could process it—his lips were on yours.

the kiss was desperate.

not soft. not hesitant. it was raw, unrestrained—starved.

jacob kissed you like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat, like he was trying to pour every ounce of regret, every moment of suffering, into that one moment. his hands shook where they held you, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps between kisses, like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. his breath was still uneven, still shaky.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “i love you so much.”

you swallowed hard, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his heart pounded against his ribs—too fast, too frantic.

for the first time, you weren’t just hearing his words.

you were feeling them.

and as his arms wrapped around you, holding you as if he’d never let go, the space between you disappeared completely.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- This is a VERY angsty, please do NOT READ if you want the Geto (alt ending) this is how it was always supposed to go but I will have the happy version in a couple days. Heavy angst, reader is injured, mentions of pregnancy, reader has a baby, bittersweet and emotional, explicit sex (not with Geto) oral (f receiving) and longing/yearning. I cried 10 times so be aware lol WC this part- 7.7k

This version is does NOT END Sugu/Reader- the alt ending will! This is a Gojo/reader/ambiguous end. SKIP IT if you want the Geto end.

<<<Part Four - Playlist - Masterlist - Happy ending/alt end

Sad asf /Baby it's NO Good Ending

Satoru lifts you up into his arms effortlessly, tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there, all while your unconscious body lolls in Satoru’s arms. Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, while Satoru waits, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought he would.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru’s hold with eyes gone black, swiping blood off his cheek as he walks toward him now. “I can carry my wife.”

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. I’ll carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up, and you hang so limply he feels sick, sighing in anguish as he looks at your listless body. “Now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Shoko sighs now, nodding.

“Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee it will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak, pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder.

“Please just save her.” He whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Love making, it was love making.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen.

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, in a room with two people who loved him?

What has he done?

“It’s not working.” He says then, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.”

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly with a gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru’s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his eyes staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look to Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.”

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

“No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals.

“Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him. “I know.”

“You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.” You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now.

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.”

You pause now, gasping. “What!?”

“It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low. “I almost killed you.”

“You didn’t almost kill me, you almost killed everyone! Suguru, I’m fine.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do. “Told me what?”

“I love you. Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.” His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.”

You glare now. “Don’t you do this, don’t you run.”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough.

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-”

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break, but he loves you so much, he just knows.

This is right.

“I can’t look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Don’t do this. I can only forgive so much.” He sighs at that, as you’re sniffling, eyes fucking burning.

“You’ll thank me one day, if we meet again - how happy you’ll be without me.” He breaks away then, as you crumble, holding your stomach while the sobs seem fucking endless.

“Don’t leave me, please, not again, I can’t take it.” He looks back at you as he stands by that door, pulled between being selfish and selfless.

But only for a moment.

“I’ll love you till I take my last breath. You’re not just human, you are the most special thing that’s existed.” You collapse to the floor while he walks out, the world collapsing around you, the hope you had for just a moment crushed.

He will never choose you.

“Suguru go the fuck back in there, stop feeling sorry for yourself, what are you doing to that girl?” Satoru shoves at him then, but Suguru knows it, he can’t live with himself let alone be with you, cause you pain, ruin you further.

“A moment of pain in order to be free of me. She thinks she’s in love with me now, but it’s because of her being trapped. She just thinks she does, but I don’t deserve it, not worthy of it.”

“You don’t think you deserve it, so earn it. Just stop this bullshit.” 

“Satoru, thank you for not… giving up. But I can’t live with what I did, seeing it in her eyes every day. Please, just care for her.” Satoru glares and crosses his arms.

“Running away. You’re just running away.”

“Good bye, Satoru.” Suguru is gone, just like that, leaving Satoru to punch the wall in anger, and of course it starts crumbling with his strength, you gasp out in shock at the sound and he curses, resting his head for a moment.

He almost had his best friend back.

He walks in to see you so small and helpless in the big room on the floor, holding yourself in a hug, devastating to look at, when your eyes meet his. Satoru walks up to you then, sitting right on the ground, his legs crossed, brushing his fingers comfortingly against your shoulder. You’re shaking so badly, skin hot to the touch, he can even hear how fast your heart was.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” You do it with his help, you feel weak and devastated beyond repair, while he pulls you against his chest, holding you to him, letting you cry against his dark jacket, rubbing your back up and down.

“You don’t have to take care of me, S-satoru okay, I c-can do it alone. I have family that may understand-”

“No.” His word is firm, precise, you tilt your head up and look into brilliant blue eyes, lips pressed together. “I promised him and I won’t break it.”

“I’ll just be some burden to you. It’s bullshit, him leaving, bullshit.”

“Yeah. I know. But I will take care of you. Okay?” You shake your head, sniffling now. “I will.”

“I believe you, but how could he? After… I told him I loved him.” Satoru tenderly brushes your cheek, swiping some of your tears.

“He doesn’t believe he deserves it from either of us.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Satoru sighs.

“I don’t know. But for now, come on.” He stands carefully, picking your still weak body in his arms.

“I can walk.”

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?” Your lips barely twitch, as you hold onto his neck.

“I guess so. I’m sorry you’re just stuck with-”

“Shh, it’s fine. Let’s get you somewhere you can rest.”

*****

One year later

You lay your little girl Noa down in her crib for the night, smiling as you touch her precious cheek, and Satoru leans in the doorway, smiling at the two of you. Her dark locks resemble her father, but aside from that she’s a spitting image of you. You look up at Satoru as you put a finger to your lips, signaling for him to be quiet, and he crooks his two fingers, asking you to come out.

“You can have a little wine now, she’s on formula mostly now, right?” He murmurs, as he takes your hand in his, and you pause - because it feels too good lately. God, he looks too good, after a year of living with him, having him hold you, hold your baby.

Satoru was literally her father, he helped you constantly, and you never paid for a thing, despite your frequent protests. Satoru went above and beyond anything you assumed when he promised Suguru that day - and the two of you have never talked to him since. The last Satoru found out, he moved to another country with the two girls, and the rest of the cult silently disbanded.

You miss Suguru every day, but Satoru slowly fills the void, the huge black hole he left when he abandoned you that day, and though you’ll always love Suguru Geto, as well Satoru, clearly, you also feel more and more for the man taking care of you. Even though you’ve fought it, for months after the baby it changed, how attractive you find him, hating yourself for it.

How can you pine away for a man never coming back?

But how can you move on after a love like that?

But you don’t realize Satoru can’t stop craving you, aching for you - also feeling fucking horrible. Suguru asked him to take care of you, and it was like he knew he would also grow to love you, but for different reasons than Suguru. He loves how funny, sarcastic and sweet you are. He loves how much you adore your little girl, and he loves her too.

He loves how you smile, how your cheeks get warm when he presses a friendly kiss on them, how the lights hit your pretty face. How sweet your scent is, how easy it is to be with you. Cooking together, taking care of Noa, just existing, you bring peace he didn’t know existed, as Satoru feels like a real home to you.

Satoru can’t imagine not coming home to the two of you, sometimes missions can last weeks, but you’re ready with a perfect meal and his favorite dessert. You’re always so happy when he comes home, hugging him tightly. The two of you hold each other, talking about Suguru at times, and how much you miss him, how much Satoru misses him.

Once last week you were crying, he had you against his chest, tilting your chin up, whispering the sweetest words. You felt all those body changes, the stretch marks, the extra skin, but he told you - ‘you’re gorgeous, okay?’ and you’d faltered, you almost kissed him, if not for your little girl crying.

You both had avoided each other that night after, he’d blushed furiously, as had you, but that was when something shifted, and the need grew more and more. Now looking at your joined hands, longing breaks through, but along with that so much confusion.

Could you be with someone else?

His best friend, that he left you with, did Suguru… expect this? Or would he be devastated, or would he even care? Did he keep tabs on you and the daughter he abandoned - for what he felt were the right reasons - or was it something he shoved far back. At times you were furious at Suguru for it, at times distraught, but sometimes you realize your life has become happy.

“Sorry…” Satoru pulls back now, that pink on his high cheeks again, but you take his hand back, shaking your head.

“I can drink a little wine, I’d enjoy some.” You smile and he exhales in relief, leading you down just one set of his elegant staircase. Satoru lived in a whole mansion honestly. But it still felt homey, it wasn’t like Suguru’s…

Suguru.

You loved him.

He left you.

And the man across from you pouring wine in your glass is beautiful, with his soft sweater and freshly washed hair, tousled just so, blue eyes soft as they study you carefully, you’re falling more, day by day. It’s not the insane madness, the brutal craziness of Suguru, it was something soft and sweet and beautiful.

“Want to watch our show?” He asks, and you nod, taking the glass from his fingers, they softly brush each other, sending trembles through the both of you, while your eyes lock, fingers staying there a moment too long. “Taste it.”

You take a breath, putting the sweet red wine to your lips, moaning at how good it is, a little drop on the corner of your mouth that he swipes away gently. You pause, as he stands there, leaning low, the huge house so quiet, your heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing to your head.

“Sorry.” He says again, clearing his throat, but you set the glass down, stepping up to him, so close, too close. Satoru’s hands ache to touch you, his lips die to touch yours. “Everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” You sigh, hands slipping up his soft sweater, under that material, touching his bare chest and feeling it tense, a soft growl from his throat, when his hand entangles in your hair then.

“Keep touching me like that, and I will lose it.” His firm words, when he’s usually so sweet, just make you more excited, tummy flipping, clenched with desire.

“Lose what?” You touch him again, and his breath quickens, as he leans even lower, stepping you back, bit by bit, lips so close while you’re being pressed until the back of your knees hit the couch.

“The control. I can’t take you touching me.” He grips your wrists, and you turn him then, pressing him on the couch, straddling him, he gasps, as your own control fades to nothing. “You’re pushing me around, huh?”

“Maybe I am, Toru.” The nickname ruins him, as your lips crash against his, for the first time - and it feels far too good.

You never knew if you’d feel good again, the endless nights of crying for the man that left you, not once but twice, that put so much ahead of you, only to not even choose his baby, his friend, you. But you don’t hold resentment, no you still love that man, the one who ran from you all, but you feel good, Satoru’s lips are perfect, and for once you can let it go.

Just in this moment, let it all go, nothing but how perfect Satoru’s tongue feels against yours, as he’s so gently holding back. You’re grinding on him, earning his throaty moan, soaking wet when you feel his length, god you want him. You can’t stop it anymore, wanting the man who does everything for you and Noa, despite knowing how deeply connected he is to Suguru.

“God, I’ve wanted you,” Satoru’s kissing up your neck, as a hand grips your breast so gently, like he’s scared to hurt you, lips hovering on the shell of your ear now. “Tell me to stop, tell me I’m a bad friend.”

You shake your head, taking a breath. “You’re not, look at how good you take care of…. mmm, us… ah!” He’s nipped your ear with his teeth, moaning as he does, the sound igniting something inside you laid dormant.

“He shouldn’t have asked me.” He pulls back, a serious look on his face. “Now I’ve fallen, and fuck if I can stop if we go any further.”

You cup his face now, arching your hips just so, making him whimper softly, snowy lashes lowered as your heat hits him, rushing across his cock in those sweats now. His hands slip down to them, as he presses kisses on your breasts, swollen just a bit still from the baby, tempting him to no end.

“I’ve only… with him.” He pauses, blinking up at you in surprise, and you feel yourself flustered at admitting it.

“Shit that makes it worse for me to do.”

“It’s not… I… just wanted to tell you. I’m not the most experienced at certain things.” He nods then, swallowing, pressing up and watching your head fall back, making him throb harder with need.

“It’s been a year for me, so it’s been a bit, okay?” You blink in shock.

“You haven’t with…”

“How can I?” You’re kissing him more desperately now, feeling your body respond to every touch, every kiss, every brush.

“Please.” Your whisper ruins Satoru, he’s felt himself lose the will to stop, to rationalize it, but he can’t find rationale with you.

“Then we take it slow for you.” He lifts you off him, laying your back on that couch now, fingers trailing so delicately, it’s not rough, angry, brutal, it’s like he’s softly mapping your body, inch by inch, until he runs them up your thigh, parting them. “But make your decision, sweetheart, I won’t be able to stop.” His desperation is felt with every quick breath of yours, cunt growing slicker.

“I want you, Satoru… I have for… a long time.” He exhales, sliding down your body, sweet kisses on your thighs, thumb pressing your panties, and you cry out, covering your face then.

“She can’t hear you from down here, let go. Feel.” He’s kissing your thighs higher, hungrier as he slips down your shorts, tossing them, lapping at your soaked panties with his tastebuds, while blue eyes look up under hooded lids.

“Satoru!” You’re gripping his hair, so tightly it hurts, while he tastes it, the sweetness he’s been dying to for most of the time you’ve lived here. He fought it, so hard, but how can he not want you? When you look like that, feel like that, taste like this, it’s making him fucking feral, losing his strong control. “Sorry!”

“No, pull it.” He pulls your panties aside, studying your pretty pussy, you shyly almost cover your tummy a bit when he pauses you. “You’re beautiful, you were beautiful pregnant too.”

“Oh I, ah!” He’s parted them now, pressing a kiss to your bare, glistening cunt, and your body relaxes, while his hand covers your tummy.

“I thought it was so sexy pregnant, couldn’t say it.” He shakes his head, while tears of emotion and desire fill, he makes you feel so beautiful, so desired then.

The only time Suguru had done that was the last time.

One last time.

It feels so far away, so different, but you feel it in your heart - you love Satoru, you still love Suguru - fuck, Satoru loves Suguru still. But you both have to finally let him go, just a bit, and together you both do, as he’s delving into your slick, gummy walls with his long, talented tongue, all while studying you, so careful, watching every movement of your body.

There are no ‘i hate yous’ and there is no anger.

You just want him, and want him so badly.

You hate yourself for it, but at the same time, you deserve to feel loved, to feel happy, devoted as Satoru worships you, freely. He’s flicking his tongue on your clit in quick, sure flicks, as his long fingers sink in your eager cunt, hitting your g spot with just enough pressure you feel your orgasm taking you over.

“Satoru, oh my god I’m…”

“Cum, let me sip you sweetheart, that’s it.” He encourages softly, and you do, gushing all over his pretty face, he kisses you then, your taste swathed on his lips, desperate as you slip off his pants, stroking his thick, long cock, watching him whine over you. “Are you still sure?” He asks once more, tip against your entrance.

“I want this.” He exhales in relief, a hand entwining with yours as he sinks inside of you, no pain just a delicious fucking stretch, that has you screaming out, so loud he kisses you.

“Maybe not that loud, hmm?” He smirks, and you giggle - fuck you giggle all the time with him, don’t you? A far cry from the sad, depressed girl you were.

“Sorry, f-feels s’good…” He moans now, feeling your walls grip his cock, and he can’t take it, shoving your thighs up high, you gasp as he does, sinking deeper, tip against your cervix. He’s slow, letting you feel every fucking inch, as you spasm around him so close again.

“I’d love to put a baby in you, don’t you see, I’m horrible.” He rests his head on yours as his huge hands press up your thighs, and you gasp, clinging to the couch desperately as he works you. “I want all of you. I shouldn’t.”

He shouldn’t, right?

But how can he not.

He loves you.

With every stroke, kiss and whisper, you fall apart, dropping the last of your barriers for him, feeling the peak closer and closer. “You want that, Satoru?”

“God yes. You are so p-pretty pregnant, fuck… I shouldn’t have thought all those things…”

“Tell me.” Your whisper ends him, he’s slamming his cock, covering your mouth as your eyes roll back.

“Wanted you then, tits swollen, tummy so full, all I could think of was how I wanted to suck these pretty nipples, drink up all that milk from them.” He lets your thighs fall, they squeeze his hips, when he kisses a breast, bowing his back to do so, and your hands press into his strong biceps, as you whine out. “I’ve wanted you, sweetheart. Now I want you to cum on me.”

You’re done, with one more roll of his hips, you’re cumming so hard you can’t keep quiet, he’s gotta put that hand back on your mouth, watching your eyes roll back in your skull. He whispers as the orgasm rides over you ‘that’s it, sweets, there you go, so pretty’ as he presses kisses, letting you cum down, until he fills you up himself, so much cum.

He hasn’t been with anyone in a year.

How could he be, when you lived here?

You’re cumming with him again, tears falling as you kiss him, and he pulls back, frowning with worry. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m just really happy, Satoru.” Your tremulous smile ends him, and soon you’re in his bed, in his arms as he presses kisses on your shoulder. He sighs, addressing the silent thoughts while you both stare out his window at the night sky.

“Do you think he knew I’d fall in love with you?” You frown a bit, looking back at him now, your hand tightening over his.

“I don’t know. But Satoru, I love you too.” He kisses you softly, nuzzling your noses together. “You still love Suguru.”

“And so do you.” You nod then, and he swallows a bit, smiling now. “That’s okay, it’s okay to still love him.”

“Even though he’s an emo bitch?” Satoru snorts, as do you, through your emotions.

“Even though he’s emo enough for a whole 2006 band by himself.”

“With a god complex.”

“Well… I have that too.”

“I have curious taste.” He chuckles, and you turn in his embrace, brushing his soft white locks back, kissing him again, until the two of you fall back into each other, the entire night.

*****

Two years since you saw or heard from Suguru Geto

Suguru swallows nervously as he knocks on his old friend’s door - wondering if you still lived there. He was sure Satoru moved you in, why wouldn’t he? He knows you were in good hands, surely, but finally, he feels it - the draw to come back. He doesn’t expect you to forgive him, but he wants to see you, and to see his child for the first time.

He wonders, was it a boy or girl?

The door opens, and he expects his friend, only to have to look down at that face that’s haunted his dreams, his thoughts for two years. Your eyes are wide when you see him, as if you’ve seen a fucking ghost, and maybe he was to you, your mouth open wide as he hears giggling, tinkling like a little bell.

“Get here, you little brat!” Satoru’s laughing, running after a quick little girl with chubby arms flailing, and Suguru sees her then.

His daughter.

He looks back to you, opening his mouth to say something, anything, when he gazes at your body, and sees the changes.

You’re pregnant.

Satoru stops and picks up the little girl, grinning at you before he sees Suguru, then his own eyes widen, while the little girl just giggles waving at Suguru, not knowing who he was. How could she? His heart breaks into pieces when he sees her perfect face, she looks just like you, aside from already long black hair, silky and tied up in a cute little pony tail.

She’s precious, she’s perfect.

He feels it, what’s been missing, when he manages a little smile at her, and Satoru steps closer, while you’re still stunned, as you see him. You never thought you’d see him again, this past year has been spent living your life with Satoru and your daughter, and then you’d found out you were expecting. Satoru was oddly traditional, putting a ring on your finger one day.

‘You’re kind of married to my best frenemy but this will do for now’

He’d said it so casually you’d giggled, as he carried you to the room, the lovemaking was endless between you, but moreso it was the friendship- a beautiful friendship, truly. A partnership built on mutual love of Suguru at first, but of course it blossomed, until you were each other’s world, though you saw Suguru every day in your daughter.

Two years. No word.

He looks different, he’s slimmer and less buff, his hair is shorter and tied up, and he has some dark circles, but he’s as handsome as you remember. He clears his throat a bit now, rubbing the back of his neck, gone was the insanely commanding man, and replaced was one just a little unsure.

Your heart splits in half.

“Suguru, come in.” Satoru’s words surprise him, as he looks at you again, your hand on your tummy.

Is this how you looked pregnant with his daughter?

“Please come in, Suguru.” You whisper, and he nods, trying to placate a smile on his face as everything threatens him, to yank you in his arms, kiss you, press you against that wall. To tell you how badly he’s craved it, your taste, your moans, your pretty sighs, how he’s not stopped thinking of you.

But you’ve moved on, it’s clear as day with your bump growing, with how your daughter calls Satoru ‘papa’ then. He wants to be furious, but he caused it, he shoved you right into Satoru’s arms, and knew he’d fall for you, just like Suguru did. How could anyone not love you.

“Hi! Hi!” The girl says, and Suguru smiles at her, stepping closer, as she cups his cheek with her little hand.

“Hi there. I’m your parents… very distant best friend.” His soft declaration eats you alive, as you and Satoru eye each other for a moment.

“Play! Play!” Suguru chuckles, you’re not sure you really ever heard that from him, unless it was dark, mocking.

“Let’s give them a minute to catch up, clean up for dinner. You staying for dinner, Suguru?” Satoru asks, so casually as if they were just old friends, and Suguru almost breaks down.

He doesn’t deserve to be invited in.

He didn’t deserve either of your love.

“If you’d like me to.” He directs the question to you, and you nod a little, smiling tremulously.

“Please do.”

“Then it’s settled, be back sweetheart.” Satoru plants a kiss right on your lips, and you melt just a bit, before tensing, glaring at Satoru as he grins. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous!” He just chuckles, winking as he takes her to get cleaned up, leaving you with Suguru, who’s scowling at his retreating figure.

“He’s as annoying as ever.” You burst into laughter, before it turns to tears, and Suguru falters, holding a hand up, hovering near your cheek. “Fuck, I… I am so sorry I left. I’m sorry for it all.”

“It’s okay, just please, stay for dinner. Let us see you again. Let her meet you, please.” You’re a mess, and he hugs you against his chest now, feeling your tummy nudge him, your breasts against his chest, a mix of fury and understanding, longing and loathing.

 “Are you happy?” His question is simple.

You are happy.

But you missed him, fuck you missed him. But now…

“Suguru um, I…” You sigh, holding his hand, stepping back just a bit, and his other hand brushes aside your tears. “I’m happy with Satoru. I love him. I know you must hate me for saying this-”

“No.” He puts a finger to your lips, pausing, looking just how beautiful they are, how beautiful you are, you always were. “I saw how he looked at you the day you met, I knew this would happen.”

“Then why!? Then why!” You pull back, shaking your head, and Suguru looks away, jaw clenching.

“I knew he’d make you happy and I couldn’t. And I loved you enough to let you have it.” Your heart is shattered into a million pieces, the baby kicks in response and you cry out just a bit. “Calm down, please…”

“I just don’t get it, I don’t get you Suguru, maybe I never will. Are you back or just… visiting?” You’re swiping at your own tears.

“I’m here for a bit. I came to see you both. Well… all three of you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Your daughter, she’s beautiful.”

“Her name is Noa.” You say, and Suguru can’t stop the smile from growing, brushing your hair off your shoulder.

“Love?”

“Love.” You touch his hand with a small smile. “Please stay for dinner, and… just talk.”

“I kind of want to kill Satoru even more than before.”

“Wanna take this outside then?” Satoru’s cocky grin meets Suguru’s eye roll - and you know this memory well from Satoru’s tales - of a basketball game with the two of them, over ten years ago now. But you see it.

They still love each other, even though Satoru has you against his side, possessive hand on your waist, and Suguru’s violet eyes glare a bit. “You took my wishes a little too far.”

“Should’ve been more specific, less emo.”

“Satoru I swear-”

“Hi, hi! Up, up!” Noa runs to Suguru, surprising Satoru and you both, as the little girl really only loves you two.

Suguru leans down, picking her up in his arms, grinning bigger than you’ve ever seen, as you barely hold it together, Satoru’s hand soothing on your back, pressing a kiss on your temple. “You’re mine, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

“Possessive, hmm?” You smile up at him, and he sighs, looking over at his friend and his daughter.

“Very, but… it’s nice to have him home.” Satoru’s words are only meant for your ears, as you glance at a man you loved, a toxic man - one who made horrible decisions - but you see it, his change, his genuine adoration of Noa then. And you look back at the other man you love, so deeply, and something about it…

Feels perfect.

Now if you read this after I warned you, I'll hear no complaining aha - if you're reading both, happy Suguru end will be VERY soon. If you just wanted the sad ending, I hope you enjoyed. It's bittersweet <3 This is how I intended it to end but so many ppl fell for our cult leader I'll have his own version. Ty for reading this~ if it's your chosen end, see you in my other ficsss!

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[wileys-russo]

my mummy II l.williamson

part of the milaverse my mummy II l.williamson

"okay which one bubba? red or black?" you questioned, holding up the tiny arsenal jerseys and doing a little shimmy making your daughter giggle.

her tiny hand stroking her chin thoughtfully made you shake your head with an amused smile as she mulled over her options.

"black." mila eventually decided, finger pointing to the jersey in question, leahs number and williamson sprawled on the back.

"good pick babe. arms up please!" you instructed, quirking an eyebrow when the four year old shook her head in response. "i wanna dress myself today please mumma." she informed crossing her arms over her chest with a determined nod.

“mila are you-“ “im nearly five now, a big girl. i can do it.”

"very true i’m sorry. but its cold and its windy today, so dress warm please!" you warned, moving to sit down on the edge of her bed. "no mumma, by myself!" the four year old pointed to the door and hurried over, pushing impatiently at your legs.

"okay okay! jesus i thought i'd get a few more years before i got kicked out of your room, this hurts mila." you gasped dramatically as she shoved you from her room, only met with a door slammed in your face.

"was that-" you turned around and nodded to your wife. "she wants to dress herself today." you informed with a chuckle, moving into the blondes waiting arms which wrapped around you.

"we've told her she isn't allowed to grow up right?" "nearly every day since was born my love, she just does not want to listen."

~

"-are you done now?" you called out with a sigh, leaning against the wall by your daughters door which you'd tried to open several times. only met with a shout and it pushed closed again, mila firmly stating she wasn't ready and you weren't allowed to see until she was.

leah had already left as to not be late and you shook your head as you checked the time again already knowing the two of you would be stuck in traffic and miss kick off if you didn't leave soon.

you'd decided to give the goalpost a kiss in training and were on concussion watch, the knock was nothing serious enough to warrant medical treatment but it was enough to mean you'd be watching todays match from the stands.

"okay mila my love. we have to go and i'm coming in!" you warned, though before you could even grab the handle the door it flew open and a bundle of colour and blonde hair came zooming out.

"like it?" your daughter beamed, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet as you bit your bottom lip taking in her choice of outfit, trying really hard not to bust out in laughter.

she had on a pair of light up trainers alessia had gotten her for her birthday, pale yellow nike joggers with a pair of lime green bike shorts over the top.

on her top half she had on a red hoodie with a pink wälti jersey over the top and a white arsenal beanie on her head, with its matching scarf tied around her hips like a makeshift belt.

"well...i'm not going to lose you in the crowd, thats for certain." you admitted, knowing no matter what you said or tried there wasn't a chance you'd be getting your daughter changed without a fight.

"you don't wanna wear mummys jersey?" you tried, knowing your wife would kick off and lia would be absolutely beside herself with glee in your daughters current choice.

"nope! aunty wally was sad last time i saw her so i thought this would make her happy, cause you and mummy always say pink is a happy colour!" mila explained and your heart melted.

the last time she had seen lia was after a particularly rowdy team night out where she'd wound up crashing at your place, you the designated driver and your wife a key influence in just how many shots lia had downed which you'd told her off for afterwards.

the two had wound up crying crocodile tears on the living room floor as you disallowed them to see mila when the three of you returned home and swapped over with the babysitter around 11 at night.

trying to remind them it was hours after mila's bedtime and the two of them were very drunk it was like arguing with two overgrown toddlers.

which had in turn had woken your daughter up who'd come to investigate, not understanding why she wasn't allowed to say hello when you tried to usher her quickly back to bed before either of the lw's sobbing in the living room could get their hands on her.

"we do say that don't we." you agreed with your daughters words, shaking your head in amusement at her outfit but giving in, not wanting to fully squash the independence you and leah were trying to instill in her.

"at least you listened about the weather and did lots of layers bubba."

~

you sent polite smiles to the strange looks you received walking your daughter through the tunnels of the emirates, meeting up with leahs mum and wordlessly shaking your head at her questioning stare as she scooped up her granddaughter and the three of you made your way to your seats.

"do you like my outfit nana?" your daughter chirped for the third time in the hour as you waved to your wife who was very clearly looking around stressed that she'd not spotted you yet, sighing in relief once she had.

"don't ask." you mouthed at her perplexed look toward your daughter stood up in your lap furiously waving her and her team mates down. "wally!" you cupped your hands over your mouth to gain the midfielders attention as she began to walk off the pitch after warm ups.

vic heard you and grinned before tapping lia's shoulder and gesturing toward you as you spun mila around to show her last name plastered on your daughters back. her face lit up and you laughed as she raced right over to almost tackle your wife, no doubt about to lay into her about it.

now mila was older she'd become a different sort of handful to take to games, especially when both you and leah were playing and had to trust her in someone elses care.

normally your poor mother in law who insisted leah was much worse at that age, which never failed to rile the blonde up who argued her brother was the handful and she was the golden child.

gone were the earmuffs, dummy and baby blanket mila had needed to settle previously, where she'd often sleep the whole way through the match happily bundled up in someones arms.

but nowadays she was a little unstoppable bundle of energy who often required distraction or bribery of some sort to sit still for prolonged periods of time.

which is how you found yourself racing off midway through the first half to sort out some food, having left in such a rush you'd completely forgotten the bag of snacks and toys you normally carted along with you whenever you left the house with mila in tow.

much like her other mother your daughter had the stomach of a bottomless pit, though gratefully she'd taken after you with what she was happy to put in that pit and was nowhere near as fussy as leah.

sometimes when you made dinner and mila ate what you did but leah required a separate meal you really questioned who was the four year old between them.

thankfully once she'd been fed and watered mila settled a little. with her nana more than happy to listen to her chatter and answer her millions of questions you made it through the entire match without a single issue.

the problems started when the game finished, mila starting to go on the turn when you wouldn't allow her to run down the stairs toward the barriers to see leah or any of her aunties, far too many people around and worried you'd lose her or she'd be crushed in the crowd.

it would seem though that patience was not on your daughters agenda today.

"i wanna see mummy now!" the girl whined, wriggling furiously to try and yank her hand out of your grip as you sighed and took a deep breath.

"mummys just saying hi to some people first bubba, thats part of our job! remember?" you tried to explain, even offering her an ice cream as a last minute ditch to distract her but it was to no use.

not even alessia could capture her attention for more than a few minutes as your daughter grew more and more fussy and inpatient the more time passed.

"it'll be fine." you forced a smile toward your friends and team mates who'd all taken turns trying to distract mila as the two of you stood in the tunnel now, leah signing autographs and taking photos with a larger crowd than normal.

"wanna come kick a ball tiny?" beth offered in a last ditch effort and that seemed to work as your daughter nodded eagerly and latched onto the taller girls leg, her giggles echoing around as beth zoomed off back onto the pitch.

you kept them in clear sight as you hung on the sidelines now, waving to a few fans who called out your name, sending an apologetic shake of your head when they asked for your signature and photos too, your focus needing to on your daughter today.

but that tiny lapse in attention was all it took for mila to break away from beth, sprinting off toward leah who had her back turned and ignoring the older girls calls after her which gained your focus back right away.

intercepting her quickly you scooped the four year old up into your arms and sat her on your hip. "i wanna see mummy!” you winced as she smacked your chest a few times and pushed away alessia who'd appeared to try and help, and you could tell from the wobble of her bottom lip that she was a few moments away from a total meltdown.

"hey mila, baby look at me please." you dropped to your knees and stood her on her feet, your hands on her shoulders stopping her from running off.

"we don't hit people, okay? i know you're having some really big feelings and you miss mummy but-" you started, yelping as your daughter suddenly clawed at your hand, racing away toward leah.

you shouted after her, leah looking up a second too late as her daughter barreled into her. "my mummy! mine!" she snarled at a young girl who leah was trying to take a picture with.

the defender quickly picking her up and apologizing to the fan and her dad right as mila started to have a meltdown.

apologizing to the crown still awaiting her attention leah turned heel and headed toward you, the two of you falling into step as you made your way into the tunnel and down the hall toward the change rooms.

"bubba-" you started as her screams turned into sobs and she buried her face in leahs neck who winced with one final scream sounding in her ear.

"off!" mila demanded, pushing away your hand which tried to rub at her back as you inhaled sharply and paused.

catching your wifes eye who nodded in understanding, you stayed outside and she disapeared into the change rooms to try and calm your daughter down.

"hey, you alright?" you glanced up to meet concerned blue eyes and nodded, exhaling deeply as your best friend pulled you into a hug. "thanks less." you mumbled as she rubbed your back, assuring over and over that you were the best mum ever.

promising her you were okay but that you'd need a rain check on dinner plans you all had tonight she gave you another hug and headed off to see her family.

with another deep breath you headed into the change rooms, only a few of the girls remaining as you spotted leah by her cubby. you caught her eye again and raised an eyebrow as she nodded, your daughter still tightly clinging onto her.

"mila. what do we need to say to mumma please?" leah started firmly, bouncing her knee up and down gently to gain your daughters attention as she pulled her head out of your wifes neck.

"im very sorry for scratching and yelling." the girl apologised softly, climbing off leahs lap and moving into yours, warmth flooding your body as she hugged you tightly and you kissed the top of her head.

you melted even further as your daughter grabbed your hand, carefully kissing over where she'd scratched you before clambering right back into leahs lap.

"i'll shower at home." leah chuckled, gesturing to the way your daughter clung onto her like a monkey, refusing to loosen her grip as you took your wifes bag for her and the three of you waved goodbye to the few girls left and headed for the car park.

"mummy sit in the back with me, please?" mila ordered with a pout once you reached the car.

"alright kid, just this once." leah gave in clearly picking up that mila was being abnormally clingy today, something the two of you would need to speak with her about another time.

and for the rest of that night it was the same story, your daughter refusing not to have some part of her in contact with leah at all times.

so much so that she'd stayed in the bathroom while your wife showered, insisting you sit with her as well as she held leahs hand through the shower door as much as she could making you smile in amusement.

"my mummy." was all that seemed to be repeated, the possessiveness also something new but a conversation for another day as leah waved off your concerns, too thrilled with having your daughters full focus and attention all night.

"for god sakes." you'd mumbled later that night at the sight before you. your wife having spent an abnormal amount of time putting mila to bed you'd wandered up to check in.

only to find leah dead asleep in the tiny single bed belonging to your daughter, long limbs hanging off the sides with mila curled into her still very much so awake.

"sh! mummy is very tired." the four year old warned with her finger over her lips as you entered the room.

"you should be asleep little miss, not mummy!" you reminded quietly as she gave you a cheeky smile looking far too much like leah, holding up the book which was previously laid open on your wifes chest and patting the mere centimeters of space left on her bed beside her.

"one more story, please?"

[toonice113]

The jacket pt.2 ⋆ ★ L.Hughes

❗️requested - part one

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Based on this request: i was wondering if you’re open to do a pt.2 with gf’s reaction to his injury in the 3rd (around ~10:55) and maybe a post game where he’s just happy to see her in the jacket and she’s stressed bc he’s injured

Warnings: mentions of his injury but he’s okay

Word count: 608

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ what a fucked up day, the devils lost and im pretty sure my laptop is dying so i had to write this on my phone. have this part 2 of the jacket to hopefully make it a bit better.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw Luke laying in the net and the 10 seconds it took for him to get up felt more like 10 minutes. Today was supposed to be fun, and it had been, after the jackets you’d all eaten lunch and during the first intermission the kids had done an easter egg hunt, but all that seemed so far away now.

From your left Aly places her hand in your shoulder taking you out of your trance just as Luke gets up and skates away holding his shoulder in pain, the same shoulder he’d told you about that had been injured last year. You turn to look at her and one look is all it takes for her to understand, taking her son who was napping in your arms from you as you stand up with your phone in hand walking towards the house.

You check for updates that don’t come through for a while, texting him to let you know how he’s doing as soon as he gets a chance to and hoping that the lack of communication meant he was alright.

“Hey, he’s okay, he’s back on the ice” one of the girls tells you from the backyard doors and you feel like you can breathe again, locking your phone and rejoining the rest.

You’re back home when the call comes through, your phone ringing only once before you pick it up.

“Hi baby” His voice sounds tired, definitely not happy with the result of the game

“Oh god hi” You say “How are you?”

“Well that wasn’t how I wanted the game to go but hey what can you do? Seeing you in that jacket with my name on it sure does make today a bit better though” You can hear his smile through his words

“Yeah we’re definitely going to have a few words about that post later, but I don’t really care a lot about that right now, how’s your shoulder?” You ask worried that he went back to play while being injured

“Listen you just looked too good not to share, can’t wait to see it in person” He ignores your question about his shoulder

“Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you left the game clutching your shoulder in pain? Because it’s really not working baby” You tell him

“Maybe the good luck only works if you’re in the arena, hey wanna fly to Raleigh?” He jokes and that’s when you start getting concerned again

“Luke stop deflecting” Your tone is more stern this time and that’s when he realizes you’re actually worried about him and it’s time to stop joking around

“Baby I promise you I’m okay” He sighs “Shoulder’s good, just a bad hit, the doctors checked it and said I was okay to go back out there” You sigh too, relief flooding at his genuine tone “Will probably have to ice it today and tomorrow but I should be okay”

“Okay” You say “I’m glad you’re okay, got me worried for a minute there when you didn’t get back up”

“I’m all good” Your phone beeps, a facetime request “Now, how about you show me some outfits with your new jacket”

You accept the request, his face, with a big smile, covering your screen “Oh yeah, now that you’ve reminded me” His smile falls “What the hell were you thinking posting that picture”

But you’re not mad, and he knows you’re not mad, so after a playful scolding your phone is set in your dresser as you show Luke some outfits you were thinking of wearing for the home games.

[aeralux]

"Close To You" - Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark

Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader & Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you last saw your dear twin brother, Jacaerys, after becoming Lady Stark of Winterfell. Surprisingly, your husband has no qualms about sharing his beautiful lady wife with her twin brother. As long as Jacaerys knows that it is still he, who brings his beloved wife the best pleasure she has ever experienced.

Warnings: SMUT 18+; Targaryen twincest; oral (m and f receiving); male masturbation; voyeurism; technically infidelity (but Cregan is fine with it cause it's Jacaerys); doggy style (again, yes. I'm sorry, but it fit the plot); foul language; threesome

Words: 11k

Notes: No use of (y/n) and no description of the reader. If you do not agree with the warnings, DO NOT read. I'm not responsible for the content you consume.

It was late, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the ancient stone walls of Winterfell, and your muscles ached. Your husband had once again taken you to heights of passion that left you breathless. The Stark men were known for their virility, a reputation that Cregan carried with pride. Though you had entered this union with apprehension, you found comfort in knowing Cregan Stark was a man of great honour and nobility. What was there not to admire?

Yet, despite the warmth that enveloped you in your new life, a deep ache resided in your heart. You yearned for your beloved twin, Jacaerys, with whom you had shared every joy and sorrow since birth. Until the fateful discussions of your betrothal began, you had envisioned a future where you would never be parted from him. But those dreams had been cruelly shattered beneath the weight of duty and expectation. Still, Jace’s assurances echoed in your mind; he had promised Cregan was worthy of your love, and you knew his praises were not spoken lightly.

Now, six moons had passed since you had left the warmth of Dragonstone to embrace your role as Lady of Winterfell, where the chill of the North wrapped around you like a second skin. The transition had been harsh yet strangely welcome. Your husband, with his quiet strength and reliable presence, had ensured your comfort in every conceivable way. He listened to your hopes and dreams and wrapped you in a love that had begun to soothe your loss. Each shared smile and soft caress deepened your bond. Cregan made sure that you were thoroughly satisfied in your marriage.

Your husband carefully freed himself from your warm embrace, placing a tender kiss upon your forehead—a fleeting touch, but one that spoke volumes of his affection. As he strode through the ancient halls of Winterfell, the flickering torchlight casting shadows upon the stone walls, he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. His keen eyes soon landed upon Jacaerys, who had only arrived two days prior, and his eagerness to be near his beloved sister was evident in the way he fidgeted.

With a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, Cregan approached the young prince, claiming a seat on the plush, well-worn sofa before the hearth, where the flames danced, spreading warmth throughout the cold hall. “How are you faring in the North, my prince?” his deep voice resonated, breaking through the heavy silence that enveloped them.

Jacaerys looked up, momentarily pulled from his thoughts. “You have shown much hospitality, and I am grateful for that. My sister seems to flourish in the northern air,” he replied, his tone a mindful balance of politeness and reserve.

Cregan chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the fire as it crackled. “She does indeed find joy here,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “You know my affection for her runs deep. I do everything within my power to ensure her happiness.” The taunting light in his eyes betrayed the amusement he found in Jacaerys’ discomfort, fully aware of the peculiar customs that governed the Targaryens—a family known for their fierce loyalty and their tangled web of desires.

Before allowing Jacaerys to respond, Cregan took another measured sip from his glass, swirling the amber liquid within. His voice held an ominous weight as he spoke, "I overheard you yesterday. Pleasuring my lady wife..." He let the words hang in the air, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of the chamber.

Jacaerys’ heart dropped as he met Cregan’s steady gaze, shock and dread mingling on his face. The Lord of Winterfell was a mountain of a man, both in stature and presence, no stranger to battles. The very spirit of the North. “Cregan…I’m—”

Cregan cut him off with a low chuckle, his voice gravelly. “No need to apologize. I suspected as much.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I knew she was no maiden when I first claimed her. She spilt no blood and seemed all too familiar with passions—her cries echoed through the halls, begging for more.” A glint of mischief flickered in his eyes as memories of their wedding night stirred within him, the warmth of it all washing over him.

Jacaerys stared at Cregan, bewilderment etched across his features. How could the man sit there, so unbothered by the knowledge that he had bedded the very woman he now claimed as his own?

“But!” The laughter drained from Cregan’s voice, replaced by a steely seriousness. “Remember, she is my lady, my wife, and she is to bear my heirs. A Stark must always remain in Winterfell.” The warning was clear, the kind of warning that came from a man who had carved his place in the world with blood and honour.

As silence enveloped them, Jacaerys began to gather his fractured thoughts, the weight of his intentions pressing heavily upon him. “Of course. She drank Moon Tea right away. I brought some with me,” he stammered, unwittingly revealing the purpose that had guided his way to Winterfell.

“Ah, so you did spill your seed in her womb,” Cregan mused, narrowing his eyes as if calculating the implications of the prince’s words. "Can’t say I’m surprised. After all, she was yours first, wasn’t she?” His voice had a teasing tone, reminding them that amidst the tension, their fates were still closely linked.

Jacaerys sat with his head bowed, shame flooding through him like cold water. Cregan, once a trusted ally and now a close friend, had become a victim of his actions. The weight of betrayal pressed heavily on his heart. "I did not mean to betray you in this manner, my good Lord," he admitted, his voice steady yet laced with regret. His brown eyes, usually bright, were now shadowed with sincerity. "It is difficult to resist a beauty like her." He cast his gaze downward again, seeking some semblance of justification for his actions.

Cregan leaned back in his chair, a bemused smirk creeping across his lips. "Tell me then... what did you do to her?" The words rolled off his tongue teasingly, lightening the heavy air between them. He leaned back comfortably, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Come on, indulge me," he urged, curiosity piqued. To anyone else, his fascination might seem perverse. Still, to Cregan, such matters were mere threads in the intricacy of life. After all, Jacaerys’s actions were but a common act in your ancient bloodline. And deep down, they both knew you were Cregan's now. And no man or God could take you away from him.

Jacaerys squirmed uncomfortably under Cregan's penetrating gaze, a flush of guilt and shame creeping up his neck as he recalled last night's activities. "I... I pleased her, of course," he began hesitantly, unsure how much detail Cregan wished to hear. "My mouth and hands worshipped every inch of her soft skin, my fingers delving into secret places to draw out her sweet cries." He paused, swallowing hard at the recollection.

Jacaerys let out a low groan as your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping your waist possessively. He captured your lips in a searing, passionate kiss, pouring all his pent-up longing and desire into the embrace.

"Mine," he mumbled against your mouth, his tongue delving deep to claim you thoroughly. His hands slid down to grasp your rear, squeezing the firm globes as he pressed your body flush against his own.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His beard rasped deliciously against your flesh, leaving faint red marks.

"I've wanted this... wanted you... for so long," Jacaerys panted, his voice rough with lust. "To touch you, taste you, feel your naked skin against mine again..."

He pushed the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, exposing more of your flesh to his hungry gaze. Cupping your breasts, he kneaded the soft bosom, thumbs circling your hardening peaks through the thin fabric.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," Jacaerys promised darkly, his eyes glinting with wicked intent in the moonlight.

"Then... then I slowly undressed her, baring her skin to my hungry gaze. I caressed every curve, marvelling at the softness of her flesh." Jacaerys' breathing grew heavy and uneven, both from embarrassment and ardour. 

"I took my time, wanting to savour every moment of our union."

Jacaerys growled low in his throat as your hands explored his body with such desperate hunger. He quickly shed the remainder of his clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor until he was bare before you, his manhood standing proud and erect.

"Greedy girl," he teased, a wicked grin on his face as he pushed you back onto the bed, settling his weight between your spread thighs.

He hooked his fingers in your nightgown and practically ripped it off, baring your naked body to his heated gaze. His calloused hand cupped your sex, one long finger delving between your slick folds to stroke your sensitive, aching flesh.

"You are so wet," Jacaerys moaned, his finger sliding deep inside you, curling to stroke that special spot within. "So ready for your brother'..."

He added another finger, pumping them in and out of your clenching heat as his thumb rubbed firm circles around your pearl. Leaning down, he captured one stiff nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.

The prince took a shuddering breath, steeling himself to continue. "I laid her down on the bed. I needed to taste her sweetness." He could feel the heat rising in his body as he spoke, arousal stirring once more at the mere memory of your joining.

Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way down your body, his tongue and lips exploring every dip and curve with agonizing slowness.

"Patience, little sister," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I'm going to take my time with you, make you beg so sweetly."

He paused to lave his tongue around your navel before continuing his descent, settling between your splayed thighs. He could smell your arousal, and see your swollen, glistening folds just inches from his face. Jacaerys licked his lips in anticipation.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he praised, running a finger through your dripping slit. "Missed your sweet cunny so much."

Without warning, he buried his face between your thighs, sealing his mouth over your sex in a deep, intimate kiss. His tongue delved between your folds, stroking and probing your most sensitive flesh as he licked up your essence.

Cregan listened intently, a flicker of amusement dancing in his grey eyes as Jacaerys recounted the intimate details of his tryst with you. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the very picture of a man engaged and intrigued. A wicked grin spread across his rugged features as yesterday's events replayed themselves in his mind's eye.

Cregan had just finished his nightly duties and was about to retire to his chambers when he heard the unmistakable sounds of passion spill out from the private chambers of his new bride. Brow furrowed, he crept closer, pressing an ear to the heavy wooden door.

What he heard made his blood run cold. The wet, obscene sucking sounds, the breathy moans and wanton cries that could only belong to one woman - his pretty wife. And the low, rough groans and filthy words of encouragement - unmistakably the voice of Jacaerys Velaryon.

Cregan listened intently from the doorway, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in every lewd sound and wanton moan spilling from your lips. He could hear the wet, vulgar squelches of Jacaerys' fingers plunging into your dripping cunt.

Cregan's manhood swelled and strained against his breeches as he listened to his brother-in-law worship his wife with such eagerness. He knew all too well the taste of your honeyed essence on his tongue, the feel of your velvety walls gripping him tightly as he fucked you hard and deep.

Nothing Jacaerys did could compare to how Cregan took you, could it? He knew you screamed the loudest, the longest when Cregan split you open on his massive length and pounded you into the bed until you saw stars.

Still, Cregan couldn't deny the eroticism of the scene happening behind the door - his little wife, flushed and writhing in pleasure, begging for your own brother's cock like the desperate slut you were.

"Aye, I've seen the way her body responds to my touch," Cregan murmured, a note of pride in his deep voice. "The way her nipples harden beneath my fingers, like ripe berries begging to be plucked." He chuckled softly, lost momentarily in the memory of your soft gasps and breathy moans.

"The way she arches into me, seeking more, always more." Cregan's lips curled into a smirk. "She's a passionate creature, your sister. It's no surprise she craves the touch of a man."

He sipped his whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. "Tell me, did she ride you with the same fervour shedoes me?" Cregan asked, a challenging glint in his eye. "Did she sink onto your cock with the same eager cries and lustful abandon?"

"I've had her in every room of Winterfell," he boasted a hint of pride in his tone. "On the great table in the banquet hall, bent over the balcony overlooking the godswood, even in the openness of the training yard, not caring who saw her lost in the throes of passion."

Cregan's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Did she scream your name as she came undone on your cock, or did she remain silent, saving her cries for when she's with me?" The lord smiled wolfishly, clearly enjoying the taboo conversation.

"She's a wild little thing in the bedchamber," Cregan smirked, "full of untamed passion and desire." He set his glass down with a thud, the alcohol no doubt fueling his bold directness.

Jacaerys met Cregan's challenging gaze with a smirk of his own, not to be outdone by the Lord of Winterfell's brazen boasting. "Ah, but did you hear her scream your name like a prayer to the gods when she found her release?" the prince retorted, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. "I assure you, my technique is... unparalleled."

He leaned forward, mirroring Cregan's posture, the air charged with camaraderie rather than hostility. "Perhaps it was how I worshipped her body with reverence, like a man honouring a goddess," Jacaerys continued, his voice low and teasing.

Despite the smirk on his lips, there was no genuine malice in Jacaerys' words, only a playful ribbing between two men who had come to know each other intimately through their shared bond with you. Cregan's chest rumbled with laughter, a sound of genuine amusement rather than anger.

"Is that so?" Cregan chuckled, taking another swig of his whiskey. "Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on that account. After all, I've seen how she melts against me, her body moulding to mine like she was made for me alone."

With a final, winning grin and a clap on Jacaerys' shoulder, Cregan stood up from his chair, finishing the last of his whiskey in one long, appreciative gulp. He set the empty glass down on the side table with a soft clink, straightened his tunic and stepped away from the hearth.

"My lady wife awaits," Cregan rumbled, a note of anticipation in his deep voice. "It seems your sister's passion is not so easily sated, even after a night of lover's embraces." He smirked in a self-assured, almost smug manner, well aware of his role in stoking the flames of your desire.

Cregan flicked his gaze back to the fire before turning to leave. The warmth of the flames faded as he stepped out into the chill of the castle halls, his long strides ate up the distance to the bed chambers he shared with his new bride, each step filled with purpose and growing hunger.

As he entered the room, the soft glow of candlelight and the welcoming heat of the hearth illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the furs and silken sheets.

He took off his clothes methodically, folding his tunic and breeches and setting them aside with a carelessness that spoke of utter ease in his surroundings. Then, clad in nothing but his small clothes, Cregan approached the bed, his grey eyes glinting with a predatory light.

As much as his body ached for yours, Cregan knew that rushing headlong into their coupling would not serve either of them. No, he would take his time, would worship your body with the reverence and attention it deserved... even if the young prince had attempted to lay claim to your heart many times before your wedding day and the night before.

"Did you miss me, my lady?" Cregan asked, his voice a low rumble as he slid beneath the covers beside her. "Or were you still lost in the memory of your beloved twin's touch?" He allowed a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth, knowing that no matter what pleasure Jacaerys had given you, it could not compare to the devotion and love Cregan held for you.

You stirred from your slumber, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep as you noticed the empty space beside you on the bed. A soft, sleepy groan escaped your lips as your gaze drifted to your husband's larger form looming above you in the dark room.

"Mmh..." you mumbled incoherently, your voice thick with drowsy confusion. "Why aren't you next to me, Cregan?" you whined poutily, reaching out a hand to caress the empty sheets beside you.

Cregan felt a flicker of amusement stir within him at the playful, pouty tone lacing your voice. He lowered himself slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your furrowed brow, determined to smooth the wrinkle upon your delicate features.

"Did you truly miss me that much, sweetling?" he teased, his deep voice wrapped in an affection that warmed the air between you. His gaze, intense yet tender, bore into yours as he reached out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, trailing along the delicate curve of your jaw—a gentle touch that felt reassuring and intimate.

"I'm here now," he continued, the gravity of his tone momentarily giving way to a playful smirk. I had to see to some matters with your brother." The corners of his mouth twitched as memories of his conversation with Jacaerys flickered, a brief lustful glimmer lighting his eyes. The air around you seemed to hold a charged silence, filled with the unspoken bond you had developed.

You blinked at Cregan, your sleepy eyes widening as his words sank in. Your brother's name slipped off your tongue in a drowsy murmur. "Jacaerys?" you asked, leaning into his warm touch instinctively as you tried to shake the last remnants of sleep from your mind. "What matters did you have to discuss with him?" As you spoke, you sat up slowly in the bed, the sheets slipping down to pool around your waist.

Cregan's gaze drifted over your newly exposed skin as you sat up, taking in the way the candlelight danced across your shoulders and the gentle swell of your breasts. He felt a familiar stirring within him, a building heat. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you, his large frame dwarfing yours.

"He spoke of the night you shared," Cregan admitted, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust. "Of the way he touched you, worshipped you..." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "As if I didn't already know how sweetly you yield to a lover's caress."

Your heart raced as Cregan's words sank in, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the mention of your secret tryst with Jacaerys. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, and hear the echoes of your stolen whispers and soft moans lingering in the candlelit bedroom.

Cregan's hands slid down to rest on your waist, his fingers splaying across the dip of your hips. He pulled you closer until your bare breasts pressed against his chest, the soft mounds moulding to the hard planes of his body like they were madefor him alone.

Cregan's hands slid higher, skimming over the curve of your ribcage until they cupped the soft weight of your breasts. He kneaded the tender flesh, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.

"Tell me, my dear," Cregan murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin, "who do you think can bring you more pleasure? Your dear brother... or your husband?"

Your breath hitched as Cregan's strong hands caressed your sensitive skin, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. You found yourself arching into him instinctively, craving more of his electrifying touch.

"Cregan..." you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly as you gazed up at him through your long lashes. "My brother's touches are gentle, almost reverent... like the soft petals of a rose," you explained, your fingers splaying across the firm expanse of his chest.

"But you..." you continued, your pulse quickening as you leaned into him, your lips a mere breath away from his. "You bring me to heights of ecstasy I never knew existed. Each time we join, it's as if the Gods have smiled upon me, blessing our union."

A fierce blush crept up your neck and painted your cheeks a rosy hue as you admitted, "I find myself to rather enjoy your... more forceful ways of loving me. The way you claim my body, it drives me to the very brink of madness..." you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan felt a surge of primal male satisfaction at your breathless confession, his heartbeat quickening with the knowledge of the effect he had on you. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips possessively as he pulled you flush against him, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh.

"Is that so?" Cregan growled, a wicked gleam in his grey eyes as he drank in your flushed, wanton expression. "Then allow me to remind you just how thoroughly you belong to me..." 

With that, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep. One hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up to wrap around his waist as he rolled his hips into yours, grinding his hard length against your core.

Cregan's other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he bit down gently, marking you as his.

"Mine," Cregan rumbled against your skin, his voice heavy with desire and possession. "You are mine, now and forever. I will have you screaming my name until there is no doubt who you belong to."

To emphasize his point, Cregan slid a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your slick heat. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his digits sliding through your folds with ease. "So wet for me already, love..." he purred, circling your sensitive pearl with maddening precision. "Tell me, who makes you burn like this? Who sets your body ablaze with need?"

"Oh gods, Cregan..." you whimpered breathlessly, your back arching as jolts of electric pleasure coursing through your body. Gasps and needy whines spilt from your lips, your fingers curling into his firm muscles. 

"Fuck," you panted, instinctively rolling your hips against his fingers, seeking more of that friction. "It's you, Cregan. Now fuck me like you mean it," you demanded, your dragon showing its scales.

A low, approving growl rumbled in Cregan's chest as he felt your body come alive beneath his touch, your demands stoking the flames of his desire. Without hesitation, he flipped you onto your stomach, pushing you down into the plush bedding. He straddled your hips, pinning you in place with his large frame.

He touched you in a way that awakened a carnal desire you had never known before him. You craved his dominance, the way he could bend you to his will with a mere touch or a whispered command.

"As my lady commands," Cregan purred darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. His calloused hands slid around to grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh roughly. He slipped a hand beneath your hip, pushing it up and out until your rear was raised and presented to him.

"You have a magnificent ass," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble as he delivered a sharp slap to one cheek, making you let out a quiet whine in response.

Cregan flipped up your nightgown, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air of the bedroom. He could see the glistening folds of your pussy, the way your arousal clung to your outer lips. Unable to resist, Cregan reached out, delivering another sudden, sharp smack to your rear. The sound of skin connecting with skin filled the candlelit room, followed by a reddening handprint blooming across your tender flesh. You gasped at the unexpected contact, back arching as a sensation raced through you.

Your body trembled with need, as you arched your back, presenting yourself to your husband. Teasing him with the tantalizing curve of your rear, you breathed out your plea.

"Again," you whimpered, biting your lip coyly as you gazed back at him over your shoulder. "Please Cregan, spank me again."

"Such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cregan purred, landing a sharp spank on your ass. The sound echoed through the room, followed by your startled gasp. "Demanding your husband fuck you like a she-wolf in a rut." He spanked you again, watching the supple flesh jiggle enticingly.

You arched your back, a throaty moan escaping your lips as Cregan's strong hand connected with the supple curve of your ass. "Mmh!" Your body shuddered in response to the sudden jolt of sensation, a tingling warmth spreading across your skin. "Yes!" You cried out, your hair swaying with the force of his slap. "Please Cregan, more."

Trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, you pushed your rear up higher, unconsciously offering yourself to him. Presenting the round, perky cheeks of your butt for his punishment. "I need... I need you." you breathed out, your voice ragged with arousal.

Cregan let out a deep, approving growl at your wanton display, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the erotic sight of your arched back and raised rear. His calloused hand continued to rain down sharp slaps across the supple globes, watching in satisfaction as they jiggled and reddened beneath his touch.

"Such a needy little minx, begging so sweetly for your husband's cock," Cregan rumbled, delivering another stinging blow. His other hand slid between your thighs, feeling the slick heat of your arousal. "So wet and ready, just from rough handling." He circled your clit with a teasing finger, feeling it swell and throb against his touch.

Cregan leaned down, dragging his tongue along the curve of your spine, tasting the salt of your skin. Slowly he pushed a long finger inside your tight heat, pumping it, relishing the way your walls clenched around the intrusion. "Tell me, sweetling, who makes this sweet cunt weep with need?" He added a second finger, thrusting deeper, harder.

"Oh gods, you Cregan!" you gasped. Pleasure sparked through you at his touch, your slick walls clenching greedily around the digits plunging in and out.

But you couldn't resist stirring his jealous nature, even in your heightened state. "And Jace... oh fuck, the way he touched me, it was... it was incredible." you moaned, dragging out your brother's name.

You knew Cregan would punish you for that, for even mentioning your brother's name while he had you like this. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your heart racing in your chest.

Cregan's jaw clenched at your brother's name falling from your lips, a surge of jealousy and possession flaring within him. He withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving your aching cunny empty and wanting.

"Jace, is it?" Cregan growled, his voice a low rumble filled with dark promise. "Let me show you the difference between a prince's tender loving and a man's hungry lust."

He pushed your thighs further apart, baring your glistening folds to his heated gaze. Then he leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.

You threw your head back as a throaty scream tore from your throat. The lewd, obscene slurping sounds of Cregan's hungry mouth devouring your dripping sex filled the room, mingling with your wanton cries of ecstasy.

"Oh gods, yes!" you keened, fingers scrabbling at the sheets beneath you as jolts of pleasure coursed through your veins. "Don't stop!"

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribs as you pushed your hips back shamelessly. The depraved act only fueled the fire burning in your core, clear juices of your arousal dripping down your trembling thighs.

"Fuck, Cregan!" you panted, your voice ragged and breathless.

Cregan latched his mouth onto your cunny, his tongue delving between your slick folds to lap at your essence. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he feasted on your dripping cunt like a starving man. His tongue circled your clit, flicked over it, and suckled on it greedily as his lips and mouth worked tirelessly to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling your ass back against his face as he licked and sucked and devoured you like a starving man. The obscene sounds of his greed filled the room, mingling with your shameless screams of ecstasy.

Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your flushed cheeks, your hair in a wild mess. Drool dribbled from the corner of your slack mouth, your jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Cregan's skilful tongue and lips devoured your most intimate places with a hunger, reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess.

At that moment, you knew with absolute certainty that not even the most skilled harlots could compare to you at this moment.

Cregan continued his relentless assault, spurred on by your screams and the knowledge that he was reducing you to this pleading mess. He could feel your body tensing, your thighs quaking against his head as your climax approached.

"Not... not yet, love," Cregan commanded, pulling back just long enough to growl the words against your slick flesh. The loss of his mouth on your cunny makes you whine pathetically.

As Cregan's skilled mouth continued to work its magic, consumed by a primal hunger as he devoured his bride's dripping sex, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the torchlit corridor outside their bedchamber. Unbeknownst to the lost-in-passion couple, Jacaerys had been making his way back to his chambers after his discussion with Cregan.

However, the prince's steps faltered as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his sister's ecstasy spilling out from behind the heavy oak door. Your screams of "Fuck, Cregan!" and the wet, obscene noises of a man feasting on a woman's most intimate place brought him up short. For a moment, he stood there, heart pounding, as he listened to the lewd symphony playing out mere feet away.

"Oh gods, yes!" he heard you cry out, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Don't stop!"

A surge of jealous fury flooded Jacaerys at the sound of Cregan's name falling from his sister's lips in such a context. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to barge into the room and tear his rival away from you. But even through the haze of his anger, he couldn't help but picture the scene - his beautiful sister, writhing in ecstasy on the bed as her new husband indulged greedily on her dripping cunt.

Despite the jealousy, Jacaerys palmed his hardening length through his breeches, imagining he was the one bringing his darling twin to such heights of pleasure.

He drew near to the door, his heart thundering in his chest. Jacaerys swallowed hard, his hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. A part of him knew he should leave to give you and your new husband the privacy you deserved. But another part that still ached with longing for your touch, urged him to enter. To see with his own eyes the passion that set his sister's blood aflame.

Jacaerys hesitated a moment longer before quietly pushing open the heavy oak door, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. As he stepped into the bedchamber, his eyes widened in shock at the utterly depraved scene unfolding before him.

There, in the centre of the room, was the bed. And there, upon the bed, was a sight that stole his breath away. His precious twin, his sweet sister, was on her hands and knees, her back arched in a way that thrust her hips up and presented the glistening, dripping folds of her sex to Cregan's hungry mouth.

The sight of Cregan's dark head nestled between his sister's thighs, of his mouth greedily devouring your most intimate place, made Jacaerys' heart clench with a pang of bitter envy. The nasty slurping sounds filling the room, punctuated by your shameless cries of pleasure and guttural moans.

"Fuck, Cregan! Yes, yes!"

Jacaerys stood frozen, hardly able to believe his eyes at how his sister was allowing herself to be taken, so wantonly and without shame. Drool spilt from the corner of your slack mouth as you lost yourself in pleasure, totally unaware of your brother's presence.

He watched, enraptured and appalled in equal measure, as Cregan pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy with each pass of his tongue, each greedy suckle of your swollen clit. The sight of his sister's pleasure was breathtaking and breathtakingly lewd, your body glistening with sweat and your arousal dripping down your quivering thighs. He had never seen his sweet, innocent sister so utterly consumed by carnal pleasure... it was almost too much for the young prince to bear.

Under his robes, Jacaerys' manhood strained against the confines of his breeches, the thick length throbbing and aching for release. He palmed himself through the fabric, his breath growing ragged as he watched Cregan devour your sex like a starving man.

You gasped in shock as you turned to see Jacaerys standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. Embarrassment flushed through you, colouring your cheeks a deep shade of red.

"J-Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice catching on a desperate moan you couldn't quite suppress. You were mortified for him to see you like this - on your hands and knees, drool spilling from your slack mouth as Cregan feasted greedily on your dripping cunt. It was a sight so foul and vulgar, so far removed from the sweet, innocent girl he knew.

He had never witnessed you in such a state of shameless abandon before. Always, his lovemaking had been gentle and tender, laying you down like a true gentleman before worshipping your body with soft, respectful touches. Seeing you mewling and writhing in ecstasy, your round ass raised and presented to your husband's hungry mouth... it had to be a shock for him surely.

He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming over your arched back, the reddened globes of your ass.

"Sweet sister..." Jacaerys breathed out, his voice thick with shock and a confusing mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the erotic spectacle.

"Brother, please," you gasped out between desperate moans and whimpers, your back arching as Cregan continued his relentless assault on your sex. "Don't look..." You couldn't bring yourself to beg him to stay, yet you couldn't bring yourself to beg him to flee.

Cregan glanced up at Jacaerys, his eyes glinting with a wicked, almost taunting light. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your arousal. "Why don't you join us, Your Grace?" Cregan invited, his tone dripping with mocking deference. "Your sister is a feast that begs to be shared."

Before you could utter a word of protest or pleading, Cregan's skilful tongue pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, back arching as you came with a loud, shameless cry that echoed through the room. "Ahhh!" you screamed, your vision going white as your eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy.

Wave after wave of raw, primal bliss crashed over you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around Cregan's plundering tongue. You gripped the silken sheets beneath you like a lifeline as you rode out your intense climax, your body shaking like a leaf.

Cregan groaned against your flesh, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure as he worked you through your intense climax with skilled licks and sucks.

Jacaerys stood rooted to the spot, his mouth agape as he watched your body undulate in the throes of ecstasy. He had never seen such a display of sensual bliss from his sister before, and it both shocked and aroused him deeply.

Cregan pulled back slightly, watching with smug satisfaction as your body shuddered and jerked, your honey dripping down your quivering thighs. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your release. "That's it, love," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble that carried to Jacaerys' ears. "Let it all out. Let your brother hear what a wanton little thing you are for your husband."

"Sister!" Jacaerys gasped, his voice strangled with emotion. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the erotic spectacle unfolding before him, even as a part of him recoiled at the display. This was not the sweet, gentle girl he knew and loved... this was a creature of pure, unbridled lust.

Cregan rose to his feet, looming over your still-trembling form like a conquering warrior. He licked his lips, savouring the lingering taste of your climax on his tongue. The smug smirk playing across his lips glistened with your essence in the candlelight.

Jacaerys glared at Cregan, his jaw clenched tight with a mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. As much as he despised the man's arrogance, he couldn't deny the way his groin throbbed at the erotic sight of his sister's limp, thoroughly pleasured body.

Slowly, hesitantly at first, Jacaerys took a step forward. Then another. With each step, he felt a growing sense of transgression, of crossing an invisible line. But the pull of lust was too strong to resist.

"I'll have you know my sister is not some... some harlot," Jacaerys growled, even as he came to stand beside the bed, looking down at your trembling form. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every intimate detail - the way your breasts heaved with each ragged breath, the glistening folds of your pussy...

"I... I'm not jealous," he lied, his voice strained. But as he spoke, his hand drifted down to adjust his straining erection through his breeches, betraying his true desires. "I'm just... I'm just concerned for her well-being."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked down at your nude, trembling form splayed out before him and Cregan. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but the sight of you so wantonly pleasured had ignited a fire in his loins that he couldn't ignore.

"The offer stands, Your Grace," Cregan said smugly, his hand still possessively groping and kneading the soft flesh of your ass. "Why don't you come to claim your share?" 

With that, Cregan grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back, making you shriek and leaving you staring up at them both - your husband with his arrogant smirk and your brother with his conflicted, lust-filled gaze. Your legs fell open, giving them an unobstructed view of your dripping cunt.

You were flushed and panting beneath their appraising gazes, your breasts heaving with each ragged, uneven breath.

The fabric of your nightgown still clung to your chest, but you knew it wouldn't be long before Cregan tore it away completely. Soon, you would be bare and exposed before them both, a delight for their eyes and hands and mouths to devour.

Cregan licked his lips as he drank in the delicious sight of your naked body splayed out wantonly before them. He could see the way your brother's eyes roamed hungrily over your nude form, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the glistening folds of your sex. The air was thick with a tension that made Cregan's cock throb urgently against your thigh.

"That's right, princess," Cregan purred, trailing a finger along the curve of your breast, feeling your nipple stiffen at his touch. "You're going to be a feast for both of our appetites tonight."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Stark," Jacaerys warned, his voice low and rough. "She is my sister. Honour demands that I protect her from... from men like you."

Yet even as he spoke, Jacaerys found his hand drifting closer to your thigh, his fingers grazing your soft skin. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, could see the way your chest rose and fell with each desperate breath.

"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed, his voice strangled with a mix of shock and desire. "I must confess... I've never seen you like this before. Never imagined..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words, his mouth suddenly dry.

Cregan smirked at the prince's obvious arousal, his hand still possessively gripping your hip. "Aye, it's a sight to behold, isn't it? Your sister's sweet cunny, so ripe and ready for the taking."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking up to meet Cregan's arrogant gaze before dropping back to your naked body. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "And I find myself... craving a taste."

With a rough tug, Cregan ripped the flimsy fabric away, baring your naked body entirely to both their hungry gazes. Your breasts bounced free, the flush peaks puckered and begging for attention. Your cunny soaked with arousal, the delicate folds dewy and swollen with desire.

You gasped softly as Cregan tore away the fabric of your nightgown. With a teasing smile, you slipped the ruined garment off your shoulders. It joined the growing pile of tattered nightgowns you had accumulated since marrying Cregan - this was the third one this month...

"My, my, so eager are you to have me bare and wanting," you murmured, arching an eyebrow at your husband. "A simple 'take it off' would have sufficed, my dear husband. But I must admit, there's something thrilling about being ravished."

"My brother, you look as though you've never seen me before," you tease softly, reaching up to walk your fingers along the swell of your breasts. "It was only yesterday you had me? Have you already forgotten your sister's charms?" You shrug, the movement making your breasts bounce slightly, drawing their eyes to the ripe mounds.

Jacaerys swallowed hard as he watched your breasts, jiggling maddeningly with each subtle movement. The way you spoke, so calmly and playfully, only served to heighten his agitation. He couldn't recognise the lustful creature before him.

"I... I have not forgotten," he managed to say, his voice weakened with desire. "But this... this is different. Seeing you so brazenly needy..." He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and could feel his cock throbbing urgently against the confines of his breeches.

Cregan glanced at Jacaerys, his smirk widening at the prince's hungry gaze. "Isn't she a sight, Jacaerys? I've never seen a woman more in need of a man's touch."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from your breasts to your dripping sex. He could see the glistening arousal coating your thighs, the way your cunt clenched and fluttered as if begging to be filled.

"I've touched you a thousand times before," Jacaerys murmured, his eyes locked with yours. "But never like this. Never with such... hunger."

And with that admission, his hand cupped the heat of your sex, his fingers delving into your dripping folds. He groaned at the way your walls clenched around him, your slick arousal coating his digits.

"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed. "You're so wet. So ready."

You gasped sharply as Jacaerys plunged his fingers deep into your aching core, your inner walls clenching greedily around the intrusion. "Mmh, oh," you whimpered, gazing into his eyes with a hooded, lust-filled gaze. "Please, I need... I need you to take me. Hard." You arched your back, pressing your dripping sex more firmly against his hand. "Not soft caresses, but a man's forceful touch. Claim me as Cregan has, make me scream your name."

Cregan licked his lips as he watched Jacaerys plunge his fingers deeper into your dripping sex, your inner walls clenching greedily around the invading digits. Your needy whimpers and moans filled the air, spurring the prince's desires.

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you writhed beneath his touch. You yearned to feel his hard length driving into you, stretching you, filling you utterly.

"Don't hold back," you pleaded breathlessly, reaching down to guide his other hand to your breast. "I want to feel owned, possessed. Ruined." you gasped again as he squeezed the soft mound. "Take me, Jacaerys. Fuck me hard."

Jacaerys shuddered at your beggings, his eyes darkening with lust at your shameless words. He could feel Cregan watching him, smirking at the prince's obvious arousal, but all thoughts of your husband faded away as he lost himself in the allure of your naked, trembling body.

With a low, possessive growl, Jacaerys captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a force that stole your breath away. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel the hard, thick length of his cock straining against his breeches.

"My princess," he breathed against your lips, "I will give you what you need."

Jacaerys ripped off his doublet and tunic, baring his muscular chest to your heated gaze. He kicked off his boots and tore away his breeches until he stood naked and magnificent before you, his cock jutting out proudly from a thatch of dark curls.

Cregan quickly shed his clothing, his massive cock springing free, already leaking and throbbing with need. He grasped himself, stroking the thick shaft lazily as he watched.

"Tell me, Your Grace," he asked with a wicked grin, "have you ever taken your dear sister like the vixen she is?" He stroked himself lazily as he awaited Jacaerys' response. "Have you ever gripped her hips and pounded into her from behind, spanking that perky ass as you used her for your pleasure?"

"No, I must confess I have not. I have always been gentle and considerate with you, sister. But now..." He trailed off, his eyes flicking down to your dripping sex before meeting Cregan's gaze. "I find myself wanting to take you in a way I never dared before. Hard and fast, until you scream."

Cregan chuckled darkly, giving his rigid shaft a slow pump. "Then take my advice, Your Grace. Put our princess on her hands and knees, and fuck her like the wild beast she is. Claim her cunt from behind."

"Not inside her, Jacaerys," Cregan warned, his voice rough with lust. "You're not to spill your seed in her womb. That privilege is mine, as her husband." He gripped his cock tighter, pumping it slowly as he spoke. "But by all means, have your fun with her needy body. Show me how you pleasure my bride. But do not forget, regardless of how loudly she screams, she is mine."

Your brother ignored Cregan's arrogant words, instead focusing solely on the woman beneath him. Jacaerys leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, dear sister," he promised darkly. "Scream until the whole castle hears who brings you such ecstasy."

Before you could respond, he had you flipped over onto your hands and knees in one swift, forceful motion. You gasped as you felt the cool air kiss your exposed, tingling skin.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you could see the raw hunger in both their eyes as they drank in the sight of your upturned rear.

Jacaerys gripped your hips hard, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could see the way your body trembled with anticipation.

"Look at that ass, Cregan," Jacaerys growled, giving your cheek a sharp smack. The sound echoed obscenely in the room, and he watched with dark satisfaction as the red handprint bloomed on your skin.

"Such a perfect, ripe peach." He gripped your hips tighter and lined himself up with your dripping entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your folds, coating itself with your arousal.

With that, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. A low groan tore from his throat at the feel of your tight, wet heat enveloping him so perfectly. He paused for a moment, savouring the sensation and letting you adjust before he began to move.

"Yes," you gasped out, your back arching as Jacaerys hilted himself fully inside you. "Jacaerys!"

Emboldened by your wanton encouragement, Jacaerys set a fast, rough pace. He gripped your hips bruisingly as he drove into you again and again, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with each powerful thrust, the intense stimulation making you see stars.

"Does that feel good, little sister?" Jacaerys growled, his breath coming hard and fast as he took you. "Do you like the way your brother is fucking this needy cunt?"

Cregan watched, stroking his cock slowly as he enjoyed the show. "That's it, Jacaerys," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble. "Fuck her like the she-wolf in heat she is."

"Ohhh, god!" you screamed, your voice ragged and desperate as Jacaerys slammed into you, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks as he took you with force and hunger.

With trembling hands, you reached out blindly, craving the feel of Cregan's hard flesh in your grasp. But Jacaerys quickly pushed your upper body down against the bed, pinning you beneath him as he claimed you. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, hitting that secret spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Jacaerys!" you wailed, your back arching as you surrendered yourself completely to the intense sensations consuming you. "You feel so good!" you moaned shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care about anything but the feeling of your twin's cock driving into you relentlessly.

Through the haze of pleasure, you could see Cregan watching you, stroking his impressive length as he enjoyed the depraved spectacle of his wife being taken by her brother. The knowledge that you were putting on such a show onlyheightened your excitement, and you could feel your second climax fast approaching.

"Such a pretty girl," Jacaerys praised, his voice ragged and uneven. "Love your pretty body, love you," he whispered the last part, getting lost in the pleasure.

Jacaerys pistoned into you wildly, grunting and whining. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your waist, gripping you and occasionally caressing your sweat-slick skin as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck!" Jacaerys snarled, his hips slapping against yours with brutal force. "You feel so fucking good around my cock. I can't... I can't hold back..."

He leaned over you, covering your smaller body with his own as he fucked you with deep strokes.

"Scream for me, dear sister," Jacaerys demanded, his voice a low rasp. "Let the whole castle hear who is claiming this pretty cunt. Let them know that the princess is being fucked raw by her brother."

Cregan watched, stroking himself in time with Jacaerys' frenzied thrusts. He could see your face, contorted in ecstasy, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of your brother's cock.

"Look at her, Jacaerys," Cregan taunted, his hand a blur on his shaft. "Look at the way our princess is crying on your dick. She's loving every second of being split open on her brother's cock."

Jacaerys let out a feral growl at Cregan's taunt, somehow fucking you even harder. The room filled with the lewd sounds of your coupling - the slap of flesh on flesh, the creaking of the bed frame as it strained under the force of Jacaerys' thrusts, your high, keening cries of rapture.

"I'm going to cum, Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate. "Don't stop, please!"

He gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet each powerful thrust. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by your desperate cries of rapture and your brother's grunts of pleasure.

Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamping down around Jacaerys' pistoning cock like a vice. "Ahh!" you screamed, body trembling as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. Your juices gushed out around his plundering length, making vulgar squelching noises as he fucked you through your intense orgasm.

The sensation of your cunt gripping him so tightly, dripping with your essence, proved too much for Jacaerys. With a hoarse cry of your name, he yanked his hips back, his rigid shaft slipping from your quivering sex with a gush of fluid.

"Fuck!" Jacaerys roared, his voice strained with pleasure as his cock erupted. Thick, hot ropes of seed sprayed from the head, painting your upturned ass and the small of your back in a lewd display of your brother's spend.

Jacaerys slumped over you, panting harshly as the last spurts of his release dripped onto your skin. "Sweet sister," he gasped out, his hands still gripping you possessively. "I've never felt anything like that before..." He trailed off as he rolled to lay next to you, recovering from his intense climax.

Your body trembled and shook as the final waves of your explosive orgasm rippled through you. Knees weak and quivering, they collapsed beneath you, leaving you sprawled wantonly on the bed, chest heaving and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

But your respite was short-lived. Through the fog of pleasure, you felt the tap-tap-tap of a hard, throbbing cock against your flushed cheek. Your gaze fluttered open lazily, following the rigid shaft up to see Cregan looming over you, his eyes dark with lust and a smug, arrogant smirk playing across his lips.

"Mmm, that was quite the show you two put on," Cregan purred, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock over your cheek, smearing his arousal across your skin. "You screamed so sweetly for your brother, my dear wife. I do hope he satisfied you." He gripped himself and tapped his erection insistently against your mouth, the thick head pressing demandingly at your lips. "But now, it's time for your husband to have his turn. You're my wife, and I intend to remind you of that fact. Open up, princess."

Jacaerys watched, still panting softly as he recovered. He saw Cregan looming over your sprawled form, his cock tapping insistently at your lips. A flicker of jealousy sparked in his chest at the sight, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the depraved thrill of watching his sister service her husband.

Your brother's eyes met yours, dark and heavy with lingering lust. "Don't keep your lord waiting, dear sister," Jacaerys murmured, his voice still rough from their coupling. "Show him the depths of your devotion. Take his cock like the dutiful wife you are."

"Mmmm, yes husband," you nodded your head obediently and got into a comfortable enough position to service him.

Beside you, Jacaerys watched the exchange with a mix of awe and lingering arousal. He could see the way Cregan manhandled his twin, the way you submitted so sweetly to his demands.

You gazed up at Cregan with hooded, sultry eyes as you wrapped your hand around his thick, pulsing shaft. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and could see the way his cock throbbed eagerly in your grasp. Slowly, you licked your lips before leaning in and dragging your tongue along his length.

"Mmmm, you taste so good, my lord," you purred, your voice low and seductive. You swirled your tongue around the swollen head, lapping up the bead of precum that leaked from the tip. Then, with a moan, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, inch by thick inch, until your nose was buried in the musky curls at the base of his shaft.

Cregan groaned, his head falling back as your hot mouth engulfed his aching cock. His fingers tangled in your blonde hair, gripping the silky strands as he guided your head to take him deeper. "Ohh, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking slightly as he fucked your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, my needy little wife. Show me how much you love your husband's cock."

You could feel him, so hard and heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips wide. But you were no stranger to your husband's cock, having pleasured him countless times before. You relaxed your throat and took him deep, holding him there as you gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes.

Your hand pumped what little of his shaft remained outside your lips, stroking him in time with the bobbing of your head. You could feel him twitch and throb against your tongue, could taste the saltiness of his skin and the first drops of his pleasure. You moaned around his thick length, the vibrations making his cock jump and pulse in your mouth.

He began to rock his hips, fucking your face with slow, deliberate strokes. His heavy balls lightly smacked against your chin with each thrust, a lewd reminder of his virility and your subservient role.

Jacaerys watched, transfixed, as your lips stretched obscenely around Cregan's thick shaft. He could see the way your throat bulged with each thrust and could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of you suckling your husband's dick. The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to his own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh.

"That's our princess," Jacaerys murmured, his voice low and rough with renewed arousal. "Such a good little wife, so eager to please her lord." He reached out to gently pet your head.

You could feel Cregan's cock pulsing. His fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he rutted into you, chasing his pleasure. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth as he fucked your face, grunting and groaning above you.

Glancing over at Jacaerys, Cregan smirked arrogantly. "I must say, Jacaerys, your sister has a talented mouth. No wonder you couldn't resist her. I'm glad to have such a skilled little bride."

Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he used your mouth. "Such a good girl, taking me so deep," he praised roughly. "You love having your husband's cock in your throat, don't you? Love being put in your place."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, holding himself there as he let you gag and choke around his thick length. The feel of drool dripping down your chin only spurred him on.

The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to Jacaerys' own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh. Your brother gripped himself as he watched, stroking in time with Cregan's thrusts. "Yes, dear sister," Jacaerys rasped, his voice rough. "Always been so good with your mouth, haven't you?" he murmured, reaching down to palm the globes of your ass. He could feel the sticky evidence of his release coating your skin.

You gazed up at Cregan with lust-filled, tearful eyes as he used your throat, spit dripping down your chin. The praise and the thick, hard length pulsing deep in your throat made your head spin with arousal. You didn't want to admit it, but being desired, being wanted, being taken and used by your husband and brother thrilled you in ways you could hardly express.

The knowledge that it was your dear twin watching, stroking himself to the sight of you being so thoroughly used, sent a shameful surge of heat straight to your core.

A muffled moan escaped you, vibrating around Cregan's pistoning cock as you submitted to his lustful demands. Being the object of such intense desire, of such primal, animalistic desire, stirred something deep within you.

Cregan felt your moan reverberate around his throbbing cock, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge. "Fuck, darling," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. "The way you moan around my dick, so desperate and needy..." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, burying himself deep in your convulsing throat.

Jacaerys watched, stroking himself in time with Cregan's pace. The sight of your tear-streaked face, the lewd sounds of your gagging and choking, the slack, drooling lips stretched taut around Cregan's pistoning shaft...

"You're a dirty girl, princess," Jacaerys raspy. "So hungry for cock, for the taste of your husband's seed. I've never seen such a wanton creature before."

Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with pride and smug satisfaction. "She's my wife," he declared, punctuating the statement with a rut of his hips. "A princess, but my princess, to use as I please. And I please to fill this greedy throat with my cum."

Cregan slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing and jerking as he found his release. Thick, hot ropes of seed flooded your mouth and throat, the salty, slightly bitter taste of his spend coating your tongue. He groaned long and low, grinding his hips against your face as he emptied himself down your convulsing gullet.

"Fuck!" Cregan roared, his eyes squeezing shut in bliss as he pumped load after load of his seed directly down your throat. His fingers tangled carefully in your hair, holding you in place.

Jacaerys couldn't hold back any longer at the erotic sight, his cock pulsing and spurting his second load of the night, painting your ass and back with his hot, sticky seed as he imagined it was your hungry cunt gripping him tight...

You swallowed every last drop of Cregan's hot, thick seed, feeling it slide down your throat. As he pulled out with a groan, you let his softening cock slip from your mouth with a lewd pop. 

Gazing up at him through a sheen of tears and lust, you lovingly licked his slick shaft clean, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head before dragging it along the throbbing underside.

"Mmmm, you taste divine, my lord husband," you purred, your voice raspy from the thorough fucking your throat had received. You continued to lap at his cock, laving every inch with kittenish licks until his hips began to twitch and jerk, his fingers pulling almost painfully at your hair as he whimpered.

"Sweet gods, woman," Cregan gasped out, easing your head back to put an end to your ministrations lest he find himself growing hard once more. "You seek to undo me, don't you? Such a wicked, insatiable little minx..."

You merely smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a deep satisfaction at having pleased your husband so thoroughly. Your tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of his release on your lip before you sat back on your heels, the cool air kissing your slick skin and making you shiver. 

Behind you, you could feel the heat of Jacaerys' gaze as he no doubt admired your glistening rear and the sticky evidence of his second climax.

Cregan gently wiped the tears and saliva from your face with a soft cloth, his touch tender after the roughness of moments before. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Look at you," he murmured, a rare softness in his voice. "Such a beautiful woman, taking your husband so well."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, no doubt tasting himself on your tongue. The kiss was full of satisfaction and a hint of awe at your enthusiasm.

Breaking the kiss, Cregan trailed his fingers down your neck, over your collarbone, to gently squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. "You please me greatly, wife," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Cregan continued his tender ministrations, lavishing your skin with soft kisses and gentle caresses.

You melt into Cregan's gentle touches, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips. Gazing up at him, you give your lord husband a loving smile, your eyes shining with adoration and lingering desire. You lean into his caress, savouring the tender brush of his fingers against your cheek.

Behind you, you feel the bed dip as Jacaerys comes to kneel. He nuzzles into the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"Mmmm, I could get used to this," you murmur, tilting your head to give your twin better access to your neck. "Being worshipped and praised by my two favourite men."

Jacaerys nuzzled into the nape of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your damp skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist possessively. "You deserve to be worshipped, dear sister," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "A beautiful, insatiable creature like you..."

He swept your hair aside, exposing the elegant line of your throat. Jacaerys pressed his lips to your racing pulse, feeling it flutter beneath his touch. His hands slid down to your hips and pulled you back against him.

In front of you, Cregan watched with indulgent amusement as his wife melted under her brother's attentions. He leaned in, his breath hot against the other side of your neck. "Isn't she magnificent?" Cregan asked rhetorically, his fingers dancing over your collarbone.

Cregan placed a trail of kisses along your jaw, down to your chin, before tilting your face towards him. He claimed your mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke along yours.

You melt into their touches, one hand coming up to tangle in Cregan's dark hair as he kisses you deeply, his tongue stroking along yours. Your other hand reaches back to grip Jacaerys' hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Jacaerys presses against your back, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You moan into Cregan's mouth and arch into your brother's embrace as his lips worship the column of your throat.

"You're my wife, and I trust you both," Cregan said with a nod to Jacaerys. "As long as I'm present, I have no objections to you sharing intimate moments with my lady. In fact," he added with a smirk, "I find it rather arousing to watch you pleasure each other." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "Just remember, dear wife, that sweet cunt belongs to me. No matter how many times your brother fucks you, no matter how much you scream and cum on his cock, you're still my wife. Your womb is mine to fill."

You gazed up at Cregan, your heart fluttering in your chest as you took in his rugged, handsome features. Unable to resist, you peppered his chiselled face with soft, loving kisses, your lips brushing against his skin like the wings of a butterfly.

"My darling husband," you murmured between kisses, your voice breathy with lingering desire, "you honour me with your blessing. I am yours, body and soul, now and forever." You nuzzled into his cheek, breathing in his masculine scent. "I long for the day I can carry your child, to swell with the evidence of our love."

Cregan's eyes softened as he listened to your heartfelt declaration, tenderness flickering in their stormy depths. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

Jacaerys met Cregan's gaze, a matching smirk on his lips as he felt your slick arousal coating his fingers. "Your wife is exquisite, my lord," he murmured, pumping two long digits into your tight channel. "I look forward to sharing her many pleasures with you."

Cregan nodded, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." His hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, to where Jacaerys' fingers already teased your dripping slit.

[blueicequeen19]

Drunken State pt. 2

Warnings: creampie, jealousy, mentions of cheating, somno, oral

Part One

You’ve managed to dodge Pope and his innocent advances for almost two days after a night of explosive orgasms with a drunk JJ. It was a simple mistake. Just two friends with similar needs.

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And again.

It hadn’t even been 48 hours yet and JJ Maybank had been inside you more often than not. You’d find yourself in a room with all your friends and JJ would give you that look that made your blood heat and pussy pulse.

Now you found yourself cornered in the bathroom again, his cock hammering into you from your spot on the counter while your friends were all outside for a bonfire.

“I’m close.” You moaned into his ear, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as he grunted his pleasure.

“I know. You’re squeezing me so fuckin tight.” JJ groaned, his hands squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise.

“When are you gonna let me taste you?” You whisper, digging your nails into his back as he bares his teeth.

“Shit, don’t say shit like that.” JJ hisses, his body growing taunt like he’s trying to hold back.

“You don’t want to cum down my throat, J?” You purr, tightening your legs around his waist and squeezing hard. JJ moans loudly, his orgasm ripped from him as his eyes roll back. You smile in satisfaction even if it meant you didn’t have time to get yours. The power you had over him was intoxicating. This game had become too much fun.

“Fuck.” JJ growls, cupping your jaw and bringing you in for a hard kiss. “Stop making me cum without you.” JJ snags your bottom lip between his teeth, his cock still pulsing inside you.

“Never.”

Minutes later, you’re cleaning up in the bathroom while JJ rejoins the party. You’ve just finished fixing your hair when you hear raised voices in the living room.

“I’ve been waiting outside for you. What were you doing?” Your body bristles at the sound of JJ’s exs voice. Why was she here?

“You cheated on me so what does it matter?” JJ fires back, dread filling you at the direction this could turn. JJ was impulsive and unpredictable when cornered.

“We didn’t break up so if you’re screwing some other bitch then you’re cheating on me.” Oh fuck.

“Seems only fair, right?”

“Yo, what’s going on?” You froze at the sound of Pope’s voice, the front door swinging closed behind him. “Where’s Y/N?” Pope asked, your stomach dropping to the floor.

“Y/N? Is that who you’re fucking? That bitch over me?” This couldn’t be happening.

“What is she talking about?” Pope demands back.

“Don’t listen to her, Pope. She’s only happy if she’s running her mouth.” JJ snaps.

“I don’t remember hearing you ever complain about my mouth.” His ex fire back, satisfaction in her voice. Jealousy weighed you down, threatening to drown you as you fought to remain hidden.

“Get out!” JJ shouted, making you jump from the harshness in his voice. There was a long pause followed by the slamming of the front door. Only then did you release the breath you’d been holding.

“Where is Y/N?” Pope asks, the accusation clear in his voice.

“She said she was tired and went to her room.” There was another long pause that made you wish to see what was silently passing between them. You didn’t want to hurt Pope.

“We’re about to put the fire out for the night. Are you about to go to bed too?” Pope asked.

“Yea, I’m beat.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning.” The front door opened and shut, giving you the all clear to slip from the bathroom. You cracked the door open to see JJ downing a beer in the kitchen, his eyes finding yours almost instantly.

“This is done until we come clean to Pope.” You said, flinching when he threw the beer bottle in the trash and raked a hand through his hair.

“Fine. Whatever.” JJ snapped, following Pope outside as you turned to find your bedroom.

Your heart hurt but it couldn’t be helped. You didn’t want to risk hurting anyone or your relationship with the rest of the group. A night alone would be good for the both of you.

Your eyes fluttered open on a soft moan as heat spread between your legs and left your clit throbbing. It took a moment to fully wake up before you felt the hands on your thighs and the tongue between your lips. Rings dug into your skin and you gasped, arching your back off the bed. It was impossible to fight the pleasure after denying yourself earlier. His skilled tongue was dragging you towards something explosive and your body was begging for it.

“Don’t scream.” JJ growled, before sucking hard on your clit and burying two fingers inside your pussy. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your body bowed off the bed and you came hard. His tight grip on your thighs kept you grounded as you rode out the high and were reduced to a shaking, withering mess.

“JJ.” You panted as he threw the blanket off and crawled up your body. His lips claimed yours in a wet kiss as he forced you to taste yourself. The head of his cock nudged your clit over and over again through the thin layer of his boxers, leaving a mess across the fabric.

“I can’t stay away from you.” JJ admitted, tugging on your peaked nipples through your sleep shirt.

“Get on the floor.” You urged, pushing at his chest and following him down onto your discarded blanket. JJ kicked off his boxers and sat up as you straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. You sank down on him with ease, your pulsing wet walls welcoming him as he moaned in your ear.

JJ yanked your shirt off to claim one of your nipples in his mouth as you started to ride him.

“Oh, fuck.” JJ groaned around your flesh, his hands on your hips urging you faster.

“You’re reckless.” You growl against his lips, suddenly irritated that he couldn’t listen for even one night. His teeth smacked yours as you bounced, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Is that all?” JJ smirked against your lips, thrusting up into you.

“Impulsive.” Thrust.

“What else?” Thrust.

“Irritating.” Thrust.

“You don’t feel irritated.” Another hard thrust had your jaw clenching as you fought off the impending pleasure.

“J.” You bit out as his mouth moved to your neck, biting and licking at the sensitive skin.

“You feel ready to cum. Like you’re holding back because you want to be mad at me.” JJ taunted, digging his fingers into your hips as he forced you to bounce harder. “Have you ever been able to stay mad at me?” JJ whispered harshly, holding you tighter as he rolled his hips and hit something even deeper inside you. You bit down on his shoulder as you came, meeting every roll of his hips with your own while he grunted in your ear.

“That’s my girl.” JJ slapped your ass before rolling you both over. A pillow was stuffed under your ass and your legs thrown over his shoulder just as he began to hammer into you. The floor was uncomfortable but you couldn’t risk waking your friends with the headboard slapping against the wall. And watching JJ sweat just did something to you.

“Oh, fuck.” You rasped, his cock reaching an even deeper spot. Your fingers found your nipples, pulling and twisting the hardened peaks while pleasure shot up your spine. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes away, blue eyes nearly black with desire as you played with yourself.

“You’re so fucking hot like this.” JJ growled, his hands digging into your thighs as he pounded your pussy. You were both so close to release but not ready to stop.

“Get on your hands and knees.” JJ whispered harshly, giving you no warning before he was handling you into position. Your knees ended up between his on the pillow as he entered you again. His pace was torturously slow, making you whine with each slow drag of his cock.

“JJ.. please..” You reached back, digging your nails into his hip to urge him on but he only chuckled.

“So impatient. Do you need to cum?” JJ taunted, pulling you up by your hair and wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you upright. You groaned pathetically, his cock so deep it hurt but he wouldn’t move. “I thought you were mad at me?” JJ whispers, turning your head so his lips can tease yours.

“J, please. Make me cum.” You beg, nails biting into his arms as you roll your hips, desperate for the pleasure he’s withholding. Your tongue comes out to lick the seam of his lips before taking his bottom one between your teeth.

“I’ll do anything you want. I just need your cock. Make me feel good, J.” His nostrils flare at the same time you feel his cock pulse inside you.

When his arms tighten around your trembling body, you nearly groan in satisfaction until you hear an unexpected sound. The sound of your door creaking open and a startled gasp. Your stomach falls before you both jerk your heads around to face the intruder.

Pope.

[thy1quitcentral]

K pop Demon hunter

Huntrix vs Saja boys

And Honmoon!NB oc

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Of several parts(probably following the plot Abit)P.S. Rujinu is my life now YoY

Both hot, both I wantz and Honey probably will 😩

.................💗..................

It has been about a year

And it was so much fun, exploring the world as is at the moment. This era was so bright and loud and new.

Being around for centuries, and everything still was always new to them.

How old were they?

Did not matter, Honeys mission, their purpose was always. Keeping the demons at bay , there would always seem to be times where the demons tend to slip out but that was what hunters did, take out the trash.

So brave and talented things.

It's been several cycles or human lifetimes. With each generation of hunters, Honey would roam along with them, listening to their songs and interacting with humans.

Humans were so silly

So bright and happy, making posters in support of huntrix, crying their hearts out and screaming as loud as they can just to be heard.

Honeys time with huntrix was....tense

At the start at least. They would always tense up and bow to them whenever they tried talking to them.

**********

"oh! Is that your notebook of songs? It looks amazing" Honey pops up. Zoey squeak in surprise and sat up straight "uh yea!" She held out the notebook.

Honey looked into them "wow so many beautiful poems too" they admired and read "I most just write stuff and beg for them to sound right" Zoey said stiffly as she sweats.

"they are beautiful" Honey said warmly and traced the pages. They opened their mouth to say something

But

"thank you for giving me a compliment, I am forever grateful" Zoey bowed and states robotically.

"oh, right your-"

And she's gone.

***********

Another day

Honey explored the place the whole building, muffled music caught their attention, they phase through the wall and they see Mira dancing.

"hi!" Honey pops out

"HOLY SHI-" Mira screeched almost losing balance.

"iiins....my shins" Mira points to herself nervously.

"you are the choreographer? Oh how splendid" Honey clapped his hands.

Mira smiled gently "ah....thanks" she balanced herself up. "You know me and the Core voice are meant to dance in perfect synch to transform myself into pure light you know" Honey said and spun around gracefully.

"the golden moon dance" Mira mutters.

"yes, I have not done one official but I bet it's amazing" Honey hummed. They danced around "show me your moves!" They exclaims happily

Mira hummed as she shrugged and took Honeys hand. Honey grinned and spun into her arms, Mira blinked as she turned Honey around, left, right, glide.

Rhythm in synch

Honey dips Mira down and smiled. Mira blinked and blushed slightly "unexpected, here I thought I'd dip you" she comments.

Honey grinned "I'm an unexpected being" they state proudly and lift her back up.

"i-" Mira thought back to what Celine said.

'you mustn't show any sort of casualness to the Hon moon, it isn't respectful or your place'

Mira tensed up slightly "uh I really shouldn't, uh....touch you like that your hon moon...ness" she bowed.

"but"

Gone again

*************

Honey pouts as they sat on the couch and frowned.

"why won't they talk to meeeee" they lay back and kicked their legs. Honey paused when they saw Rumi walk in, Rumi froze and looked at Honey.

She was gonna leave "ah ah ah!" Honey appears in front of Rumi.

"hi" Rumi waved nervously

"hi, quick question, why is everyone ignoring meeee?" Honey yelled out and whined. They held Rumis shoulders and shook her. She saw the threads all around them glow when Honey whined. The whines sounding like pure music

"w...ww.w..ee...e a..aa..aren't!" Rumi exclaims loudly. Honey huffs as they stop shaking the girl

"I try talking to you guys but you guys are ignoring me, am I that scary? I mean I don't think ing scary. How does a divine being make humans not scared" Honey exclaims.

Rumi watched them in awe "you know for a divine being....you seem almost human" she comments.

"I.....thank you" honey blinked for a moment and smiled happily.

Rumi looks at Honey, looks like something so broken had.... quirks of insecurity.

******

The girls were training, summoning their weapons from Honeys surfaces itself

"hey you guys think I can summon my own weapon too?" Honey asked. "I don't think that's a smart thing to do?" Zoey said unsure of the precautions.

"have you tried before?" Mira asked

"I've only ever summoned music instruments" the deity points out then sticks a hand in their chest

All the girls yelled out at that in shock "oh may GAWD THEY STABBED THEMSELVES" Mira and Zoey screeched. Rumi flinches at their screeches "guys I sure they're fine.... right" Rumi asked as she turned sharply to Honey.

Honey blinked the takes out a big bow then some arrows. "Oh....it looks just like My violin's weapon" Honey smiled softly.

Then paused as they see the markings on it

Y x H

"it is hers" they gasped.

That day, the girls got a show n tell of the very weapons used by past hunters.

**************

Things got better tho

Another year goes by

"man you are such a great new addition to the team young-hoon" Bobby exclaims happily. Honey smiled happily as they turned to Bobby "thank you manager human" they grinned.

It seemed that Honey had managed to strike a job as a fashion designer. Huntrix's fashion designer.

"another fine set of clothing" Bobby smiled "ugh! I love it" he states and types away at his phone and takes a picture of a sneak peak.

"to be pretty and sound good, perfect harmony" Honey smiled as they put on the finishing touches "this is for the show in about a week, I'm sure the fans will appreciate the picture" Bobby nods.

Wasn't long before the girls stumbled in tired from training. "Hi girls, surprise"

"surprise!" Honey shouts and showed the girls their creations, all the girls gasped dramatically.

"aaaaaaahhhh!!! You really are the best Honey!" They girls squealed happily. They all crowded Honey, staying a respectful distance but they all clapped their hands together.

"let's do this" Zoey exclaims.

"yeaaaa!!" Mira yelled out

"Yeaaaaaaa!!!" Zoey squealed

"yeeeaaaa!!!" Rumi laughed.

They all look to Honey, honey blinked "uh....YEA!" They jumped into the air and shouts.

Honey paused, their eyes glowed pink, they knew the exact location of the demons popping up. The girls huff in determination as Honey strolls to them and teleports them.

Their songs were always the thing that Calmed Honey the most, strengthen their resolve.

Honey loved to dance along, giving strength to the hunters as much as they gave them strength.

Honey spun and ducked, they wondered what it was like to fight a demon. They were curious to try.

No

a being like them should not even indulge in that, just dance and watch. Focus on being strong and kick them back to where they belong.

Finale note, demons gone.

They all ended the night with food, couch and dramas.

Rumi smiled as she walked out for some air and looked outside, leaning onto the rail and stared into the distance.

"you know I always tend to stare out in the distance and just admire your light threads" she spoke. Knowing Honey would know that she was addressing them.

"really?" Honey pops up next to her. They smiled brightly "that's so great to know" they state happily and glowed in happiness. Rumi looked to Honey, all the patterns all around Honeys skin, glowing brighter or low. Reminded her....oh her own, but so symmetrical and pretty.

"you are staring again" Honey points out

"wha?" Rumi tensed and chuckled awkwardly "...sorry"

"it's fine, I like moments like this, feels like I can really connect to you guys" Honey smiled and shrugged "all I crave more is connection"

**********

The concert

Honey felt the energy all around them, the souls of everyone in the stadium were loud and bright and ready for a good show.

Honey giggled as they stood back stage watching. Bobby pursed his lips "they are late!" He said nervously and tried calling.

Honey sat calmly, legs crossed and hands on their lap. There were a lot of weak spots in their being, made honey feel Abit sluggish.

Their headaches were often nowadays, it felt like the time was already near.

And it made Honey nervous.

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (part 1)

In which Harry's a dick and y/n is a virgin who cries a lot.

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

Y/n wonders if she thinks too highly of herself.

She thinks she’s pretty. Not in an obnoxious, self-obsessed way! She knows she’s not a supermodel, and she definitely has a lot of days where she looks and feels totally dead – but at the end of the day, she’s not hideous. She splurges on pretty makeup products, does her hair in the mornings, spends a decent amount of time planning out cute outfits… you know, little things to make herself feel pretty!

She brushes her teeth twice a day, showers regularly, flosses. Wears pretty perfumes that smell like flowers and lip gloss that tastes like strawberries. There’s a stash of gum in her bag that she’s always chewing on, so she knows she doesn’t have bad breath; and she carries an extra deodorant in her backpack too, so you can’t tell her she’s repulsive or anything like that. 

She’s kind. She smiles at strangers and always laughs at people’s jokes (even if they aren’t funny)— holds the elevator door open and says a polite “good morning” or “hello!” with her happy, cheery voice. And even though she’s a bit shy, she tries her best to spread love and kindness in the world. It just makes her happy to make other people happy!

Plus, being nice means that everyone else is nicer to you. So even if she’s in a bad mood, she’ll fake a smile and pretend like she’s happy y/n.

But, she wonders... if she has all of these amazing qualities– if she really is as pretty and kind and wonderful as she makes herself out to be– then why hasn’t she been kissed yet?

She loves her friends, of course she does! But how is she so different from them? Why do all of her friends get asked out on dates and have amazing boyfriends while she’s still a lonely virgin who hasn’t even been kissed yet? 

It’s not like she’s this super virginal person who gets grossed out by boys! She wants to be kissed, she wants to get fucked! She’s toyed around with the idea of just downloading tinder and losing it all to some stranger in one night stand, but her romantic heart just can’t stand the thought of it. 

Yes, she’s desperate… but she’s also romantic. Love is on her mind 24/7. It’s what she thinks about before she falls asleep, what she daydreams about whenever she gets bored. She could spend hours with a romance novel, hyper fixating on the little things that most people wouldn’t blink an eye at. The way the boy’s hand cupped the girl’s jaw while they kissed, or how their fingers brushed as they walked down the street. Little things like forehead kisses and prolonged glances across a room. 

She craves it for herself, desperately aches for the affection that she reads of. She wants to rest her head on someone’s chest and listen to their heartbeat as she falls asleep, feel their fingers playing with her hair, or their lips skimming her cheek. Wants to laugh under the covers and share secrets and be vulnerable and in love. She wants it more than anything in the world! 

And yet, she hasn’t even been kissed! 

Everyone else seems to do it so easily – find a nice guy, go out on a date, and fall in love. So why is it so hard for her? Her friends tell her that she's the prettiest and sweetest girl out there, and that the right guy simply hasn’t come around yet… but y/n can’t help but think, is any of it true?

Is she even that pretty? Is she actually likable?

What’s wrong with her?

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

Harry hates these stupid college parties.

They’re loud and stuffy, with way too many people crammed into one room for his liking. The alcohol is cheap, the music is annoying. The entire apartment smells like weed, and there’s not even a secluded corner for him to mope around in without some group of drunk girls completely invading his personal space. Everything about these parties sucks.

If he could, he’d leave. But he’s meant to give a ride home to his roomie Blake, and Blake’s currently hooking up with the host of this party. 

So Harry’s stuck here. Great. 

He checks his phone, and it’s nearly midnight. Blake should be done soon, right? The blonde girl who’s been talking to him for the past 20 minutes is getting awfully close, her hand trailing on his biceps and migrating towards his chest, and she’s blinking up at him with fluttery bambi eyes. 

Any other night and Harry might be into whatever this girl is hinting at, but he’s 100% sober and 100% not in the mood to hook up with a girl who’s taken one too many shots. He grabs the girl's hands and peels them off of his chest gently, muttering something about needing to use the restroom (he doesn’t even need to use the bathroom, he just needs a minute away from the pounding music). 

He sends her off in the direction of her friends, who are giggling to each other in a corner across the room and not-so-inconspicuously checking to see if their friend has managed to successfully get with Harry. He’s sure they’ve realized that he rejected her when they all glare at him. Sorry to disappoint, he thinks to himself. 

He’s nearly positive that any bathrooms in this shitty college apartment will probably be occupied, either with someone throwing up all the drinks they’ve had or with a couple hooking up. But no harm in trying anyway. 

The first door that he tries to open is locked. The second door opens up to reveal a coat closet. 

The third door however, opens up to a bedroom. 

The walls are decorated with posters and pictures, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and tiny pots of succulents placed all over the room… but the one thing that stands out the most is the overwhelming number of books scattered all over the room. There’s a bookshelf on each wall, cluttered with books of all colors and sizes. Stacks of books lie on the nightstand by the bed, a stray book sits on top of a dresser, and a pile of new, untouched books sits pristinely in the far right corner of the room. 

Books, books, and more books all over the room. And, a book in the hands of a girl sitting quietly in her bed, staring at Harry. 

Dressed in a hoodie and some fuzzy pj pants, the book that she’d once held up closely to her face now rests on her lap as she blinks up at this strange intruder. She sits upright, closing the book but sticking her finger between the pages so that she doesn’t lose her place. “Um… hi?” she says quietly. 

He steps into the room, and looks at her blankly. “Hi.” She blinks at him. “S’this room taken?” he asks.

“Um. Well,” she looks at him curiously. “No, I guess not.” 

“Okay, good,” he responds, quickly closing the door behind him. He sits on a spinny chair that he pulls out from under a desk and leans his head back, letting out a deep sigh of relief. 

The girl, with her finger still lodged between her book, stares at him confused. Who is this guy? 

He’s cute, and she’s mildly embarrassed that he’s come into her room when she’s looking so… sleepy. But he also seems kinda grumpy and is obviously not in the mood to talk. He’s leaning back in her chair and closing his eyes, gently rubbing his temples as if he’s meditating. 

She observes him with wide eyes. Then after a minute of silence she awkwardly picks her book back up and tries to resume reading. 

Kinda hard to do with some random guy sitting in her bedroom, though. 

In this secluded bedroom, the sound of the music has decreased dramatically. Harry’s pounding headache starts to fade away, and he feels himself start to relax for the first time since he arrived at this stupid party. He looks around the room that he so luckily stumbled into. 

The desk in front of him is, to no surprise, cluttered with more books. A laptop is plugged in in front of him, and there’s a cup full of colorful pens and markers sitting against the wall. Hanging on the wall is a string of pictures starring the same girl with different groups of people. 

He looks at the pictures hanging from the walls. Then he looks back at the girl laying in the bed. 

“S’this your room?” he asks, finally connecting the dots.

She looks up from the book again and nods. 

“Oh,” he hums, surprised. He supposes he should’ve realized it as soon as he walked in. Girl in a room full of books, reading a book. Face clean of all makeup, snuggled up in a blanket, nice and comfy as though she’s just about ready for bed. It’s a bit silly that he only made the connection once he saw her pictures up on the walls. “Why aren’t you out there partying?” 

“Um… not really my scene,” she says, closing the book and looking at Harry properly. Her nose scrunches up, “And it smells really bad in there.”

“Jesus, tell me about it,” he groans. “Could hardly breathe in there. In fact–” he says, already standing up, “d’ya mind if we open up a window? Still feels stuffy in here.” 

She shows no resistance as he slides the window open, accepting the fact that she’d be sharing her room with this stranger until the party was over. Harry sticks his head out and takes a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. Much better than the sweaty, smoky, sickly smell going on inside the apartment. 

When he turns back around, the girl has rearranged herself. She sits criss-crossed on her bed and looks up at Harry, fidgeting nervously with her lip bitten between her teeth. 

She’s kind of cute. 

Harry breaks the silence again. “I think your roommate is hooking up with my roommate right now.” 

“Oh.” She blinks. “Is your roommate Blake?” 

He nods.

“Yeah, Maddie’s been saying that she, um… you know,” she looks down at her hands as they play with a loose thread on the hem of her pants. “Wants to hook up with him or whatever.” 

He nods his head, leaning back against her wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. As refreshing as the air is, the night time breeze is cold. 

“No offense,” he says, “But you don’t seem like you’d be friends with Maddie.” Maddie (y/n’s roommate) has jet black hair, wears heavy eyeliner and black lipstick everyday, and is at least a little bit high 90% of the time. Y/n, in comparison, has flowery bed sheets, a stuffed bunny tucked in next to her, and is hiding in her bedroom while a party being thrown in her own apartment. 

She just smiles softly. “Yeah, we met online. But she’s really nice.” 

He raises his eyebrow. “She seems like a bitch.” 

She defends her roommate immediately. “She’s not a bitch!” But then she thinks about it for a second. Maddie can definitely come off a bit… harsh at times. “Well… she’s usually really nice to me, at least.” 

That makes sense. It would be very hard to be mean to this girl, he imagines. She’s too nice. It would be like being mean to a puppy or something. 

Good thing Harry isn’t mean. He’s just… a bit of a grump. 

She taps her fingers against the cover of her book awkwardly, staring at Harry as he looks up to her ceiling and closes his eyes. He just wants to be in his bed right now. 

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry pushes himself off the wall. “I think Blake should be done,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “I’m going to leave now.” 

“Okay,” says the girl quietly. She watches as he leaves with a nod of his head, and shuts the door behind him. 

That was weird, she thinks. 

Whatever, though. She opens her book and forgets about it. 

+++

Don’t people say that drowsy driving is just as bad as drunk driving? What constitutes drowsy driving? Should y/n even be out on the road right now?

She doesn’t know. All she knows is that Maddie woke her up with a phone call at 2 AM, asking if y/n would come pick her up from Blake’s apartment cause she was too high to get back on her own and she doesn’t want to stay the night there. 

Y/n, being the sweetheart that she is, obviously wants her roommate to get back safe. So she’s in her car, at 2 AM, yawning every three seconds as she drives to the location Maddie sent her.

She texts Maddie from the car, but Maddie doesn’t respond. She calls her, then sends another text, but still no answer. After 10 minutes of no response, she goes up to the door and knocks. 

Maddie doesn’t answer. Instead, it’s Harry.

His eyebrows furrow as recognizes the girl from that party he’d been at two weeks ago. She looks just as comfortable as she did then, in a big pink hoodie and a pair of sweats. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice confused and his eyes doubting. Not many people come knocking at his door at 2 AM.

Unlike y/n, who looks like she just rolled out of bed and drove here (that is exactly what she did), Harry looks like he’s been up all night (he’s been playing COD). He’s not wearing a shirt and has a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, showing off a chiseled abdomen that acts as a canvas for a multitude of pretty tattoos. Y/n finds herself staring at the swallows that lie under his collarbones, the butterfly painted above his stomach, and the ferns lining a yummy pair of v-lines that point downwards… she swallows thickly and forces herself to look away. 

“Um,” she covers her mouth as she yawns, hiding her cold fingers with the sleeves of her hoodie, “Maddie needed me to drive her home.” She blinks sleepily, and can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed that she looks so dead.

“It’s 2 in the morning,” he scoffs. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

She blinks sleepily again. “I was.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. If it were him, he would not have gotten up and driven all the way over here. Someone else’s problems are not enough to get him out of bed. But, this girl… she’s too nice. 

He leaves her at the door and goes to Blake’s room, pounding on the door rudely. “Hey!” he yells, irritation evident in his tone, “your roommate’s here.” 

He hears a bit of shuffling, before Maddie stumbles out of Blake’s room, makeup askew and clothing only half on. She giggles up at Harry and apologizes playfully, but he just glares at her. Her eyes are glazed over and the whites of her eyes bloodshot, very obviously high if the way she couldn’t walk straight wasn’t enough of an indication. 

He feels bad for the stupid girl who drove all the way over here in the middle of the night because her roommate wanted to get high.

Maddie trips over her own feet and falls into y/n, who uses all of her strength to keep her roommate upright and walks her slowly down to the car. “Are you feeling okay?” Harry hears her ask quietly. He scoffs to himself.

He doesn’t get it. How the fuck has this girl not lost her shit? Her irresponsible roommate woke her up at 2 am and made her drive all the way to some stranger’s house, and yet she still manages to be so… gentle. So kind, to someone who barely even deserves it. So caring, to someone who seems to care so little. 

As y/n helps Maddie get into the car, she looks back up to the apartment and sees Harry watching them from the doorstep. They make eye contact for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he leans against the doorframe. His gaze makes her heart stutter, a chill running down her spine. He looks… upset. Almost like he’s mad at her.

It makes her frown. She wants to say something to him, apologize for ruining his night… but then Maddie sticks her head out of the car and vomits. 

Harry shakes his head and turns away. 

That girl is too nice for her own good. 

+++

“Hey.” Blake pokes his head into Harry’s room, where Harry’s busy playing a round on his computer, “Do you mind if Maddie and her friend come over?”

“Don’t care,” Harry mumbles, uninterested, not looking away from his game. 

“Sick,” he turns around to go back into his own room, but stops when Harry suddenly pauses his game and calls out to him.

“Who’s the friend?” Harry asks, turning around. 

“Y/n,” Blake answers. Harry stares at him, his brows furrowed. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Her roommate.” 

“That quiet girl?” Harry clarifies.

“Yeah, that one.” 

Oh. So her name was y/n. 

Good to know. 

+++

It’s dark out when Harry finally turns off his game, sliding his headset off and stretching his back. He lets out a long groan as he feels his spine crack, a delicious feeling after being hunched over his controller for three hours straight. 

Standing up, he scratches at his stomach lazily, throwing his headset onto his chair. His arms feel a bit sore, having been to the gym earlier that day, and his hair is still wet from when he showered. He puts on a sweatshirt, finding his apartment too cold to be roaming around shirtless, and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat. 

He stops in his tracks when he finds y/n sitting in his living room all alone. 

She’s got a book in her hands, a thick, worn-out novel that looks older than herself. She’s sitting comfortably on their couch with her legs tucked underneath her butt, so engulfed in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t even realize that she’s not alone anymore. 

It’s the first time he’s ever seen her outside of her sleep attire. She’s wearing a pair of loose, comfy looking corduroy pants, and a tight top that cuts off just below her ribs. Her chest rises and falls steadily, eyes skimming across the pages of her book so quickly that he wonders if she’s actually absorbing any of the words or not. She chews on her lip as she reads, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

When Harry finally speaks, it makes her jump in her place. “Where are Blake and Maddie?”

Her book nearly falls out of her hands as she whips her head around. When she sees it’s him, she relaxes. “Oh. Um,”  she sits upright, closing her book, “They’re in his room.”

He nods slowly, squinting his eyes. There’s no nice way to ask his next question, so he just spits it out bluntly. “Why’d you come over if you’re just sitting out here while they hook up?” 

She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, feeling a little shy under his intimidating gaze. “Maddie was my ride to campus today. And she wanted to stop by here before we went home.” She shrugs quietly, “So I kinda had no choice.”

He huffs. Of course. 

Y/n says that Maddie’s nice, but Harry really doesn’t like her. How weird is it to drag your friend somewhere just to have them sit alone while you go hook up with someone? 

“How long have you guys been here?” he asks.

“Like, an hour.”

“So you’ve been sitting around doing nothing for an hour?”

She pouts. “I had my book.”

He blinks. She just sat here reading for an hour, while her roommate abandoned her to go hookup with Blake… and she’s okay with it? 

She is too nice for her own good. 

“Do y’want some pizza?” he asks, already opening the freezer.

Normally, y/n would say no. She’s kind of an unwelcome guest and she doesn’t want to be a burden on Harry. But… she hasn’t had anything since breakfast. And Maddie still hasn’t come out. She’s kind of starving.

“What kind?” she asks politely.

“Umm… cheese or pepperoni.” 

“I don’t like pepperoni,” she confesses shyly. “But also I could just pick it off if you want pepperoni. Whatever you want.” 

He rolls his eyes, shoving the pepperoni pizza back into the freezer. He wants to scream at her to stop being so nice! Stop being so considerate and just say what you want!

He puts it in the oven to bake, setting a timer for 15 minutes, then takes a moment to contemplate his next move. He could either go back into his room, where he could lie in bed and nap until the pizza was ready… or he could stay in here and sit awkwardly on the couch so that y/n wouldn’t be all alone. 

99% of him wants to just go back into his room where he can be grumpy and alone in peace… but then he looks over at y/n, who’s sitting on the couch all by herself. She looks so uncomfortable and out of place, tracing her thumb over the raised up font on the hardcover in her hands.

The 1% of him that feels bad for her wins. He sits down next to her on the couch. 

He nods his head towards the worn out book, which looks thicker than anything he’s ever read. “Are you reading the fuckin’ bible?” 

“No,” she shakes her head, laughing to herself quietly. She runs her fingers over the grooves of the title, a feeling so familiar that it comforts her when she’s feeling so out of place. “It’s Wuthering Heights.” 

He furrows his brow. “Never heard of it.” 

“It’s good,” she says. “Kinda dense, but I’ve already read it a few times. It’s one of my favorites.” 

He nods again, tapping his fingers on his thighs as silence overtakes the apartment once more. He looks around the living room, trying to find something else to say. 

Y/n’s heart pitter patters in her chest nervously. She can’t help but feel a bit nervous around Harry. She’s pretty shy in general, and Harry’s stoic demeanor certainly doesn’t help her relax. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Um… what’s your major?” A feeble attempt on her end at a conversation. 

“Math.” 

“Just math?” she parrots.

“Mhm,” he cracks his knuckles. “Pure math.” 

She huffs out a quiet breath, a pout on her lips. “I’m in a math class right now.” Her fingers pick at a piece of fuzz that’s stuck on the couch. “Calc 1. It’s really hard.”

“Mm, yeah.” Harry hums, “Took that during my first year.” 

She looks at him with wide eyes, “Did you pass?” 

He holds back a smile. It’s amusing, how earnestly she’s asking him – a math major – if he passed Calculus 1. That class was generally easy for him, mostly just beginner stuff compared to the math he does now that he’s in his third year. But he doesn’t say that. “Yeah, I did,” he says simply, not wanting to make her feel bad.

She nods, looking back down at her book. “I’m kinda scared. Our first midterm was really hard.” 

He hums sympathetically. Even though it was easy for him, he knows that calc class is infamously hard for others – especially for those who aren’t math inclined like himself. “How about you? What’s your major?” 

His legs are spread apart so that he takes up nearly half the couch, whereas y/n sits curled up on the other corner, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Bio,” she readjusts herself so that she’s sitting crisscrossed, her book still clutched to her chest protectively. “With a concentration in ecology.” 

Ew. He hates biology. Actually… he hates everything except math. Math is easy for him. 

The oven beeps. A rush of relief fills his chest, finally free from this awkward conversation, and he eagerly abandons y/n on the couch to get the pizza out. He’s hungry, starving, and doesn’t bother with a plate or anything before grabbing a slice and shoving it in his mouth. 

“Come have some,” he mumbles, mouth full.

She timidly walks over to the kitchen counter that he’s standing at, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, and takes a slice as well. Blowing on it, she takes a much smaller bite than Harry did since it’s still so hot. She doesn’t know how he managed to already finish a whole slice. 

Now that they can focus on eating their food, there’s no need for any more small talk. They eat comfortably in silence, only acknowledging each other when y/n asks for a napkin. He nods towards one of the drawers, asking her to grab him one too, and then they’re back to eating in silence. 

Blake and Maddie burst out of his room a few minutes later.

“Harry made dinner!” exclaims Blake, coming over and reaching for a slice of pizza. 

Harry yanks the tray out of his reach. “Get your own pizza,” he mumbles, putting the pizza back down in front of y/n. He looks at her, and nods his head towards the pizza, inviting her to take another slice. 

Maddie stops her before she can reach for a second slice. “Ready to go?” she asks. 

Y/n nods, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Thanks for the pizza,” she whispers to Harry, quiet enough so that only he hears. 

“Yeah,” is all he says. He barely looks at her, too busy scarfing down his third (maybe fourth) slice. 

She grabs her stuff and follows Maddie out of the boys apartment. 

+++

“Hey!” Maddie pushes her way through the stuffed apartment, reaching her hand out towards y/n. “Listen, I’m gonna go home with Blake.”

“W-What?” Y/n’s head is foggy, her brain a little clouded from the few drinks that she’s had. Y/n doesn’t normally drink, so the little bit of alcohol in her system has had its intended effect and gone a bit further as well – her cheeks are warm, and she feels the world sway a little bit as she looks up at Maddie with a pout. “But– but what about me?”

Normally, y/n stays home whenever Maddie wants to go out and party. She prefers the comfort of her own bed and hates the anxiety she feels when she’s drunk and wobbly and surrounded by a bunch of strangers. But Maddie had assured her that they’d be together all night, that she’d take care of her if she got drunk, and that she’d drive them home whenever y/n wanted to leave.

She’s broken all three of those promises. 

When they got to the party, Maddie abandoned her as soon as she saw Blake across the room. Luckily, y/n saw some of her own friends that she was able to hang out with, some girls from her ecology class who gave her a yummy strawberry smirnoff. They talked and laughed and y/n was having a good time, slowly but surely getting a little bit tipsy. The drink was so yummy, and Maddie wasn’t there to keep an eye on her, so she didn’t realize that she’d gone a bit over her tolerance. 

She’s a bit tipsier than she’d like to be in a public setting, surrounded with people she doesn’t know, and it’s too dark outside for her to get home safely on her own. And now… Maddie wants to abandon her? For Blake? 

“Don’t worry!” Maddie exclaims, completely disregarding the worry flickering in y/n’s glazed eyes. “I’ll order you an uber home!” 

Y/n bites her lip nervously. An uber? At this time of night, when she’s all drunk and stumbling around like a sad little baby deer?

“Um… can’t you take me home before you go with Blake?” 

Maddie rolls her eyes, “come on, really? I’ll pay for the uber. It'll be fine.” 

Y/n’s heart beats loudly in her chest, “I-I’m scared of going by myself, Maddie. I think I had too much to drink, I don’t feel safe.”

Her roommate purses her lips in a firm line, as if she’s annoyed. She looks around the apartment, tapping her foot impatiently, then she lights up with an idea. “Stay here,” she tells y/n. 

“Harry!” Maddie calls out, making her way back to the other side of the apartment. “Hey, Harry!” 

He’s sitting on a couch, next to a pretty girl in a tight black dress who has her legs splayed across his lap comfortably. There’s a furrow in his brow that makes him look pissed off, but his hand rests very comfortably on this girl's thigh and he makes no objections as she plays with the collar of his shirt. His head whips over to Maddie as she tramples her way over to him.

“What is it?” he snaps, voice closed off and irritated. 

“Can you drive y/n home?” 

He blinks. “Huh?” 

“Can you drive y/n home??” she says again, frustrated.

“Why?” 

“Cause I’m going over to your apartment with Blake and she needs a ride home.” 

He stares at Maddie unbelievingly, and peers over at y/n, who’s sitting all alone on the other side of the apartment. Her lips are pouted sadly, staring down at the floor with a far off look in her eyes. 

“Why can’t you take her home?” he grumbles, looking up at Maddie with a glare in his eye.

She huffs, impatiently stomping her foot. “Cause I’m going home with Blake right now! Come on Harry, it’s not that far! Please?” 

He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ unbelieveable,” he mutters under his breath, pushing the girl off of him as he stands up. 

“Thank you,” she sighs, dragging him behind her. “Y/n,” Maddie says, stopping in front of her. “Harry’s gonna drive you home.” 

She looks up, eyes wide and round. “H-Harry?”

“Yes,” she says harshly, “you guys are friends, aren’t you?”

“Um…” y/n doesn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t necessarily consider them friends just because they shared a pizza. 

Her night out with Maddie was meant to be fun, but right now, she just feels abandoned and kinda scared. And Harry doesn’t seem too happy about this either, which makes her feel even worse.

“Lets go,” he snaps, jaw clenching tightly as he swings his car keys around his index finger. She flinches at his tone and digs her nails into her palms nervously. 

She’s trapped. It’s either Harry takes her home, or she takes an uber all by herself. And she’s too scared to get home alone right now. 

With a final look towards Maddie, who stares back at her dismissively and shoos her towards Harry, she stands up shakily and follows Harry out of the crowded apartment. 

The air outside is much colder than the apartment, goosebumps immediately rising on y/n’s skin and making her shiver. Harry doesn’t acknowledge the way she stumbles over her feet, walking ahead of her briskly. She’s forced to keep herself composed, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm and nearly jogging to keep up with Harry’s long strides. 

He unlocks his car doors and gets into the driver’s seat. Y/n opens the passenger’s side door for herself and takes a seat, buckling herself in quietly.

Turning on the car, he notices the way her arms are tightly crossed in front of her chest. He turns up the heat, and pulls out of the parking lot. 

They play no music and say nothing, driving in silence.

“Sorry you have to drive me home,” she says faintly after a few minutes. 

His turn signal blinks softly. “Can’t believe your roommate just left you,” he mutters irritatedly. 

She says nothing in response. She stares out the window, a lump in her throat as the drive past the streets of college houses and apartments. The red light they stop at and the name of the streets go blurry from the tears gathering at her waterline. She sniffles softly.

Harry whips his head to her. “Why are you crying?”

Her lower lip wobbles as the first tear falls from her lashes. She wipes it away quickly. “I don’t know,” is all she says with a watery voice.

He stares at her befuddled, brows furrowed and eyes a piercing green, but she refuses to meet his gaze. She just looks outside the window in a melancholy haze, lost in thought, eyes unfocused as tears drip down her face silently. 

He sighs deeply and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, praying for the red light to turn green so that he can get this girl home as soon as possible. 

+++

When they arrive at her place, he sits in his car and watches as she stumbles up the steps of her apartment. She mumbled out a soft thank you through her tears and managed to climb out of his car smoothly, but the way she wobbles on her feet makes Harry worry that he shouldn’t leave until he’s sure she got in.

She stands in front of her door for a solid two minutes, trying to find her keys, and Harry taps his fingers against his thigh impatiently. When she finally finds them, she struggles to fit the key in the lock, hands shaky and her vision still blurred from the tears. Aaaand then she drops them. 

Harry sighs and puts the car in park. By the time she’s picked the keys back up, Harry’s already gotten out of his car and reached the top step. He takes the keys from her and easily unlocks her door. “In,” he mutters, ushering her into her apartment impatiently. 

He follows her into her bathroom and turns the light on for her. Their eyes meet in the mirror as he asks, “can you get yourself ready for bed?”

She nods, looking down at the ground sheepishly as he leaves her to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. She opts to skip her skincare routine and doesn’t even bother with putting her jewelry back in her jewelry box, simply just leaving her earrings on her bathroom counter to deal with tomorrow. 

Harry’s probably gone back down to his car by now, she thinks. It’s so embarrassing, how he had to drive her home and guide her into her bathroom. He seemed annoyed with her. He probably thought she was so messy – an annoying, overdramatic girl who started crying in his car for no reason. 

More tears bubble in her tears as the hot wave of embarrassment washes over her. She was such a mess, of course she’s never been in a relationship. Nobody would want to date someone like her. 

She takes off her clothes and whips off her bra, sniffling to herself sadly. Slipping on her favorite sweatshirt, a huge pink one that goes down to her mid thighs and covers her hands, she uses the sleeves to wipe away the excess tears in her eyes. She stumbles over herself a bit and bangs her foot against her dresser as she reaches for a pair of sleep shorts and it only makes her want to cry even harder. Drunk y/n is extra emotional, and every little thing is sending over the edge. 

As she’s stepping into her pair of sleep shorts, her bedroom door opens, Harry walking in with a glass of water in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. She trips over herself as she tries to pull her clothes on as soon as possible, but it just makes her lose balance and stumble to the side. His eyes widen and he turns around quickly, muttering a quick fuck to himself. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Are you decent?”

Y/n regains her composure, cheeks burning as she pulls her shorts over her hips. This night could not be going any worse. “Yeah,” she says quietly. She hopes it’s dark enough in the room so that he doesn’t see her flaming cheeks and puffy eyes. 

He turns around and hands her the water, which she immediately starts chugging down. She didn’t realize how thirsty she’d been until she’d seen the glass in Harry’s large, tattooed hand. 

“Slow down,” he grunts. He pops open the pill bottle and takes out one Advil for her. “Take this.” 

She grabs the pill from him obediently and swallows it down with the rest of her water. Then she looks up at him, as if waiting for his next instructions. 

“Bed,” he says, nodding his head towards her daisy printed sheets. She goes to climb in but trips over her shoe that she’d messily discarded on the floor. Harry grabs her waist before she can fall to the floor though. 

“Jesus,” he murmurs. This was like the seventh time she’s almost fallen over tonight. Is she always this clumsy or was it the drinks? 

He grabs her hand and physically guides her into her bed, making sure she lays down properly and lifting the sheets for her to climb under. Grabbing her ankle, he literally has to guide her under the blanket, then lets the duvet fall over her gracefully. 

“All good?” he asks, once she’s tucked nicely into her bed, teeth brushed and medicine taken so that she wouldn’t wake up feeling gross tomorrow. 

She looks up at him, eyes no longer tear filled but still clearly sad. “Yeah..” she says quietly, however her eyes flicker around her room as if she’s searching for something. 

He furrows his brows, and glances in the direction her eyes have landed. A stuffed bunny lies on the floor next to the shoe that she tripped over. He bends over and picks it up, handing it to her questioningly. She takes the bunny and snuggles it into her neck, eyes fluttering as if she can finally relax. “Thanks,” she whispers. 

Harry nods curtly and heads for the door. When he turns around one final, y/n is watching him with sleepy eyes. “Bye, Harry,” she squeaks out. 

He stares at her for a second. “Bye.” Then he closes the door behind himself.

+++

Y/n wakes up with a pounding headache and an upset tummy.

That was mortifying. 

She’s never gonna be able to face Harry again. He was so annoyed with her, she just knows it! The way she dragged him away from that party, cried in his car, and tripped over herself like a stupid goat with clanky legs… oh, he probably thinks she’s the worst! 

She wishes she had more control over her emotions, that she could’ve held in the tears until she was alone in her bed… but she just felt so miserable last night. She had wanted to start crying literally when Maddie first yelled at her at the party, but she tried to stay strong. Kept herself together so that she at least didn’t start crying in the middle of a party.

But then… getting in the car with Harry. God. The deafening silence, the irritation radiating off of him… it made her feel terrible. She felt like a nuisance, like an annoyance and a burden. 

And she completely humiliated herself in front of Harry! The cute guy that she maybe sort of had started to have a tiny little crush on, simply because he was cute and mildly nice to her and she has a habit of romanticizing small interactions.  

There was no chance he’d ever want to be in a room with her after this. He probably wants nothing to do with her. 

She stumbles out of her bed and plants her feet on the ground, her head spinning a little bit as she squints her eyes. Her little stuffed bunny has fallen onto the floor again, and she picks it up and places it onto the bed next to herself. She remembers how Harry had picked the bunny up and given it to her before she fell asleep last night, like she was some little kid that he was stuck babysitting. 

Ugh. She’s never going to talk to him again. 

+++

Harry stands outside of his lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed angrily. His eyebrows are furrowed in classic Grumpy Harry fashion and his lips are pursed in a disgruntled frown. 

He’s annoyed. 

He stares at y/n, who’s sitting on a bench not too far away. Her tote bag sits on the floor next to her feet and there’s a book in her hand, her finger in between the pages as a temporary bookmark to not lose the page she’s on. 

There’s something about her that just… annoys him so much. He can’t quite explain it.

The way her cheeks dimple as she smiles up at the guy talking to her, tucking her hair behind her ear gently when it falls into her face… it makes his jaw clench angrily as he watches her from a distance. She’s so nice. Too nice. 

She laughs at something the guy she’s talking to says and it makes his stomach feel sour. He doesn’t like it.

Blake’s hand snaps in front of Harry’s face. “Bro. Stop staring.” 

Harry forces his eyes to look away, brows still furrowed grumpily. “Wasn’t staring,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the wall and going into the lecture hall. 

“You were,” he responds, following closely behind. “She’s really nice… I dunno why you hate her.”

“Who says I hate her?” Harry scoffs. “I never talk to her.” Especially as of late, she’s quiet as a mouse around him. He was over at her apartment to pick Blake up the other day and she’d only said a quiet “hi” before scurrying back into her room, like a scared little bunny in the presence of a snake or something. 

“Well… I mean, you could be nicer.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

Blake hesitates. “Like… I dunno. Maddie says you made her cry.” 

“Huh?” He thinks back to that night… “How was that my fault?” All he’d done was driven her home and tucked her into bed? She just started crying on her own!

“She’s just kind of sensitive,” says Blake. “I know you probably weren’t trying to mean, but you’re definitely not sunshine and rainbows. You’re scary, did y’know that?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Everyone seems to have this preconceived notion that Harry's this huge dick who never smiles… and though it’s true that he rarely smiles in the presence of strangers, he’s not an asshole! He just doesn’t feel like wasting his energy in pretending to like people he doesn’t actually like. Or smile when it’s much more comfortable to furrow his brows and pout grumpily. 

And he finds that usually his grumpy demeanor works in his favor – people stay out of his way, and he gets to avoid the headache that comes with interacting with people. But now this girl… this sunshine girl who always has her nose in a little book and always says please and thank you and is nice to everyone and stumbles over herself like a little puppy who's learning how to walk… she’s gone on and made him feel bad about it. 

How annoying is that? To have the nicest person on the planet think you’re scary?  

“I wasn’t trying to make her cry,” he mutters, irritated. “I didn’t even say anything to her.”

“Well maybe that’s the problem. Like… just try. I think you’ll like her.”

He doesn’t think so. She’s too nice. They probably wouldn’t get along. 

+++

There are three things y/n does a lot.

The first is studying. Her grades come first, always. She’ll be at the library for hours at a time, snuggled up in a booth with an iced coffee and her color coded notes, studying until she can barely keep her eyes open. It’s unhealthy, and she really should take breaks more often… but she just gets really nervous about her grades! 

She’s used to being at the top of her class, and has always been a straight A student.  But recently, she’s been struggling. She’s doing fine in her chemistry class, and absolutely thriving in biology. But calculus… calculus is her worst enemy.

The second thing she does a lot is reading. She’s been a bookworm for as long as she can remember. Her most frequent genre is romance (obviously!), but she’ll dabble a little bit in the popular fantasy series, maybe pick up a thriller every once in a while. And if she’s feeling sophisticated, she’ll try to read one of the classics… something philosophical, like Camus, or maybe something a little heavier, like War and Peace. But those situations are rare. She prefers her little world of romance.

The third thing that y/n does a lot… is cry. 

She’ll cry if she watches a sad movie, she’ll cry over a sad book. She cried when Finnick died in The Hunger Games, and she cried when she finished Of Mice and Men. She cries every single time she watches Pride and Prejudice (2005), sobs her eyes out when Mr. Darcy says, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I love you.”

She cries if someone yells at her, and she cries if she thinks someone doesn’t like her. She cries almost every time she’s drunk (example: when Harry drove her home), and she cries in the middle of the night when she’s feeling homesick. She cries for no reason when she’s getting close to her period… and sometimes, she cries because she’s just lonely.

Now, you might be thinking… y/n sounds super annoying. But please don’t think that! That would also probably make her cry.

She’s just a tad bit sensitive! She has so many emotions in her little heart, and she’s trying so hard to be responsible and manage life as a young adult but at the end of the day she’s just a girl!!! She’s just a girl, and she’s tired and stressed out and lonely and touch deprived, and sometimes she has a hard time keeping everything together so she just… cries.

If she could control it, she would! Do you really think she wants to be crying in the library? Of course, not! It’s embarrassing, and she’s trying really hard to keep her sniffles quiet and to suck the tears back into her eyeballs… but when she’s sad, she can’t stop the tears.

So now she’s crying in the library. And it’s all because of Issac Newton.

Why did he have to invent calculus? Like, what was even the point? Why did she, as a girl studying ecology, have to take this stupid class?

She buries her face in her arms, the tears unstoppable at this point, and just hopes that anyone walking past will think she’s napping and not crying her eyes out. 

She’d studied really hard for that last midterm. Like– she’d literally been in the library for a week straight, just doing calculus problems over and over again. She went to office hours to get help on all the questions she was stuck on, and was watching the Organic Chemistry Tutor’s videos religiously. She did so much math that she was literally having dreams about doing calculus. 

And yet, even with all of her studying, she still managed to fail the midterm. Like… she seriously failed it. As in, if she doesn’t get an A on the final, she will literally have to retake the class.

She’s so sad. She’s never gotten a grade this low, ever in her life. And she’d tried so hard!!! The morning of the midterm, she’d actually felt confident! She thought she had it in the bag!

She was so, so wrong. 

She feels stupid – not just because she failed the midterm, but because she’s literally having a breakdown about it in the library. 

This is stupid. Everything is stupid. School is stupid, Issac Newton is stupid, calculus is stupid–

“Y/n?” 

Uh oh. She tries to wipe away her tears discreetly, licking her lips and clearing her throat and desperately hoping that it’s not obvious that she’s been crying. 

When she lifts her head, she finds Harry standing in front of her. “Why’re you crying?” he asks bluntly, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.

Ok. So it is obvious.

“Um,” she sniffles, “Hi Harry.” She hopes that maybe if she pretends like everything is fine, then he won’t pry any further. 

It doesn’t work.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again. There’s not much compassion or comfort in his voice. Same old grumpy Harry, so blank and impassive. 

She shrugs her shoulders, feeling small and embarrassed. “I– it’s silly,” she stammers, looking down at her fingers. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, staring at her and waiting for her to continue. 

She swallows thickly. “I failed my midterm,” she whispers, her voice catching as a new lump grows in her throat. 

“How bad?”

One lone tear falls down her face as she shakes her head disappointedly, which she wipes away quickly. “Really bad,” she whimpers. Her cheeks burn hot as she realizes that she can’t hold back the tears any longer. She quickly averts her eyes from him, staring into her lap and hoping that he can’t see her face.

This is the second time he’s seen her cry, which is two times more than she would like. He probably thinks she’s some silly, over emotional girl… probably thinks she’s so annoying. She just wants to curl up in a ball, hide in a dark hole and cry by herself. She can’t handle Harry’s judgment on top of her shitty midterm grade.  

He stands there silently for a moment. Her lower lip has pouted out cutely and he can hear her sniffling quietly. “Was it math?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” she grumbles sadly. Stupid math. 

He hums. After another tense moment he asks, “Do you want help?”

“Help with what?” She stares down at her fingers, her tone dejected. The happy glimmer that usually sparkles in her eye is gone. 

“With math,” he clarifies. “I can help you.”

She looks up at him curiously, still pouting. “You’d help me with math?”

He nods, pulling out the chair next to her. “Let me see your midterm,” he says, nodding his head towards the packet of math problems she’d just been sobbing over. Embarrassingly, the front page is stained with a few tears, but she hands it over nonetheless. 

He scans over the first page quickly, reading the question and seeing how she answered it. “Do you know why you got this one wrong?” 

She sniffles and shrugs. She hadn’t even tried to look over the questions, too mentally exhausted to even try and understand what mistakes she’d made. 

“Look. You tried to cancel out the tan3x, which would make sense in any other case… but since it’s to the power of 4 you could really easily have used integration by parts.”

“Wish I knew that before I took the fucking midterm,” she huffs.

“Hey,” he tsks. “Learn from your mistakes so that you don’t make them again. You need to know this stuff to do integral tests later.”

She shakes her head. “I tried so hard, Harry,” she barely whispers, her voice exhausted. “Like I studied so much, and I really really tried to make it all make sense. But it’s just so hard for me.” She sniffles and wipes away more tears, taking a shaky breath and looking away from Harry. 

She doesn’t want to try anymore. She just wants to give up.

He purses his lips, brows furrowed. There’s something about seeing y/n upset that just feels so wrong. She usually brings so much… light into a room. Seeing her cry makes it seem like the entire universe has gotten a little sadder. 

“You’ve got the right idea when you’re solving these…” he tries to comfort her (though he’s never really been good at comforting people), “It’s just little things that you’re doing wrong. And it’s probably because you’ve got a shit professor who just has you copy down problems.”

“That’s literally all we do!” she whines, not even caring if she sounds like a baby. “He does the problems so fast and then I have to go home and try and figure out how he did it all by myself!” She sniffles and puts her head in her hands, more tears dropping from her eyelashes. She’s exhausted, her head starting to hurt as she exhales a shuddery breath. 

He lets her cry a little bit. “Listen,” he says gently, turning to face her. The normal furrow in his brow is gone, his gaze a little bit softer. “Next time you come over with Maddie, bring your notes and we can go over them together, okay?”

She sniffles. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” 

“Like actually?”

“Yes,” he says again exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. He stands up from the table and puts her midterm back down in front of her. “Lighten up, sunshine. One bad score is not the end of the world.” 

She feels a bit silly now that Harry’s witnessed her having another breakdown in the library. But, despite how little he said… he actually helped her calm down. This was not the end of the world. 

“Okay,” she whispers, “thanks, Harry.” 

He nods and walks away. 

Maybe he doesn’t hate her, she thinks to herself. 

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“I’m going out,” Maddie says as she walks into the kitchen, discarding her half full coffee mug on the counter as she grabs her car keys from the hook in front of the door. 

“Your mug!” y/n tuts like a mother. Maddie rolls her eyes as she pours the last of her coffee down the sink and puts the mug in the dishwasher. Y/n ignores the dramatic eye roll, knowing that Maddie’s just playing around, and asks, “Where are you going?”

“Over to Blake’s,” she responds with a wink. She’s been telling y/n about how she’s been waiting for Blake to text her all week because she doesn’t want to be the one texting first all the time… weird situation-ship stuff that y/n’s never experienced before. Seems like he finally texted her, with how excited Maddie is to be going over. 

Just as Maddie is about to step out the door, y/n remembers Harry’s offer. He’d been serious, right? He hadn’t just said that because she was crying… right? She really hopes not, because she really could use his help. She’d been up for hours last night, trying to do the homework, but ultimately giving up because she got too frustrated with herself. Maybe… maybe he’d be able to help her?

“Wait!” y/n calls out, “Um… can I come with you?”

Maddie raises an eyebrow, “Why do you want to come over to Blake’s apartment?”

Y/n turns a bit shy, “Harry… he’s, um, helping me with math.”

“Harry?” Maddie’s eyes glimmer curiously. “He’s literally such a dick. He’s helping you?”

“He’s not that bad…” y/n mumbles, remembering the ounce of kindness he’d shown to her in the library the other day. He’s just a little bit… reserved, she’s started to realize.

“Please. He literally never smiles. I dunno how you got him to talk to you, he always ignores me when I’m over.” 

(Honestly, she doesn’t blame Harry for not talking to Maddie… she sometimes ignores Maddie in her own apartment too…)

“You have two minutes to meet me in the car or I’m leaving without you!”

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With her schoolbag in hand, y/n taps lightly on Harry’s door. Blake had told her to just go in, but she feels like that’s rude, so she stands in front of his door nervously and waits patiently for him to open. 

“What?” he grunts, opening his bedroom door. “Oh.” The furrow in his brow softens the slightest bit when he sees it’s y/n. He’d thought it was Blake bugging him about something. Y/n is a much… nicer surprise. 

“Hi,” she says, chewing on the inside of her lip nervously. “I was wondering if… um, you could help me out with my calc stuff?” 

He stares at her for a second, then says, “yeah.” 

He opens the door wider and she follows him in. His room is messy, but not gross. The bed is unmade, three half full water bottles on his nightstand, and there’s a pair of sweatpants on the floor… but at least it doesn’t stink!

His computer screen is paused mid-game, and she realizes that he’d still been holding his controller when he’d opened up the door for her. He throws a jacket that had been thrown on the back of his chair onto the bed, and motions for her to sit. Then he pulls up another chair that was sitting in the corner of his room to sit next to her. 

“Let’s see it,” he says, shutting down his computer. 

“So…” she takes her laptop out of her bag, setting it down on his desk and turning it on so that she can open up her homework assignment. While it loads, she unlocks her ipad to the scratch work she’d done last night. “I was trying to do the homework last night, and I think I’m supposed to be doing integration by parts but honestly I’m not even sure how to do that… so I’m kind of lost.” 

Harry leans over her ipad and looks at the work she’d done. It’s… wrong. 

“Can I see your notes for integration by parts?” He asks, trying to figure out how she ended up with 1 as her answer when it should be a much larger, much more complicated mix of trig and integrals. She scrolls up until she lands on a page titled Chapter 7, and points to the second example on the problem. Her notes are cute, written in pink with girlish, bubbly handwriting. However, it’s clear that she’d been struggling to keep up with the lecture, some of her work completely scribbled out and replaced with messy numbers and formulas. Next to one of the big portions of scribbled out math, she's written “WHAT???” along with a sad face doodled underneath it.

Clearly she’s a bit confused. 

“Okay…” he scrolls down to a new page in her digital notebook and copies down the example problem that had confused her. “Let me show you how you do integration by parts first, and then we’ll look at the homework problem, okay?”

“M’kay,” she hums compliantly, crossing her legs and hiding her hands in her sleeves. She feels a bit… nervous. She doesn’t want Harry to think she’s stupid. But she’d rather have her ego a little bruised than fail the next midterm too. 

“So… you do integration by parts when you can’t just do normal integration… usually if there’s e^x in there or a natural log then you know that you have to do integration by parts.” 

She nods, following along quietly. 

“In this one… you have x times e^x dx… you have to break it up into two parts, U and dV. And then you take the derivative of U and find the integral of dV. And you plug that into the formula. Do you know the formula?”

She blinks at him. “Um…” she shuffles through her notes and finds it. “It’s this.” 

“Good… so what you do is you assign x to either U or dV and then e^x(dx) to the other… and then you find dU and V based off of that. Should we make x be U or dV?”

She purses her lips, “Make x=U?”

“Yes…” he nods. “Do you know why?” 

She shrugs. “I guessed.” 

His lip quirks up in the first smile y/n’s ever seen from him, a slight dimple popping up in his cheek. “S’cos we have to either find the derivative of U, or find the integral of dV. It’s way easier to use the derivative of x, cause it’s just one. If we made x equal to dV… then we’d add a fraction and a power of two to our equation and it’ll just make things ugly.”

“Oh.” She stares at his hands as he writes down what he just said in math terms, scribbling in his boyish handwriting that U=x and dU=1. “Okay.”

“So if U=x, then dV is equal to….”

“e^x?” she answers. 

“Good,” he says gently. “And what is V?”

She stays silent for a moment, searching the paper as if it’ll give her an answer. He senses her confusion and helps her out, saying, “IF V is the integral of dV, and dV is e^x…” 

“Well Isn’t the integral of e^x still e^x?” Her voice is unconfident, looking up at Harry with wide, round eyes.

“You’re right,” he says encouragingly, a soft smile on his face. “Stop doubting yourself so much.”

A reciprocating smile spreads on her face, feeling a little more confident with Harry’s praise. 

“All you do now is put your numbers into the formula. Can you do it?”

He hands the pen over to her, their fingers brushing. Her hair falls in front of her face as she leans over the page to write down her answer, and Harry watches softly as she tucks it back behind her ear. He notices how long and delicate her eyelashes are as he stares at her side profile.

“Is that right?” she asks quietly, trying hard to be confident but still so nervous that she’s done it wrong.

He tears his eyes away from her face. “Almost,” he says, leaning forward. Their arms brush against each other, the space that they initially had set between their chairs having shrunk as they worked on the problem together. She can feel his breath as he quietly murmurs next to her ear, “You just need to add +C at the end.” 

She furrows her eyebrows and turns her head towards him, and feels her heart stutter as she realizes how close their faces actually are. “What does the +C mean?”

“It’s just like… it’s supposed to represent any constants that we couldn’t find. Because when you take the derivative of a constant it just ends up being zero, so when you’re given an integral and doing the anti-differential process… you don’t know if there was actually a constant there or what it was. So the +C is just representing any constant value that could’ve been in the answer, even though you don’t know what the number is.”

She blinks at him. “Um… okay. I’ll just pretend like that made sense.”

He chuckles, the first time she’s probably ever heard him laugh. “It’s honestly not that important to get it. Just remember to add +C every time you take an integral.”

“Got it…” she says, adding the +C. 

“Think you can do the next one on your own?” 

+++

“Harry,” y/n pouts. “It says I’m wrong but I dunno why.” 

He pauses his game and slides out of his seat, going over to y/n. She’d relocated to his bed after they did a couple more problems together and felt confident enough to do the rest by herself. His chest brushing against her back softly as he leans over her shoulder, going over her work. “What’s the integral of sin(x)?”

“Cos(x),” she says confidently.

“Not quite…”

She sits there for a second, brows furrowed. “Oh!” she adds a negative in front of the cos(x).

“There you go,” he grins down at her. 

She lays down on his bed, her hair splaying out behind her as she throws her ipad on his bed, relieved. “Harry. You’re a genius.” 

He laughs, a quiet huff of air that passes out of his nose with an amused smile on his face. “So it makes sense?”

“I think you should be teaching our class. You’re so good. Thank you for helping me.”

He hums, giving her a satisfied smirk, and goes back to his game while she finishes her homework. It's a strange setup, sitting in his bed and doing her homework while he plays, but she doesn’t mind it. 

In fact, it’s kind of nice.

Harry’s kind of nice.

She kind of likes Harry.

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hope u guys loved it!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (july 29) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!

sunshine - part 2 (already posted on patreon!) : In which Harry's a little bit nicer, and y/n is very excited to possibly, hopefully, maybe be kissed.

sunshine masterlist

[steddieas-shegoes]

remember to try and forget

for @steddiesongfics using 'delete ya' by djo as inspiration AND i slipped a few short bursts of lyrics in here (thanks @withacapitalp for the suggestion that got me started on this, hugging you squishing you)

rated m | 1581 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: road trip, ex friends with benefits to lovers, temporary heartbreak, angst with a happy ending, robin is a meddling friend and we love her for it, jonathan and argyle also meddle and have a great time doing it, love confessions, getting together

also on ao3

🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️🛣️

A summer road trip should be fine.

Just the guys.

Which includes Eddie. Of course it includes Eddie. Why wouldn’t it? He’s one of the guys.

It’s just that the road trip is gonna be in Steve’s car and he doesn’t really trust anyone else to drive it, and Eddie won the passenger seat in some bet that he’s not even sure Argyle and Jonathan knew they participated in. And he’s made it a point not to be near Eddie for a while now. Pretty much since…well, since Eddie broke his heart into a million pieces and stomped on them and pretended nothing happened.

“We should probably get on the road,” Jonathan says as he closes the trunk. “We’re already an hour behind.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Steve mutters under his breath. “Alright! Let’s go!” He says louder, claps his hands together.

If he makes it through the next four days, he can make it through the rest of his life.

Eddie slams the car door and grins through the window at him.

He may not survive the next four hours.

****

It’s okay for an hour or so. Jonathan and Argyle are keeping conversation going, moving from one subject to the next with seemingly no connecting thoughts between them. Eddie’s tapping his fingers to the music playing and throwing in random quips when Argyle says something that Steve can’t follow.

Steve’s driving, only interjecting if he knows what the hell they’re talking about.

He’s ignoring Eddie.

He doesn’t even notice how he’s wearing a new cologne, or that he has a different ring on his left middle finger, or that his thighs are parted obnoxiously so that one is almost…just barely…touching where his hand rests on the middle console.

He’s not noticing it so much that he nearly drives off the road when they touch.

“Jesus!” Eddie holds out his arms as they slide to a stop on the shoulder.

Jonathan is silent, and Argyle is patting Steve on the shoulder like he’s making sure they’re still alive.

Steve puts the car in park and gets out before anyone can ask what the hell is wrong with him.

It’s so hot, and he wonders why the hell they had to do this trip in July of all months, and he isn’t paying attention at all to know Eddie’s following right behind him.

“What the hell, Harrington?” Eddie grabs his shoulder to get him to slow down. “What’s going on with you?”

A loaded question that Steve doesn’t even want to answer. He knows exactly what’s going on with him. He also knows if he wants to enjoy this road trip, he can’t tell Eddie what’s going on.

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well last night,” Steve starts. It’s not a complete lie. He was nervous about the trip. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why didn’t you sleep well?” Eddie pushes, because he always pushes until someone pushes back and then he runs.

“Just didn’t,” he shrugs, rubs his hand across his face. He’s turning to go back to the car when Eddie grabs his hand and holds it. He looks down at where they touch and feels that familiar ache, the thing that’s kept him from having any good sleep for months. “Let go of me.”

Eddie does, but he doesn’t move away. Steve sees him swallow, hopes it hurts the way he’s been hurting since Eddie broke his heart.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You really wanna know?” Steve feels manic, like he did that night he ended up at Robin’s house, barely able to see past the blurry vision his anger and heartbreak gave him. She sat on his legs just so he wouldn’t pace a hole through her floor and made him listen to Blondie and Madonna to calm down before he was allowed to talk. Too bad she isn’t here now. “What’s wrong is that I put myself out there and got shot down again. What’s wrong is that you were okay when we were just fucking around a little but the moment I wanted more, you couldn’t even look at me. What’s wrong is that you agreed to go on this stupid road trip knowing I was coming and didn’t care that it would kill me to be close to you and not be able to do anything about it!”

His heart is racing, his breath is coming in short bursts. He doesn’t want to get back in the car.

“Steve…”

“Don’t, Eddie. You made it clear enough that this is one-sided and I just have to get over it. I don’t need to hear it again. I just need a few minutes.” Steve probably needs a lot more than a few minutes. He wishes he could just delete Eddie from his head the way he deleted the kids’ late fees at Family Video. “Go wait in the car.”

Eddie doesn’t move. Steve doesn’t either.

He can hear Jonathan and Argyle talking by the car, but they don’t come closer.

“I agreed because I miss you. I wanted the chance to talk to you,” Eddie finally says quietly. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Right. I’m sure you’re sorry that I can’t fucking drive us on our dude getaway or whatever.”

The anger bubbles up in his chest. He feels it boiling under his skin, making him shiver and shake like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know how to love you when you needed me to!” Eddie says much too loudly.

Argyle and Jonathan are silent now, hopefully not watching whatever is happening as Steve’s eyes widen and he finds Eddie’s heated gaze already on him. They’re glassy, tears gathering as if he has anything to cry about.

He doesn’t get to cry; He’s the one who said he didn’t want anything more from Steve.

“You didn’t even try,” Steve hears how his own voice breaks, feels ashamed that Eddie’s getting to see his pain. He wipes sweat from his forehead and a tear from his cheek. “You didn’t even try. Why wasn’t I worth trying?”

“Steve, you were. You are.” Eddie cautiously rests his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I didn’t deserve you then, I damn sure don’t deserve you now. But I do want you to know I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leading you on and making you think I didn’t want you when I did and I do and I’m sorry for telling you that none of it mattered when it meant everything to me.”

“So you talked to Robin.”

He’d be mad at her, but he knows what probably happened. She got mad enough to confront Eddie, Eddie was terrified to piss her off more, he explained his side of things and she got mad enough to give all of Steve’s side of things. She has no filter when she’s mad. Neither does Steve, apparently.

“She talked to me first. She’s terrifying when she’s mad,” Eddie shakes his head. “But she loves you enough to tell me I’m a fuckin’ idiot. And I love you enough to tell you that I was a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Dude, what is going on?” Argyle’s asking Jonathan.

“I think they’re finally figuring out they love each other,” Jonathan answers.

“Why did you tell me you didn’t care how I felt?” Steve ignores them. “I spent every night with you for months. Every night. I kept coming back. And you let me. And you pretended like it was good and it was going somewhere and you looked at me like it meant something and I thought-“

“You thought right. I swear you did,” Eddie is cupping his face in his hands and he barely chokes back a sob. “I’ve never…had the chance to do that with someone. I never felt real love for someone, not like this. I dunno! I was dumb!”

Steve laughs. He can’t help it. It makes Eddie smile.

“You were so dumb,” he says quietly. His shirt is sticking to him, and it’s starting to become all he can focus on. They should go. They can talk when they get to their first stop in a few hours. “Are you done being dumb?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever not be dumb, but I’m gonna do my best to love you anyway,” Eddie’s voice is full of promise and hope. He wants to believe it.

“Robin was right.”

Both of them turn at Argyle’s words, brows creasing together in silent question.

He’s beaming at them as he explains, “She said you guys would figure it out if we did this!”

Steve turns back to Eddie, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of him. “Did Robin make you come on this trip?”

“Yeah. Insisted I needed time away from Hawkins. You?”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “Said I needed to have some time with someone other than her before I turned into a lesbian.”

Eddie snorts. “We got tricked. If she thinks I’m not inviting her to the next campaign, she’s mistaken.”

“She won’t play the nerd game.” Steve pats his shoulder. “C’mon. We have a long drive and those two will need to stop for food soon.”

“Wait.” Eddie grabs his hands tight, his face schooled back to something more serious. “This was too easy, right?”

“Oh, you aren’t done,” Steve smirks. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do. We’re getting our own room tonight at the motel. You still have some forgiveness to earn.”

[mari-the-bimbo]

First things first. I love your writings. Especially the ex-husband ones❤

Two I hope you don't mind me requesting a ex-husband geto?

-🌼

Ex husband Geto

A/N: Ohhh you ATE with this idea I’m getting butterflies just thinking about it 😫 Happy late valentines my loves!! 🫶🏽💗

Ex husband Geto is a terrifying blend of ex husband Gojo and Nanami’s worst traits. He is extremely unhinged like his white haired best friend but good at playing nice guy like Nanami.

He’s ‘respectful’. Always paying a sum of money to spend on yourself as well as child support, always bringing chocolates when visiting, always insisting to stay over and help out with your daughter when you’re on your period (he knows your cycle because he refuses to log out of your Flo partners account from back when you were married hehe), and he does it all with a small smile on his face.

He loves his precious baby daughter so much! She inherited his dark hair but your enchanting eyes and smile. His eyes soften at the way she giggles just like you when he presses kisses to her rosy cheeks. His little girl loves playing with her dad’s long black hair. He was born to be a girl dad.

However Geto still struggles with boundaries. You try to shake it off when his fingers touch your waist or when he ‘accidentally’ still calls you sweetheart. “sorry bad habits” he dry chuckles. He’s admitted he’s struggling to get over his feelings for you so you try to be nice about it.

But what you can’t shake off is the way he always happens to know where you are, or he always happens to turn up just before a date, or the way he always whispers a question to your daughter when you leave the room.

Geto’s fixation with you definitely makes his own mental wellbeing spiral, but this man is self aware, this man knows the effect you have on him since the day you left.

So if you ever had the audacity to break his heart and see another man behind his back, it’s over for you.

You’ll be confused when you hear the doorbell ring at 11 in the night. Once you spot the familiar black Bugatti, you open the door, “Geto? The kids are at my moms so-“

“And why’s that y/n?” he cuts you off, his chilling voice suddenly calling you by your actual name rather than sweetheart, as he barges into the house and towers over you, black stands of his hair falling forward.

“You just throw your daughter away to go on dates?” He accuses you and the change from his usual gentleman demeanour unsettles you as his dark eyes burn into you.

“W- what are you talking about? I’m allowed to go on dates and take my daughter to her nans Geto! And how did you know I-“

“You knew-“ he seethes as he inches closer to your face. “You knew I’m struggling to get over you but I’ve been so nice to you and this is how you thank me?”

Some part of your subconscious knows you don’t owe him anything but the rest of you wants to give in. You gulp down your nerves but it was futile in front of a man who could easily have his way with you.

You take a deep breath before beginning, “listen Geto, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want.” Is it?

“Don’t let it happen again” he says in a voice that is so soft, contradicting his threatening words. But you know best not to take it lightly.

See that’s the thing with ex husband Geto, he lures you in with his sweetness so well, you become too scared to get on his bad side, you always want the good side.

You watch him place a bouquet of Japanese pink camelia flowers on the table, making your eyes widen. “Geto-“

“I came here to give you some flowers for valentines” he explains quietly, “all I wanted was to show you my feelings are sincere whether we’re married or not” he guilt trips you and you know you’re falling for it when he towers over you and holds your face in his large hands. You always do when it came to your beloved ex husband.

So you’re complicit when you picks you up and places you on the sofa, his large hands move to your thighs, groping and kissing them, chuckling when you gasp at his fingers fiddling with the lining of your underwear.

“I know you just needed some love sweetheart, but you don’t have to go to other men, that’s what I’m here for” he convinced you as he ties up his long black hair but his eyes are still interlocked with yours.

And that’s how you always end up getting fucked by your psycho ex husband. Legs dangling in the air as you scream while he gets all the right spots with that skilful tongue of this.

Pink camellia flowers (aka/ tsubaki) are known to express a deep romantic longing and persistent desire.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Nineteen: rot

tw: minor smut

January bleeds into February like blood on snow. 

It’s steady, and faster than you realize. Time has always been like this for you—some immeasurable idea that you find is easier to ignore than attempt to keep track of. You’ve spent the better part of the last fifteen years slaving away at your job for Marco’s benefit all while you pretended that you get to live any longer than what he determines for you. You think that’s why the years have flown by—why they’ve slipped through your fingers faster than blood through a wound or water through a sieve. These last few years have been borrowed. None of it is supposed to be yours; why should you get to enjoy it to its fullest extent? 

Yet, things are different than usual—as far as the passage of time goes, anyway. It warps into something congenial, like you’re losing hours and minutes only because you’re too busy laughing to pay attention to it. You spend your nights tucked away in Simon’s house rather than in the heat of Sapori and your days lounging on the couch or in the garage watching him tinker away with some motor or another. 

These days, you do significantly less math. 

It feels strange to admit it out loud, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so happy before. Even with the looming threat of Marco’s letter and your father’s debt, the solicitude is muted. How can your heart have any room for fear when you have warm arms to embrace you at night and rough lips to kiss your cheeks? 

This is a life you never believed you would live to see—even from a young age you thought romance wasn’t for you. Something about you always felt broken. There was silence when there should have been a bomb ticking away in your chest waiting to explode. There was never anything that hungered for a playful fling or a one night stand. As a child, your only concern was to study, or perhaps enjoy the sunshine that basked the wooden benches in your neighborhood’s park. 

Now, you find yourself with an unfamiliar yearning. There’s an odd appetency that tugs at your heart with each smile that graces Simon’s scarred lips or every hum that rattles his chest as he listens to you speak. Your mouth grows sere more often than not these days at the mere thought of his body twisting with yours. Sometimes, when he looks at you, your heart pounds so violently you swear it might kill you. 

It’s a death you wouldn’t mind experiencing—infinitely kinder than a knife. 

The thing that makes everything worse is your dreams. 

Legs tangled in sheets, you dream of him kissing you, soft and tender like he always does, but the warmth is enough to sear your skin. You dream that his fingers press into the back of your neck to hold you still as his tongue slides along your lips, licking you as if he’s never tasted a nectar so sweet. Even in this dreamscape you feel the way his breath fans across your face as he grunts, hands wandering over your body with just the right amount of pressure. He does not claw or bruise—he rubs and caresses. Your dream-self must make a sound, because when he paws at your chest, he leans back to look at you with a grin. 

You’re clothed, but you wish you weren’t. Or, maybe it’s your dream-self that wishes she wasn’t. Where does the real you and the dream you end and begin? Can you only be brave enough to admit these desires into the void where no one can hear you? 

Everything begins to melt. Simon’s shirt slithers off of his back in frayed tatters until his bare chest is pressed against your own, and you don’t realize that you’re naked until his warmth bleeds into you like a sigh into cold air. Nose pressing against the side of your neck, your legs fall open for him and it… you don’t know how to describe it. All you know is that your entire body throbs and yearns for him to crush you as you hold the back of his head against the crook of your neck.

Hips bucking, knees bending; it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. It’s dulcet but numb, not quite reaching you but so close to embracing you. You just need more. Of him. Of his lips on your collarbone. Of his hands on your stomach trailing lower until he’s brushing between your legs; you just need—

You wake up when Simon stirs next to you in bed. 

His legs stretch out until the tips of his toes touch the edge of the bed and your eyes fly open as if all the air has been sucked from your mouth. Hands curled underneath your chin, you pull the blankets closer to your body as you shrivel inwards on yourself. You ache. It’s a terrible, pitiful ache that burrows deep between your legs and throbs. You nearly languish when Simon turns on his side and tosses an arm over you, pulling you into his chest. 

“Mornin’ baby,” he murmurs against the crown of your head. 

“Morning.” 

Your voice is quiet. So fragile that it nearly shatters in your throat. You nuzzle your nose against his sternum as that vicious need still rages inside of you. Breathing him in does not quell your concupiscent want; it only stokes the fire until it grows from a whisper into a roar. 

“You feelin’ alright?” he questions. 

“Yeah.” Your answer comes too quick. Too sharp. You swallow. “Just… don’t wanna get out of bed.” 

Simon only hums in response before his muscles begin to melt around you. Loving fingers caress the curve of your spine as you breathe each other in. Your heart beats so strongly that you realize you can’t hear his pulse over your own, as if you’re drowning out everything in the universe all because of your unfamiliar want. Eventually, he tenses as he places another kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away and leans over you while he drags the blankets higher up over your body. 

“Stay in bed a while longer,” he says. “I’m gonna shower, then I’ll cook up breakfast, yeah?” 

You stare up at him with wide eyes—he looks at you for so long you’re afraid he might see the way erotomania has clouded your mind. “Yeah, okay.” 

It’s foolish of you to believe things would be easier the moment he slides out of bed and hides himself behind the door to the master bathroom, because if anything it only gets worse. Surrounded by the scent of him and with the memory of his kiss still lingering on your skin, you find your fingers tingling. They’re being pulled down, down—

You sit up as soon as the shower begins to run. Covers tossed aside, you sit there for a moment with quivering thighs before swinging your legs over the bed. Anxious molars dig into the insides of your cheeks as you attempt to steady your thoughts. It doesn’t work. All you can imagine is Simon in the shower—moist skin beaded with fresh water, inky arms wrapping around you, teeth flashing before they’re hidden away with soft lips ready to devour yours. 

Snatching your phone off of the nightstand, you wander out of the bedroom as you shake your head. Distracting yourself, you click your phone on as you skim through a handful of unread messages. You’re met with unimportant spam e-mails and system notifications, but your lips pull into a smile as you notice a message from Bee. 

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Nonno made capellini pomodoro last night and I thought of you. I miss you ): Come back soon!!! Please!!!! You’re the only hostess I can stand working with!!! Oh, and bring Simon with you ;) 

She adds a picture of the pasta with her text message, and as you send off a quick reply, you find your stomach growling at the sight of fresh tomatoes and golden noodles. Breakfast—yes. 

A distraction. 

The stove hums to life with a click as the coils on the burner begin to illuminate a bright red. There’s no shortage of eggs in this house, so you bring the carton out and set it on the counter as you prepare your ingredients. Pan on burner. Salt and pepper. Maybe some toast. Melted butter. The motion of cooking is enough to quell the thoughts in your mind, but you don’t even dare to thank the universe for this change in pace, lest you jinx yourself. 

It isn’t long before eggs are sizzling and heat wafts around the kitchen as if it was the middle of July. You stand with a spatula in hand as you watch the food. Your eyes meticulously soak in the way moisture bubbles along the bottom of the pan as rolls of steam emanate upwards, melting the skin of your face in the process. You breathe in, then out, and—

“I thought you were stayin’ in bed.” 

—a pair of hands brushes against the sides of your waist and you squeal. Jumping on the tips of your toes, you twist around with wide eyes only to be met with a heavy chuckle from Simon. His hand ensnares your wrist as the spatula nearly digs into the side of his face and he only raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Easy there, killer,” he says with a titter. 

Huffing, you lower your hand and set your cooking utensil on the counter behind you. “You scared the shit out of me, Simon Riley,” you chastize. “I couldn’t hear you coming.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Reckon you might have to put a bell on me,” he teases. 

Your mouth opens with a retort at the ready, but it snaps shut once you see him. Really see him. Fresh out of the shower, Simon’s short hair sits in messy strands on his head, clumped together with lingering moisture. Aftershave mixes with the eggs cooking next to you as you realize the stubble on his chin and jaw have vanished, leaving behind smooth skin—or, as smooth as the various scars on his face will allow his skin to be. 

He’s handsome. Diabolically handsome and—

—not dressed. 

Not fully dressed. Donning nothing but a pair of house slippers and joggers, he stands in front of you shirtless. Water still gathers in tiny beads on his collarbones, and his chest glistens with soddenness. Sparse hair dots along his chest and thickens below his navel, and your mouth dries at the bulk along his pecks and abdomen. There are a few scars to be found—ones you’ve never been able to fully pay attention to during the brief moments he’s changed in front of you. A thick, puffy keloid sits along his shoulder, and another lighter one slashes across his sternum. 

You’ve never seen him like this; bare and up close. The warmth of his shower clings to his skin where it flows from him and into you. Pulse quickening, you feel your thighs begin to quiver again and you let out a huffy laugh and pray that it obscures your embarrassment. 

“You’re burning the eggs, baby.” 

Blinking, you whip back around and clasp the spatula in your hand once more as you curse. Turning off the heat, you remove the pan from the burner before attempting to divide the eggs evenly between the two plates you have set up, but you’re trembling so bad that you end up dumping all the contents onto one instead. 

“I swear I’m a better cook than this,” you say as an attempt at a joke. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Simon chuckles. You’re hardly able to put the spatula back on the counter before his hands are on you again, and this time you don’t jump. Thick fingers gently squeeze the sides of your hips, and your muscles tense and twitch against him as your mind goes blank. All rational thought leaves you. “You seem a little distracted, sweetheart.” 

Humming, he pulls you against him so that your back is flat against his chest. Hands still firmly on your hips, he begins to sway and you let him dictate the flow of your body as your head leans back against him. You’re coming undone. Trembling hands rest on his, and when you squeeze him he squeezes you back. 

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” he purrs. 

You swallow. “I dunno- I just… you’re…” 

Discombobulated, your words are cut short and staccato. There’s not enough air in your lungs or blood in your brain—it all rushes elsewhere. It pools in your skin until you’re superheated to the point you might melt in his hands, bones and all. 

“Yeah?” he prompts. Head dipping low, Simon rests his cheek on your shoulder. His damp hair bleeds into your night shirt, but you find that you don’t really care about that; not when his lips begin to tenderly press against the side of your neck. “Tell me more.” 

His teeth softly nip at the side of your throat and you gasp. “Y-You’re doing this on purpose.” 

“Doin’ what?” 

“T-This.” 

“Oh?” Simon stops swaying, but he keeps his hips flushed against yours. “Should I stop?” 

“No.” Your reply is quick. Sharp. You hardly recognize the desperation in your tone. 

Simon pulls himself away from you, and you nearly whine until he spins you around to face him. Lower back pressed against the edge of the counter, you stare at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks. His dark eyes rake over your body—he soaks up the way your legs rub together and the odd quirk of your lips. Hand coming up to rest on your chin, his thumb swipes over your bottom lip as he tilts his head to the side. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby,” he reiterates. 

Your lungs allow you to exhale only one shuddering breath. “You.” 

Mouth pulling into a faint smirk, he leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your forehead. Humming, he slowly works down until his lips have touched half of your face—all the way from your cheek to the curve of your jaw. You begin to ebb beneath his touch. Each connection of his body against yours leaves your skin tingling and your brain buzzing as if your skull can hardly hold together your thoughts. Mustering as much bravery as you can, your arms slowly begin to snake up around him. Courageous fingers dance along his chest until you’ve wrapped them around the back of his neck, pulling him closer; even then it still doesn’t feel like enough. 

Then—finally—he kisses you. Lips locking together, you have to hold back your moan as his hand moves from your chin to the back of your head, cradling you close. This is different than the other kisses you’ve shared with Simon. It’s not quick and sweet. It’s hungry. The pressure of his mouth on yours grows as you dance in sync, fingers tenderly sliding up from the nape of his neck into the mess of his hair. 

That desire begins to throb inside of you again. It pulses and writhes so much that it hurts, and you don’t think this is enough to satiate it. A simple kiss. His body against yours. You need more. Hungry to be devoured, you yank Simon even closer, but the movement breaks your embrace. Grinning, he chuckles, breath washing over your face and—

—it’s mint. 

It’s on your tongue and in your nose. Fresh and stinging menthol. Peppermint like candy canes during Christmas. He’s just brushed his teeth, and he’s kissed you, and now it’s in your mouth. Stuck. Stagnant and plaguing. 

You try to blink your shock away, but you cannot cease the pounding of your heart anymore than you can forget the way blood soaks linoleum. But mint is never just mint anymore—it is death. It is rosy intestines cradled in cold hands and a fresh floral arrangement bathing in stale ichor. It’s someone kicking your feet and forced oaths and promises. 

Suddenly, the counter against your back feels like a wall, and the hands on your body feel too low. They traverse too far—further than what feels comfortable. Hands sliding free from wet hair, you find your palms pressing up against his chest. You can’t breathe. Simon looks at you and it’s Marco. 

It’s Marco, and he’s grinning as his hands slide up between your thighs, and he’s grinning as his fingers press against your sex, and he’s grinning as he taints you, and he’s—

“Hey, hey, Chip. Breathe, baby.” 

It’s Simon. His hands retract from your body to instead cup your cheeks in his hands, and you don’t realize you’re crying until his thumbs wick the moisture off of your skin. Tremulous fingers brush against his as you mentally scream at your body to focus, but everything is too fuzzy. Circuits are snipped and you have nothing but fried synapses attempting to force everything into submission, but your breathing comes so quickly that your vision begins to fade and your knees feel weak. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You laugh and it feels wrong. It’s tense in your throat and your bottom lip begins to tremble the moment the sound escapes you. “I dunno what’s happening to me, I just- oh my god, Simon, I don’t know what’s wrong, but- I c-can’t-” 

“I’ve got you.” He’s pulling you away from the counter, but the lack of support nearly makes you collapse. “C’mon, let’s sit you down. I’ve got you, baby. C’mon.” 

Your panic morphs into unbridled sobbing the moment you reach the couch. Knees buckling, Simon pulls you into his arms and holds you against him as your sorrow wracks your body with constricting muscles and uncontrollable tremors. Each wail that leaves your mouth rips through your throat with the same kindness a bullet offers unprotected flesh. You are raw. A pile of meat. 

You clutch your stomach as a coalescence of grief and shame rips through you, leaving you as nothing but an empty husk. Can Simon smell the rot? All the sewage and filth that stains you? Can he see the squalid fingerprints that taint your skin with Marco’s essence? 

Does it sicken him as much as it sickens you? 

It doesn’t matter—this moment has proven that your worst fear has come to fruition. Marco haunts you. He has control over you even when he’s not here to force your hand. 

“Talk to me baby.” You’ve stopped shaking. Your sobs have quelled into simple pules, but your body feels limp against his own as he continues to hold you against him. A desperate thumb rubs against the side of your arm as if he’s coaxing an animal out of hiding. “What’s goin’ on?” 

You do not answer him—he does not push any further. 

Settling into the couch, Simon Riley closes his eyes as he leans his head against your own, knowing that—in this moment—there is nothing he can do except hold you as you rot away in his arms.

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[catboyieejeno]

because even then, i knew — l.sm { 1 }

You have (1) new voicemail from: seokmin <3 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 0:58

“Hey. I know we haven’t talked in a while but… I wanted you to know that I miss you, and I miss us. And… I’m in love with you, if that means anything to you now.”

✰ genre: non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au

✰ cw: female reader, petnames, cursing, seokmin is desperately down bad, slowburn, pining, so much fluff, mentions of alcohol, consuming alcohol, nsfw, mentions of cheating, angst

✰ wc: 21k

✰ tracklist: {spotify} {apple music}

✰ navigation: {one} {two}

✰ note: this story is my absolute baby. i stared writing it one day with no plot in mind, and ended up with 45k. it's supposed to feel like a kdrama as you read it (and i mean this in every sense of the word—you will see), so please listen to the tracklist as you scroll. the songs are carefully timed in order to play as you read certain parts, but if you're not sure you're listening to the right song, part two will tell you where you should be and you will resync.

please love this story, it was written with an unbelievable amount of care, detail, and intention.

≡;- ꒰ ° one ꒱

Love at first sight is undoubtedly the biggest fabrication that the media and modern culture has ever tried to push on society. It only happens in the movies, and even then, it’s barely done right. There is no such thing as happy endings, because that’s not how things are in the real world. 

Make no mistake; Lee Seokmin is not a pessimist, nor is he a bitter person. He’s the kind of guy who helps old people cross the street during rush hour, or helps kids pluck their balloons out of trees so they won’t cry. He actually does like long walks on the beach, as a matter of fact, and he happens to be a casual enjoyer of rom-coms, something his other male friends would rather die than admit to. 

Once upon a time, he used to be a hopeless romantic, but that rug was pulled out from under him on a few too many occasions, and while he’s still a positive, amicable guy, he had learned that sometimes, things were too good to be true. 

For example: when he was 7, he fell in love.

His 20 year old babysitter, who his parents had hired to watch over him on evenings while they were at work, was absolutely perfect—he knew from the moment he met her, she would be the girl he’d marry. 

She was Korean, and a freshman in college with a major in business management. Every week, she would walk hand-in-hand with him to the corner store to buy him sausage sticks and sticky tteokbokki at the food cart with the money she could spare from her part time job as a tutor, since his parents would only leave money for emergencies. In return for her generosity, he’d sit still and play while she finished her homework, and occasionally, Seokmin would even pick flowers from his mom’s garden for her. This earned him a few scoldings, but that didn’t matter to him, because she was, and would always be worth it. 

Until one day, where he had promised to behave while she finished a practice test. Poor, unsuspecting, seven-almost-eight-year-old Seokmin with his cheeks stuffed full of sausage and rice cake, overheard her calling another boy (albeit a boy her age who could actually reciprocate her affection) a sweet name over the phone. He dropped everything and stomped over to her, bursting into tears and rambling on about how she broke his heart. She was fired the very same evening as a consequence of his tantrum. 

When he was 14, he fell in love again. And this time, it had to be love… right? 

A family of foreigners had moved in across the street, and their daughter, who was the same age as him this time around, would come over to study with him after school and on the weekends. She’d teach him English, and he’d teach her Korean. She was his first kiss and his first girlfriend—they lasted a reputable two months—until they moved back overseas. Apparently, her parents had only moved there for the summer as part of a work-related trip, and when they said goodbye and promised to write, little Grace revealed she didn’t want a committed, long-distance relationship at the ripe age of fourteen.

In retrospect… maybe she was right, but Seokmin would never forget the way his heart shattered. 

The only real, long-term girlfriend he’s had was a little over two years ago. They dated for over a year, she met his parents and he met her’s, the two of them even exchanged promise rings. At the time, he would gush to his friends about how he’d never met anyone as funny and brilliant as her, and how lucky he feels to have done so. 

Then, the week before his birthday, Seokmin found out she had been sleeping with her best friend for months. 

Love at first sight—true love—It was a flat out lie, and he refused to fall for its charm ever again. 

So why, he thinks to himself, why can’t he stop looking at you? 

He noticed you for the first time last week after his car had been totaled during an impromptu road trip the day prior. Soonyoung, one of his best friends, had gotten on the subway while drinking and somehow ended up eight stops away from his apartment at an ungodly hour in his wasted state. Seokmin was the only one that answered the phone. He picked him up, but on the way back, Soonyoung tried to crawl out the window of the passenger seat and Seokmin, whilst trying to pull him back inside, had crashed into a tree.

The car was old, and he was saving up for a new one anyway. That, and the insurance gave him some chump change for the wreckage, which was more than he’d thought he’d get, so it wasn’t too bad. The biggest inconvenience he faced now was getting to and from work. 

Every night, after his shift at the flower shop, Seokmin would take the bus transit home. The first night, he only saw you in passing, because he practically had to run after the bus to catch it after arriving late to the stop. He took the first seat he could find, panting and exhausted after his long shift and the blip of a marathon he just ran, and sunk down into it. 

Since he had never needed to take the bus until now, he spent some time glancing out the window and studying the route, discovering the stop near his apartment was the very last one, arriving at nearly 10:00 P.M. Yours was the second to last one, only a few blocks over. That evening, he only barely caught a glimpse of the side of your face as you climbed off, crossing the street and strolling out of sight with way too many things clutched within your jacketed arms. 

The following night, he made it to the bus on time, thankfully, and spotted you sitting near the back, though that didn’t mean much to him yet. He took his same seat near the front, despite the many empty spots throughout the vehicle. And just like before, at the second to last stop, you walked down the middle aisle to exit. 

This time, while wrestling your books, laptop case, walkman, and coat, your headset wire had snagged on the seat in front of him. He watched as you turned around and detangled it hurriedly, your gaze barely flickering up to meet his curious one for a split second. You flashed him a ghost of a smile and then, you were gone again. 

Seokmin found himself looking forward to seeing you every single night from then on. 

He decided to start sitting in the back of the bus too, blaming his avid interest in you purely on the distorted conclusion that it made no sense to sit in the front! He was always the last one aboard, and the back had so many more seats for him to get comfortable. 

That’s what he convinced himself of, at least for the first few days. He tried sitting in a couple different spots, though he wouldn’t dare sit too close to you—he’s not that bold.  He did, however, decide after his trial and error period that his favorite seat was the far left one on the last row. Your seat was forever unchanging, on the second to last row and all the way to the right. 

This way, he could watch over your shoulder as you typed away on your computer. You seemed to be writing something personal, because night after night, you’d create paragraph after paragraph, working tirelessly to craft whatever it was that you were working on so extensively. He figured it couldn’t be just any assignment or work-related exposition. This meant something to you, and that only spiked his curiosity more. The only pause in your routine of clicking away at keys was skipping a song or two on your walkman or glancing out the window for inspiration.

He’s never sat close enough to actually read the words on your screen, but then again, that might be overstepping a bit. The urge does frequently bug him, though, especially when he notices how immersed you become the moment you lift the screen of your laptop and open your document. Every night, he watches you do the same thing, and every night, he fights the urge to strain his neck and catch a glimpse of a single word on your screen. 

He contains himself, though, on the principle that eavesdropping is wrong, and he intends to never do you wrong. 

On the sixth night he spends in his new seat, he notices about twenty minutes in when your fingers stop clicking away. At first, he considers the possibility that you may be thinking or planning your next sentence. But, as the bus nears your stop, you don’t move to start picking up your things. It immediately alerts him, and he sits up straighter as he realizes, you’ve fallen asleep. 

He’s never given something so simple so much thought in such a short time. He can feel the bus slowing down, and he can hear the brakes screeching and wheezing. Would he feel worse for disturbing your rest and making an inevitably awkward first impression, or letting you continue to sleep and possibly (definitely) miss your stop? 

Certainly the latter.

Without a second thought, Seokmin hurriedly slides out of his aisle and climbs down the two steps of the back row to reach you at your seat, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving it a light shake. You don’t budge, even when he calls out to you. 

“Excuse me, Miss. Miss?” 

As the bus comes to a full stop and the engine’s roar becomes suppressed, he can hear the music playing through the headset that sits still over your ears. With a grimace, he softly slips them off, and the action is enough to stir you awake. You blink in confusion as you adjust to the brightness of the lights inside the bus, and your eyes land on his widened ones. 

“Sorry for waking you, but,” he gestures outside, “this is your stop.” 

You look around to confirm, and upon seeing the familiar intersection and corner store, you realize what he’s saying is true.

A few things go through your head: First of all, the stranger in front of you has the kindest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Secondly, his nose is absolutely huge, and for some reason, he knows your stop, which makes you wonder where else he’s capable of poking it. So naturally, you ignore the sweet charm behind his eyes and shrug off his arm, grabbing your things quickly and booking it for the door that the bus driver has to reopen when he sees you approaching. 

You climb off and consider taking a different route, but if he knows your stop, he likely knows which way you walk every single night. You curse at yourself for even falling asleep in the first place, then drag your feet along towards your apartment after accommodating your headphones back over your ears, your walkman clutched in hand, its music swirling in your ears once more.

Because of this, you miss the way Seokmin shouts after you for leaving your phone behind, and the way the bus driver then shouts at him for holding him up. 

“I’ve got a wife to get home to, kid. Get back on the bus or I’m leaving you here.” 

He looks between the device in his hand, you, and back at the burly bus driver who raises a threatening brow his way. 

In defeat, he gets back on board and walks down until he’s reached his seat, but not before stopping at yours, or rather stumbling there with how aggressively the driver steps on the gas and sends him flying. He does a quick once over your seat to make sure you haven’t left or dropped anything else, but your phone is the only thing you forgot in your rush. 

The drive to his street is rather short, and when he does some calculations on the maps app, he discovers it’s at most a half-hour walk from his place to yours. That revelation makes him regretful, because as he dismounts the bus, crosses the street, and climbs the flight of stairs to his apartment, he realizes he could’ve run after you and given you your phone and just walked home after. It would’ve allowed him to explain that he’s not a creep, and that he only knows your stop because you’re the only other person on the bus at that hour. 

He thinks about his encounter with you the whole way to his apartment, and even at home while he takes his shower and brushes his teeth. And still, when he plugs your dead phone in, so that he can give it to you fully charged the next day. As it comes to life, half a dozen messages come in with a series of ‘dings’ from a contact you have saved as just a heart. He can’t read what the messages say because of the privacy settings you have in place, so he just silences it as more messages come in. He would have tried to let them know your phone isn’t with you, but the person with the heart alias never tries to call, and so there’s nothing Seokmin can do about it but hope tomorrow comes quickly. 

That thought brings him back to you, and as he lies down, he finds himself tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep because he’s mulling over the way you shrugged him off. It’s only the long day at work, where he spent eight hours on his feet watering ficuses and making arrangements with daisies and lilies, that manages to silence his brain and lull his eyelids to a close so he can get some rest. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

His shift at the floral shop had gone by painfully slow today. The hours that usually pass relatively quickly with the friendly faces of Korean grandmas that stop by after going to the market, have dragged on for an eternity. 

He reminds himself that he’s going to see you tonight and that thought gets him through the day. He’ll at last be able to redeem himself of the interaction that’s been haunting him for the last twelve hours. He even dreamt about you, specifically about the conversation going a completely different way than it did. 

“Sorry for waking you, but this is your stop.” 

“Oh, my god,” you said. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize I drifted off.”

“No worries,” Seokmin would flash you a smile and help you with your things, since he had noticed your tendency to travel with more than you could carry. “Here.”

“Thanks again, uh…”

“Seokmin.”

“Seokmin,” you’d repeat, and even in his dream, he had reeled over the way his name rolled off your tongue.

In an extra effort to mend things over with you, Seokmin dips into his weekly paycheck at the end of his shift to buy you a tote bag from the shop. That way, you’d have a place to pack your laptop when you weren’t typing up stories, and your coat that you insisted on draping over your arm? It could go in there, too! 

Why you chose to listen to music on a walkman in today’s modern age, he has no idea—but now you’d have a place to store it so you won’t leave it behind like you had your phone. 

The tote bag he picks out for you is the nicest, most sizable one in stock. It’s the first time he’s bought anything from the floral shop, so the measly ten percent employee discount he got was rather underwhelming. Still, it would be worth it. He’d hand you your phone, explain himself to clear up the previous night's confusion, and offer you the tote bag as a gift. 

When he climbs on the bus later that evening, you’re sitting in the same spot as always, except this time, you’re expecting him. Your eyes flash up at him then fall back to your laptop. Subsequently, you slump further down in your seat, and Seokmin quickly realizes you’re trying to avoid him. 

Now—he had talked himself through the plan of approaching you all day, it’s all he thought about during the less busy hours of his shift to pass the time. He had walked through the process once, twice, and then again in hopes of nailing down every detail, but he didn’t once account for your very obvious disinterest. 

It offsets his mood entirely, which was confident and sociable just moments ago, and he trails down the aisle, past your seat, and to his own instead with discouragement. 

The moment he sits, it’s as if someone winded up his leg: it starts restlessly bouncing, and his mind mirrors the action, his inner monologue providing no relief for his grief. 

If he was any other rational person, he would’ve taken your coldness with a grain of salt; he’d hand you your phone, say “you left this.” and go on about his day—no, his life, as if this moment, as if meeting you, was nothing more than an insignificant scene in the story of his life. He wouldn’t spend every hour overthinking your first impression of him, or feeling disappointed that it wasn’t what he wanted it to be. And he certainly wouldn’t be here, talking himself up to the task of walking over to you once more. 

Even his own forgiving conscience is embarrassed when he readies himself to stand, chanting “Ok. 3…2…” and then sits back down in defeat. 

This goes on for the better part of an hour, until Seokmin remembers you’d be getting off soon. This realization materializes as the last person besides the two of you gets off, and the familiar buildings that are just a few blocks away from your stop come into view. At the same time, a new string of messages come in from the same individual who was writing to you last night, and Seokmin decides it’s about time that he returns your phone to you—for real this time. 

With a nod to himself, he pushes off the chair with his legs and forces them to move him over to you, where he stands for a few seconds, waiting for you to notice him. In one hand, he’s holding out your phone, and under his other arm is the folded tote bag he’s planning to give you. He can’t get his tongue to comply, making his feet work was hard enough, so hovers over you a little longer until you practically feel his eyes on you and look up. 

“Hi–” 

You slide your headphones off one ear, and he clears his throat. 

“Hi.” He repeats, “My name is Seokmin. I’m the guy who woke you up last night.” 

“I know.” You cast your eyes down to your phone and he leans it closer to you.

“You left your phone here.” 

Your lips purse contemplatively as you take it, mumbling out a quick “thanks,” and unlocking it to inspect your pile of notifications. Seokmin only clears his throat again.

“I also wanted to apologize for yesterday. I didn’t mean to come off as a weirdo, It’s just–”

You seem to lose focus of what he’s saying as you read through the messages on your phone, a deep frown molding over your features. The fact that you’re not listening at all trips him up, especially when he’s trying so hard to recite the mental script he prepared for this very moment. 

“Uh, I just… The only reason I know your stop is because it’s only you and me on the bus this late. So, you know–” 

As he points this out, you perk your head up and look around, as if to check for yourself that this is, in fact, true. It doesn’t ease your apprehension about him, but his kind eyes look so desperate in their plea for your understanding that, for a fleeting instant, you manage to hone in on his explanation and dismiss your suspicions about his nosy tendencies. 

“Naturally, I just noticed, and I didn’t want you to miss your stop.”

When you nod once and say “ok,” he almost wishes you hadn’t said anything at all. That’s it? That’s all you have to say to ease his discomfort? 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he didn’t almost forget, he just wanted to sound nonchalant, “I got you this since you’re always–” 

“Well, Seokmin…” It’s even better than in his dream, hearing you say his name, “You should know better than me by now that,” you point outside and the bus reaches a halt, “this is my stop.” 

Hurry up, Seokmin. “I got you this bag for your things.” 

You take it from his outstretched hands with the smallest mutter of gratitude, but don’t bother to inspect it or put it to use. You simply pile it atop of your laptop and coat with pursed lips, not sparing it a second glance. He’s almost confused about why you’re still staring him down expectantly after that, until it becomes clear to him that he’s blocking the aisle and in turn, your exit. 

Somewhat awkwardly, Seokmin moves aside, and you waste no time in passing right by him and heading for the door with all your trinkets stacked up in your arms. 

Dejection is an appropriate word to describe how Seokmin feels right about now. So is frustration. 

Even after you leave, cross in front of the bus, and make your way home, Seokmin stands in the same spot, dumbfounded. He stays like this for a few seconds, even when the bus moves and messes with his balance. It’s not until his annoyance really settles in, nestling in his bones and making his face glow red, that he manages to stomp back over to his spot and plop down. 

You are easily the most irritating person he has ever met; ill-mannered, ungrateful, rude, and downright selfish. Seokmin stopped going to therapy months after he recovered from his ex, but he finds himself regressing in the ‘self-recognition’ area at this moment. Although he can consciously acknowledge that his anger stems from your interaction not going as he wanted it to, he still decides to dump the blame on you and call you all these names in his head. Why he so desperately wants to be liked by you, he doesn’t know. Why he’s irrationally spiraling in the absence of your approval, he also doesn’t know. 

What he does know is that the next twenty-four hours are going to be just as bad as the last, and he’s going to be kicking himself until he sees you again and gives you a piece of his mind. 

Tonight, he rolls around in bed longer than usual, until the clock strikes two and he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

The next day, when Seokmin boards the bus, you’re nowhere to be seen. You’re not at your seat, nor anywhere else for that matter, which he decides is for the best, because he’s able to swallow down his explosive complaints for another day instead of possibly causing a scene on the bus. 

Ha! You’re lucky you didn’t get on tonight, he thinks, I'll spare you from my lecture for another evening. 

Except the following night, you aren’t there either. 

As it turns out, you aren’t on the bus for the next six days straight. 

And instead of recovering from his emotions like a normal person, Seokmin is only spurred on, tormented and pursued by his thoughts of you. They've shifted, because now he can only help but wonder what you’re up to. He’s back to square one, wondering if he weirded you out so much that you resorted to finding another means of transportation with the sole intention of avoiding him. 

Then, he reproaches himself, his rationale telling him that surely, there must be another reason for your absence—one that isn’t at all related to him. He ponders this as he piles a few stems of lilies and eucalyptus on one another, wrapping them and tying them closed. 

“Seokmin-ah. What’s the matter?”

He turns quickly to face Ms. Boo, the owner of the flower shop and the grandmother of his best friend. On more than a few occasions, she had acted as a grandmother to him, too—bringing him lunches and pestering him about eating enough, or nagging him for not dressing properly in cold weather. 

“Nothing!”

“Look what you’re doing to my flowers.” She narrows her eyes, extending a wrinkled finger out in his direction. 

Seokmin glances down to find that his knuckles have gone white against the stem of the baby’s breath he's been unconsciously shaking like a rattle. The delicate white flowers have been pulverized, reduced to white fuzz on the arrangement he was attempting to make and the surrounding surface of the work station. 

“Ah, shi-“ She gives him a glare, “Sorry.” He quickly rephrases, “I’ll clean this up.”

As Ms. Boo straightens out some gardenias in a vase, she asks him again, “What’s wrong?” 

He takes a deep breath, reaching for the dustpan under the counter. “It’s just… Someone I met on the bus.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very.” He nods, then sighs. “I just wish the conversation we had went differently, that’s all.” 

“Well,” She seems to be mustering up her years of wisdom, eyebrows raising as she fixes her apron, “You’re a handsome boy, Seokmin-ah. And you’ve got good sense. God knows you’ve got more than Seungkwan,” she grumbles the last part, and it makes Seokmin’s lips curl up a bit. “Your car isn’t fixed yet, right?”

He shakes his head, “No.” 

“So, then get back on the bus tonight and talk to her.” She insists with the assurance only an 85 year old grandmother could have. 

“I would, but…”

“And stop moping. You’re making the flowers sad. They feel these kinds of things.” She nods, feeling the petal of the lily between her fingertips. Suddenly, she snaps her fingers, “Finish this arrangement and get back to work.”

He finishes brushing the white fuzz of the carnation into the dustpan and discarding it before tackling the bouquet he was previously working on with a tad more care. He finishes after deciding the pale flowers need a touch of color, so he adds a few pink roses and places it in a bucket near the front window of the store on display. 

He takes a moment to glance outside at the busy street, watching the people that pass by. Couples stroll hand in hand, and more often than not, the girls will stop their partner to point out the flowers. This was a common occurrence, and if Seokmin was lucky, the displays would draw in a few more customers than usual. 

Not today, though. As he does a once over every arrangement he’s chosen to display on the window, he realizes they all lack something besides effort. He can’t put his finger on exactly what they’re missing, but Ms. Boo was right— the plants do feel emotions—and these weren’t particularly joyous creations. 

As he sprays the leaves with a little mist bottle he carries around in his apron, he watches through the window each person that passes by in an effort to pass the time. It isn’t like there’s much to do during the less busy hours, and there’s only so many arrangements he can make when they’re all coming out dull and lifeless to match his gloom. 

So, Seokmin opts for people watching, until a specific individual catches him by surprise. 

At first, he thinks he’s seeing things. 

Not only have you stopped outside the shop to gaze and gawk at the flowers while wearing a soft, admiring look, but soon enough, the bell above the door has chimed, meaning you’ve actually come inside. 

He would greet you, as he’s supposed to do when a customer enters the shop, but he… can’t—at least not from where he is now, ducking behind the sales counter.

Before you could have spotted him, his fight or flight reflexes, or in this case just flight, had kicked in. He could’ve easily ran behind the curtain to the room where some of the flowers are stored, but then he would’ve ran into Ms. Boo, who would have questioned his reasons for leaving the counter unattended.

Then, he realizes that Seungkwan wouldn’t be coming in until later, and their other part-timer Eunchae didn’t work today because she had an exam at school.

The service bell at the counter rings once and he grimaces, full of hopeful thinking that you’d just go away if no one appeared. Instead you ring it again, and he ducks lower, until some shuffling behind him and the voice of his best friend’s grandmother gives him away.

“Seokmin-ah, there’s someone at the counter!”

There’s a pause, and though he can’t see how your ears perk up at the sound of the familiar name, he knows he’s absolutely busted because even if you didn’t correlate that ‘Seokmin’ was also the same guy who woke you up on the bus, he’d be forced to show himself before long. Ms. Boo continues to ramble, much to his dismay.

“Are you still sulking over the pretty girl from the bus?” Yeah, that’ll do it. “Ah, Seokmin-ah… I don’t pay you to sulk.”

At this, Seokmin covers his face with his palm. 

He has no way of knowing that as he’s willing and pleading with the ground to swallow him whole and spare him from the incoming embarrassment, Ms. Boo’s comment had brought a little smile to your face. You’re peering around the shop for him when you see someone start to peek out from the other side of the counter. 

First, his fingers. They land on the marble surface, and less than a second later, his dark mop of hair follows, appearing past the slope. Then, his kind eyes, big nose, and his teeth, clenched together tightly in reluctance as he takes in your amused gaze.

You cross your arms over your chest and Seokmin scoffs, shooting up suddenly. 

“This is unbelievable!” His laugh is loud and theatrical, though a touch ironic, given the whole ‘hiding-from-you-behind-the-counter’ situation just seconds prior. He doesn’t let his obvious preposterousness stop his rampage, though. In very Seokmin fashion, he commits to the bit, puffing up his chest a little. “You call me a stalker and now you go and stalk me to my place of employment!” 

“I never called you a stalker.” You say simply, and his face falters only slightly. “Nor did I stalk you.” Seokmin rolls his eyes as you continue. “Also, who even says ‘place of employment?’” 

As if straight out of a bad middle school play, which Seokmin had plenty of practice at back in his day, he regains his confidence at his turn to speak his line, scoffing again at your nonchalant attitude. Why were you so unbothered about the way you treated him? He ignores your question, and readies his next comeback.

“Yeah? Well, then how did you know where I work, huh?”

When you wordlessly turn to show off the tote bag slung over your shoulder, a few things occur. 

The color of Seokmin’s cheeks become very red, very fast. His ears quickly glow a similar shade to match. He completely deflates—letting up on his accusations and dropping the theatrics. There’s a reason he’s a florist and not an actor. 

Then, he realizes what you’re showing off—the tote bag! You’re wearing the bag he got you! You’re actually using it! He can see the wire of your headset poking out of the top, and the square mold of your laptop filling the material!

At the same time, however, his eyes land on the only design or pattern it has. Sewn in black, the bag boldly displays the name of Ms. Boo’s flower shop. At this, Seokmin smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck.  

“I figured I’d find you here.” You mumble, taking a look around, “it’s a pretty place.”

“Yeah.” He nods, but he’s still eyeing you suspiciously, waiting for you to announce the reason for your visit. 

“I came to…” your fingers reach over the counter to brush off the fuzz of the baby’s breath that remained on his dark green apron, and Seokmin tucks his chin to his chest, exposing all of his chins as his eyes shift between your hand and eyes that are both set on his torso.

”There.” You sigh, “I came to apologize. I was going through a… Well, anyway, I wasn’t exactly nice to you, so…” 

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Seokmin grumbles.

“Sorry. And thank you.” 

“For?”

You swing the bag around again, “It came in handy.”

”Oh,” He knew it would, “I’m glad.” 

“Seokmin-ah… There’s someone at the—Oh, hello.” Shuffling over with a wad of eucalyptuses in her arms, Ms. Boo smiles warmly at you, as she does with all customers who stop by the shop. 

”Ms. Boo, this is…“

”Y/N.” 

“Y/N.” Both of them echo your name, though Seokmin does it under his breath, in a quiet affirmation to himself. He decides instantly that it’s perfect, and that it suits you perfectly. He doesn’t intend for it to be a Tony and Maria situation, but the way it sounds, rolling off his tongue, is seamless and simply, right.

”It’s lovely to meet you,” Ms. Boo adds.  

“Likewise. Excuse me, I wanted to know if I borrow Seokmin real quick? I owe him a coffee.” 

Seokmin hisses apprehensively, reinstating his act momentarily as he begins rolling up his sleeve to search for the time on his watch. “Yeah, well, my break isn’t for another—“

”Take him, please. But only give him back when he’s in a better mood.” She gives him a light-hearted glare as she scurries away, calling out, “every plant he’s walked past today has wilted.” 

“I plan to do just that. Thank you.” 

He makes it look like he’s in some kind of distress when he unties his apron and lifts the neckloop over his head, but really, he can’t wait to cut work for a coffee with you. There’s a little cafe nearby, and he’s almost sure that’s where you’ll be taking him. He also can’t wait to recommend his favorite drink to you, though part of him worries you might not enjoy it and consequently bruise his ego a little—given the fading but still ever-present grudge he’s holding against you.

Seokmin can’t help but prolong the act of clocking out: changing shoes, grabbing his wallet and phone from his cubby, folding his apron (instead of hanging it up in whatever state it’s in, as he usually does), while you shift your weight between your heels and gawk at him in wait. He does all this in an effort to extend the minutes he has with you. His break is fifteen minutes, but those fifteen minutes can’t go by if the clock technically hasn't started counting.

You stand by patiently, following him around with your eyes as he tidies up a single flower out of place or wipes his hands down on a rag. When he’s finally ready, and can’t be bothered to pretend that lacing his sneakers actually takes longer than two minutes, he joins you on the other side of the counter and follows you to the door. 

Feeling a little nervous, he clears his throat. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We can just go our separate ways.” 

“I do. This way, I can properly convey my apology and gratitude. You know: two birds, one stone.” 

“Those are two separate things… It’s only right that you would owe me two coffees then.” The way he grumbles under his breath unveils some of his bitterness, though you can tell by the half-hearted side-eye he gives you as he fights back a grin, that he’s really only messing with you.

So you laugh, and Seokmin feels his heart do a somersault in his chest. With a shake of your head, you turn to him, defeated. “Alright. You can get a coffee and a muffin.” 

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see your smile again, he brings his hand up to rub his chin, “Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t really like muffins.” 

“Well, then I’ll just have to stop by tomorrow, too.” 

At this, Seokmin smiles from ear to ear, tilting his head away towards the street so that you don’t catch the way he lights up at the prospect of possibly seeing you again. 

As the two of you cross the street, you notice a bus stop a little up the way, nodding towards it so he can look. “Is that where you catch the bus?” He nods. “Funny, my stop is only two blocks down the street we came from.” 

Seokmin reaches for the door of the cafe, holding it open for you to walk through. To his delight, you seem to be fascinated by the space—meaning it’s likely you haven’t been here before. He watches as you study the rustic lights on the ceiling, the shiny wooden tables, and the botany at the window. 

“These look like the ones from your shop.” 

“That’s because they are.” He stands beside you. “The owner of the cafe loves the classics. So do I. So, in exchange for a floral arrangement or two, he lets me borrow a book.”  He watches your gaze leave him to face the singular bookshelf he had gestured to, a tall collection of literary classics neatly sorted by author. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head as you take it in, mouth agape as you slowly step toward the shelves. 

Not yet grasping the extent of your fascination, and with the line to order clearing out, Seokmin remembers he’s on a schedule. “Do you wanna order?” 

“I…” You shake your head, fingertips ghosting over the spine of the books without grazing them, because you know better than to touch an antique collection. It doesn’t stop you from admiring them, mumbling out a response to the boy next to you without giving it much thought. “I usually get… You know what, just order whatever for me.” 

You dig for your wallet in the tote bag, handing your card to him without tearing your eyes away from the sight before you. Seokmin only laughs and takes it without the slightest intention to use it. He orders you the drink he thinks you might like the best, as someone with a taste for the traditional things--like classic literature and walkmans--and orders himself a more sugary poison to nurture his sweet tooth. 

When he pays, he doesn’t use your card, but he wraps the receipt around it anyway so you won’t holster any suspicion that he did exactly what he did. He only checks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still distracted, and you are, ogling the books as if you had never seen anything as marvelous as the contents of this bookshelf before. 

He feels something fluttering in his chest, and he knows very well what caused it, but he pays it no mind—opting instead for leaning into the cashier who he’s frequently talked to during his coffee breaks with his caffeine crazy friend, Boo Seungkwan. 

“Hey, Josh. Do you know if Mr. Kim is in today?” Kim Jongdae, the owner of the cafe, had a soft spot for the flower shop boys ever since they helped make him a beautiful bouquet for his wife’s birthday. Then, for their anniversary and every celebration thereafter. 

Joshua shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he starts on the drinks. “He’s out for the day. It’s the little one’s birthday.” 

“Shame. I wanted to borrow a book.”

“I mean… You know you can just grab any off the shelf.” He mumbles, hissing as he nearly burns his finger with the steaming espresso maker, “Which one do you want?” 

“Whichever one she does.” He turns to you,“That’s why I wanted to ask. It’s not for me, but for her.” 

“Ah.” Joshua looks between the two of you, without missing the gentle smile on Seokmin’s face as he watches you. He only manages to look away when the older boy at the counter sets both drinks down and clears his throat. “Here.”

“Right.” 

“And about that book,” he gestures to you, “I’ll ask Mr. Kim when I see him tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” With both drinks and your card wrapped in his receipt all clutched in his hands, he makes his way over to you quietly, as if any abruptness would disturb your studying of each and every title. But you hear him coming—that, or you smell the fresh coffee nearing you—so you spin around on your heels quickly, whisper-shouting as if he wasn’t right beside you now.

“This is incredible. I’m usually at the library until I get on the bus but–thank you,” You take the drink and instantly bring it to your lips for a sip, “Even the library doesn’t have this good of a–ah, hot!” 

“Be careful!” Seokmin fights the urge to beckon his hand closer to you, but his shoulders still jolt up in concern that you may have burned yourself.

“–good of a collection–wow, this is really good.” Your shift in focus makes him hold back a snort. 

“You like it?” 

“Yes, thank you. Should we sit?” He follows you to a table by the window, where the two of you can glance out at the bustling street as you chat. 

“Ms. Boo is nice.” You comment, as you notice one of the displays from the shop sitting at the sill.

“She is. She nags, but it’s only because she cares. I wouldn’t change anything about her.” 

You wear a warm smile on your lips as you take another sip, savoring the rich taste of your coffee. “I really like my drink. What did you get for yourself?”

Seokmin’s fingers move lazily to push the cup towards you. “Do you wanna try it?”

You hesitate, your gaze flicking between his inviting smile and the drink. After a moment’s pause, you reach for one of the wrapped paper straws sitting near the sugar and salt. You peel it open, pop it into the cup, and take a sip. You seem to like it at first, but then, the overwhelming sweetness hits, a syrupy storm that floods your taste buds, and you immediately regret your decision.

Your face scrunches up in disbelief as you try not to choke on the sugary onslaught, your throat resisting the thick sweetness. “Oh god,” you gasp, your eyes wide.

Seokmin’s laughter bubbles up effortlessly, and he rolls his eyes, clearly entertained by your reaction. You slide the drink back across the table to him, still reeling from the shock of it. “That’s—how can you even drink that?” you manage between soft chuckles.

“Really? It’s not that bad,” he says with a teasing grin, unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly struggling. “I’d say your drink needs an acquired taste.”

“Mine? I’m drinking coffee.” You set your cup down, now fully convinced that whatever he’s drinking is a bizarre concoction. “I don’t know what you’re drinking.”

Seokmin shrugs, his grin only widening. “Agree to disagree.” His cheeks aching from the persistent smile that seems to be permanently affixed to his face now.

You laugh in disbelief before taking a few large gulps of your own coffee, feeling its familiar warmth wash over you and effectively wiping away the remnants of Seokmin’s sugary disaster from your palate.

“So,” you begin, eyes narrowing slightly as you shift your focus to him, “how long have you been working there?”

“For a year now.” He leans back slightly in his chair, clearly more relaxed than before.

“Do you like it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He pauses, as if considering his words carefully before answering. “It’s… I mean, yes.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I spotted some hesitation there.”

He sighs, a quiet exhale of air as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not like I wanna be there forever.” His tone shifts, like he’s trying to brush off the weight of the subject, but it lingers.

Glancing down at your cup, you swirl it around absentmindedly to cool the contents. You try to lighten the mood, teasing him, “Not taking over Ms. Boo’s position in the future?”

Seokmin smiles, clearly amused by the suggestion. “I’ll leave that to her grandson. He works there, too.” He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture, but there's a quiet finality in his words.

Feeling the need to dig a little deeper, you sit up straight, eyes bright with curiosity. “Okay, so what is it that you wanna do?”

Seokmin’s smile falters just a fraction, and for a brief moment, the easy-going confidence he always wears slips. His fingers fiddle with the edge of his cup, and he looks off into the distance, his expression turning distant. “It’s nothing,” he mutters, his tone dropping low.

You pause, sensing something behind the simplicity of his words, but you don’t press further. “It isn’t nothing.” You shake your head, “It’s what you wanna do with your life. I wouldn’t call that nothing.” 

After a brief pause that consists of looking between your eyes and playing with the syllables stuck thickly in his mouth, Seokmin mumbles a single word. “Music.” 

“Music?” You echo him, then stay silent so he can elaborate. You can tell he feels some degree of discouragement, obvious in the way his shoulders slump down. His hands start fidgeting and he looks out the window again as he seems to recall some memory. 

“But it’s nothing serious right now. I mess around with my guitar and write stuff every once in a while, but… I haven’t really played since—“ 

“I would love to hear,” you cut him off, leaning forward, “If you ever feel like showing someone, I would love to listen to you play.” 

There’s a sudden bitterness in his throat (that definitely isn’t his coffee) as he recalls a slightly stirring memory. It’s not as distant as he would like it to be, despite his attempt to store it in the ‘do-not-open’ file of his mind, but it doesn’t stop him from nodding along and agreeing to your offer with some apprehension, because truthfully, you had no part in carving that scar.

Simply put: you were not her. 

“I haven’t played in a while,” he rephrases, “but when I pick it up again, you’ll be the first person I show.” 

It doesn’t take long before you start telling him about your studies, now that you had succeeded in interrogating him with a few of your burning questions, and it becomes apparent to Seokmin very quickly how easy conversation flows with you. Each word you utter is warm, welcoming, almost familiar, as if he had known you for longer than he did–and he suddenly feels very guilty for having misjudged you. 

It’s not like you know of the way he bad-mouthed you in his sensitive mind, so there really is no need to compensate for it. Even then, he feels he owes you something—like he should make it up to you for thinking such things about a person of your nature. 

He learns that you’re a student who’s majoring in English literature, with the aspiration to be a writer. The two of you agreed that he’d show you his music, and you’d show him what you’re working on—the last of which delighted him, seeing as he’d spent weeks trying to guess what your fingers typed away on your computer each night on the bus. You hate sugary drinks, that much you made clear, and you had a strong distaste for the smell of holiday candles. 

Every word you’d spill left him on the edge of his seat, wanting to know more about you. If it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to go back to work, he’d have sat with you for the whole afternoon listening to you talk. 

But instead, you join him on his walk back to the flower shop, unknowingly having fulfilled your promise to bring him back in a better mood. 

“Ms. Boo?” 

“Seokmin-ah? You’re back right on time. There’s a customer who needs a graduation arrangement for their son.” Seokmin can tell she’s in the backroom, wrestling the hose to fill the watering can from the strain in her voice.

“I’ll get my apron on!” He calls, then spins around to face you, “Thank you for today. I liked my coffee, even if you didn’t think it was great.” 

“Good to know. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow? Won’t I catch you on the bus tonight?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he hopes you didn’t catch the disappointment behind them.

“Tonight’s the last night of my study group, and those usually run late.” So that’s why you hadn’t been taking the bus lately, “So, tomorrow it is. Unless you don’t want that second coffee…” 

“I do.” He insists, and your lips curl up as you reach for the doorknob. 

“Alright, then.” 

The instant the door shuts behind you, he starts counting down the hours until he can see you again. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin’s shift could not have gone any slower. Unlike any day before, the hours could not seem to pass, despite how badly he willed them to. Aside from Seungkwan’s occasional side-eyed-glares and complaints of his uncharacteristically fast work pace today, Seokmin has managed to complete his tasks for the day and more: he prepared two graduation orders placed last minute and a walk-in customer who was uncertain of what ‘I’m sorry’ bouquet to get his girlfriend, all while trying to appease potential buyers who entered the shop, drawn in by the six new bouquet’s he’d made this very same morning and displayed at the window. 

All that, and it’s only fifteen past eleven in the morning.

“What has you in such a rush? I’m like four orders behind you. Usually, it’s the other way around.” The last part is but a grumble under his breath. 

Unable to explain, because he isn’t exactly sure of the answer either, Seokmin brushes Seungkwan's suspicious raised brow off and mentions something that would pique his interest instead, in hopes of changing the topic. 

“You know Soonyoung said Chan blew him off for a date? They were supposed to go out drinking and then—” 

“And then Minji called him and he bailed, I know. Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“And then—” 

“Slow down!” Seungkwan all but yanks the scissors from his best friend’s hands, which is, needless to say, not the safest thing to do, and puts them at his own station. “You’ve been hogging them for the last hour.” he hisses, “If my grandma comes in and sees that I’m this far behind, she’ll make me skip my break.” 

“I just need time to pass by quickly. I figure if I keep myself busy, it just might.” 

“Time doesn’t work like that, idiot.” 

“Actually, it does. Idiot.” He sneers back, and Seungkwan could not look more offended if he tried—eyes wide, lips puckered to shape a word he doesn’t quite get to say. He swings back his arm, but before Seokmin could get smacked by the handful of tulips in his grip, Ms. Boo comes bustling through, humming a mindless tune as she clutches a pen and a few envelopes in her arms. 

“Boys, I've got your pay for this week and the next. I have an appointment with Dr. Hong next Friday, so I won’t be here. I expect you’ll take care of the shop while I’m—these arrangements are lovely. Who made them?” 

The boys look between each other, and Seokmin huffs out before answering. “We both did, Ms. Boo.” 

“Good work. Lovely…” She starts mumbling to herself again as she shifts her attention from the flowers at the windowsill to the bills in her hands, counting them and separating them into two even piles. 

At Seokmin’s reply (call it an unspoken truce), Seungkwan visibly relaxes, releasing the flowers before he could ruin them and scurrying over to his grandma. “Have you been taking your medicine? You know he’ll scold you otherwise.” 

“I’m too old to be scolded,” She replies stubbornly, and their conversation fades momentarily as the door chimes again. 

“Welcome to Botanical–oh.” Seokmin’s scripted introduction is cut short as he notices that it’s you who has entered the shop, wearing a small smile. 

“Hi.” You greet him, “and hello, Ms. Boo.” 

“Hello.” She chirps, “Y/N, was it?” 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“Hey,” Seokmin’s wide smile, which nourished the moment he laid eyes on you, suddenly falters as he realizes the time. “Shit, are you here for-” 

“Language.” 

“Sorry,” he bows his head apologetically at Ms. Boo, then grabs your arm to drag you a little further from the pair, “I can’t take my break right now.” He tells you, regretfully. Your smile falls a little.

“Really? I was looking forward to our coffee time. Plus, I desperately need some caffeine. I’ve been reading this boring manuscript since seven.” You scowl, gesturing to the stack of papers overflowing from your bag.

That pout, the one on your lips: it needs to be fixed as soon as possible. Seokmin holds a single finger up as he scours his brain for a plan, “Wait here a second. Let me see what I can do.” With that, he turns around and speedwalks over to Seungkwan, who hands him his half of the money. 

“Here.” 

“Thanks.” Seokmin takes the bills, not quite meeting Seungkwan’s eyes as he pockets them. “Hey, listen…” His voice drops, just low enough that it almost feels like a secret. “I need to take my break now.”

Seungkwan blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing. “What?!” 

“Shh!” Seokmin urges, his face a mix of impatience and pleading. He tugs at his sleeve, leaning closer so only Seungkwan can hear. “Please.”

“No way,” Seungkwan protests, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “I take the morning breaks, you take the afternoon. That’s how this works.”

Seokmin’s expression hardens just a fraction, the edge of desperation creeping in as he stands a little taller. “Seungkwan, I’m begging you to switch with me just this once.”

Seungkwan stares at him, weighing his options. His arms remain crossed, a stubborn defiance settling into his posture. “No way.”

With no other option, Seokmin huffs and crosses his arms firmly over his chest. 

“Fine,” Seokmin finally says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll just go tell your grandma how many customers I’ve helped today and that all the displays were my doing and—”

“Okay, okay!” Seungkwan interrupts, throwing his hands up in surrender. “God, dude, you really suck. Don’t make this a habit, yeah?” 

Spoiler alert: he would.

Seokmin’s face lights up with a grin. “Thank you!” he exclaims, not even giving Seungkwan a chance to protest before his apron is untied with a swift yank. It’s tossed into Seungkwan’s arms, and Seokmin is already dashing toward the back, his shoes clacking against the floor with each hurried step.

He doesn't wait for the usual stream of complaints to catch up to him, knowing full well that they’re coming. Quickly, Seokmin kicks off his non-slip shoes in one fluid motion, leaving them in a pile as he slides into his own sneakers. 

Less than a minute later, he joins you by the door. 

“Coffee time?” His tone is playful, and you mirror it as you nod once.  

“Coffee time.” 

The cafe has a few students scattered around with their laptops when you enter. There’s also a few others, people who Seokmin knows work in the stores and buildings nearby. They stop by occasionally for their lunch and coffee breaks, but even then, the cafe is emptier than it is most days at this time. Mr. Kim is alongside Joshua, tending to something on the register, when the two of you approach them. 

“Morning,” 

“Good morning, Seokmin.” Kim Jongdae offers the boy a warm smile. 

There’s a bit of small talk exchanged between them—Mr. Kim asks about Ms. Boo and Seungkwan, Seokmin asks about his son’s birthday—until Seokmin goes to introduce you, but turns around to find you near the bookshelf once more. This seems to remind Mr. Kim of something he discussed earlier with Joshua. 

“My answer is yes, by the way.” He starts, “Joshua asked me this morning. He said you, or rather, she wanted to borrow a book. Go ahead. It’s the least I can do to repay you boys for the hard work you do to make this place look nice.” Mr. Kim gives him a firm nod, patting Joshua on the back after briefly explaining a new menu item on the screen. He walks off, and Seokmin calls out to him. 

“Thank you, really!” He turns to Joshua, “and thank you, too. I’ll get the same two drinks as yesterday. ”

“You got it.” 

He pays quickly and turns around, pausing for a few moments to admire you before taking two long strides over. When he’s beside you, he lowers his head so it’s by your shoulder and speaks quietly, so as to not disturb you. “Which one piques your interest?” 

“Which ones,” you correct, marveling up at him before looking back to the shelves. “There’s so many. I wouldn’t know which one to grab first if I could.” Your index finger comes up after a pause, “Maybe this one.” 

“Go on, then.” 

“I wish.” you sigh, and he can no longer withhold his smile.

“I’m serious. Grab it. I asked the owner for permission.” 

Your head cranes slowly over to him, eyes so wide he swears he could have seen his reflection in them.

“Are you serious?” Your voice is soft, unsure, surprised, grateful. You’re almost not sure whether to believe him or not, but when his gentle brown eyes look between you and the book, and he gives you a little encouraging nudge on your shoulder as a go ahead, you finally move to reach out slowly and pick it off of the shelf, cradling it in your hands as if it was a precious thing. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” His voice is calm but sincere, and there’s a small, almost thoughtful smile tugging at his lips as he watches you. The shelf you’d been looking at earlier, once so absorbing, now feels distant as your attention shifts entirely to him.

You blink, unsure how to respond, and for the first time in a while, you find yourself lost for words. “Gosh, I-I don’t… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He mutters with a crooked smile.

“Thank you.” You repeat the words, quieter this time.

“Anytime.” He shrugs. For a moment, the two of you are caught in a quiet, comfortable pause.

It’s only Joshua calling Seokmin’s name from across the room that snaps the two of you back to reality. You blink and suddenly remember—you’re the one who owes him a coffee, not the other way around.

“Wait, you ordered already?”

“I kinda had to.” Seokmin shrugs sheepishly, his eyes flicking over to the counter before returning to you. “Honestly, I’m more scared of going over my break time while Seungkwan is there than when it’s just Ms. Boo.”

“That’s your friend, right? Seungkwan?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. 

“Yep,” Seokmin replies. “The one with the dyed blonde hair who always looks like he’s about to complain about something.”

“That’s Ms. Boo’s grandson, then.” You piece it together with a grin, and Seokmin hands you your drink. You take it but find your thoughts drifting again.

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, noticing your distracted gaze.

“I still owe you,” you admit softly, looking down at the drink in your hands. “For the bag and the book.”

Seokmin bumps your shoulder lightly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess you’ll just have to keep stopping by.” 

“I guess I will,” 

To his delight, the rest of Seokmin’s shift was effortless and quick. There was the occasional bickering with Seungkwan, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. And, for some reason, he didn’t seem to mind it as much today. Because, waiting for him at the bus stop when he arrived later that very same evening, was you, eager to tell him all about the book you had started reading. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin had never been a fan of routines. His personality was spontaneous, and so the things he did on a day-to-day basis were too. Up until now, the only constants in his life were the flower shop and his friends, who provided their own random spontaneity in the form of unpredictable weekend plans or an ever-changing work environment that depended solely on which side of the bed Seungkwan woke up on that morning. 

Seokmin gets bored easily, an issue he resolves with movie marathons or long walks or hangouts—just about anything will suffice, if it means his mind is occupied and distracted the majority of the time. 

Lately, though, a new element has been introduced to his daily life. A routine. 

A routine where, during every shift, you stop by after your time studying at the library and pick him up for ‘coffee time’ during his breaks (much to Seungkwan’s disappointment, coffee time was usually during the first half of the day). Then, you’d stay at the coffee shop reading the book—because despite Seokmin insisting that it was okay for you to take home, you’d always refuse—until his shift was over. He’d find you at the bus stop, waiting for him, and the two of you would chatter on until you were dropped off at your stop. 

In a way, he had become dependent on this routine—something he thought could never happen. It was admittedly his favorite part of the day, catching up with you, hearing what you had to say or what thoughts you had cultured after your time reading the book. And when you finished that one a few weeks in, he made sure to take some new potted plants and flowers over to Mr. Kim in exchange for another. 

And for some time, that’s the way things were. He had contemplated asking to do something with you outside of the usual bus or coffee shop pattern, but everytime he intended to ask, he’d cower and procrastinate. Next time, he’d tell himself.

Early on a Sunday morning, Seungkwan came into the shop rambling about how his Grandma was at his older sister’s house and wouldn’t be coming by. It’s not like the two of them couldn’t handle the shop alone—they had done it countless times before—but her presence was primarily longed for when it came to getting the two of them back on track. Especially on Sundays, where the task at hand was to clean, fertilize, and redecorate wilted displays. For obvious reasons, this was something neither of them enjoyed doing. 

At the moment, it’s just him in the store. Seungkwan was taking his morning break that he insisted was non-negotiable today and Seokmin only agreed so easily because Sundays are the only days he doesn’t see you. 

The doorbell jingles softly as you step into the flower shop, and Seokmin glances up from behind the counter looking for a customer or Seungkwan, his hands momentarily pausing in their careful arrangement of flowers. A surprised look crosses his face as you poke your head in.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lifting with a bit of surprise, but the smile that quickly forms softens his expression. “I didn’t think you’d stop by today.”

“Actually, I only came by to see Ms. Boo,” you tease, and Seokmin hisses through his teeth. 

“I regret to inform you, she’s not in today.” 

You grin, stepping further into the shop, the familiar floral scent filling the air around you. “I’m kidding. I was nearby and I thought I’d keep you company for a bit.”

“It’s not usually this quiet around here,” he says, his hands brushing against the flowers almost absently as he talks. “It’s kind of nice when it’s just me, but I guess I don’t mind the company.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s easy to see right through him when he’s so clearly beaming that you're here.

Your presence, standing so casually by the counter, feels like something he didn’t know he was waiting for. He’s used to the steady hum of the shop, the quiet buzz of the day, the mildly irritating sounds of Seungkwan, but with you here... it’s different. He can’t quite pinpoint why, but there’s a feeling in his chest that settles somewhere between contentment and something else he’s been trying to ignore for a while now.

Before he can dwell too much on it, the door jingles again, and Seungkwan strides in, looking as effortless as ever. His eyes dart between you and Seokmin, already catching the shift in the air. 

“Why, hello,” Seungkwan says, grinning widely as he crosses the shop and leans against the counter. “I was wondering when we’d be properly introduced.”

“You must be Seungkwan,” you say, arching an eyebrow at Seokmin, who rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

“And you must be Y/N. It seems like I took my break right on time.” Seungkwan continues, throwing an exaggerated glance at Seokmin. “He can’t shut up about you.”

Seokmin groans as he shifts uncomfortably behind the counter. “Seungkwan, please. You don’t have to make it sound so weird.”

You smile at the light teasing, the way Seungkwan’s attention naturally shifts to Seokmin with that familiar comfort only best friends seem to have. It’s clear they’ve known each other for a while. Seokmin, though, is less than amused by Seungkwan. His cheeks glow pink as he glares.

“Well, you are weird,” Seungkwan mutters.

“Alright, Seungkwan,” Seokmin says with a sigh. 

“Okay, I’m off to the back to unload fertilizer.” He announces and you give him a polite wave as he turns to you, “It was nice to meet you.”

As Seungkwan heads out the back door, Seokmin lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head. The shop feels quieter, now that it's just you and him. It’s strange, but Seokmin finds himself oddly aware of the space between you two.

He glances over at you again, trying not to seem too obvious, but there’s something about the way you’re standing there—easy, comfortable, but somehow still pulling at him in a way he can’t ignore. His fingers hesitate over the vase in front of him, caught in the motion of arranging flowers but not quite focused on the task.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “I guess you get to work in peace for now, huh?”

“Yeah, it seems that way.” Seokmin huffs. He takes a step toward you, to reach for something behind you. His hand brushes over a batch of roses, then pausing as if he’s suddenly unsure of the next move, painfully aware of how close he’s gotten. He clears his throat, the casual tone of his voice not quite matching the thoughts swirling in his mind. “So, um... you like flowers?”

You tilt your head, a teasing smile on your lips. “Is that a serious question?”

“I-” Seokmin laughs softly, his fingers running over the petals of the flowers before grabbing them and attempting to focus on his station. 

You lean a little closer, your voice light but playful. “Well, I like you, don’t I?” The way you say those words with a teasing tone makes Seokmin nearly choke, “So I kind of have to like flowers. Otherwise, how am I meant to hang around you?” You gesture at the shop. 

Seokmin’s breath catches, and for a moment, he feels like he’s losing the thread of the conversation.

"I didn’t expect to find you working today. I didn’t even know the shop opened on Sundays," you say casually, glancing up at him. “I’m sure the flowers appreciate the extra attention.”

"I’m pretty good with the flowers, but I think they’d appreciate the company more if you came by more often."

You arch an eyebrow, “Oh? You think they’d enjoy my company more than yours?”

“I know Seungkwan would.” You laugh at this, and Seokmin revels in the sound, joining you. 

After a pause, he shifts his attention back to the flowers, showing you the final product. “What do you think?” 

“They’re pretty.” 

“I think so, too.” He decides, not necessarily talking about the flowers, “Even though I was a little distracted.”

"Distractions can be good, though,"

"Well, you’re a pretty good distraction," he tries for the words to sound casual, but his tone betrays him. He also said it much quicker than he intended to, and he’s grateful for the chance to turn around while grabbing another pot because it offers him a means to hide his reddening cheeks. 

You let the words hang in the air for a beat longer than usual, enjoying the teasing, the way it feels easy between you two. "Good to know," you reply, smirking.

Before Seokmin can respond, the door swings open and Seungkwan walks in again, wiping his hands on his apron and immediately launching into his usual dramatic self. 

"I swear, I’ll never get used to that fertilizer smell," he complains, tossing his apron on a hook. He looks over at you and Seokmin, "Glad to know you two haven’t burned the place down."

You grin, "Not yet, but we’re working on it."

Seungkwan scoffs half-heartedly, glancing between you. "Nice to see him finally making some friends outside of the plants."

As Seungkwan heads toward the back, he gives you both a knowing look. “Don’t let him get too distracted, alright?” he calls over his shoulder with a grin.

“I’ll try my best.” You give Seokmin a wink and he shakes his head, showing you an idea for another potential bouquet.

The last hour passes seamlessly fast, now that you’re here. Before Seokmin knows it, you, him, and Seungkwan are locking up the store and parting ways from the blonde as the two of you walk side by side to the bus stop. 

As he sits beside you on the bus later that night, looking over your shoulder at your collection of tapes for your walkman, he wrestles with the invitation that sits in the forefront of his mind. Spending time with you at the shop was great, but it somehow still feels like it follows your usual pattern. That, and Seungkwan’s presence, albeit lively and entertaining, keeps him from being able to spend as much time as he’d like with you—without the time constriction of a fifteen minute break or a forty minute bus ride. But like always, he decides to ask a different question in place of the one he really wants to. 

“How come you use a walkman? I always meant to ask you.” 

“I like the way the music sounds on it. I don’t know. It was my dad’s.” You smile warmly, “He used to let me borrow it when I was younger and I just kind of… inherited it.” 

“It’s cool. Makes you look all mysterious. Like you’re from a different time.” 

“You think?” He nods fervently, but your shoulders still sink in doubt as you fumble with the multicolored tapes. “Everything sounds nicer on it. When you listen to music on it, it’s like a mini time-machine. Or, it might just be me, I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure it’s not just you. Here, let me try. Pick one for me.” 

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards for a second as you ponder which song to play. Delicately, your fingers brush over each tape, hovering in thought like they had with the books on Mr. Kim’s shelf, until you finally land on one.  

“It’s my favorite.” You tell him shyly, “I think you’ll like it.”

Carefully, you pull the cassette out of its case and click it into the audio player with a low snap. Seokmin watches as your hands slip the headset off from around your neck, watching as you shift in your seat and place them gently over his head. He tries not to think about how close your face is to his but… how can he not? You’ve leaned in to ensure that both spongy cushions are perfectly sat over his ears, and now you’re only a few inches away—close enough that he can catch the faint scent of your shampoo. It lingers, soft and floral, wrapping around him like the embrace of something he hadn’t realized he’d miss until you finally sat back, asking “ready?” 

You press down on the play button and look up at him, eyes full of expectation.

There’s that familiar, comforting crackle of the cassette winding into motion, a sound that makes Seokmin feel as if he’s in an old-timey dream. And then, the music starts: your song—your favorite song—something you had chosen specifically for him to hear. Every note feels warm, intimate, melodic. For some reason, it temporarily diminishes his burning curiosity about you, but not because he finds himself any less intrigued, but because it finally feels like he’s taken a real peek inside your mind.

As someone who loves music, Seokmin is a firm believer that a person’s favorite song says a lot about them. The more it plays, the more he realizes that this song, in every sense of the word, is an extension of you. 

As the melody flows, you watch him, eyes studying his reaction with that same teasing smile. You lean closer again, and he subconsciously holds his breath as you whisper, “Do you hear it?” He nods.

There’s a warmth in it, a rawness that makes it feel like more than just music. This was something deeply yours, a piece of your world that you were letting him in on, if only for a few minutes.

He listens with his eyes closed, letting himself drift along the rhythm, feeling the weight of each tone and key change and lyric the artist sings, full of intention. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds you still looking at him with a kind of question in your gaze, a quiet hope. The song fades out, but Seokmin keeps the headphones on for a second longer, letting the last notes dissolve into silence. He looks up again, meeting your gaze. 

For a moment, he’s not sure what to say. Anything he could say feels too small, too plain for what he wants you to understand. So he starts with the only words that come out easily, his voice low and sincere. “I… I think I get it.” He pauses, then adds, “And this song… it feels like you.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, a playful gleam in your eyes. “What do you mean?” you ask, though there’s a softness in your tone, like you’re hoping he’ll really answer.

He glances down at the walkman, watching your thumb tracing along the edge as he gathers his thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s just… this song is so warm. It’s like the way you laugh, the way you make everything feel a little bit lighter.” He feels his cheeks warm but keeps going, his words coming out before he can second-guess them. “It’s like a piece of you, and I can feel it, even with my eyes closed.”

You go still, your expression shifting, the playful smile that played on your lips softening into something more serious. Neither of you say anything for a moment.

The bus begins to slow, and you both glance out the window, realizing this is your stop. You reach up, fingers brushing his ear as you gently pull the headphones from him, careful not to disturb the sense of closeness still hanging in the air. You slide the walkman back into your bag, a little slower than necessary, as if that might make the night last, if just for a few seconds longer.

“This is me,” you say softly, feeling the finality in the words as the bus comes to a gentle stop and the doors sigh open. You start to stand but pause, glancing down at him one last time. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, as if he’s searching for the right thing to say, something more than just “goodbye.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, your voice soft, almost hopeful.

He nods, his smile widening just a little. “Yeah,” he says, gentle but certain. “Tomorrow.” You’re about to turn around when he adds, “but not here. I want to go somewhere else with you. I mean, if you want to, that is.” He finds his breath catching again, “The flower shop closes early on the weekends. I was thinking... Maybe we could go to the beach?”

With a grin playing on your lips, you nod, “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

Giving him one last glance, you turn and step off the bus, feeling the warmth of his gaze linger behind as you walk down the street. As the bus pulls away, you catch his face framed in the window, waving until you’re out of sight. And though the music has stopped, the tune of this moment plays on, promising something to carry with you both until tomorrow. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

The sky stretches out in a hazy blue as Seokmin walks toward the beach, his guitar case slung over his shoulder. His fingers tap a nervous rhythm against its side as he looks around, hoping to spot you before you see him.

He barely slept the night before, having spent the better part of the morning hours contemplating and talking to himself with his guitar on his lap. It hadn’t been touched in nearly a year and a half, so he had to spend some time wiping it down, re-tuning it, and even fixing a string that had managed to come loose in the process.

He said he’d play for you, but then again, he hadn’t played for someone in a while and naturally, that made him extremely nervous, though that feeling didn’t even fully capture what he felt when he remembered he’d be playing for you. What would you think? Did you actually mean it when you said you wanted to hear him play? Or was that some automated response to boost his spirits? Would you even remember? It was weeks ago, on the first day at the coffee shop. Needless to say, he mulled over it endlessly.

Seokmin sighs, trying to calm himself down. By now, he had to slip off his shoes that were sinking in the cool sand, so he chooses to focus on the sensation of it against his skin instead of overthinking any longer. 

He finally spots you standing by the water, arms wrapped around yourself as a light breeze blows through your hair. When you turn and see him, your face brightens, and that smile of yours—bright and open—fills him with warmth instantly. “Is that—” you begin, your eyes widening as you notice the guitar.

“Thought it was time,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal despite his heart thundering as he sets the guitar down and dusts off a spot in the sand beside you. You sit next to him eagerly, your excitement spilling out in the way you lean closer, eyes sweeping between him and the guitar case, as if you’re finally being let in on a long-held secret. And, in a way, you are. 

He stretches his legs out, digging his heels into the cool sand. He watches you rummage through the tote bag beside you, and a curious smile tugs at his lips.

“You came prepared,” he chuckles, watching as you pull out a couple of neatly wrapped sandwiches and a small container of fruit.

“Of course I did,” you say with a smile, offering him a sandwich and holding out the fruit container. “I figured we’d get hungry eventually.” You shrug, glancing out toward the waves. “Besides, I thought it would be nice to have a little picnic.”

Seokmin accepts the sandwich with a grin, unwrapping it and taking a bite. He’s pleasantly surprised by the fresh crunch of lettuce and the perfect balance of flavors. “Did you make these?” he asks between bites, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, a bit of pride flashing in your eyes. “I did. You think I’d risk buying store-bought for a beach day?”

“Touché,” he laughs, grabbing a few grapes from the fruit container you’ve placed between you. “Honestly, this is already ten times better than what I packed.” He gestures vaguely to a plastic bottle and an uninspired granola bar that now seem almost laughable compared to your carefully prepared spread.

The sun has settled lower in the sky, casting the beach in a soft, golden haze. Seokmin leans back, resting his hands behind him as he glances over at you, a lazy grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The two of you have polished off the sandwiches, and now the empty wrappers lie folded beside the fruit container. He pops one last grape into his mouth, savoring the refreshing sweetness as he watches you tuck the food away with a little, satisfied sigh.

“So, did I earn any points for bringing the snacks?” you tease, dusting a few crumbs from your hands before looking over at him expectantly.

Seokmin laughs, squinting a little in the sunlight as he tilts his head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I’ll give you extra points for the sandwiches. But for the fruit,” he says, grabbing a couple of the last grapes with a mischievous smile, “I think you’ll need to try a little harder.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, leaning back beside him. “You’re just mad you didn’t think to bring anything.”

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing as he looks out at the waves. “But next time, I’ll bring something better.”

“Alright, big shot,” you say with a smirk, crossing your arms. “What’s on the menu then? A charcuterie board?”

“Definitely,” he says, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. “Maybe even some tiny, fancy desserts, the ones that look way too pretty to eat.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to impress someone.” You raise an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air just long enough that Seokmin can’t miss the playful edge in your tone. Not like he could have missed it anyway, with the way he hangs on your every word. 

He laughs again, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks. “Hey, I’m just saying I know how to put together a memorable picnic,” he says, attempting a casual shrug. “But, you know, only if you’re there to witness it.”

You grin, unable to help the smile that breaks through at his subtle, almost shy attempt at flirting. “I’d hate to miss such an extravagant spread,” you reply, matching his casual tone with your own. “Guess you’ll have to invite me.”

Seokmin pretends to think it over, tapping his chin. “Hmm, alright, you’re in. But no backing out,” he says, his smile widening. “I’m holding you to this.”

There’s an ease between you, a lightness in the conversation that feels effortless, and for a while, the two of you just sit there, chatting about nothing and everything. He asks you about your favorite places to visit and listens as you share stories about the other hobbies you have. In return, you ask how he met Seungkwan, and he tells you about him and Soonyoung, recounting each memory he has made with them with an enthusiasm that makes you feel like you were right there with him.

Then, as the conversation dips, he glances down at the guitar case beside him. He reaches for it almost absentmindedly, brushing his fingers along the edge of the case, but there’s a faint look of hesitation in his eyes that you don’t miss.

“You don’t have to, even if you brought it all the way out here. It’s up to you.” 

Seokmin lets out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he glances away. He’s more grateful for your patience than you could ever know. 

 “Yeah… I haven’t really played in a while,” he admits, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s been over two years, actually. I brought it… Well, because I think it’s about time I get back into the habit.” He trails off, watching the waves again, his mind flickering to a different time, a different place, one he’s not sure he’s ready to revisit.

There’s a quiet understanding in your eyes as you nod. You don’t press him, don’t ask for more details. Instead, you just let the silence stretch out between you, the sound of the ocean filling the space where words might have gone. It’s almost as if you’re giving him permission to take his time, to decide for himself if this is something he wants to do.

After a moment, he takes a breath, exhaling slowly. “I used to play a lot, actually,” he says, almost to himself. “Just… haven’t felt like it in a while.”

The air feels thick with unspoken things, but Seokmin pushes past it, fingers brushing the guitar case almost impulsively. The weight of the past lingers for a second, but with a quick glance at you, he lets go of the hesitation clinging to him. This is different, he reminds himself. This isn’t for anyone else, no memories he needs to cling to. Just the open beach, the sun dipping low, and you, waiting beside him with a patient, easy smile.

He pulls the guitar from its case, its weight grounding him, though it feels different today than it had last night. It’s less scary, now that he’s with you. 

He glances over at you, a grin tugging at his lips. “Ready?” he asks. You nod, your eyes wide, leaning just close enough for him to catch the faint, floral hint of you drifting in the salt-laced air.

Seokmin strums the first couple of notes, letting the music rise and blend with the gentle crash of the waves. His fingers move on instinct, but his mind is all on you, capturing every little reaction—the way your eyes soften, the way your shoulders relax, reassuring him that his music is something you’ve been waiting to hear. He’s suddenly very relieved.

“I wrote this a few years back. It’s… Well, yeah. I think the lyrics speak for themselves.” 

It takes a few seconds and one or two badly played chords for him to regain a little bit of the confidence he had lost some time ago. But his fingers find their place quickly enough, and he parts his lips to sing. 

As Seokmin's voice fills the space between you, soft and hesitant at first, he notices the subtle shift in your expression. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, brows lifting in quiet surprise as if you hadn’t really expected him to sing so well. There’s a moment of stillness, only filled with his voice, warm and unpolished, floating in the air.

Your gaze flickers to and from him, watching the way his lips move to form each syllable, and then back to the water, where the waves blur in a streak of light. You can’t help but notice the way his face softens when he sings, his features loosening as he melts into the words. 

You look back at him, your lips parting in surprise. There’s a shy kind of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth, like you're unsure if it’s okay to smile just yet, but the quiet joy you feel is evident in the warmth that floods your chest. You tilt your head slightly, caught between admiration and a soft, disbelieving smile.

I should’ve told you I’m in love with you

Then I wouldn’t have been regretting right now

The longer you listen, the more the words he’s written seem bound to him, something like an itch he couldn’t reach. You find your lips curving upward again, but there’s a sad sentiment behind your smile this time, eyes full with a kind of quiet affection. Something tugs at your heart just then, causing your brows to furrow slightly. Maybe it’s from the lyrics he wrote, or maybe it’s the simple, unguarded way he sings, you’re not entirely sure.

When he looks up, your gaze meets his, soft and steady. You don’t speak when he finishes. Instead, you reach over, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers as light as the spring breeze.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and in that moment, Seokmin realizes he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

You sit back, letting the sound of the water fill the space between you, the silence stretching just long enough for Seokmin to look out at the horizon, his fingers still idly plucking at the strings of his guitar. His expression has changed slightly, distant, like he's somewhere else for a moment, lost in thought.

You turn toward him, studying his profile. “Why don’t you play anymore?” you ask softly, not wanting to break the calm vulnerability of the moment, but still unable to ignore the quiet curiosity rising inside you. “I mean, you’re really good. Why keep it to yourself?”

He freezes for a second, his mindless strumming halting abruptly. He exhales, the sound almost like a sigh.

“I used to,” he begins to explain. His voice is quiet, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Back when I had someone to play for. It didn’t work out.” He swallows thickly. “She… She had been hooking up with her best friend practically since we got together.” 

You wait, letting him speak, but his lips press together for a moment, unsure if he should say more. His gaze turns toward the ocean, but there’s a shift in his eyes, which are normally so kind and full of spirit—something like a hard edge, as if a memory he had thought of has sharpened into something more painful. “I played for her all the time.”

You can’t hide the surprise that flashes in your eyes, and Seokmin glances at you. He doesn’t want pity. He’s not asking for it.

“I stopped playing after that,” he continues, “It just... didn’t feel the same anymore. It was something I gave to someone who didn’t deserve it.” He shrugs, as if the words are too heavy for him to carry all at once.

You can feel the hurt in the air, hanging around him like a shadow. You want to reach out, but you don’t know how to offer comfort without crossing a line, so you just sit still beside him, close enough that he can feel your presence but far enough to give him space.

And at the time, you didn’t know it, but for him, it was enough. 

After a long pause, you finally say, “I’m sorry. That’s... that’s a lot.”

He nods, and the tightness in his jaw softens slightly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a little steadier. “But... maybe it’s okay.” Seokmin’s eyes flicker to you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Today felt right, you know. Playing for someone who’s actually listening.”

And in the quiet that follows, he feels something shift between you, the weight of unspoken things starting to lift.

“Seokmin,” you say, your voice gentle, as if careful not to disrupt the quiet peace he’s settled into. He can tell you’re about to say something, maybe offer some comforting words about his story, but he’s already lost in thought.

It hits him, then, so suddenly it almost makes him laugh at himself. The way the late afternoon light catches in your hair, the soft curve of your smile, the way you’re watching him with that steady, thoughtful gaze. It’s all so striking that it feels like something he’s never noticed before, and yet it feels so familiar at the same time.

He decides then, that this is the prettiest you’ve ever looked. 

Suddenly convinced you might be able to read his mind, he clears his throat, feeling a warmth creeping up his neck as he looks back down at the guitar, trying to hide the smile that’s fighting its way to his face. He wants to say it—wants to tell you that you look beautiful, that sitting here with you feels like some kind of dream he didn’t know he was allowed to have. But the words don’t come out; they sit, caught in his throat, trapped by the sudden nervousness that’s settled over him.

Instead, he finds himself brushing a hand over the guitar strings again, as if that small action might keep him grounded. “Thanks… for listening,” he manages, hoping it’ll distract from the fact that he can feel his cheeks warming.

You smile, nodding gently, still looking at him in that quiet, understanding way, and it only makes him want to blurt it out more. But for now, he lets the moment stretch, watching as you lean back in the sand, your gaze shifting back to the waves. The sun is sinking lower, and everything is bathed in that soft, warm light that makes the world feel as if it’s been suspended in time. And Seokmin realizes, right then and there, that this is one of those good memories he’ll hold on to; one he doesn’t intend to forget any time soon. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

It starts with a simple conversation over coffee, the two of you tucked into a cozy corner booth at the cafe, each with a steaming cup in hand as usual. It has become the norm, seeing you like this, nearly every morning and evening. Seokmin stirs a bit more sugar into his drink despite the crazed look you give him, then glances up at you with a warm, toothy smile as you tell him about your latest read. He leans in, listening intently, nodding as if every word you say is the most fascinating thing he’s heard all week. 

When you pause, taking a sip of your drink, he takes a chance to jump in, “You know, I’ve been meaning to go to the art museum downtown. It’s supposed to have this new exhibit.” He hesitates, looking down at his cup for a moment, then back at you with a shy, hopeful glint in his eyes. “If… you’d want to check it out with me?”

You perk up at the suggestion, grinning. “I’d love that! Museums are kind of my weakness.”

Relieved, he chuckles, “Then we’re in good company,” he says, the words coming out a little softer than he intends. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool, but his heart beats a little faster as you chuckle.

“Alright, Mr. Museum,” you say, teasing. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Great,” he replies, glancing out the window at the overcast sky. “How about today, then?”

With a nod, you grab your things, sliding out of the booth as Seokmin hurriedly follows, waving goodbye to Joshua. As you both step out onto the sidewalk, he can’t help the familiar rush of excitement at the thought of spending the rest of the day with you. The two of you stroll side by side down the bustling street, exchanging small talk and the occasional smile, his heart lifting with every step closer to the city.

The walk to the museum is a mixture of laughter, subtle glances, and playful nudges that neither of you can seem to resist. The air is crisp, a light breeze tugging at your sleeves as the two of you meander down the busy street, dodging the occasional cyclist or dog walker. Every few steps, one of you makes a half-serious comment—maybe about the art you’re about to see, maybe about the bizarre mannequin display in a shop window you pass—and it doesn’t take long before both of you dissolve into laughter, your steps momentarily slowed as you lean into each other, trying to catch your breath.

Seokmin, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, finds himself glancing your way more often than he’d like to admit, watching as you tuck your hair behind your ear or lift your face to the sky for a second, enjoying the clouds. He doesn’t know why he feels like a kid right now, heart skipping with each shared smile and laugh, but he can’t seem to shake it. The closeness of walking side by side with you makes him almost giddy.

At one point, you nudge him with your elbow, a light-hearted challenge in your eyes as you try to keep a straight face. “So,” you say, feigning seriousness, “ready to become cultured?”

He rolls his eyes, laughing as he nudges you right back. “Please.”

Seokmin steps into the museum lobby with you by his side, wandering across the high ceilings and polished floors. There’s almost a sacred quietness to the place, the kind that makes every sound seem amplified, even the shuffle of your footsteps. 

You hand him a ticket that you get from the booth, brushing his hand lightly, and he tries to hide his smile, hoping you don’t notice the faint flush that blooms in his cheeks. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous; he always is around you, but he never knows why. Somehow today, he’s more nervous than other days. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or maybe it’s just you—standing there beside him, glancing around with the same sort of wide-eyed curiosity that makes him want to see everything through your eyes.

The two of you wander through the galleries, pausing in front of each painting and sculpture, taking your time. Every so often, you glance at him to see his reaction to something particularly strange or fascinating, and catch him already looking back, smiling at your expressions just as much as he is admiring the art.

“Do you think they meant to paint it like this?” you ask, leaning closer to a particularly loud modern piece that’s all bright, chaotic lines. Your voice is soft, as though you’re afraid of disturbing the tranquility.

Seokmin leans closer, squinting as if trying to unravel some secret meaning, though he hasn’t a clue what he’s looking at. “Maybe they were just… feeling inspired,” he replies, lips quirking with a grin he can’t suppress.

“Or maybe they dropped their paintbrush,” you add, matching his grin.

The sound of your laughter echoes slightly in the otherwise silent gallery, and for a moment, he’s aware of how close you’re standing. The space feels smaller, and though there are other visitors around, it feels for a moment like the museum is yours alone. You move on to the next painting, your eyes bright with curiosity, and he follows, longing to shorten the distance once more. 

He notices a stray piece of hair that’s slipped from behind your ear, and without thinking, he lifts a hand to tuck it back. But at the last second, he hesitates, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder as he pulls his hand back, a shy red spreading over his complexion. You don’t seem to notice, lost in thought as you step closer to the next painting, tilting your head to take it all in.

At one point, you point out a painting of a starry sky, something dreamlike. “Imagine being under a sky like that,” you murmur, almost to yourself, your gaze soft and wondrous as you look at the canvas.

More and more often throughout the visit to the museum, Seokmin finds himself staring at you instead of the exhibits. On this specific one, he can’t seem to look away from your face, your expression so captivated, as if you’re somewhere far away.

“Maybe one day we can find a place like that,” he says softly, almost not meaning to say it aloud. When you turn to look at him, a bit surprised, he clears his throat, pretending to be suddenly very interested in reading the placard beside the artwork.

Seokmin finds himself feeling almost weightless, caught up in the dizzying whirlwind of his own thoughts for a minute. There’s something about you—something he can’t quite put a name to—that makes him feel like he’s constantly walking on a tightrope, and with each step, he’s leaning a little further in, a step closer to letting go of the balance he’s tried for so long to keep.

You whisper an eager “come on,” and grab his sleeve to drag him further into the maze of galleries. 

As you wander into a room filled with ancient statues, he catches you examining one with a particularly serious expression. “Thinking of getting one of these for your place?” he teases. 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Only if you help me carry it,” you reply, and he finds himself grinning again.

Soon, you reach a new room, filled with work from the Renaissance, each painting rich with detail and vibrant colors that have held their vibrancy for centuries. You lean in slightly, admiring the delicate brushstrokes, and Seokmin watches you, his gaze drifting from the artwork to the fascinated look in your eyes—possibly for the hundredth time today. 

“I feel like I’m supposed to be having some deep, life-changing revelation right now,” he whispers by your ear, half-joking.

“Who says art has to be that serious? Sometimes, it’s just… pretty.”

You’re just pretty. 

As you move through the quiet museum halls together, Seokmin catches himself watching you again, realizing just how pretty you look in the warm glow of the exhibit lights. It’s not the first time he's felt this way; he remembers the flutter in his chest when you’d gone to the beach, and the way his thoughts had lingered a little too long on the curve of your smile. He watches as you lean a bit closer to a painting, eyes narrowing in focus, oblivious to his gaze. There’s a calmness to you here, the way you examine each piece as if it holds a secret, and he finds himself drawn to the little things: the way your fingers rest on your chin in thought, the faint lift of your brows when something catches your eye, and the gentle concentration in your expression.

He watches you for longer this time, taking advantage of the fact that you’ve busied yourself reading a plaque, and noticing things he hadn’t paid attention to before right now: today, your smiles linger a little longer, your laughter rings out just a bit brighter, and he finds himself captivated by these subtleties, like he's uncovering new pieces of you with each glance. When you look at him, eyes crinkling in a way he hadn’t dared imagine was just for him, his heart stirs, and he can’t shake the thought: Have you always been this lovely, or am I just starting to see it now? 

His mind drifts, painting scenes of possibilities—fleeting, half-formed images of laughter, of late nights talking, of small moments shared just between the two of you. Each image feels almost real, so vivid he can practically reach out and touch it.

There’s a spark in his chest, a sensation that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Part of him wants to pull back, to reel himself in, a quiet warning in the back of his mind whispering not to get carried away like he had before. But he can’t help it; there’s something magnetic about this, about you, something that pulls him closer despite himself. 

He steals another glance at you, his heart racing as he does. You’re just looking at the art around you, as though this is any other day, but for him, it feels monumental. His thoughts get lost again, imagining what it might be like to hold your hand right now, to simply be beside you without any of this hesitation.

And then, you look at him and laugh, catching him staring, and his ears go red, a little embarrassed but somehow happy to be caught.

By the time you reach the last hall of artwork, the sun has started to set outside, casting a warm glow through the large windows. Seokmin watches as the light catches in your eyes, making them shine in a way that leaves him a little breathless. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you look around.

As you both step outside into the cool evening air, he catches your eye, intentionally this time, his smile small but genuine. “Thanks for coming here with me,” he says, his voice soft, almost shy.

“Anytime,” you reply, and the word feels like a promise. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

The night starts with laughter and neon lights as Seokmin leads you through the bustling street to the karaoke room, his two friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, trailing just behind and rambling on about something indiscernible. The place is lively, bursting with music from rooms down the hall, each one echoing snippets of songs and off-key shouts. 

Seokmin can’t help but beam when he sees how easily you fall into conversation with his friends, joining in their jokes and even taking a dig at Seungkwan when he hypes himself up as the “true vocal talent” of the group. Having heard Seokmin sing just a few weeks back, you couldn’t help but feel defensive on his behalf. 

Once everyone’s settled, drinks start flowing freely. The first few songs are cautious, each of you easing into the familiar, buzzing rhythm of karaoke night. But as the night goes on, any sense of shyness melts away in the glow of pulsing lights and laughter.

Seokmin watches with undeniable fondness as you and Seungkwan bicker over song selections, and he tries not to grin too widely when he catches you belting out the lyrics with Soonyoung during a duet. 

At some point, he notices how naturally you fit with his friends—the way you make Seungkwan laugh with a remark about his questionable song choices, or how you nod along enthusiastically as Soonyoung gives a dramatic toast, proclaiming you as “one of them now.” For Seokmin, it’s everything he hadn’t realized he wanted: his closest friends getting along with you.

As the night hums along, Seokmin picks up the microphone, sending you a lopsided, slightly tipsy smile that makes your heart flutter before selecting a song. His choice surprises you—it’s one of those classic ballads that’s probably too high for anyone but the original singer to sing. The melody starts slow, and his voice flows soft and easy, but with a control that reminds you just how talented he really is. You practically feel your admiration soar, and as you watch him, his hazy, glossed over eyes settle on you. 

Every so often, he adds a bit of exaggerated flair, trying to coax a laugh out of you, playfully stretching out the notes or adding dramatic hand gestures to match the lyrics. It’s impossible not to smile, and you feel yourself relax as his antics draw you in. The song suddenly feels a little less serious, a little more fun, as he throws in a wink here, a knowing grin there.

As he finishes, you clap, unable to hide your smile. "You know," you say, a little breathless, "it’s honestly unfair that you’re this good."

He laughs, cheeks pink from both the praise and the drinks. “What can I say? Talent just comes naturally,” he jokes, a little bolder, that playful gleam returning to his eyes. Then he looks at you, his expression softening. “How about we do one together?”

“Oh no,” you protest with a laugh, shaking your head, “I can’t follow that.”

“Come on,” he coaxes, handing you a microphone and grabbing you by your hand to pull you to your feet,  “I’ll sing the verses, you can handle the chorus. It'll be easy.”

With a mix of reluctance and excitement, both of which mix together with the alcohol in your system, you take the mic, scrolling through songs until you settle on something you both know—The music starts, and the two of you exchange a grin before starting.

At first, you both sing a little awkwardly, tipsy laughter interrupting every other line as you stumble over the lyrics and try not to trip over each other’s parts. But as the song goes on, you find a rhythm, and every so often, Seokmin leans into the mic to harmonize with you, his voice blending with yours. By the end, you’re both laughing, the microphones forgotten as you clutch your sides and stumble around, out of breath and giddy.

Seokmin looks at you, eyes bright, face flushed, smile so wide that you could count his teeth if you wanted to. He reaches out, touching your hand ever so lightly, his fingers warm and steady. “You did amazing,” he says, voice soft, his smile a little shy despite everything.

“Likewise,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you that’s more than just the drinks. And as you both sit there, you realize that there’s other people in the room. 

Before you even have time to catch your breath, Soonyoung jumps up, grabbing the microphone. “Move over!” he declares with a grin, completely ignoring the indignant look Seungkwan shoots at him as he stands up to join him. “It’s duet time for real now.”

Seungkwan, rolling his eyes, snatches the other mic and leans in with a smirk. “Prepare yourselves. You two are about to be outshined.” He cues up a song with exaggerated flair, and the upbeat tune starts, loud and impossible to take seriously as they start belting the opening lines completely off-time.

“They’re usually better than this,” Seokmin tells you, “especially Seungkwan. I think it’s the alcohol.” 

You laugh as you watch the pair start to coordinate with each other, finally managing to sing to the beat of the song. 

“It’s good!” You argue, “Are you all just super talented?” 

Seungkwan’s voice suddenly cuts through, loudly. “Hey! I can’t hear myself over you two!” He shoots you both a look, his mock glare breaking into a grin as Soonyoung pulls him back to belt out the chorus.

Seokmin shakes his head, laughing as he leans in closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “I warned you about them, didn’t I?” he says, his voice soft, he’s close enough that you feel his breath beside you, gaze lingering as he speaks. He’s a little past the point of tipsy, cheeks and nose slightly flushed, but somehow the hazy glow of the karaoke lights makes him look even softer, easier to smile at.

You giggle, feeling a little light-headed yourself, but whether it’s from the drinks or the warmth radiating between the two of you, you’re not entirely sure. Your eyes subconsciously bat at him as they trace his features, tugging at his heartstrings as Soonyoung and Seungkwan sing with wild abandon in the background.

Seokmin’s arm rests casually on the back of the booth behind you. “You know,” he murmurs, leaning just a bit closer, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The words are simple, but somehow they send a warmth spreading through you, making the whole room seem to slow down. “Me too,” you say, a little shy but meeting his gaze, feeling that same unspoken something settle around you.

Then, somewhere between another toast and Soonyoung’s next drink, things start to get a little fuzzy for him. Soonyoung has, predictably, taken things a bit too far, eyes glazed as he sways to the music, occasionally belting out lyrics that don’t match the song on screen. Seungkwan sighs knowingly, standing and giving Seokmin a helpless shrug. “I’m taking him home before he tries to start chugging Soju.” He nods at you, adding with a smirk, “Good luck with this one.” And then, with a wave, they’re gone, leaving the two of you in the dimly lit room, half-empty drinks scattered on the table.

Alone with you now, Seokmin’s pulse races, the soft glow of tipsiness making him feel both bold and nervous. The room feels quieter, somehow more intimate, with just the two of you here. He reaches for the remote, scrolling through song choices, trying to keep his eyes on the screen and not on the way you’re leaning back on the couch, your gaze drifting over to him with a glint he can’t quite decipher.

“Do you want to pick the last one?” he asks, his voice a little more shy than he intended.

You smile, shrugging casually, but he doesn’t miss the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Only if you promise not to laugh if I butcher it.”

He grins, feeling his own face warm. “I make no promises,” he teases. But there’s something in his gaze—a hint of anticipation that he can’t quite hide, even if he tries.

As you start singing, he watches, captivated by the way you let loose, tipsy confidence making you bolder. The words are a little off-key, your voice rising and falling with the tempo, but to him, it’s perfect. When you’re finished, he can’t help but clap, cheering as if he’s at a concert.

“You sounded amazing,” he says, his voice softer than the playful bravado he’d intended. He feels a little too exposed under your gaze, a little too aware of just how close you’re sitting. 

“Thank you, thank you,” you reply with an exaggerated bow, but your eyes linger on his a little longer than they should, and the tension between you feels thick, heavy with possibility. 

He clears his throat, laughing nervously. “You’re going to put me out of a job with that voice.” But his words sound almost sincere.

There’s a lull in the conversation, a quiet beat where neither of you says anything, just looking at each other, the warmth of the drinks and the moment settling over both of you. You move a little closer, your knee brushing against his, and Seokmin swears he feels his heart stutter.

“Seokmin,” you say, voice barely a whisper, eyes bright with that boldness that only alcohol can provide.

“Yeah?” His voice comes out breathier than he intended, and he has to resist the urge to reach for your hand.

You smile, almost shyly, but there’s a warmth in your gaze that reassures him. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had… a really great time.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours. His hand, almost on instinct, drifts a little closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your knuckles.

As you step out of the karaoke bar, the cool night air feels refreshing, and Seokmin falls into an easy rhythm beside you. The streets are quiet, the lights soft and glowing, casting a warm hue on everything around you. He insists on walking you home, and you can see a bit of that familiar determination in his expression—a mix of sweetness and subtle nerves, the kind that makes him even harder not to smile at.

The two of you talk softly as you walk, laughter spilling into the night as you recount moments from earlier, but the conversation drifts into a quiet calm. Seokmin feels a little tipsy, though he knows it’s not solely the drinks making him feel this way. It’s the warmth in your laugh, the way your gaze lights up when you look at him. Everything feels a little brighter, softer, like the world’s colors are blurring into a hazy glow.

Eventually, you pause, looking over at the buildings below the hill you’ve climbed, and above them, the faint sparkle of stars cutting through the city’s glow. Seokmin stops beside you, following your gaze, but when he looks back down, it’s not the skyline he’s mesmerized by. It’s you, standing there with that quiet, contemplative look in your eyes.

At that moment, he’s overwhelmed. Something about this night, this moment, feels like a dream—one he’s afraid might slip away if he blinks too long. He wants to say something, to tell you how lovely you look standing there, bathed in city lights. He can feel his heart pounding. He’s been trying to find the right words for some time now, something that could capture the feeling building up in his chest when he’s with you. He’s not sure if it’s the night, the laughter still echoing in his mind, or just the way you’re looking up at the sky. Before he can overthink himself out of it, he takes a breath and speaks, his voice just a little unsteady. “You know… you look beautiful right now.”

It’s the first time he’s said something so openly to you, and he can feel his cheeks heat up the second the words are out. You turn to him, a bit taken aback, your eyes wide with surprise before a smile slowly spreads across your face, soft and a little shy.

The moment stretches between you, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with laughter or play it off. He’s content just looking at you, watching that glow in your eyes as his words settle in. 

A soft laugh escapes you, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down for a second before glancing back up at him. “I was going to say the same about you.”

He can’t help but laugh, his own nervousness melting away a little. You both stand there, caught in the gentle pull between you, feeling a little bolder, a little lighter.

When you start walking again, his hand brushes against yours, and this time he doesn’t pull away, letting his fingers linger close enough that if you reached out, they’d intertwine. It’s a simple gesture, but it says everything he’s been holding back, and as you walk together through the quiet streets, he knows something has shifted.

The stone path thuds beneath your footsteps, clumsy and unsteady as you both navigate the uneven terrain, sharing quiet laughter over your shared lack of coordination. Seokmin, glancing down, suddenly stops.

"Look!" he says, his finger pointing at a small penny on the ground, glinting faintly in the light. “What’s this doing all the way out here? Take it. For good luck.”

You shake your head, amused, and explain, “It’s only good luck if it’s face up when you find it.”

“Ah.” Seokmin considers this, then immediately drops into a crouch, carefully flipping the coin over so Lincoln’s head is proudly facing the sky. He straightens up with a grin as if he’s just accomplished something important.

“What’d you do that for?” you ask, your tone laced with affection.

“Now someone else can have good luck,” he replies.

You feel something warm tug at you in response, watching him as he stands there, content with his small gesture of kindness.  Suddenly, you see very clearly the kind of person Lee Seokmin is. It’s so like him—turning even the smallest, most mundane thing into something significant. As he begins walking ahead, you linger just a moment, looking back at the coin on the ground, then up at him.

You don’t move to follow him. Seokmin halts, slightly startled, his gaze questioning as he glances at you. But before he can ask why, you step closer, closing the space between you. You’re both quiet, caught in a bubble of giddy anticipation, his eyes searching yours, wide with surprise. And then, without a word, you reach up, resting a hand lightly on his chest, and lean in.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like everything else falls away, replaced by a feeling that’s as soft as it is electric. He lets out a small, breathless laugh amidst his shock, hands stuck to his sides as your mouth presses to his.

When you pull back, you find him grinning, a little dazed, his eyes bright with surprise. Then he closes the space again, meeting your lips in another kiss, quick but more eager, like he’s savoring the feeling.

And then another. His hand drifts to your waist, drawing you in just a little closer each time your lips meet, each kiss growing a little bolder, a little sweeter, until the space between you disappears entirely. By the fourth kiss, his fingers have settled at the small of your back, warm and sure, and this time he lingers, letting the kiss deepen. It’s slow, unhurried, something unknown flooding through him as he feels your hand slide up to cup his cheek, tilting his face toward you so you can taste his mouth with ease.

You both feel a little unsteady, leaning into each other for balance, your hands anchoring each other as the world spins quietly around you. His heart races, thrumming against yours, and there’s a shy smile on his face when he finally pulls away, keeping his forehead close to yours, his eyes searching yours, dazed and happy and overcome with affection.

“I… I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice a little unsteady but full of quiet excitement.

“I wasn’t planning it,” you admit, your cheeks flushed, but you don’t pull away, savoring the closeness.

For a moment, you both just stand there, eyes locked, breaths mingling in the cool night air, as if tethered to each other by an invisible string. Then, without thinking, you lean back in, your lips finding his once more. This time, there's no hesitation, no pause, just a shared need to be close—as close as possible. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you in with a touch that’s both careful and desperate, as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

He lets out a quiet laugh against your lips, a sound that’s soft and breathless. It makes you laugh too, and you pull back for a moment, catching your breath, only to find his lips chasing after yours again. There’s something almost frantic in the way you keep returning to each other, like you’re both overwhelmed by the discovery of this closeness, unable to let it end just yet.

His hand moves gently to the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way he’s holding onto you. 

His voice is barely a whisper, warm and a little breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His words, shy and sincere, only pull you closer. Hand in hand, you start walking, the quiet night around you filled only by the soft sounds of your steps. He keeps his grip loose, fingers intertwined with yours, thumb brushing along the side of your hand as if he can’t bear to let go ever again. You walk in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering touches, both of you stealing glances, unable to stop smiling.

Every so often, he pauses, as if some thread is tugging him back to you. He leans in to press a brief kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw, reeling over the way your eyes flutter closed from the feeling, and before you know it, his lips are back on yours. You laugh against his mouth, feeling both light-headed and grounded in a way that’s wholly new and otherworldly. He pulls back with a grin, his eyes crinkling, looking both bashful and thrilled, like he can’t believe this is real. You’re unreal, you have to be. A fabrication of his imagination, so delicate, so perfect, so you. 

As you continue walking, his arm slips around your shoulders, drawing you closer to his side. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and the quiet contentment that settles over you feels as natural as breathing. When he stumbles slightly, you catch him, and he grins sheepishly, pulling you close again in a half-hug that turns into yet another kiss.

“I might never get home at this point,” You say breathlessly.

“Would that be so bad?” Each word is mumbled into your mouth as his fingers weave into your hair, holding the back of your neck and letting his tongue shyly lick your bottom lip. 

The hum that you let out, either as a response to his rhetorical question or his tongue now moving against yours, makes his head spin. Your nails, raking down his chest over the material of his shirt, your hips pressing to his—it’s all too much and at the same time, not enough. 

The closer you get to your doorstep, the slower your steps become, as if prolonging the walk will somehow stretch this night just a little further. Every so often, Seokmin pulls you close, and you laugh as he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, each one deeper and more unhurried than the last. 

Neither of you speak, as if words would break the fragile spell cast over the night. Instead, you stand there, wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft, dizzying kisses that grow lazier, more lingering. 

There’s a pause, a beat of hesitation, as he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes warm and soft, and he murmurs, “I should probably let you go.” But even as he says it, his hand remains on your cheek as if he’s not quite ready to leave.

“Probably,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his, but neither of you moves. It takes a moment, maybe two, before he reluctantly lets out a quiet laugh and pulls away, his hand slipping from your cheek to squeeze your hand, holding onto you just a moment longer. He gives you one last look, filled with a warmth and tenderness that leaves you breathless.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asks softly, already a few steps down the hall, as though he’s hoping for just one more promise to look forward to.

“Soon,” you reply, his gaze lingering on you as he walks away. You watch him go, the warmth of his kisses still lingering, the last few moments of the night settling over you as you turn to head inside, feeling light, tipsy, and wonderfully, utterly alive.

[click here to continue]

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Act Two

Tommy Shelby x Nina Ferrante Shelby (OC)

Where The Shadow Is Cast

CHAPTER 1 ~ Secrets

Summary: Tommy’s secretive behaviour puts Nina on edge.

Warnings: arranged marriage, age-gap (Tommy’s in his early 30s, Nina is in her early 20s), talks of past sexual harassment, English is not my first language.

A/N: The second act takes place during season 2*. You can read it even if you haven’t read the previous one, although you might miss some information here and there. What you need to know for context, is that Nina Ferrante is Tommy’s Sicilian wife, and their marriage put an end to the war between the two families. They join forces against Sabini. *This specific chapter takes place a few months before season 2.

ACT ONE MASTERLIST || ACT TWO MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Nina watched Tommy sleeping next to her, his lips slightly parted, eyebrows lowered in a subtle frown.

She didn’t have the heart to wake him.

The previous night had been horrible for him. He had woken up again and again, covered in sweat, shaking, slurring incoherent words she could not understand. Then he held on to her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she tried her best to ground him, only for it to start all over again. It took him hours to finally fall into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

It wasn’t the first time it happened. She had learned about his nightmares a few days after moving into their new house, on Watery Lane. Although Tommy had warned her about them, she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t unsettled her to see him so scared. To get a glimpse of the monsters that lived inside his head. Monsters she couldn’t protect him from.

The awareness she couldn’t take his pain away was crushing. Even when he seemed happy, even on the rare times a laugh escaped his lips, the heavy veil of sadness was always there, draped over his shoulders like a coat, weighing him down. She wished there was a way to take a bit of that burden upon herself and carry it with him, if only to bring him some semblance of relief.

“You’re staring.”

Tommy’s raspy voice broke the silence, pulling her from her thoughts. Warmth flushed to her face, and she was thankful he still had his eyes closed. Two months into their marriage, and she still blushed like a schoolgirl when he caught her looking at him. Pushing back the embarrassment, she took on a playful tone. “Does it bother you?” she taunted, quirking an eyebrow.

Tommy’s lips curved upwards. “No.”

His eyelids fluttered opened, sleepy blue eyes looking back at her. “Good morning, love.”

“Morning.” She reached out her hand to smooth a stray lock of hair off his forehead. Her fingers travelled down to his cheek, knuckles tenderly brushing against his freckled skin.

Taking ahold of her hand, Tommy brought it to his lips, placing a sweet kiss on it. “I’m sorry for last night,” he murmured, his gaze filling with regret.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I told you already, I can sleep on the sofa-”

“No,” she interrupted him, unwilling to listen to the umpteenth attempt on his part to convince her that it would be better for her if they slept separately.

“Nina-”

“Not a chance,” she said firmly. “You will not keep me away.”

Tommy pursed his lips, and for a moment he seemed about to say something. Then resignation flashed across his eyes, and no word left his mouth. He knew better than her he had already lost that battle.

With a soft grunt, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, nuzzling his face into her neck. “I wanna stay in bed with you.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled, a hint of frustration in his voice. “There’s things I need to get done.”

“They can wait.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Oh, tempting you is my precise intention.

It had been so long since they had spent a day together, just the two of them. She knew he had business to attend to, but she missed him. And she could tell his habit of overworking himself was taking a toll on him.

She inhaled deeply, pondering her words. “You can take a day off. It’s not like you have to answer to anyone.”

“This time I do,” he shook his head. “I’m going to London to meet your uncle.”

Oh.

Uncle Antonio would not be pleased if Tommy didn’t show up to the meeting. And with the circumstances of their marriage still being a sore spot for everyone, it was better to be careful. Although Antonio and his sons were not involved with what had happened back in Italy, word had traveled, and he had found himself in the painful position to take a side in the quarrel between his two brothers. Vincenzo’s side, to be exact. For the sake of peace. It wouldn’t be wise to inconvenience him further.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” he said, a bit too quickly for her taste. Then, as if reading the suspicion on her face, he added, “It’s business as usual, nothing to worry about.”

Nina furrowed her brows, studying his face. There was something in his expression that told her he wasn’t being completely truthful. That there was something he wasn’t telling her.

She decided to leave it, at least for the moment. The truth would come out anyway.

“If you say so.”

As she washed the breakfast dishes, Nina looked onto the grey streets, muddy from the rain. Autumn had arisen in all its might, bringing storm and a pungent cold she wasn’t sure she had ever known. It was probably still sunny, back home. In Sicily summer was always reluctant to leave.

Home. She wondered what her family was doing, if they missed her, or if some part of them was secretly relieved she wasn’t a nuisance anymore. What she had done to all of them was not something that could be easily forgotten, or forgiven. The shame she had brought upon them was a stain that could never be washed away. She wouldn’t blame them if they still harboured resentment towards her.

As for Agnese, Nina wasn’t so foolish to think she could ever have her forgiveness, nor her uncle and aunt’s. In their eyes, she had viciously stabbed her cousin in the back, and robbed her of a suitable marriage out of sheer selfishness. She just hoped uncle Mario would forgive her father for acting behind his back. It was for the best, anyway. Had it been up to her uncle, their peace with the Shelbys would’ve gone up in smoke, and they would’ve been alone in the war against Sabini. Instead, since the two families had joined their forces, Sabini’s attacks at the Ferrante’s restaurants had ceased.

However, it wasn’t her parents’ resentment she should’ve been scared of, nor her brothers’ anger, and not even her uncle’s fury. They were no actual danger to her. What she should fear was the wrath of someone far more vengeful. Someone she had scorned. Because there was nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man.

A chill ran down her spine. She thought leaving Sicily would mean leaving Stefano behind. That what he had done to her would pass, that the mark he had left on her would fade, that his nasty gaze wouldn’t burn her anymore. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He was always lurking in the shadows, watching her every step. He was everywhere, because she was carrying him inside herself. She’d have to learn how to carve him out.

A loud meow put an end to her musings. Curled up on a chair, Winston was staring at her with his yellow eyes, impatiently waiting for her to acknowledge him. He had been seeking her attention more, since they had left. The big change had bewildered him, too. There were no gardens in Small Heath, no tree branches upon which he could climb, no sunny spots to sleep in. She felt guilty, for taking him away from that. But no one in her family would take care of him, not like she did.

He’d get used to it in time. Hopefully, she would too.

She never thought she would miss home. It was rather funny. She had spent her whole life wishing she could escape from that place, and now that she had, she was searching for it in every corner.

A sense of uneasiness began to grow in her chest. A feeling she was all too familiar with, one she thought she’d left behind once she had stepped on the boat for England.

No…

No. She shook her head, snapping herself out of the spiral she was on the verge of falling in. She couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let her restless mind ruin what she was trying to build.

But as she scrubbed the plate with more energy, she could have sworn she saw her mother’s face in the reflection in the window.

The betting shop was still deserted when Nina walked in. It looked so different in the early morning, without the hustle and bustle of the men at work, and the rowdy gamblers cramming in to place their bets. That was why she preferred to arrive early, and plan the day before the shouting and the smoke made it too difficult for her to fully concentrate.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t quite like the betting shop, though. It was different from anything she had ever known. A small world of its own, made of bets, numbers, and strategies. It was stimulating, to say the least. In that chaotic place, she could escape the stillness she had despised all her life.

She sat at one of the desks, then proceeded to set out the things she’d need. The betting book, the agenda Tommy had left her, her notebook, and a small calendar. Tommy would be away for a week, at least, and if she had to cover his work as well, she’d have to make a schedule. She took in a deep breath, staring to parcel out the tasks to be done in the next few days.

Ten minutes or so into her work, she was distracted by the sound of heels clicking across the wooden floor. The figure of a woman walked in front of her with quick steps, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke as she passed.

There she was. Polly Gray.

Nina knew immediately she was in for a long, long day.

Ever since the matriarch had laid her watchful gaze on Nina for the first time, she had been nothing but stern to her. She observed her, studied her. She cut her into tiny pieces to figure out what she was made of. It was unnerving, sometimes.

Polly dropped her bag on one of the desks on the opposite side of the room. “Tommy went to London,” she said, finally turning to acknowledge Nina’s presence.

Good morning to you, too.

“Yes. He said something about a meeting with my uncle.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Is there anything else to know?”

Polly sighed, stomping her cigarette before taking a seat. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

God, it was serious, if even his aunt knew nothing about it.

Nina shook her head. “He’s been acting strange, lately.”

“Sounds like Tommy.”

“More than usual,” she clarified. “He says he’s just worried about business, but I can tell there’s more to it.”

Polly’s head shot up to look at her. She visibly pondered her words, until something clicked behind her dark eyes. A look of realisation flashed across her expression. “You have no idea, do you?”

Her statement left Nina confused. “Of what?”

The shadow of a smirk grew on Polly’s face. She pursed her lips in an attempt to hide it, but Nina didn’t miss the mixture of smugness and amusement filtering through her features. “It’s not my place to tell you, love. Tommy entrusted me with this information long ago.”

What information?

Nina clenched her jaw, careful not to show how much Polly’s demeanour was actually getting to her. The condescending note in her voice was what made her blood boil the most.

It wasn’t the first time she needled her with the implication that her husband kept secrets from her, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. Polly made no secret of her determination to maintain her primacy as Tommy’s most loyal confidant. But Nina knew it was also her way of assessing her, of knowing just how much she could pull before the string snapped.

She’d have to pull, and pull. And even then, she’d end up disappointed. Nina was way too good at letting certain things roll off her back.

Polly Gray’s little jabs were nothing compared to her aunts’ and cousins’ nasty jokes and judgmental glances. If she thought a few subtle taunts would be enough to make her step back, she couldn’t be more wrong. And truth be told, Nina drew a bit of satisfaction from the knowledge her presence made the older woman feel threatened.

Before either of them could say anything else, the double doors that separated the kitchen from the shop swung open, and Arthur’s boisterous voice resounded in the room. Nina didn’t understand a single word that left his mouth, but from the look on Polly’s face, it was safe to say it was for the best. His accent was so thick it often took her a while to pick up on what he said. Sometimes she got the impression he accentuated it on purpose, when he spoke to her.

Another way of Tommy’s family of reminding her she was a stranger. The daughter of a foreign enemy.

“Nina, do me a favour and check me addin’ up, eh.” Arthur dropped a heavy book on her desk.

“This is the Garrison’s book,” she frowned.

“Yeah, I brought it ‘ere so ye could take a look at it.”

“I already checked it two days ago.”

His heavy hand came to pat her on the shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “Money’s flowing in, sister.”

“And flowing out, I see,” she noted, scanning through one of the most recent pages. She squinted her eyes, pursing her lips as her a specific figure caught her attention. “There’s something wrong here.”

“That’s why I came to ya’, luv,” he brushed her off.

Of course.

She couldn’t understand why the Shelbys kept on relying on Arthur for keeping the pub’s book. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford to pay someone to do that for him. He didn’t even try. And she was the one who ended up fixing his mess.

Arthur’s steps echoed in the almost empty shop as he started to walk towards the door, making her snap her head in his direction. She leaned back in her chair, calling after him. “What’s the magic word, Arthur?”

He stopped in his tracks, keeping his back turned. “I ain’t got no time for this,” he said gruffly.

She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can check your numbers on your own, then.”

Arthur’s fists clenched by his side. His shoulders raised as he inhaled deeply, visibly pondering his next move. When he turned to her, his lips were pressed together in a fake smile. “Please,” he stressed, exaggerating a deferential gesture with his hand.

Nina tilted her head, unable to hold back a satisfied grin. “See? It wasn’t that hard.”

A snarling sound was the only answer her provocation received before Arthur left, slamming the door behind him. It seemed like his mood had been ruined by their little altercation.

Serves him right, she thought. She wasn’t going to tolerate disrespect.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nina saw Polly’s piercing gaze looking up and down at her, and she could swear she was trying to hide the hint of a grin.

Shaking off that impression, she began to examine the book in front of her. If she wanted to get it done by the end of the morning, she’d have to start right away.

“More like ‘do the adding up all over again’,” she murmured to herself, flipping through the pages.

That was going to be a long day, indeed.

Sitting on the sofa, Nina tried to concentrate on the novel in front of her, but her brain apparently had no intention of cooperating. Polly’s words were still haunting her.

You have no idea, do you?

She was right, at last. Tommy kept secrets from her. Two days had passed since he had come back from London, and still no word had left his mouth about what business he was taking care of, exactly. All she could get out of him were half-truths and non-answers.

The whole situation was beginning to get on her nerves. She had been patient, she had waited for him to be ready to open up to her, but nothing had come out of it. Absolutely nothing. And as if being kept in the dark wasn’t enough, she had to deal with Polly’s habit of adding insult to injury.

She was living in a country she didn’t know, speaking a language that wasn’t hers, surrounded by people who never missed the chance to remind her she didn’t belong there, and she didn’t even have her husband on her side. She couldn’t trust him to tell her the truth. She felt completely, utterly alone.

She was so deep in thought she almost jumped when the front door opened and shut. “Love?” Tommy called from the entrance.

A wave of irritation surged through her. The unspoken words that had been plaguing her mind had made her anger bigger, heavier, and she wasn’t sure she could pretend everything was fine for another night. When he walked into the living room, she didn’t even raise her head from the page in front of her.

“Hi, love,” he greeted her, leaning in to kiss her, only to be left hanging when she turned her head the other way.

“Dinner’s in the oven,” she said coldly.

Tommy froze in his place, his mind working behind his orbs as he processed her reaction. “What’s wrong?” he asked, jerking his chin. When she refused to even look at him, he rested his hand on the back of the sofa, caging her with his body. “Eh?” He raised his eyebrows.

Nina gritted her teeth. “Why don’t you tell me?”

A flare of awareness cracked through Tommy’s imperturbable façade, but went away as quickly as it came. He stood straight, taking a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hell no.

Nina slammed the book shut, finally raising her gaze on him. “Don’t give me that shit,” she snapped, getting up from the sofa. “Don’t fucking give me that shit,” she approached him with a long stride, pointing her finger at him. “I’ve given you time, and space, and plenty of chances to tell me what you’ve been up to. And now I’m tired.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t waver, pinning him with her fierce stare. “So what is it?”

Tommy’s eyes traveled over her face, his mask cracking once again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, searching for his next words. “I’m planning an expansion,” he said carefully, testing the waters.

“Where?”

“London.”

It didn’t take long for Nina to understand what he was implying. But if her immediate instinct was to shake him and ask him if he had gone mad, the last shreds of patience she had left prevented her from possibly making him close up again. “Go on.”

“It was one of the reasons why I came to Sicily,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “The deal was, I helped your family against Sabini, and in turn your family would help me take him over.”

She stayed silent, digesting the information. She wasn’t stupid, she knew Tommy had his own interests besides simple survival when he proposed to join the families. But he had kept it from her for months. It had been his plan all along, and he never told her. “And the thought of telling me never crossed your mind?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s… it’s complicated, Nina.”

“It always is,” she scoffed, shaking her head.

Tommy tentatively placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, I knew you wouldn’t like it-”

“Of course I don’t like it!” She furiously shrugged his hands off, her voice raising again.

Tommy raised his hands in surrender, backing away as his own frustration became evident.

“There’s no need to start another war, Tommy!”

He cursed under his breath, pacing a few steps. “For fuck’s sake,” his voice rose. “Your family’s already at war with Sabini.”

“He has stopped his attacks.”

“For now. But what happens next, eh?”

Nina had no reply to that question. As much as she hated to admit it, Tommy right. There was no way of telling whether Sabini had surrendered or simply taken a step back before striking again. It was a standoff situation which had everyone holding their breath.

A heavy sigh left Tommy’s lips. “It’s decided, love,” he said lowly, regaining his composure. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“When?���

“In February.”

February.

So everything was ready. Mapped out. And she was finding out about it just now.

She felt so stupid.

She nodded, feeling all energy drain out of her. “Alright,” she murmured.

Her sudden lack of resistance caught Tommy off guard. He blinked in confusion. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Alright.”

She didn’t want to fight anymore; there was no point in it. And she was tired. Turning her back on him, she headed toward the hallway. “I’m going to bed.”

“Nina, wait…”

Tommy’s words fell on deaf ears. Without sparing him another glance, Nina left the room.

The mattress sank under Tommy’s weight as he slid into bed. Nina stared at the wall in front of her, a faint sense of relief filling her at the realisation he’d be home, that night. When his strong arm wrapped around her from behind, she was tempted to move away, to remind him once again of how much he had messed up. But even the most stubborn part of her couldn’t help but surrender to him.

Tommy’s chest vibrated against her back when he spoke. “Still angry?”

“No,” she shook her head.

It was true. She was upset, and disappointed. But she wasn’t angry anymore. As good as she was at holding a grudge, she could never stay angry at him for too long. And she needed him more than she needed her anger, in that moment. Her hand found Tommy’s, and she intertwined their fingers together. She felt him relax behind her at her gesture. His arm flexed as he held her tighter, pressing his lips on the top of her head.

“Tommy?” she called him after a while.

“What?”

“No more secrets.”

“Yeah.”

She spun around to face him, the warm light of the bedside lamp allowing her to look him in the eyes. “I’m serious, Tommy.”

“I know-”

“I don’t need you to know, I need you to understand.” She took his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing up and down his skin. “I have no one but you here. If you can’t be honest with me, then I have nothing.”

Tommy’s ice-cold features softened, and something quite similar to guilt made its way on his face. His knuckles reached to delicately stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, a deep sincerity seeping out of his words.

Nina closed her eyes, fighting against the tears threatening to spill out. “Don’t keep me away.” She couldn’t help the pleading note in her shaking voice. She hated to feel so vulnerable, so weak. And she hated to make him see her like that. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Hey, c’mere,” Tommy pulled her closer, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “C’mere.”

Nina buried her face in his chest, the last one of her defences crumbling at his show of affection.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, gently threading his fingers through her hair.

She snuggled closer to him, letting his reassuring smell comfort her, and the regular beating of his heart lull her.

It was going to be alright. They were going to be alright.

“No more secrets. I promise.”

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

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@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

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@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

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General Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator @lunarubra @rangerelik

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes @bellabarnes1378 @jbrownta

If you want to be removed from the taglist, feel free to let me know!

[valsverse]

— GENERAL DATING HC'S (part two)

pairing: percy jackson, annabeth chase, leo valdez, piper mclean, jason grace, hazel levesque, frank zhang (respectively) x gn!reader word count: 3.9k

percy jackson

if anyone is boyfriend coded it's percy.

the way percy immediately squeezes your hand to call your attention the second he spots something he knows you'd love. whether it's your favorite song playing in a store, or the sight of pretty flowers in full bloom, percy's just as excited as you are !!

for some reason, percy really likes to shower you with hugs. whether you're out in public or nestled comfortably in your own cabin, he's quick to wrap his arms around you and hold you close! you can feel his warmth radiating against your skin as he presses his body close to yours, his face nuzzled snugly in the crook of your neck. he just doesn't want to let you go, at least not yet. maybe it's because he feels safe when he's holding onto you, and he doesn't want that feeling to disappear so quickly. not that you mind, though.

percy loovvees to hold your hand in public, like he literally can't get enough of it. no matter where you go, he would effortlessly slip his hand into yours, the coolness of his palm making contact with your own as you walk side by side through camp.

i feel like percy's hands are pretty cool to the touch, so during the colder months he likes to hold your hand and tuck it in his pocket to shield you from the cold. like, he doesn't want to let go, but he also doesn't want you to freeze LMAOO.

percy's kisses are varied. sometimes they're slow, sometimes they're quick or urgent, and a whole lot more. but each time, they're exhilarating. percy also has a habit of pulling and playing with your belt or waistband whenever you kiss, and it always catches you off guard, no matter how many times it happens. even when you're in the middle of doing something else, he'll grab you by the waistband and pull you in for a kiss. and when he's not tugging on it, he'll run his fingers around it, dragging his fingers around the fabric almost teasingly, LIKE GAH ZAMN.

percy lets you draw on his skateboard!! listen, i know he's only mentioned as a skater like twice in the book, but i don't care. he is a skater boy in my heart.

his skateboard is absolutely LITTERED with doodles of your favorite bands, or any other designs that came to mind, as well as temporary stickers that are already starting to fade. but percy doesn't mind at all because it looks cool and you're happy! so that's all that matters to him. he loves looking down at the marks you left on his skateboard with a stupid smile, even if it means he gets hit by a wall because he wasn't paying attention.

when percy is in love, it becomes evident in his every action. he makes it a point to look for your face throughout the day, be it in moments of triumph or defeat. he only wants for you to witness him at his best, and no amount of applause or pats on the back from others can compare to the feeling of your touch; the gentle caress of your thumb across his cheek accompanied by words of praise, are what he craves the most. :(( he wants your validation and approval, but struggles to express it, because behind his front lies just an awkward teen filled with doubts and insecurities, desperate to prove himself to you.

but when he's in the water?? in his ZONE?? that's a different story. his confidence level SOARS. his water powers are in full force, and he's flipping around in the water trying to impress you like a little kid LMAOO.

to percy, you're more than just his partner. the thought of living without you is unimaginable to him, and he refuses to even think about it. his love for you only grows with each passing day, and he swears that he couldn't love you more than already does, yet he knows that he will tomorrow.

annabeth chase

MY GF FR!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

annabeth always loved you, but as time went on, her perspective on you began to shift. she loved the sound of your laughter, and the way you would enthusiastically recount your experiences of the day. there was something in the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, that made her heart skip a beat. at first, she didn't recognize the emotions that were building within her, but the second she tried to deny being in love with you, she realized she was.

meeting you, loving you, finally making you hers—made annabeth have a whole different perspective on love.

she always asks for your opinions first. all the time. she asks for your thoughts on her latest architectural design, questions your perspective on her favorite book. because she values YOU. your input matteres to her more than anyone else's because she knows that you understood her in a way that no one else could. (also i feel like annabeth lowkey mansplains sometimes so she's trying to make up for it lmaoo.)

if your hair is long enough to tie back, she'll match your ponytail to hers. <33 but if not, she'll run her fingers through your hair instead, twirling the edges around her finger absentmindedly. annabeth doesn't like accessories in her own hair, but she loves seeing them in yours !!

she's VERY careful when tidying up your hair. like, if you ask her to brush your hair for you, it'll take her a while because she's so particular about it. she just wants the best for you!! <3

annabeth is the best with cats idc. (doesn't she have two in ttc?) she'll kneel down to pet it, making that "pspspsps" sound to get its attention LMAOO. she'll literally scoop it up in her arms and cradle it like a baby.

if you're allergic to cats or simply don't like them, she'll keep a distance and pretend to share your dislike, meanwhile, she'll already have come up with a cute name for the cat in her head, probably something similar to your own. <33

annabeth isn't really big on pda, but she makes up for it with other acts of love !! she has a variety of love languages, each more prominent than the next, but her go-to move is holding hands. she'll gently pull you along on your museum date, explaining the origins and details of each monument with a proud smile !!

you and annabeth gossip about books. not people. and yes, i am telling the truth, she told me herself. (lie) she'll even read to you while you lay your head on her lap JUST so that you two can talk about it later.

but when it comes to architectural books, sometimes annabeth forgets that not everyone is as passionate about architecture as she is LMAOO. she'd be like, "can you believe that John Poulson bribed people for his work? i would never stoop to that level," and you'd just be sitting there with a polite smile on your face even though you have no idea wtf she's talking about. but she does it because she trusts you, not because she wants to confuse you LMAOO.

annabeth is never easily vocal when it comes to her emotions. while she can be sharp-tongued when expressing her opinions, when it comes to her feelings, most of the time she struggles to find the right words. sometimes, she's not even sure how to articulate what she's experiencing. the sudden rush of emotions she's feeling now, with you, can be overwhelming, to say the least. her love for you is intense, but annabeth wonders if it's enough to fully convey how much she loves you. if she loved you any less, maybe it would be easier for her to express herself. but the truth is, she loves you so much that it leaves her at a loss for words. a daughter of athena. at a loss for words.

leo valdez

this boy practically has permanent heart eyes for you — it's insane.

i think we all know this, but leo's definitely not one to hide his admiration for you. he's basically in a constant state of awe whenever you're around. he thinks you're the absolute prettiest person on earth, and he's LOUD about it. like, before you started dating he definitely looked up one of those cringe pick up line lists at least once in hopes of impressing you. (they didn't work.)

howeverrr, leo's affection for you runs deeper than just your physical appearance. you're not just eye candy to him. he values your inner qualities just as much as your outer ones, and he's always reminding you about it !!

mentioned this in pt 1, but this boy is an incredible cook and EVERYONE knows it. because of that, he's super perceptive when it comes to your food preferences, knowing exactly what dishes you love and those that you don't care for. he'll transfer food from his plate to yours because he wants you to enjoy your meal, and he'll and also happily devour any food that you dislike, while simultaneously insulting your taste LMAOO.

like one time you went to the bathroom, came back, and saw that the amount of your favorite food on your plate just doubled. 💀💀

leo loovvees taking photos of you. (let's pretend demigods are allowed to use phones) like, he'll snap away until his phone's storage is filled to the absolute BRIM. if you ask him to delete any unflattering ones, he'll do so but while fervently defending his collection, insisting that he takes so many pictures of you not because he's searching for the perfect shot, but because you look breathtaking from every angle. :((

in addition to his digital collection, leo also has a cherished polaroid board covered in various pictures, but the majority of them feature you. <33

leo spends a lot of time tinkering in his workshop, so if he has any scrap metal laying around (which he often does) he'll stay up late into the night creating something special just for you !!

leo looovveess kissing your cheek with a pronounced "mmMWAH!" sound. onces he's done, he'll turn his head slightly and look at you expectantly, indicating that he wants you to do the same to him. <33

he was probably the first one to say "i love you." in the relationship. he might've said it rather quickly because he was always sure about his feelings towards you even before your relationship had officially started, but he never pressured you to reciprocate. he was willing to wait for you to come to your own conclusion.

but until then, leo never stopped expressing his love for you. every morning and every night, he would whisper a giddy "i love you, mi amor" before rushing off to wherever he needed to be.

once you do finally say the words back to him though, he's grinning like an idiot for an entire two weeks. he'd often repeat his feelings for you, almost annoyingly, just to hear you say those four words he cherished the most back, 'i love you too.'

(also, this image is so leo. yes it's a green flag to me, and no i will not further elaborate.)

piper mclean

piper has a habit of linking arms with you !! like, wherever you go, the two of you are literally inseparable. she also sees it as a way to declare your relationship, because she's proud to be with you and has nothing to hide! <33 she's also a hand swinger fr.

she lets you cut her hair !!! mostly because she secretly loves the sensation of your hands on her face and your fingers weaving through her choppy locks, but also because she trusts your judgement! piper isn't afraid of alternating her appearance, but she especially want to look good for you.

speaking of alternating appearances, you two match outfits. all the time. is it sickenly cheesy? yes. do either of you particularly care? no. even when you aren't wearing matching outfits, you both have a collection of homemade matching jewelry, so both of you are always carrying a piece of each other, even if it's just a simple bracelet. <33

NICKNAMES IN FRENCH >>>> OMGG. her most used include "mon amour" meaning "my love", "mon ange" [my angel] and "ma chérie." [my dear/darling] and yes she is very much aware of the effect she has on you. <33 speaking of, she 100% helps you ace all your french exams. such a good gf.

she tells you all about her family history. piper loves how your eyes light up with genuine curiosity. with you, she feels more appreciated. :(( she'll you all about the culture, customs, and even a few traditional songs.

piper knows she has a good singing voice, but she still feels self-conscious whenever she showcases them in front of others. but when it comes to you? she'll sing all you want, since she feels a huge sense of comfort whenever you're around. whether it's through cuddles or other means, it's in your arms that she feels the most at peace, and it's also where she feels the most comfortable saying, "i love you." !!!

she teaches you how to use a dagger lmaoo. she'll carefully guide you, tell you how good you're doing (sometimes), and even sneak in a few kisses if she's feeling extra affectionate that day!!

piper hates being labeled as a typical daughter of aphrodite. she constantly feels the need to prove that she doesn't fall into the stereotype that comes with being a child of the goddess of love. but ever since you came into her life, ever since she started loving you, you taught her that she doesn't have to be ashamed just because her half-siblings fall into certain expectations. you've shown her that she should be able to be her own person without the restraints of being a daughter of aphrodite. and she might not always express it, but she's entirely grateful for that. for you. after all, we're all just fools in love, and you're the soul who showed her what love should truly be like.

jason grace

ugh, the chivalry radiating off this man is crazyy.

whenever you talk to jason, he always has a way of letting you know that he's listening to your every word. even if he's occupied with something else, he'll make a point to let you know that he is paying attention to you. he'll immediately direct his gaze towards you, and abandon whatever task he was previously engaged in, leaning in closer to you the longer you speak.

even if you try to cut your story short or apologize for repeating yourself, jason will NEVER rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. instead, he'll hold you close with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, encouraging you to keep talking and sharing your thoughts. because jason doesn't mind hearing the same stories over and over again, as long as they're coming from you. <33

and even though he's always paying full attention whenever you speak, his gaze always seems to settle on your lips. and when you smile or laugh, he's completely mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off of you !! like you can LITERALLY see his eyes widen and his lips part, as if he can't believe how beautiful you are, because he can't get enough of you.

jason is the epitome of a gentleman FR!! 🗣️🗣️ he never fails to open doors for you, give you his jacket when you're cold, and even offer his hand as you make your way down the last few steps of the stairs. but that's only the surface level, we haven't even gotten to the real deal yet okayyy??

if you so much as utter a complaint about your feet aching or your shoes being too uncomfortable, he's already kneeling down, his broad back facing you with his hands gesturing for you to climb on for a piggy-back ride. he'll be running around camp like a lunatic, carrying you on his back or in his arms, but he doesn't care because he always puts your comfort and safety first !!

and if you happen to be walking through a cramped space with him in front of you, he effortlessly lifts you up by your arms so you can pass through without any trouble! what's even more impressive is jason's lightning-fast reflexes, especially when it comes to protecting you. if something is about to fall on you, he's always there to catch it before it can even graze you. and if you happen to trip, he swiftly catches you in his arms without making a fuss !!

his protective nature extends to the battlefield as well. even though he knows you're more than capable of defending yourself, he fights alongside you, ready to shield you from ANY harm.

whenever you hug jason, you always get lifted off the ground a few inches. like he almost doesn't realize he's doing it as he hoists you up off the ground with EASE. while you're just dangling from his arms LMAOO.

jason never fails to express his love for you verbally every day, but he also has a way of communicating it without speaking a word. he'll naturally reaches for your hand under the table, stealing quick kisses on your shoulder when no one is watching. even the way he touches you lingers, like he doesn't want to let go. and when you catch him gazing at you, and the transition of his grin to a subtle smirk AURGHJ!!

even before you started dating, jason fell for you and is honestly still falling, wanting you more and more with each passing day. all your flaws, mistakes, and imperfections included, he wants you. and only you.

hazel levesque

hazel is the best gf ever!!! she hypes you up every chance she gets. like, she literally never misses an opportunity to boost your confidence. she finds beauty in the most subtle things, like the tiniest ring on your finger, and truly believes that you look absolutely stunning in it, even if it's not her personal taste since she grew up in a different era. but she's so open to exploring new fashion styles and modern ideas for you, and also so that you guys can match. <33

whenever hazel leans in to kiss you, there's a touch of hesitancy in her movements. not because she doesn't want to kiss you !! she just wants to make sure you're comfortable. :(( she's clearly trying to gauge your reaction and make sure that everything is going well.

she worries that maybe she was too rough last time, (SHE WASN'T AT ALL LMAOO) or that she's moving too slowly this time around. you honestly find it cute how she worries about such small things, and in response, you wrap your arms around her and kiss her back, immediately dispersing ALL her concerns. <33

hazel is soo pretty in red lipstick omg. the way she leaves lipstick prints on your cheeks and playfully pecks at the skin on your neck while laughing is so cute!

hazel wants the absolute best for you! but don't underestimate her, this is the same girl who died to stop gaea at 13, okay? she's so brave. she respects all your boundaries and will always prioritize your safety and comfort first!

horseback riding. all the time. hazel is the only valid horsegirl. she'll go on and on about them, from their behavior and habits to their history.. but nothing makes her happier than seeing you genuinely interested in what she has to say!! she feels so special around you. :(( you've spend countless afternoons horseback riding with hazel. it's definitely one of your favorite pastimes now.

hehe i can definitely see you sharing your interests to her, and even introducing her to modern music/bands. it's probably a shock for hazel to switch time periods and witness the evolution of music. like, there are times when modern songs makes her all shy and stuff. but your love for it has definitely been able to sway her perspectives! she probably picks up matching band shirts or records as souvenirs when returning from her quests. <33

hazel loves hugs !! they often begin with excitement, both of you giggling like children. but as time passes, the embrace transforms into a soft and quiet hold. there's always a subtle competition between the two of you to see who will let go first, and hazel always emerges as the winner. <33

if forever does exist, hazel wants it to be you. her heart is overflowing with a million emotions, all of which are directed towards you. through your gentle guidance, she's learned to appreciate the beauty in even the most ordinary moments. the thought of losing you is unbearable. she never wants to let go of you. not now. not ever.

frank zhang

your guys' first date was definitely at an arcade/amusement park! he's hardcore blushing the entire time, while you totally crush him at all the activities. (he let you win) and, to top it off, he made sure to win you some impressive, oversized stuffed animals at the end!!

frank would pay close attention to all the details about you. like he literally knows stuff that you don't even remember telling him. 💀 even if you mention something in passing conversation, he'll make a mental note of it and remember it later on.

protective!frank standing up for others. anyone he cares about, including his friends and you. :(( he's not an angry person, sometimes he's even a little timid, so seeing him all loyal & passionate for those he loves really makes your heart swell up.

frank also leaves you sweet little notes frequently, and goes out of his way to get you lunch or anything else you might need !! sometimes after a long day, he'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder and asking about your day. <33

bear hugs are frank's thing. both literally and figuratively. he's the kinda person who would wrap his arms around you, and if you don't object, he'll keep holding you tightly while taking a few steps to maintain balance. and before you know it, you'll both be tumbling onto the couch or his bed, with his chest breaking your fall. but instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable, both of you start laughing, with frank hugging your waist even tighter in affection. <33

frank is really protective but in a subtle, non-verbal way. like, he has a habit of wordlessly moving you to the safer side of the sidewalk. and, even if it is not yet dark outside, frank will insist on walking you home, making sure that you arrive safely. he doesn't want to be overbearing, but he's also just genuinely concerned about your safety. :((

frank isn't really a pda guy, but he absolutely adores hand holding! it's a subtle way of indicating that he's yours and you're his. also, there's just something comforting about the feeling of your palm against his, and he finds himself tracing the curvatures of your hand as like it's a map he's trying to memorize. it's a small gesture, but it means the world to him !!

frank does almost every subtle manner. oh, you need a hair tie? he's pulling off one of yours from his wrist. having trouble carrying groceries? he's already there. it's like he has a 6th sense for when you're even slightly uncomfortable.

you're frank's safe place. he can literally feel his worries and fears melt away as you hold each other. you're all he ever wanted love to be, and he knows that as long as he lives, he'll love you.

[httpvomitello]

Cold Heart *⁠.⁠✧ (part 3)

cregan stark x targ!reader

WARNING: angst, not a happy ending (?)

(part 2) (part 4)

The wind howled through the godswood, carrying with it a biting chill. You stood beneath the heart tree, gazing at the frozen horizon, your mind made up. Winterfell was no longer your home; it never truly had been.

That night, while the castle slept, you moved through its halls like a shadow, gathering only what was necessary. A cloak, thick and lined with fur, a satchel of provisions, and the courage to leave behind everything you had tried to build.

Your dragon, Vaerax, waited in the clearing beyond the castle walls, its presence hidden by the dense woods. The beast stirred as you approached, its golden eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. You placed a trembling hand on its scales, drawing strength from its warmth.

“Fly,” you whispered in high valyrian, mounting the dragon’s back. “Take me home.”

With a roar that split the night, Vaerax leaped into the sky, its massive wings carrying you away from the North and the life that had suffocated you. Below, Winterfell grew smaller and smaller, until it was nothing more than a shadow swallowed by the darkness.

The journey to Dragonstone was long, but the sight of the familiar blackened shores filled you with relief. The castle loomed ahead, its dark spires a stark contrast to the stormy sea. As you dismounted, you were immediately greeted by the castle’s guards, their surprise evident.

Rhaenyra found you in the great hall, her expression a mixture of shock and concern.

“Daughter,” she said, her voice laced with urgency. “What are you doing here?”

You fell into her arms, tears spilling freely as the weight of everything you had endured finally broke through. “I couldn’t stay,” you whispered. “He doesn’t love me. He never has.”

Rhaenyra led you to her chambers, where you poured out the truth—every painful moment, every rejection, every cold glance and unspoken word. She listened in silence, her hand gripping yours tightly.

When you finished, she rose, her face like a storm. “He dares to treat my daughter this way?”

“Mother, please,” you pleaded. “It won’t change anything.”

But Rhaenyra’s mind was made up. She summoned her maester that very night, dictating letters that would soon find their way to Winterfell.

Cregan received the first letter two weeks after your departure. The raven arrived during supper, its presence interrupting the subdued meal. He recognized the seal immediately and opened it with a growing sense of dread.

Lord Stark,

You swore before the gods and men to honor and cherish my daughter, and yet you have done nothing but bring her pain. She gave you her heart, and you cast it aside as if it were nothing. I trusted you to protect her, not break her spirit. You have failed her, and you have failed me.

If you have any shred of honor left, you will explain yourself. Until then, do not think for a moment that this matter is resolved.

Rhaenyra Targaryen’s words were sharp as dragonfire, and they struck Cregan like a blow. He reread the letter several times, each line weighing heavier on his mind.

Winterfell felt emptier without you. At first, Cregan told himself that your departure was for the best. You would be happier on Dragonstone, surrounded by your family and free from the cold distance that had grown between you.

But as the days turned into weeks, he began to feel the void you had left behind. The nursery you had so carefully prepared now felt hollow, its warmth stolen by your absence. Rickon asked about you constantly, his young mind struggling to understand why you had left.

“Did she not love us anymore?” he asked one evening, his wide eyes filled with confusion.

Cregan’s heart twisted painfully. “She loved us, Rickon. She still does.”

“Then why isn’t she here?”

Cregan had no answer.

The second letter came a month after the first, more biting and unforgiving than the last.

My daughter is not a pawn to be used and discarded, Cregan. She is a Targaryen, and she deserves better than your cold indifference. You owe her an apology, if not your love, for the wounds you have inflicted upon her.

Do not mistake her silence for forgiveness.

Her words haunted him. Each line forced him to confront the truth he had been avoiding—he had driven you away. He had ignored your love, rejected your warmth, and allowed his grief to blind him to the gift you had been.

He found himself standing before the godswood one night, the same place where he had last seen you before you left. The heart tree’s carved face stared down at him, its expression solemn and unyielding.

“Did I fail her?” he murmured, his breath visible in the frigid air.

Cregan began writing a letter of his own, though it took him weeks to find the courage to finish it.

Y/N,

I do not know if these words will ever reach you, but I must say them regardless. I have wronged you, and I see that now. I let my grief and my fear keep me from seeing the woman before me—the woman who gave everything to a man who gave her nothing in return.

I do not ask for forgiveness, for I do not deserve it. I only ask that you know the fault lies with me, not you. I failed you as a husband, as a partner, and as a man.

He hesitated before adding the final line.

I miss you.

The letter was never sent. Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, kept it tucked away, a reminder of the love he had lost and the pain he had caused.

Winterfell grew colder without you, and for the first time, Cregan felt the weight of winter in his very soul.

[atzinwonderland]

req for ateez headcanons where they like a girl but she’s tall and has broad shoulders so basically she’s gotten used to being treated as a guy even though she tries to be very feminine. so basically she thinks he’s trying to prank her bc she doesn’t believe he’s actually attracted to her. thxxx

I've decided to divide it into two parts, so I'll post the maknae line soon as well. I hope you enjoy it!

Ateez when they like a more masculine girl (headcanon) Hyung line

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。

fluff, angst | ateez x fem!reader | tw-body insecurity | maknae line version

Hongjoong

"Wow...", that was all he could think, ever since the moment you entered his studio.

The beautiful flowy dress you were wearing and how it framed your shoulders, your beautiful long hair that you had tucked behind your ears... he loved all of it.

"Are you going to stop staring? I already know I look weird", was your reaction to his hypnotized gaze.

Instead of taking his stare as a compliment, you felt embarrassed. Why did you put on this stupid dress in the first place?

Your whole life, you've struggled to fit in. Mainly with the girls. Your figure always made people see you as one of the guys. At some stage, you stopped trying to fight it and just accepted the situation. That was until you ended up working with Hongjoong.

Before you knew it, you'd already fallen for him. That gave you new found motivation to try and escape the mold in which society had placed you.

Hongjoong had noticed that. He's the kind of person that notices people's effort especially when it comes to expressing oneself freely. For him, there's nothing more attractive than that.

That's why when you slowly started to express yourself more and he was able to finally catch a glimpse of the authentic you, that is when he really fell for you.

Today was the climax of it all. You'd decided to risk it and wear the dress that you'd been hiding in your closet. A dress that you'd dreamed to wear for a long time and finally found the confidence to, after getting inspired by Hongjoong.

That's what led you to be standing in front of him, as he admired you.

... "Did you say weird?", he questioned with a puzzled look on his face.

"Yes, I'll actually just go and take it off", you exclaimed disappointingly, but before you could leave, Hongjoong grabbed a hold of your hand.

"No, you won't. The dress is your style, right?"

"Yeah, it is"

"It's also your favourite colour..."

"Yes, Joong, but—"

"There's no but. You look gorgeous in it and the dress looks like it was made for you", he said with a soft voice, as he stood in front of you, still holding on to your hands.

"Yeah, right. Joong you don't have to lie to me, just because I've become one of your bros"

"Bros? Who said we're bros?! I think you're still not getting my hints"

"What hints are you talking about?"

"Okay, listen, hopefully this time you'll get it. I really like you, and I mean really. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and most importantly, you fight to be yourself every single day. That is the one thing I admire the most about you", he confessed and you still didn't want to believe it, but his words had definitely touched your heart and you were on the verge of tears.

"But how could you possibly like someone that looks like this? I mean, I literally look—"

"Beautiful, that is how you look. Nothing less than that", he got on his tiptoes and closed the distance between the two of you.

After that, you couldn't deny it anymore. You finally allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe... you are beautiful.

"So, what does that mean?"

"Well, only one thing comes to my mind...will you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?", Hongjoong asked with a soft smirk, watching as your eyes sparkled in the dimly lit room.

"Are you kidding me?! Of course! You have no idea how happy I am right now, thank you"

"I'm glad you're happy, pretty. You deserve it", he said, as he gently caressed your cheek.

Seonghwa

You've been invisible your whole life. No friend group, no parties, just kind of there. Every now and then, guys would talk to you, but never like they talked to other girls. To them, you were "one of the guys", mostly because of your build. So it's safe to say, you were never the center of attention.

That's why, it was only right that you started working behind the camera. It kept you in your comfort zone. That is also how, you ended up working as part of Ateez's camera crew.

After working behind the scenes and having the chance to quietly observe each member, one in particular grabbed your attention: Seonghwa. He captured your eye with his kindness and gentle manners towards everyone around him, and that's besides his ethereal beauty of course.

You were glad he hadn't noticed you, otherwise, you would feel embarrassed by the thoughts creeping into your mind at times. Things were better off this way.

Little did you know, for the first time in your life, you weren't left unnoticed.

Seonghwa had been mesmerised by your beauty since day one. He patiently observed you, noticing the way you would always isolate yourself during breaks, how you would have your hood up most of the time even indoors. That said, he also noticed how you would take care of the people around you without saying a word. It was something the two of you quietly shared.

He had no idea how to approach you because you were so distant, but on one cold winter day, he finally saw an opportunity.

The idea was to film a video for Ateez's Youtube channel in the snow, but after leaving your house in a hurry, you forgot to bring a warm jacket.

It wasn't the first time that you'd forgotten your jacket, so you didn't think much of it at first.

After filming outside for a while though, you were starting to feel the consequences. How could you forget your jacket on the day you needed it the most?

Seonghwa had noticed your shivering figure a while ago, it pained him on the inside and not being able to help made it worse.

That's why, the moment that break was announced, he headed straight your way.

Focused on your camera, trying not to think about the fact that your body was freezing, all of a sudden, you felt a wave of warmth cover the top part of your body. When you turned your head in confusion, you found Seonghwa standing beside you, trying his best to carefully drape his jacket over your shoulders.

"Oh, thank you, but I'm okay. It won't fit me anyways...", you said awkwardly, hardly able to breathe, but your reaction didn't make him leave.

"It fits fine, see", he said, as he gently patted your shoulder, showing you that the jacket sits perfectly on you, "Don't worry about it, you'll be needing it more than me anyways"

A slight blush coloured your cheeks at his kind gesture and that made him smile.

Instead of him leaving like you expected, he stayed and leaned closer to the camera that you were working with, curiously analysing it.

"I don't understand, how can such a beautiful and caring person like you stay so well hidden?"

"I think that's how it's meant to be. I've always been invisible", you confessed in a low tone, staring at the ground. Seonghwa turned to look at you, and seeing you in this state really concerned him.

"But you aren't. You aren't invisible and you shouldn't be. I've actually known who you, are ever since the first day we started working together and believe me when I tell you, everyone that I've spoken to knows about you by now"

"Wait you know who I am? And what do you mean others know about me? How?", you asked, shock written all over your face.

"They know because I've been talking about you so much. I really like you and I would love to get to know you, if you give me a chance", he said and it felt like time was on pause.

"I'm not sure if this is some kind of joke, but I don't think I'm someone worth getting to know...", at your words Seonghwa gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, now getting quite close to you.

"You're more than worth it, y/n.", were his last words before he pulled you into a passionate kiss, sealing the connection between the two of you.

"Wait, how do you know my name?"

"I have my ways...", he responded and you giggled, making him the happiest man.

Yunho

Every week, being the person he is, Yunho would visit the dog shelter near his dorm.

He enjoyed spending time there, even though he wasn't allowed to get a dog.

Another reason for his frequent visits, was you. You’d recently started working there and since the first day he saw you, he made it a priority to get to know you.

The two of you became close quite quickly. Soon enough, you started spending more time together and not only at the shelter.

Yunho had it quite clear of how he saw you and he definitely didn’t want to be just your friend.

You on the other hand, had no idea he saw you that way. How could you?

Throughout your life, you were only ever accepted as one of the guys and it has gotten to a point where now, you can’t imagine any guy seeing you as a potential love interest. Even when you’ve tried your best to put makeup on and dress cute, no one had ever shown any interest.

Today, Yunho had invited you to play video games at his dorm as usual and obviously you agreed.

While he set up everything, you decided to go to the kitchen and prepare some snacks, one of them being popcorn.

You opened one of the cabinets to grab a bowl but you realised that, even for you, it was too high to reach. You decided to try anyway, so you stood on your tiptoes and reached for a bowl. Surprisingly, you were able to grab a hold of it, but you hadn’t thought of its weight until it was too late.

Yunho immediately jumped from his seat, at the loud smashing sound that came from the kitchen. Knowing you were there, made his heart jump out of his chest.

“Y/n?! Please, tell me you’re okay”, he said, turning the corner before walking into the kitchen.

“I’m okay, but your bowl broke…”, you said, though it felt like only the first part of your response registered with him.

He walked over and stood in front of you, observing your body thoroughly to make sure you weren’t hurt. He gently held onto your hands and you could clearly see how worried he was.

“Are you sure you didn’t get hurt?”

“I’m fine, I just feel bad because I broke your bowl”

“That’s not important at all. I’m just glad you’re okay. Why didn’t you ask for help, though? You could’ve hurt yourself”

“Well, I’m really tall so I should’ve been able to get it myself. That’s supposed to be the only perk of having a body like mine”, you said and your words really shocked Yunho. He had no idea you saw yourself that way.

“You don’t possibly think that way of your body, do you?”

“Yunho, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that…”, you responded awkwardly while he still stared at you, his face laced with concern and care.

“I can’t force you to tell me anything, but I want you to know that what you said is not true. Your body is amazing, you are amazing…please don’t put yourself down like that”, he reassured.

“Okay, enough joking for today, let’s—”

“No, y/n. I’m being serious…okay, that’s not how I imagined it would go, but I can’t hide it anymore—I like you”, his confession made you freeze.

There was no way he was being serious.

“Huh? Yunho, you’re really confusing me. I already know you like me as a friend”

“As more than a friend. I’ve had a crush on you, ever since I saw you play with the puppies at the shelter. I thought to myself, how can someone look so cute”

“You mean the puppies were cute”, you said, and he giggled.

“No, you’re the one that I was looking at, silly”

At this stage you were fully blushing. Yunho had left you completely speechless.

“Are you okay?”, he asked as he cupped your cheek.

“Yeah, sorry. I just can’t believe it…I’ve liked you ever since that day as well, but I just thought you saw me as a bro”

“As a bro? Are you kidding me? I’ve always felt so attracted to you, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed”

“Well, we’ve pretty much only played video games so…”

“Don’t worry, from now on you’ll never think that ever again…although, can we still go and play?”, Yunho asked with his puppy eyes. His words made you smile and you just couldn’t say no to him.

Sensing what your answer was, he pressed a kiss to your cheek before erupting into the sweetest giggle.

He then gently held onto your hand, as he led you towards his bedroom where you would game together all night.

Yeosang

You and Yeosang had known each other for a long time. The two of you were childhood friends, and somehow, you had kept in touch all these years.

It really surprised you that Yeosang didn’t forget about you after reaching fame, but it also made you happy.

Today he was invited to participate as a model in a magazine photoshoot. Somehow, the photoshoot ended up being for the magazine that you worked for as an assistant.

Neither of you had any idea that you were going to be working together, so when Yeosang entered the photo studio and saw you working on the set of the shoot—he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Yes, you had texted and called often, but you hadn’t seen each other in years.

He used to remember you as this really shy, sweet girl that never really dressed like other girls—but he liked that. You were different, and that intrigued him. That’s when he developed a crush on you, but being shy himself didn’t help his case. He never got the chance to confess to you.

Seeing you now, felt like going back in time. All of his feelings suddenly resurfaced, the only difference was that now he was more confident and couldn’t wait to talk to you.

In his excitement to walk over to you, he missed a step and fell hard on the ground.

The loud thud grabbed your attention, you turned around and couldn’t believe your eyes. How could he be so handsome and your friend?…Wait, what was he doing on the ground?! You finally came back to yourself and realised that he was in pain on the ground.

“Yeosang!” you shouted with concern as you ran up to him.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I think I twisted my ankle”

“Can someone bring ice, please? There is some in the fridge over there”, you explained, as you helped Yeosang get up so he could sit at a chair that you pulled for him.

“Thank you for helping me, y/n”

“Of course, I’m just worried that your ankle might be broken”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be able to talk right now if it was really serious”, he reassured you and it made you feel relieved.

Your concern showed him, that you hadn’t changed one bit. You were still that sweet person that paid more attention to everyone else but themself.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re worried since we can only do the photoshoot today and if it’s not Yeosang we don’t have anyone else to do it”, one of the staff members expressed.

“Well, I actually know a person that can help with that”, Yeosang said proudly.

“Really? That would be amazing! Who is it?”

“Y/n”, he blurted confidently.

“What?! Yeosang, there’s no way I can do this”

“Of course you can”

“We’re not sure if y/n, is the right person for this”

“Why, not? I don’t see any reason she can’t do it”

“Well, her build isn’t exactly—”, the staff member began, but Yeosang wasn’t having it.

“Stop right there, there’s nothing wrong with her “build”. Second of all, she’s more of a model than I am, I mean she literally works here every day and I am just an artist that got invited, so listen to me and let her do it”

Defeated by his defence, the staff member had nothing more to argue about, “Okay then, we’ll get some outfits ready and then we’ll begin”

You couldn’t believe that he had just defended you like that. No one had ever stood up for you before, but it felt good that it came from him since you’ve basically liked him your whole life. You just wished that he saw you as more than a friend.

After the staff left, you and Yeosang decided to catch up for a while.

Not long after, you were asked to try on the outfits to see how they fit.

“Yeosang?”

“Yes”

“Can you stay and help me?”

“Of course I can. Now go and try the outfits,” he ushered you with a proud look on his face.

After trying the first one, you weren’t sure. To you, it just seemed like your body looked awful in these very girly clothes, which you did love—but not on you.

You still decided to get his opinion, so you left the dressing room and walked up to the couch where he was resting.

When he saw you, he was in complete awe. In his eyes, you looked like an angel.

“It looks awful, doesn’t it?” you said as you pulled at the fabric of the dress.

“In my humble opinion, you look like a goddess,” he commented, and without even trying to hide it, he checked you out—head to toe.

“Yeah, right. If anything, I look like a girl that doesn’t know how to dress her body”

“Hey, that’s not true. I’m hurt that you’re not taking my opinion seriously. You know what, come sit here with me for a second”, he suggested and you defeatedly followed his instructions.

“I want you to trust me when I say this—you literally look like an angel. Your beautiful shoulders and the way this dress hugs them, the way it also wraps around your waist—it’s just perfect, you’re perfect. I mean, uhm…”, Yeosang unexpectedly confessed and seeing how nervous he became, really surprised you. Did he just confess that he likes you?

“Wow, thank you, Yeosang. Coming from such an amazing person like you, it really means a lot. I might embarrass myself by asking this, but is it possible that you kind of confessed to me?”, your straight forward question caught him by surprise. Now the two of you were blushing and avoiding eye contact.

“I can’t hide it any longer, can I?”, he asked, and you giggled, “Yes, I kind of did. I had a more spectacular plan in mind—but I guess that’ll work as well. I’m so happy that I finally have the chance to tell you how much I like you. Not only are you gorgeous, but also smart and really sweet”

“Aww, that is so sweet. I would’ve never thought that a person like you could like a person like me—but I feel the same way and I’ve felt that way for a long time”, you confessed, and that brought a smile to his face.

“In that case, let me show you how much I like you. Can I take you out on a date?”, Yeosang asked nervously.

“I would love that, Yeo”, you responded with the biggest smile on your face, which made him feel relieved.

The staff called you over, but before you could stand up, Yeosang pulled you into a warm hug.

“You can do it, I believe in you”, he said softly before you were forced to go and do the photoshoot.