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fear-less · 6 months ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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morganblues · 3 days ago

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𝓘T'S ALWAYS SUNNY IN METROPOLIS.

LIFE AND THE EDITORS OF THE DAILY PLANET PRESENT. . .

01. ‘ TEMPTATION SENSATION. ’ ★★★

series masterlist ! next chapter !

chapter summary⠀★⠀It was monday morning and your whole routine at the Daily Planet as a reporter got wrapped up by a chatty red squirrel, a chihuahua, and thousands of cameras everywhere. Could Clark Kent just shut up for a second?. warnings⠀★⠀for the moment, nothing, Jimmy Olsen comic accurate, Lois and Cat being the ultimate friends, slight mention of Clex lol, Clark Kent being Clark Kent as always, Lex Luthor slander? As it should be, english isn't my first language!!! when you see these symbols [ ] appearing and disappearing, it means they start talking to the camera. word count⠀★⠀6K notes⠀★⠀ I'M SORRY I'M LATE SO MUCH IK but honestly I'm a slow writer and it's hard for me to write quickly :( Anyway, did you see Superman? I can only think about that movie istg I'm also super excited about my first series here and I really hope everyone likes it.

𝓜ETROPOLIS — 9:15 AM.

You were running late.

You barely had time to close your doors before you started running down the street trying to catch the subway and not miss it for the fifth time this month. You’re not thinking about the bitter coffee you'll have when you get there, and you don’t care about what's going on in the world today because you honestly couldn't care less.

When you got Cat's message just before getting on the subway, you read it a couple of times without understanding why her unusual drama was happening. Come on, it was Monday morning, the weather was a bit chillier than usual, your cat Arthur had been crying on your shoulders all night because he hated the new medieval castle-shaped bed you had bought with all your effort as a cat mom, and for nothing because he detested it from the moment he saw it, and honestly, Mondays were your least favorite day of the week, followed by Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday.

[Cat]: GOOD MORNINGGGGGGG come to the office NOW!!!! idgaf if you take the subway, come hereeeee you'll get here faster by bike, buy a helicopter, run, or disappear and reappear in the elevator. Just get here NOW.

You held your breath for a second.

"Am I about to be fired?" You wondered to yourself, or at least you thought you did, because just then several people in the train car turned to look at you. You tried not to pay them any attention, just staring at your phone as if you hadn’t said anything at all. And suddenly you felt like you were overreacting; sure, you weren’t the one covering the best section in the entire paper, but you knew your boss appreciated you — or at least that’s what you wanted to think. Besides, everyone was nice to you, and you always pitched in when it came to celebrating holidays, not to mention hanging out with Lois and Cat almost every weekend. You tried calling her but then she just sent a message saying she couldn't answer, and that didn't help at all.

You were a good coworker, or at least that's what I wanted to keep believing.

It doesn't take long when you push the door open hard that leads to all the workstations, and the first thing you see is chaos. Literally chaos. People you didn't know were crossing the aisles carrying cameras, lights, and their dignity dragging behind them.

Lana was talking to someone from the sound team in what could only be described as heartbreaking for both of them. Lois was pacing back and forth talking to the boss, Jimmy was just chasing after the big camera as it moved from one coworker to another, and in the background, Steve was just furiously typing on his phone, probably planning out all the angles he’ll cover about tomorrow’s basketball game.

And there she was, Cat leaning against your totally messy desk with pictures of your cat, one from your last birthday at the most boring bar in Metropolis, and the last one with your mom and sister on a trip to Central City.

"You're late."

"Who died?" you ask in light of the morning disaster before your eyes. Perry switched desks, and now you see him coming in and out of his bathroom, "What does this mean?"

Cat clicks her tongue like she’s waiting for your answer. And honestly, you can’t blame her, she knows you like the back of her hand. "Perry called us in for a last-minute meeting to fill us in on this whole disaster."

"And it's all about...?"

She looks at you again as if you've grown another head or are dumber than usual. "The big documentary they told us about a while back during the talk, remember? I've been talking about this for months."

If you're honest with yourself, you don't remember anything, but you're more forgetful than you'd like to be, and just when Lois gets close to you, she hears what you're saying and you know she has all the answers. "Honestly, I wish I could forget this too. Jimmy is the only one who's excited."

"But it's in the contract! It's always been known."

You mutter under your breath about the obvious. Of course, it was all in that stupid contract that you didn't even care about beyond the paycheck. "I never read that damn contract! Fuck, I needed the money and they needed a reporter, that was it."

"Perry just said we should act like none of this is happening, so just act normal."

"Like I always do?" A doubtful question, even though you already know the answer and it’s most likely they’re right.

The cat puts on its bright smile that you know is fake, and you know it because you feel like they've been friends since birth. "You can create a new persona... Just like Clark, check him out." You all turn to him, "He's acting like he's some cool guy instead of a nerd from Kansas."

"That's so true," Lois states and takes a sip of a bitter coffee, and you know she hates it, everyone hates Daily Planet coffee. You were going to rant until a bald man, even though he doesn't look more than 30, yells at you from the lunch room.

"YOU!"

"Me?" The black girl asks, pointing to herself.

"No, her!"

"Me, me?" you asked, incredulous, pointing at yourself.

"Yeah, you, you! White wants you to be in the main interview group! She said you're charismatic and 'tragically functional on camera.'"

That's such a lie.

No way, not today. You know you’re not ready for what that circus act could turn into, and even though your friends aren’t ready either, their confidence is a step ahead of you. Like Lois, who stays a bit neutral about the situation while still being annoyed, or like Jimmy, who follows everyone around and wishes he could split into pieces to be in multiple places at once.

"It's in the contract!" Perry shouts at you from a few meters away, with his tobacco between his lips like it's his religion. It probably is.

You want to raise your hands in a sign of peace, but your mind knows that all the thoughts against the situation have you on the edge of "Damn contract".

You gave up. A few minutes later, you had someone putting a microphone on the fabric of your suit, Jimmy telling you "Try not to sweat, your shirt is a bit see-through" — and you really tried not to take it too seriously — and Cat shouting from her office, saying you look better than usual and to be ready for any camera that's close to you.

You should just act natural. You remember it and repeat it in your mind until you decide to dodge the call you got and go straight to sit in front of your work area.

Your boss decides to speak for everyone: "'QUESTIONS IN 10 MINUTES! AND NO ONE SAY 'THIS IS NOT MY JOB' Because unfortunately for everyone, it is... And they don’t pay me enough to handle your complaints, so... Let’s get to work!"

Once again, the hallway turns into a parade of chaos disguised as professionalism, and you're just trying to remember if you put on deodorant this morning and if anyone, hopefully Clark, brought donuts.

In the end, you find out that almost all of them were eaten by Lana, and Steve ate the last chocolate glazed one.

Now you wish you hadn't gotten up from the discomfort of having Arthur as your pillow, and you know it would have been better if you had called in sick for all the trouble that being a journalist at the Daily Planet brings you.

It's your fault, you know it. You should have never gone into journalism, you should have never picked up a typewriter as a kid and imagined made-up stories and commented on all the silly news in your school.

It's your fault for hating it, well not entirely, but that annoying chatter coming from the stupid red-haired squirrel a few feet away is a pain you can feel in your right ear that not even an alien invasion could take away. You know he's doing his job and now you realized that the contract said that at any moment, due to the high demand for news every day, your boss was going to find a way to pile even more work on you, and today was that day.

That damn documentary was eating away at you, and it was the first time ever that you found it impossible to solve a fact of that magnitude. You were tied up from all sides, and Perry White was laughing from his desk like some evil wizard looking for more exploitation. You were about to quit when Lois reminded you what your contract included, and no lawyer was going to get involved in nonsense just because you didn’t read the contract—or genuinely didn't care, but that was the fate you were stuck with. Now hundreds of cameras are roaming around the Daily Planet while your other colleagues are trying to act as natural as possible whenever any cold light shines in their eyes.

You see Clark sitting there talking to Lois about who knows what, but they've both been complaining about all the stupid stuff that comes with making a documentary, and you know, nobody cares about what a group of writers with no social life beyond a pet do from Monday to Friday as they just focus on what's happening in the city and the world day after day.

It was exhausting just to listen to it.

If you thought about it, it made some sense, but come on, no one at work should know that sometimes you don’t totally dislike your job.

But according to the one and only Perry White, this was the big future that the city was tied to, and it would make more future generations interested in the harsh truth of a story, in what it can generate, and thus learn that a good reporter doesn’t just get great stories. A good reporter makes them great.

And even if you don't know every stiff soul of your coworkers completely, you know you're not the only miserable one there. You see your gossip buddy Cat, who is the voice in your head telling you that even though she’s not excited, it’s the best for the paper, and you try not to let Olsen's whistling, calling you to look at the camera and act like a decent person, bother you.

"Day 01 of the documentary 'Metropolis: Veritas et Justitia'. Goal: to capture the essence of modern journalism. Today, we're here with another one of our reporters..."

"Could you do me the favor of removing that damn camera from my face?" you turn to the redhead who has not only taken it upon himself to harass all your colleagues but also to ask every stupid thing he could think of before he was called to take pictures of any early news.

You can feel how the camera zooms out from you to the point where you can see Jimmy's teasing smile behind the device, until he turns off the camera for a few seconds.

"This is just our first day shooting! Can't you make at least a little effort? You know... everyone else has wanted to chip in."

"I honestly don't understand all this preparation," you growl at the amount of lights surrounding Lana, as you watch her speak enthusiastically in front of a camera, "plus I remind you that you work for the newspaper, not whatever this is.

"Yeah..." Jimmy's smile shows up as he sits at the table behind him, adjusting his shirt between his khaki pants. "Perry said I could volunteer with one of the cameras to save some costs."

[ ]

"And did you volunteer on your own?" the cameraman asks alongside his crew, the question makes him feel smothered for a second, and it feels like the warehouse is smaller than it really is. He knew he was an idiot for agreeing, but that’s how things were. He couldn't back out now that he was so deep into the role.

Jimmy pressed his lips together in front of the camera that was filming him while he tried to come up with the most coherent thing he could say without looking like an idiot in front of everyone who would watch the documentary. "Honestly, Perry forced me and offered me a check for 8% to keep it a secret, but I can't tell her that; she'd tell everyone, and I can't face another embarrassment."

The camera guy behind him shakes his head in annoyance, and Olsen feels the room getting a little smaller. "There's nothing worse than lying as a journalist."

Jimmy apologizes before getting up with embarrassment, and leaves the mic dropped on the floor.

[ ]

"And you were the one who offered?" You smile ironically, "Woah Jimmy, you're quite the gentleman."

"Of course! Who else would do it?"

"Uh, I don’t know…" you deny in false understanding and lean in to pat him on the right shoulder twice, as if you’re feeling sorry for him. "Probably someone who likes getting paid poorly."

His huff is interrupted by Perry’s long walk towards you holding a poster with the day’s latest news. You lower your face toward your computer, and just when you want to pretend you’re typing, the sound of several pages falling onto your keyboard breaks the silence. You’re not scared because that’s how most days went, but today felt exceptionally heavy, and you wondered if you were finally going to cover something that actually interested you.

A yellow sticky note firmly covers Arthur's face, and you grin showing your teeth with a force that makes your jaw hurt. How dare he!?

12:00 PM — INTERVIEW WITH HELEN BRYCE: 'DOES HER CHIHUAHUA DOG SEE A PSYCHOLOGIST?'

"What is this?" You play dumb and point to the piece of paper placed on the amazing photo of your son. Perry squints, knowing what you're doing, and takes the tobacco out of his mouth.

"You need to go to her mansion in New Troy before that time, keep it professional like always, and please just ask her the important stuff. No talk about Belle Reve or her psycho boyfriend because I guarantee she'll start crying in an instant."

You get up from your seat, challenging him as the terrible smell of tobacco pierces through you. You hate it, and at this very moment, you hate your boss a little bit more. "Come on, Perry, I studied investigative journalism for stories like this," you point to the TV showing Flash saving thousands of civilians in Central City. "Not to ask some ex-socialite if her dog has daddy issues because of Lex Luthor’s abandonment."

"These are the news that people want to read."

"Yeah, but those aren't the ones I want to share."

"We've already talked about this," he resigns himself to your attitude while you're trying to stay calm. Obviously, you weren't going to blow up right then and there, especially with cameras around. Your mom still watches cable TV after all. You need to keep a more than presentable attitude, or at least that’s what you were going to try.

Jimmy comes closer again and focuses on your face. "Here’s one of our gossip journalists reporting a new case about one of the most famous dogs in the city. What will it bring us this time? Is it trendy now to take dogs to psychologists? We’ll find out..."

[ ]

"Rule #01 of Post-Modern Journalism: If you cover gossip about famous pets more than twice... Your dignity applies to euthanasia because they don't care about their pets, they care about them entering their branded bag" You stare at the camera with a certain attitude "Besides, if I'm completely honest, cats are even better and no one can prove to me otherwise"

[ ]

Clark walks up to them from a distance with the biggest grin you've ever seen, and Jimmy manages to make fun of him from afar while recording it, and you wonder if that'll ever air. You hope not. "He's all silly because we got our first front page together."

"Our?"

"I took the photos" Olsen smiles as if he just spotted a glazed donut that you miss, and for a moment you think about forgiving him for all the time he’s tried to film you.

You arrive and bump your fist against his shoulder, knowing he hates it, that's why you do it. "Congrats, Kent, which premise did you cover?"

The imprisonment of Luthor, if it's even possible, makes his smile even bigger, and Olsen gives him little jabs in the ribs. "Look," he hands over his newspaper, and you check today's date, along with the big headline in headlines and his name as the author in small print, with Jimmy credited as the photographer.

"Is it good?" he asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Uhhhhh I don’t know... Do you think it’s good?" You cross your arms, challenging him to reveal the truth.

He ignores your question and laughs, "I guess Perry wants all those words from the cutest puppy in town. YESTERDAY, and I think" he turns to Jimmy as if he’s about to make a joke, "that I already delivered mine."

[ ]

"Of course I read Clark's article long before he got around to showing it to me. Is it good? Yeah. Will I admit it? Never, my ego the size of Gotham City wouldn't survive if it found out."

[ ]

You frown and want to tell him that his article needs some tweaks, but he doesn't even give you time to share your thoughts before, out of nerves, he snatches it from your hand because his red-haired buddy just started filming it so he can share his experience. You laugh when he gives a shout-out to his parents right off the bat.

You take your coat in one arm and your dignity in the other, you remove the yellow sticky note covering your son and head towards the worst part of the city. You hear as breaking news that Steve never ate the last chocolate donut. Clark approaches you with that beautiful pink box shimmering with silver glitter, and without saying anything, he opens the cardboard box in front of you. In your mind, you want to make it more dramatic than it already is, and you thank any goddess that might be listening for this blessing that you have yet to name. You open it and there it is, the famous last glazed donut, yes, that one — the one you had cursed for not reaching.

You don't want me to know how much you want to hug him, so acting naive is your only weapon for now. "Is this your way of saying sorry for existing?"

He doesn't even bother to make another comment that takes up more of your time. "This is the last one, I thought you liked it more than Steve or Lana, or the city in general."

"And you don't?"

He shrugs as if he doesn't care, "I already had my moment of glory today, remember? Front page. I don't need a donut to feel validated."

You let out a big huff that you don't even care if any camera is recording or not. Their laughter warns you that their joke is nothing more than that, and there's no one but you who knows it, but honestly, today is just not your day and your brain doesn’t care to come up with another ironic joke to hurt Clark's feelings even though you desperately want to.

You decide to ignore them as you grab the only thing that can fill you with happiness right now: "I hate you."

They open their eyes as if what you just said is true, and at this moment, you don't care. They get closer to say goodbye to you, but you’re faster. You grab your coat, take off the yellow tag covering your kid, and head towards the worst part of the city.

[ ]

You look at the camera intently.

"Clearly, I don't hate him and he doesn't hate me. And yes, I ate the donut. What did they want me to do, leave it there? Share it? This is the Daily Planet, not a hippie commune, and if I die in that mansion, let it be clear that Clark Kent was... somewhat decent today. Not a hero, but almost."

[ ]

After taking a cab with the money Perry gave you, you arrived in torture territory, or as you like to call it 'the mansion of the recently dumped Helen Bryce and Lex Luthor.'

It's huge, Perry told you that Luthorcorp bought up big plots of land to build homes for all their corporate buddies, but since his imprisonment, they only finished one house, and that was his. Now it's been lived in by the woman he was supposed to marry, but the pictures of Lex as a cheater have multiplied ever since rumors came out about him dating Eve Teschmacher.

Her assistant evaluates you for a moment, and you observe yourself. You're wearing your coat now, and your sunglasses had hidden themselves deep in your purse, probably assessing whether you’re the real reporter or not, but she’s judging you more than you’d like. You're about to ask her why she’s staring so much until Helen Bryce’s brown hair along with her unmistakable Chihuahua appear in front of you, holding a smile that looks more creepy than friendly. Even though you know she’s just upset, or at least that’s what you want to think.

She seats you in one of those beach chairs that overlooks the pool and the tennis court, and hands you chamomile tea that one of her other assistants brought. You lean closer to Helen and start pulling out your recorder because you don’t feel like writing about any nonsense you plan to cover.

You think about formalizing your role as the established reporter you are and introduce yourself as you always do by saying your name, your position at the daily, and the reason for your visit, but Helen interrupts any thoughts you have before you can even remember them the moment you hear her speak.

"My baby Peanut" takes a little paw from the chihuahua and pets it. "She has nightmares about him, you know? Luthor would always threaten her if she broke stuff around the house."

You nod like it's tea time with a celebrity, and try not to smile for a second because it's almost the same as saying, "I get it, dog feelings are... pretty complex, right?"

"You have no idea!"

"Of course, and how has it been since the departure of...? Well, you know who I'm talking about." You're afraid that the awkward laugh you let out will be noticed, and you'll find yourself wrapped up in a pointless problem before 2:00 PM.

"Well, I'm fine, but my baby? My baby feels everything. Do you see how she's shaking?" She points again, trying to prove her point, and the worst part is she's right; you see the Chihuahua frowning just at the mention of the name Lex. "It's the real post-Luthor trauma! Ever since that... thing tried to turn her little doghouse into an anti-Superman bunker!

"You pause for a second. "A what, you say?"

Helen's face turns cold, and her features that were once tinged with sadness are now firm, realizing she said something she shouldn't have. She bites her lips and lets her pet run off to anywhere in the house.

"I’d prefer if you forget what I said..."

You shake your head, "Sorry, I can't. My values as a reporter won’t let me," you adjust in your chair as if that gives you more validation, "And you should also know, it's illegal."

[ ]

The cameraman looks at you with a face you translate as unfriendly, but you ignore it. "It’s not illegal, but she probably doesn’t know that."

"Is everyone in this Daily a liar? Real journalism doesn’t exist anymore," you try to keep a calm face when you see him shaking his head as if he’s disappointed, and you wonder who the other person who lied could be.

[ ]

"Lex did a lot of illegal things, it doesn't make sense to add another thing to the list."

"And where does that leave him?" You watch her, waiting for a huff or for her to kick you out for making her question things, but she says nothing, stiff like she doesn't know what to do.

Perry was crazy if he thought you were just going to stick with the interview about why a dog was sad. Now, if you could have some real news, one that was worth every word and every paragraph, but also one that could beat Clark's big scoop, and all coming from the same person.

Now you're holding your recorder like a weapon and definitely jotting down what you consider the most important: "All of our team at the Daily Planet needs you to not only show loyalty to your role as a person but also to yourself," you say, placing the big notebook resting on your knees. "Don’t do it just to look good in front of the world, do it for her," you point to the Chihuahua that’s biting a ball from a distance. "You know she would vote for you to do the right thing."

"No," she says firmly.

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please?" you ask, leaving your recorder on the chair and moving closer. "I'll make Lex Luthor the biggest idiot of an ex in the whole city if that's really what you want..."

Helen manages to smile and, overwhelmed with emotion, squeezes her puppy in her arms, sure that she will now need psychological help. "Really? Would you do that for me?"

You nod, getting excited about any juicy news she might tell you. Yeah, take that, White. You feel that victory on your lips, savoring it along with a trip to the Bahamas with Arthur having an assistant, and Clark fuming over your victory known throughout the Daily.

"You have to promise me you won't say my name in this," she gets closer to you, surprising you by grabbing your shoulders and looking you straight in the face. Her breath hits you, and for a second, you think about dropping everything and doing that damn report on the dog with daddy issues.

"I promise."

"No, I need you to swear it," she grips you tighter and shakes you. Your recorder lying on the ground shines brighter than ever, and you realize you're committed now. You can't back out.

"I swear!"

"Swear it on what you love most in life!"

"I swear on my cat!"

Her smile grows as she hears you. "You know, today I’m really feeling a deep kindness in my heart and I..." she starts, talking about the beginnings of their relationship and you know this will take more time than you feared. Her eyes cloud over and she lowers her voice, checking to see if her assistants are nearby. "He used to talk in his sleep about some projects. He said things like... Building global watchtowers, and he always talked about Superman, to be honest! I was so fed up with it! I think he's just in love.

"I think the right word would be obsessed," you assert, jotting down what she says.

"For me, he was in love but like I said, that’s just my opinion."

"Go ahead" you stop her before she starts rambling about things that don’t concern you and add nothing to your new story, she looks at you for a few seconds with a frown, as if she doesn’t understand you. "The bunker"

"Bunker?... Oh right! Peanut was sleeping in her cozy little heated house and was happily living her life, until he showed up with his blueprints," your surprised eyes watch her seriously. "He wanted to install a so-called urban camouflage that emitted rays which could weaken Superman."

You tried not to look surprised, but you were, and you were scared if Helen was just as crazy as her ex. Even though you had never seen Superman being anything but powerful, you had no doubts that if someone found his weakness, it was Lex Luthor. "I get it... And how did you react to that makeover?"

"Well, I couldn't say anything, after all it's her house, but Peanut didn't like it at all," she smiles proudly, "She pee on Lex's Italian shoe. And then with her help I stole something from him to follow through with his plans that genuinely make 0 sense to me."

"What was so important that you had to steal from her?" Your eyebrow raises, expecting something more interesting than just a simple innocent theft.

Helen pulls a flash drive from her left pocket. "This! We snatched it without him noticing when the Belle Reve officials came to get him." You take it in your hands and are surprised by its shape; its USB port is almost invisible on the base, and you notice it's not compatible with just any computer. "Lex called it his bone backup; he hid it in Peanut's little house because he thought no one would check there. Isn't that silly?" The Chihuahua reappears from behind some branches, barking non-stop at a butterfly, then comes over to you a few seconds later, panting like it just ran a marathon of about 10 kilometers.

"I didn't have much time to check it out, but there are all kinds of things related not just to Superman, and he always mentioned the construction of those power towers not just in the city, but all over the country."

You don’t know what to tell her. You definitely didn't have much info about Superman besides knowing him as the hero of the city everyone loves, but you have no clue where Luthor’s intense obsession with him comes from, and even less about how he plans to destroy him — if he even can.

"And what do you think Lex was planning to do with all this information?" You point to the flash drive, now yours. Sticking like gum in hair. And now you actually feel it, that sense of achievement growing in your chest with all this scoop in your hands. You don’t even know if Helen is telling you the truth, but her sad resentment towards Luthor was more than obvious, so you doubted it. All you know is that this whole situation is journalism, pure journalism, the kind you want to find in every newspaper, and for which that fucking Perry White would give you the front page.

"I guess so."

The recorder next to you picks up all the info you’ve been digging into and more, and you smile to yourself before thinking things through completely. You have a slight suspicion that your boss would fire you if they knew that not only did you not interview the damn dog, but also because you’re not following their rules and getting involved in situations that are driving you crazy.

"Mrs. Bryce, this is incredible, but pretty dangerous. If Luthor finds out you have this..."

She interrupts you before you can even think about what you were going to say next, "We have lawyers and the justice system isn't as corrupt as you make it seem."

Sure.

Your watch shows a different time, and you know it's your moment to leave before you find out something else that exceeds your expectations as a reporter. You say goodbye to another rude assistant at the door, and just as you turn around, you hear it. "Poor girl , she will urgently need a lawyer."

[ ]

Clark puts on his glasses and adjusts his tie, establishing a neatness he's been managing for longer than he can remember. "Hey ma and pa," he laughs as if they're watching him right now, "Hope you guys are doing well, everything’s great over here..."

"Cut to the chase, dude," the cameraman interrupts his speech before it can go on longer than anyone wants. "We don't have all day."

He gets embarrassed and nods as if he’s being scolded. "Well, the donut, like always, was a peace offering or a survival tactic, I'm not sure." He pauses for a second while turning to look off-camera and then looks back at the lens. "Look, she says she hates me, like a lot, and I tell her that every day too, but she always accepts the food I offer her, it's something, right?" There’s a moment of silence and he leans slightly forward, as if sharing a big secret. "Once I said that bagels were better, and she wouldn’t talk to me for like three days. Isn’t that stupid? But she’s really sweet, even when she’s about to murder me with her eyes, or throw her coffee cup at me... sometimes both at the same time."

[ ]

You're leaning against the cold wall of the elevator while you wait for the doors to open on your floor, praying to any God you believe in that there isn't a damn camera with a microphone aimed at the elevator door like working is the greatest thing in life.

You were wrong.

You hear the whistle as the doors open and quickly hit the button to close them again, but the camera has already caught you; you were about to look like the biggest idiot at the Daily.

You walk quickly over to the lunch table to get yourself a cup of coffee, and your smile couldn't get any bigger. Today was one of the happiest days of your life, and it’s all because you landed the scoop of your life that would shape your entire career—or at least boost the respect you get as a reporter. What’s worse? Perry wanted an article, and since the psychology of famous pets is the future, now you have the story that will overshadow Kent's scoop in a heartbeat.

You lose track of the sugar for a moment and notice Clark by the gleam of metal behind you. You squint your eyes and turn around, determined to hear any nonsense he might say. "Uh, Perry sent me to... help you with the dog interview," he extends the sugar container towards you, "Everything okay? You look excited."

"Kent, I don't believe a word you say."

"Well... Maybe he didn't say that, but I just want to know how it went. Nothing else," he chuckles, "You're very, very excited."

"Me? I don't think so, I just found out that Luthor's ex's dog hates its ex-owner more than you hate staff meetings."

"Is that it!?"

"Oh and it also has daddy issues!"

Clark smiles but his eyes don’t; they're fixed on the bulge in your pocket and you don’t pay attention. How would he know what you're hiding until you figure out what it really contains? An awkward silence settles under his persistent gaze while everyone else talks until the day ends, and you make up a whole story about Peanut and the anxiety of missing and hating his dad at the same time.

You got home before midnight after an endless day at the Planet, and you felt more than exhausted. You had no energy for much more than crashing on your green sofa next to Arthur, a bag of onion-flavored chips, and the crime documentary about Gotham that you had been meaning to catch up on for weeks. You felt good, way more than good; your day had gone from the stress of being interviewed by some idiot Jimmy and a competitive Clark to the craziness of chatting with a Chihuahua lover, and everything would be alright if you could just find a reader for that specific USB.

It was now Tuesday morning and almost everything had gone amazing on Monday, but that all changed when, that same night, the entire building you had lived in for 6 years was on fire. And now, while you were eating a hot dog from the corner near Lois's place, you knew a curse had fallen upon you because you had no home and all you had on was your pajamas.

taglist: @beforeroachfalls @neska223

#it's always sunny in metropolis 𖤓 #dc #dc comics #dc universe #dc superman #superman x reader #superman smut #superman x you #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #superman #superman 2025 #david corenswet #david corenswet x reader

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gold-onthe-inside · 3 months ago

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shape of you

who? spencer reid (s8/9) x blake!reader summary: when a terrible, horrible, no good day leaves you less that satisfied with your body t-minus 20 minutes before dinner with your boyfriend's friends and colleagues, it's up to spencer to cheer you up. content warnings: implied body dysmorphia/insecurities, weight and body type is ambiguous, spencer being the best boyfriend ever word count: 1.3k author's note: written by request for spring-fest. read more blake!reader here. divider courtesy of @/ saradika-graphics

It’s just one of those days where everything feels wrong, hyperaware of everything that doesn’t go to plan. Woke up an hour before you were supposed to, then having an unsatisfying extra hour of sleep where everything felt too warm. Burnt your tongue on coffee so you spend the rest of the day not really tasting anything, constantly aware of the abnormal numbness on the tip of your tongue. Bumped into a glass door twice during rounds, in front of your colleagues, juniors, and patients. And that was all before noon.

Your terrible mood carried to the end of the day, having tried three different dresses, wholly unsatisfied with all of them, and desperately going for the jumpsuit instead. But as you zip up the back, it doesn’t look right either. It feels like it’s hanging off of you rather than fitting you, and suddenly you can’t tell if it’s all in your head or if you really just look like a strangely shaped blob. You let out a sigh, considering giving up on the whole thing when your phone trilled on the counter beside the bathroom sink, a silly picture of Spencer with the cheesiest smile flashing on the screen and you picked up.

“Hey, so I might be like, 5 minutes late.” He never used ‘like’ as a filler word until he met you, mostly because he was too precise to need approximates or guesses, but precise is not a word you could use to describe the Metro system. “The train just randomly stopped past Union Station.” You could hear the fatigue in his voice, and slightly petulant frustration.

“It’s okay, take your time,” you replied, staring at yourself in the mirror. “It’s not like I’m getting ready anytime soon.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked and you could hear the confusion in his voice, and he heard the puff of breath that came from your lips.

“Nothing, just… Today’s just been a bad day,” you said lamely, moving to the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Oh,” Spencer said, his voice suddenly small. “You could’ve told me, I would have had Rossi reschedule.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, flopping back onto your mattress. “It’s not every day you take down a whole trafficking ring.”

“They wouldn’t have minded,” Spencer replied, picking at the belt of his satchel. “Everyone’s exhausted. It’s just that noone’s about to turn down a free dinner.”

“Cheapskates,” you replied with a small giggle.

“Hey, not all of us get paid like you do,” he retorted, knowing you were probably rolling your eyes at him.

“What did you think you’d get paid working for the U.S. Government?” you scoffed.

“First of all, ouch. Second of all, someone has to work for the government, and if I wasn’t, then we would never have met.”

“So you’re saying our meeting trumps being able to pay for your own meal?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Pretty much. And then you wouldn’t be able to tell me about your no-good, terrible, horrible day.”

“It really isn’t that big a deal,” you said with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. “Just one of those days that confirms the existence of general adaptation syndrome.”

“Exhaustion phase, huh?” he asked and you smiled faintly, loving how he just understood you.

“Pretty much,” you murmured. “How far away are you?”

“Heading out of the station right now. Give me 3 minutes and 12 seconds. 9 if I don’t have to wait for traffic.”

“Look both ways before crossing,” you reminded him tiredly.

“That was one time,” he protested and you chuckled. “And in my defense, you’re very distracting.”

“You’re lucky that Subaru didn’t deck you,” you replied, smiling as you gently swung your feet. “Would’ve folded you up like a deck chair.”

“Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be nice?”

“Not this one,” and he can hear the cheek in your voice.

“Think I’m starting to miss the honeymoon period,” he said, and you can hear the jangle of his keys, the slightest loss of focus on your conversation, and you went and unlocked your front door for him before returning to the bedroom.

“Aren’t those meant to last like… a year at least?” you asked.

“Six months to 2 years, actually,” he answered. “In some cases, up to 2 and a half. Did you know honeymoons come from the tradition of marriage by capture? The groom would steal the bride and go into hiding so she wouldn’t be taken from him, and the intention was that she would be pregnant by the month’s end.”

“Well, that’s all kinds of wrong,” you murmured, staring at yourself in the mirror, and you can hear the door swing open so you hang up. “In here!” Your call is half-hearted, hand running over your stomach, willing it flatter.

“Do you think it’s okay if I just stick to a clean dress shirt?” he was asking, heading towards your voice, oblivious to the chaos in your head, only to find that you’d set out a suit for him. “You think of everything, don’t you?” he huffed with a smile, moving to hug you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Figured you wouldn’t have time to pick one up,” you replied, your smile too faint for him to be convinced you were okay. His arms tightened around you.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” he asked, his voice impossibly soft and you rested your head against his chest.

“It just… I tried like… three different outfits and nothing fits right,” you murmured and he frowned.

“You look the same as you always do,” he said, running his hand comfortingly over your stomach, where your hand had rested, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Insanely pretty and out of my league.” The all-too-familiar huff escaped your nose and his brow furrowed again.

“Hey, none of that,” he countered, tugging your back against his chest. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, gently kissing the crook of your neck, hair brushing your jaw, as he scraped his teeth against soft skin. “It doesn’t even matter what you wear, you know that? You could be coming home after a 12 hour shift, exhausted and sweaty and still look completely beautiful to me.”

He rested his chin against your temple, still hugging you. “And we can do whatever you want. We can eat takeout and ice cream in our pyjamas and watch your favourite movie. Or, we can finish getting ready and go spend time with people who care about a lot more than how you look.” He pressed another warm kiss to your temple. “Or you can keep trying on dresses and I’ll tell you how beautiful you look in all of them.”

You can’t help but grin at him, turning your head to kiss him properly, as he deserved. Long and sweet, pouring all your love into it. “You’re the best boyfriend, you know that?” you murmured, looking up at him, all adoring.

“I like being reminded,” he said simply, shrugging. “So, what do you want to do?”

You took a deep breath, looking at the pile of dresses on the corner of the bed. “I want you to pick one,” you said eventually, tucking hair out of your eyes, then watching with a smile as Spencer critically analysed each one before settling on a mauve bodycon dress, holding it up to you. Of course, he’d pick his favourite colour on you.

15 minutes later, you’re both horrendously late, Spencer behind the wheel of your car, using every moment of standstill traffic to look at you, caught between wanting to making a U-turn to take you straight home and wanting to show you off, even if it was just the team he was showing off to. He ended up choosing the latter, and all criticisms of tardiness were forgotten as the team warmly welcoming you, an extremely giddy Penelope gushing over how pretty you looked, JJ and Derek already making fun of Spencer’s possessive grip over your waist. All in all, it was a night spent well, Spencer’s adoring gaze more than making up for your terrible, horrible, no-good day.

comments and reblogs appreciated <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #my fics #spencer reid x blake!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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seonghwaddict · 2 years ago

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blue bird — choi san, jung wooyoung

in which one of the most dangerous men in the city approaches you with an offer, but how would you have known it would turn into something more?

mafia boss!choi san x fem!reader x mafia boss!jung wooyoung. genre. fluff, smut, mafia au. warnings. explicit sexual content minors dni, unprotected sex, dom!san, dom!wooyoung, sub!reader, slight corruption, p in v, oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, threesome, fingering, reverse cowgirl position, pussy drunk wooyoung??, subspace??, cum swallowing, san is a little mean, wooyoung likes to tease, lots of teasing, hair pulling, slight degradation, dirty talk like a lot of it, brief begging, praise, overuse of the word pretty, pet names (doll, princess, baby, pretty girl, good girl, baby doll, pretty little slut). i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know. wc. 6.9k.

lilo’s notes. hiii happy new year everyone!! this is dedicated to @garlichoisan, surprise! i was your secret santa :3 i’m sorry but i completely forgot to write angst and couldn’t find a way to squeeze it in, please forgive me 😭😭 i think i got a little carried away with the smut, it’s probably not my best since i’m not very experienced in writing it but i hope you like it and this as a whole!!

　　　　　　　　　masterlist

choi san wanted you in a rather unexpected way.

not in a friendly way or a sexual way, but actually in a professional way. ever since he’d heard of what you, the so called “blue bird,” were up to, he knew you’d be a valuable asset. shortly after he heard about you, he was quick to tell wooyoung about what he had learned from idling in a bar he’d never been to.

it was an early morning. so early that the sun hadn’t risen yet, but that didn’t bother san. he preferred quieter, intimate spaces rather than the bustling clubs of grey city. as he sipped on his whiskey, the two men beside him got to talking. neither of them were very memorable, if anything they looked too similar; not intimidating in any way. still, he made a mental note of the guns attached to their hips. it was nothing very interesting, small talk from what he could tell. well, at least until they mentioned an odd name.

“did you hear what she did?”

“who?” one of them, the one with comically thick glasses, said as he blew out some cigarette smoke.

“well… ya know…” his voice lowered to a whisper, though in his drunken state it was less of a discreet whisper and more of a loud hiss, “the blue bird.”

he gave a sound of recognition. “wonderful heist, wasn’t it?”

“indeed,” he laughed, a deep chortle, “she was here tellin’ ricky all about it yesterday. flawless, flew in and out like a ghost.” he sighed blissfully, as if he had been there to watch you work.

now this. this is what caught infamous mafia boss choi san’s attention.

“more like a bird!” the bespectacled man nudge his friend with his elbow, a high pitched giggle leaving him. “get it? because she’s called bl-”

the friend held his hand up with a deadpan expression. “yes, i get it.”

the two men talked about you some more (“pretty thing she is, isn’t she?” “mhm, heard she’s actually quite sweet too. odd thing to hear about an outlaw.”), but san tuned them out again. with an important upcoming mission, he needed someone capable of doing exactly what these two men had described. he needed someone like you. preferably, you.

going off of what he had heard, he frequented that bar, hoping you’d happen to be there at the same time. he sat at the same seat at the same counter every night and always ordered the same thing. he noticed that after the first two nights he was there, no one really sat next to him. presumably because they recognised him and opted to avoid him instead of doing anything.

not that he cared, this part of town was known to be filled with people of the rebellious type; people like him who despised the government and would stop at nothing to take it down. if anything, they most likely respected him and his business. but alas, that doesn’t matter much in this particular story, does it?

wooyoung even offered to take turns visiting the bar, curious to see this mysterious person as well. but two weeks passed and no sign of you. most of the people there were the same every time he went, he was sure he would’ve noticed a new face at some point.

fortunately, his efforts became successful.

as usual, no one sat directly beside him, leaving one or two barstools between him and whatever other patron sat at the counter. or so he thought. the usual bartender passed him and came to a stop. confused and thinking the bartender stopped for him despite already sipping on his drink, san tilted his head. but it soon became evident that he wasn’t there for him, but rather for the pretty woman he didn’t notice sitting beside him.

“the usual?” the bartender asked, a crooked smile spreading on his face as he looked at you, his hands busy drying a glass.

san heard a brief chuckle beside him, prompting him to take a proper look at you. the first thing he noticed were your lips. plump and red, smooth lipstick. then the slope of your neck and shoulders, exposed by the thin straps of your silky black dress, jacket hanging by your elbows. the soft yellow-tinted lighting bounced off your rich skin and perfect hair in an almost hypnotising way. there was something enchanting about your aura, your posture, you.

he forced himself to look away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“yes, thank you.” you replied, nodding at the bartender as he turned to prepare your drink.

“one hot chocolate for our blue bird coming right up!”

blue bird.

this time san couldn’t stop himself from looking. so it was you.

the men from the other day weren’t lying when they called you a pretty little thing. you wore a silky black dress and a black fur jacket to protect you from the cold wind of the night. as his eyes roamed over you they got caught on your plump thighs. briefly, he wondered if they felt as soft as they looked but soon enough something else caught his attention. as you shifted in your seat, he caught a glimpse of the inside of your jacket, a quick glint reflecting from inside told him you were indeed carrying a weapon. he made sure to keep that in the back of his mind.

a man such as himself, wide shouldered and intimidating, was hard to ignore. if you didn’t notice him staring from the corner of your eyes, you were sure the heat of his stare would’ve burned a hole through your skin. needless to say, he had caught your attention as well, except you seemed to be better at hiding it.

once the momentary shock subsided, he smiled. the fact that such a dangerous person would regularly order hot chocolates from a bar was amusing to him.

noticing the change in expression, you glance at him. what the hell? seeing a man grinning at you was unsettling. a man with such broad shoulders who could probably easily overpower you. his face looked familiar, you realised, but couldn’t quite attach a name to it quite yet.

unsure of what to do and what this man may want from you, you turned away and engaged in a conversation with the bartender as he prepared your drink, all the while ignoring the man at your side. as soon as you finished your drink, you placed some cash on the counter and got up, swiftly walking out of the bar.

while your goal was to get away, you didn’t take the fact that he might follow you into account.

“don’t go yet, little outlaw, i’d like to talk to you about something.”

his voice was rather calm and even, but still left minimal room for discussion. you rolled your eyes before turning around with a completely different expression—eyes wide and innocent, lashes fluttering, eyebrows raised.

“you must be mistaken, sir, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

he chuckled and took some steps forward and that’s when you recognised him. shit. he slowly walked over to you, speaking to you in that same calm voice with a sprinkle of cockiness somewhere in it. “playing dumb? really? for someone as smart as yourself i’d expect you to know that the 1 billion won bounty on your head doesn’t hide you.”

you sighed at his words, taking steps back to maintain the distance. there was no use continuing the innocent act, snapping at him, “what do you want?”

“do you know who i am?”

“of course i do, the whole city does. do you think i live under a rock?” you scoffed a laugh.

he dismissed your sarcasm, being used to having to deal with such cheeky mouths. “i have an offer.” when you didn’t reply, he continued. “help me and my… business partner with a heist.”

that was not what you expected.

“hmm… no, thanks.” you smiled up at him but nearly faltered as your back hit the wall of an alley you had unknowingly backed yourself into. you cursed yourself silently as he stood right in front of you, so close you had to look up to maintain eye contact.

“i wasn’t asking, darling.” he looked down at you, expression nearly sneering as he held an air of superiority about him. “you either agree or you’ll wake up behind bars tomorrow morning.”

“you can’t arrest me or turn me in, they’ll forget all about me since you’re the more wanted one out of the two of us.” you spoke matter-of-factly, a cocky tilt to the corner of your lips.

“i never said i would be the one to turn you in, little outlaw.”

“you know,” you hummed and moved your arms. his first assumption was that you were reaching for the dagger he glimpsed inside your jacket earlier, instinctively catching your wrists in his grasp as your words died in your throat and your breath hitched. he shifted his grip to place both of your wrists in one hand, holding them up above your head as his free hand nudged your jacket open, revealing the dagger.

he clicked his tongue patronisingly and fished it out delicately. his eyes shifted to yours, eyebrows raising in a silent question as he tossed the weapon over his shoulder. the metal blade clinked and echoed in the barren alleyway. he kept your wrists in his hold but lowered your arms, holding them at the height of your hips.

he leaned forward, speaking into your ear lowly as you suppressed a shudder. “you may continue.”

you glared at him and had the sudden urge to punch the shit eating grin off his face. “what’s in it for me?”

“um…” his face went blank and he leaned back to look at you, clearly not a single thought processing behind those cat-like eyes. “is there anything you want in particular?”

“protection.” you said simply, tilting your head.

“oh,” he nodded slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion but he kept his eyes on you. “but can’t you find that in any store?”

he felt a hit against his shin as you kicked him lightly. “ew not that. i meant… well, doing what i do, there’s a lot of people after me. you have the means to have some of your guys make sure i don’t run into any trouble.”

san nodded understandingly, loosening his grip on your wrists but not letting go. not that you minded. “that’s perfectly possible, yes.”

you exhaled, relieved. warm air fanning against his neck as you did so. “okay, then, i’m in. so what is it you need me to do?”

this time he released your wrists completely and took a step back, reaching into an inner pocket of his tailored suit and pulled out a little card with one hand as the other brought your hand up.

he brushed his hand over your closed fist, opening your fingers up to reveal your palm, placing the card in your palm before gently nudging your fingers to close over it. in a swift move, he turned your hand around and bowed forward, pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles—eyes locked on yours as you stared back at him in bewilderment.

he lifted his lips, smirking at you as he straightened up, hands moving to the bottom of his blazer and tugging, stretching the wrinkles away. “i expect to see you tomorrow at dusk, little blue bird.”

with a wink, he turned on his heels and walked away. you watched him, listening to the echoing footsteps as he left the alley and disappeared around a corner, leaving you slumped against the cold brick wall with burning cheeks.

you weren’t sure what you expected when you arrived at the address on the card choi san gave you. perhaps an underground bunker that looked nothing like the breathtaking estate you stood in front of.

the building was tucked within a small forest far from the outskirts of night city. the architecture seemed foreign and classical, a building you’d roam through whilst listening to tchaikovsky or chopin—not a building you’d expect to scheme against the government in. though, you supposed in some aspects it fit the aesthetic san had going on. sipping whiskey in a fully tailored suit, the smell of cigarette smoke and mint heavy in the air around him.

you walked up to the grand double doors, taking a moment to admire the intricate carvings before ringing the bell. less than a minute later, the right door swung open to reveal a stranger.

he wore wide dark jeans and a black and white plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone to reveal his chiselled collarbones and practically half of his torso. his black hair was slicked back with a few strands framing his face with the dainty square glasses he wore, some hanging silver earrings on display. he was, completely objectively speaking, handsome.

his eyes roamed over you, taking in your appearance before smiling and crossing his arms, leaning his side against the door as he pushed his glasses up to rest on the top of his head. you noticed a mole on his face—a small dot just under his left eye. “so you’re the little outlaw san told me about, huh?”

“yes, and you are?” you knew who he was, of course, but pleasantries were pleasantries nonetheless.

“jung wooyoung, but you already knew that.”

you chuckled and put your arms up in surrender, “oh no, i’ve been caught.”

his laugh was rather high pitched as he ushered you in. “come in, it gets cold at night.”

he led you through the house, stopping by what he referred to as his office but really looked like a sitting room with soft lighting and a desk to grab some rolled up papers before continuing the walk. the interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; intricate paintings and marble floors. wooyoung smiled as he saw the awe-stricken look on your face.

he led you to another set of double doors, pushing both of them open and stepping through without looking back to make sure you were following. now this was an office.

your jaw nearly dropped as you walked into the room, spinning a full circle to gawk at the various bookshelves that lined the walls and high ceiling that looked like it came straight out of the sistine chapel. a large fireplace cast a warm, yet still dark, glow over the room, making it look that much more impressive. a graceful vintage couch with two matching armchair were placed in front of the fireplace, a glass coffee table nestled between the seats and the source of light and warmth.

the floor creaked with every step you took, being made of dark wooden planks instead of marble.

you flinched as you heard san’s familiar voice snapping you out of your stupor. “pick your jaw up, you might catch flies.”

at the sound of his voice, you whipped around and glared at him after quickly pulling yourself together. he was sat in a leather chair at his impressive desk, wooyoung sat (balanced) on the arm of the chair.

you walked over and stood across from them in front of the desk. “it’s a nice house, are you two the only ones that live here?”

wooyoung took the chance to answer. “sometimes. there’s six others that are part of our… syndicate, but they stay in other places, surrounding grey city.”

“enough of that.” san waved his hand dismissively and leaned forward. as he did so, your eyes were drawn to his chest. he wore a white button up, though it appeared to be a bit tight judging by the way the fabric around the buttons strained every time he moved. your lingering gaze didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of them brought it up. “woo, the plans, please.”

the plan was set to take place the months after you had met with them for the first time. this gave you three to prepare, to memorise the layout and every detail about the building you’ll be infiltrating. for this preparation, you frequented their estate often—nearly every day—and spent hours with them. two weeks in, they offered you one of their guest bedrooms to stay in.

at first wooyoung got on your nerves, but soon enough you grew accustomed to his antics—the clinginess, the teasing. eventually, you even found yourself liking it and seeking it out.

san was slightly more reserved at first, more serious. but soon he, too, let down his guard. encouraging words, affectionate touches.

the more time you spent with them, the more you found yourself relaxing, letting them handle you with care instead of pushing them away like you used to with so many people before them. and eventually you, dare you say, began liking them.

you couldn’t deny the way san’s sharp snd perceptive eyes made you want to squirm under his gaze as he watched you bend over his desk to point something out on the building’s floor plan. you couldn’t deny the way his gentle commands (“do this for me please.” “come here, princess.”) had butterflies roaring in your stomach.

and wooyoung. while san was indeed quite physically affectionate, it was nothing compared to wooyoung. lingering touches and smooth words. sometimes you’d be grabbing something in kitchen and he’d come by, pulling you aside by your hips to grab something. later that day you’d offered to cook something up for dinner, but he only tutted and lifted you by your waist to place you on the marble island counter (“i don’t trust you in my kitchen, baby. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”). jung wooyoung was a flirt and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

two days before the heist, you walked into san’s office after waking up and not being able to find woo. in the time you’d spent with them, you had learned that san acquired the bigger and fancier office by winning a game of rock paper scissors.

as you opened the door, the cat-eyed man looked up from whatever he was working on, smiling as he watched you yawn and stretch on your way over to him. he gave you a once over; you wore an oversized shirt, the collar shifted and hanging over one shoulder, the end of the shirt ending halfway down your thighs.

“sleep well?” he asked, putting his pen down as you stopped in front of the desk. he’d woken up not too long before you, still in his sleepwear, hair tussled but somehow still perfect.

you nodded, your voice soft in your sleepy state, “where’s woo?”

“he went out to get stuff for dinner,” he chuckled as he heard the slight concern in your voice. he pushed his chair back slightly and patted his lap. “come sit here while i work, princess.”

you grinned and walked around the desk, claiming his lap as your seat. you leaned back against him, back pressed to his front. he kissed your exposed shoulder chastely and got back to work. you tried to look down at his papers to see what he was doing, but the way his unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist and shifted you slightly (in a way that accidentally made his thigh rub against certain areas) had your mind going blank, unable to focus on anything other than his touch.

though you couldn’t see it, san also had a hard time focusing. every time you moved, your ass brushed over his pelvis. it was clear he didn’t think it through when he told you to sit on him since now he was having a hard time holding himself back, a bulge growing in his sweatpants.

you shifted again, trying to find a position where none of his body parts rubbed against your core, and he sucked a sharp breath in. his hands practically flew to your hips to hold you still.

“princess, i need you to sit still or i might go crazy, okay?” he spoke softly into your ear, hot breaths brushing against your skin and making you shiver, a fact he noticed and made him smirk. maybe he was already going crazy, but just a little more wouldn’t hurt, right?

he kept his lips by your ear for a moment before moving down slightly, placing them just below your earlobe. it was your turn for your breath to hitch, tilting your head to give him more space. he nearly groaned at the subtle act of submission, burying his face into your skin and kissing his way down to the crook of your neck.

time seemed to slow as his hands tightened on your hips, he scraped his teeth along your neck before biting down gently, not enough to hurt but enough to elicit a breathy whine. when the sound left your lips, he froze.

when you noticed he wasn’t doing anything, you whined again and rolled your hips over his pelvis, dropping your head back on his shoulder. the action surprised yourself too. you’d had sex, of course, but it was never a necessity for you. even when the opportunity presented itself, you wouldn’t chase after it. yet here you were, wordlessly begging him to continue. what had these men done to you?

“is this okay?” he whispered.

you nodded immediately, turning your head to look at him. his breath nearly caught in his throat as he saw the look in your eyes, illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace—a silent plea for him to have his way with you, release the tension that’s built up over the previous three months. without waiting a second longer, he attached his lips to your neck again, a certain roughness to the way he caressed your skin with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.

you melted against him and let your eyes fall shut when you felt his hands slip shirt off, tossing it on his desk, and then rest against your bare waist, fingertips brushing over the skin making a shiver run down your spine. a voice that wasn’t his had your eyes flying open, your body freezing for a moment before you realised who it was.

“you two just couldn’t wait for me?” wooyoung pouted, leaning against the desk in front of the chair you and san occupied. san chuckled against your neck while you stared at wooyoung, dumbfounded, unexpected excitement stirring in your abdomen.

he looked from your face, to san’s smirk, and then down at the way your hips tried finding the right angle to grind on san’s lap. a dark chuckle left wooyoung’ slips and he leaned forward, hands coming to rest on your knees.

“need help with that, doll?” he tilted his head, a mocking pout gracing his lips as he cooed at you, one hand coming up to caress your cheek for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

your eyes practically twinkled as you looked up at him, pupils dilated as you nod helplessly. wooyoung smiled and patted your cheek affectionately, pecking your forehead again before sinking to his knees in between yours and san’s legs, kissing his way down your body. your eyes tracked him and his slow descent, breath held in anticipation.

“cute,” he giggled as he eyed your pink panties, slipping them off your legs and tossing them aside. he hooked your legs on either side of san’s, spreading them apart, looking up at you. “just relax, be a good girl and keep your legs like that for me, yeah?”

when you nodded, he kissed your inner thigh followed by a quiet groan as he noticed the arousal dripping from your cunt. “oh, doll, you’re so wet.”

“hm, is she?” san chimed in, one of of his hands leaving your waist to dip down and casually slide a finger through your folds; from bottom to top, applying more pressure the further he slid. you prepared yourself for his finger to get to your clit but, much to your dismay, he removed his hand just before he got there. you suppressed the urge to glare at him over your shoulder. simultaneously, wooyoung began leaving pecks all over your inner thighs.

san hummed and pressed another kiss just below your ear, whispering, his voice thick with lust, “all that and we barely even started. what a pathetic, needy mess, huh?”

the way he said it made it clear he expected an answer from you, but with how wooyoung ran a single finger through your folds, you couldn’t do much but shudder and nod. san clicked his tongue and snaked his hands further up from your waist just under your breasts, fingers brushing circles over your nipples. he waited patiently to give you more time to answer.

wooyoung’s tongue slipped out to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit and both your brain practically short-circuited. the combination of the feeling of his tongue and his wide, glossy eyes peering up at you from between your legs sending your mind reeling. he groaned as he tasted you, swearing in his head that he’d probably finish in his pants within five minutes. a sudden pinch of your nipples had you snapping out of your trance.

“say it, princess.”

“ah- i’m a mess.”

“and why are you a mess?”

you opened your mouth to answer but your own moan cut you off as wooyoung began circling your clit with his tongue. san’s lips backed away from your ear and he looked down at wooyoung, signalling for him to stop by holding up his flat palm. your chest heaved with heavy breaths as wooyoung reluctantly removed his tongue and leaned back just an inch, giving you a moment to recover.

“he won’t continue until you tell me why you’re a mess, baby.”

“because of you,” you whined, trying to press your hips closer to wooyoung’s face but to no avail as san moved his hands back down to hold you firmly by those hips he loved so much.

“good girl, that’s right,” he cooed into your ear, giving you a tender kiss. “you’re our pathetic needy mess, aren’t you?”

“your mess. i’m your mess.”

at the confirmation, san looked down at wooyoung and nodded. not even a second later wooyoung’s mouth was back on you. one of san’s hands stayed to control your hips and the other went back to massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

wooyoung’s pace was relentless. he ate you out like a man starved, licking up all the juices that seeped from you while he made sure to nudge his nose against your clit repeatedly. when his mouth wasn’t at your entrance, he had his lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between rhythmic sucks and prods of his tongue, one of his fingers teasingly circling your hole.

he swore he could’ve gotten drunk off your taste, finding the way you writhed in san’s lap so cute. wooyoung momentarily removed his mouth from you once again, watching your face as he tentatively pushed his finger past your entrance. he spoke, voice somewhere between a hoarse groan and a sigh.

“fuck…”

you threw your head back on san’s shoulder, suddenly aware of the hard erection pressed against your ass. you tried to rock your hips just a bit, wanting to help him, but his fingers tightened on your hips.

“keep being such a good girl and i’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name, but i need you to be patient. okay, princess?”

your breath hitches and you nodded at his promise, your attention being drawn back to the man between your legs as he added another finger. your breathing grew erratic.

“mmm, so tight.” he groaned, eyes fixated on the way his fingers disappeared into your before slipping out again, more and more of your slick seeping out with each thrust of his digits. wet sounds reverberated through the room as you let out a silent curse.

you thought your noises were kept to a minimum, too embarrassed to really let loose, but as soon as he curled his fingers in you—easily finding that spongey sweet spot—a proper moan ripped itself out of you. and then his tongue was back on your clit, not as firmly as you would’ve liked but enough to draw out more moans and whimpers.

at first, he took his time, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a frustrating pace, tongue only lightly brushing over your swollen pearl. but soon enough, he sped up gradually until he reached a speed that had you crying out and arching your back with every inch that he moved. all the while san muttered encouragement into your ear.

“mhm, you’re taking his fingers so well, princess.”

“can’t wait to have my cock in your tight little pussy. don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”

“look at you, being fucked dumb just from his fingers. you can barely even keep your eyes open, huh?”

you thought you were controlling yourself well but the moment wooyoung added a third finger, the stretch burning just slightly though your wetness kept things moving smoothly, the moment san spoke all those filthy words in your ear, you felt yourself crashing over the edge. it all felt so good you didn’t even realise you were climaxing until you felt yourself shaking and stars swarming your vision.

a high pitched cry ripped through your lips, moaning wooyoung’s name as he takes his fingers out so he can slurp up your release, groaning against you. you tasted so good and if he could, he would have bottled up all the sounds you made to listen to them before bed every night. san planted tender kisses to your jaw and shoulder as wooyoung eventually removed himself.

he looked almost as fucked out as you, drunk of the juices of your pussy as he slowly got up. he took your face in his clean hand and eagerly pressed his lips against yours, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue. the two of you made out slowly, sloppily, and he slowly trailed his hands down. tracing the curve of your waist before settling his hands on your hips, guiding them to grind over san’s length.

you followed his lead, arching your back to position your pussy right over his erection. that seemed to have made san lose all his composure, rasping out harshly, “woo, please lift her up for a moment.”

moments later, you were back in his lap, this time his long cock buried deep in your cunt. his hands guided your movements, his thrusts matching the pace of the roll of your hips. though he wasn’t able to see your face, fucking you in a reverse cowgirl position, he could image how fucked out you looked. cheeks painted red, glazed over eyes, swollen lips, messed up hair.

wooyoung separated his lips from you, chuckling against your mouth. you struggled to kiss him, san feeling so good in you that you had a hard time thinking straight. “does he feel good, babydoll?”

you nodded and leaned forward just slightly to attach you lips to his pretty neck, mindlessly kissing and licking your way down to his collarbones. wooyoung tilted his head back, another dark chuckle. he thought you were so cute—making sure to give him attention even though you were bouncing in another man’s dick. said man groaned and slumped back in the seat at the change of angle as you leaned forward, not pausing his movements once. ever since he first bottomed out in you he had trouble putting together sentences.

your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. most of them were undone anyway, he liked it like that when he wore button-ups, but you wanted it completely off. he noticed your trembling hands struggling and took over for you, ignoring the buttons and just pulling off the shirt. your eyes roamed over him, jaw slack.

“you’re so pretty, woo.” you whispered after burying your face in his neck again, any filter you had on your words completely gone.

“i think you’re pretty too, doll,” he chuckled into your ear. “so pretty getting off on me and sannie at once.”

you leaned back and looked him over, darting between his eyes and the erection straining against the trousers with pleading, half closed eyes. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted, making him coo as he understood you.

“oh, you want my cock? you wanna suck it? just one shoved inside you doesn’t satisfy you enough, huh, you pretty little slut?”

your head empty, unable to focus on anything other than the two men you were trapped between, you nodded. san groaned as he felt your walls clench around him.

“fuck- she likes that.”

“is that so?” wooyoung straightened up and grinned down at you, holding your jaw in his hand. “well, then, go ahead, doll, do as you please.”

at he sound of his permission, your hands found their way to his trousers, undoing the fly and letting them fall to the ground. you could already see the shape of it through his boxers, but didn’t pause to inspect it, hooking your fingers on his waistband and pulling it down to release him.

while his length was impressive, it didn’t look quite as long as san’s but rather thicker. compared to every dick you’ve seen, you decided jung wooyoung had a pretty one. the blushing tip leaked precum that you smeared around to stroke him slowly.

you looked up at him every time you tried something new with your hands, looking for his reaction—running your thumb over his tip, squeezing lightly as your hand moved down. no mater what you did, it elicited a deep moan from him. you looked entranced as you watched the way his eyelids fluttered in pleasure. you leaned forward (both you and san moaning and shuddering at the change in angle), pressing a kiss to his tip.

this new angle had san pounding against your sweet spot repeatedly without fail, making you suddenly feel like jello. still, you tried your best to focus on the task literally at hand.

wooyoung noticed your lack of concentration, threading his fingers in your hair and gently pulling to make you look up. he pouted at you mockingly. “can’t think straight enough with sannie’s cock stuffed in you? it’s ok, doll, you look so pretty and fucked out i could cum just from looking at you.”

you shook your head and pushed forward, wrapping your lips around his tip and sinking your mouth down on his length to the best of your abilities.

wooyoung groaned, “that’s it, doll, there you go. you can take just a little more, can’t you, pretty girl?”

eager to please him, you took as much of him in your mouth as you could. you felt him hit the back of your throat and pulled back, coughing around his length. he slipped his hand out of your hair and stroke your cheek, prompting you to glance up at him.

“you’re doing well, doll, just remember to breathe through your nose. i know you can take me just a bit deeper.”

you nodded at his words, swallowing a little more, and wrapped a hand around the rest that you couldn’t fit, stroking him slowly as you led your mouth get used to the feeling. truth be told, you hadn’t given anyone head before, completely relying on your intuition now.

“yeah, there you go, my pretty little doll. i knew you could do it.”

as you mouth worked on wooyoung, you felt that familiar knot tightening in your abdomen. san must’ve been close too, letting out a hearty groan as he gripped your hips tighter and thrusted up into you faster. every time he pulled you down and snapped his hip up to meet you, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against your and his balls hitting your clit had you whining against wooyoung’s cock.

he sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering before cooing down at you. “what was that, doll? i couldn’t quite hear you.”

you continued with the sucking and stroking until you thought it was impossible, repeatedly shaking too much to keep a steady pace. but you could tell wooyoung was close judging by his sounds and pulsating, and still wanting to please him, you kept your lips around his head as you hand stroked him as fast as you could.

moments later, his body tensed and he came into your mouth. the thick, slightly salty substance ran down your throat as you swallowed it all down. when you were sure he was done, you pulled yourself off him. wooyoung looked ready to pass out, leaning against the desk and staring up at the ceiling as he panted, catching his breath. silent curses left his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

now with wooyoung taken care of, you leaned back against san, revelling in the feeling of him pounding into you as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. you heard him gasp by your ear and you clenched down on him.

“f-fuck… i’m gonna cum.”

oh how san loves fucking you. loves the way your walls flutter around his cock. loves all the sounds you make that he was sure you weren’t even aware of. how you writhe and jerk and shudder and whine and moan and he could go on for days.

“please, sannie,” you whined softly, “please, fill me up, please please please.”

that was the last straw. the desperation in your voice has his stomach flipping and he came just as you finished your begging. a shiver ran down your spine as your body went limp. he kept himself buried in you as one of his hands slide down to rub quick and tight circles on your clit, quickly bringing you to an orgasm that had your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

once all three of you calmed down and got cleaned up, you found yourself relaxing on san’s lap again. this time, you were on one of the couches in the living room as wooyoung sat beside you. while you were in the shower, he cooked up some instant noodles, feeding them to you now.

a hand stroked the outside of your thigh comfortingly as you slurped down the last of the noodles, you recognised it as san’s hand. your legs still felt like jello and you cuddled into him as wooyoung got up to put the bowl away. you felt san press a kiss to the top of your head, practically cradling you.

“you did well, my little blue bird,” he whispered against the crown of your head and pulled you closer, “i could stay like this all day.”

“too bad because it’s my turn now.” wooyoung buckled as he returned, collapsing on the couch and snatching you of san’s grasp without warning. he stuck his tongue out at san as he held the back of you head and pressed your face into the crook of his neck, making you giggle.

san whined and reached his hands out to grab you again only to be swatted away by woo. “hey! no fair.”

“yes, it is fair,” wooyoung giggled, “you’ve had her on your lap long enough.” his best friend glared at him and muttered something under his breath as he looked away with his arms crossed.

“oh, you big baby,” you laughed as you turned your head to look at him. extending you hand to pat his knee.

san’s eyes flashed as an idea lit up in his head. he grinned as he wrapped his arms around both you and wooyoung. you weren’t sure how it happened but next thing you knew, all three of you were laying down on the couch, the two men sandwiching you lovingly.

you felt yourself blush and your brain going blank. wooyoung laughed at the expression on your face, leaning forward to kiss you until san reached over and flicked his forehead. they proceeded to argue about who should be able to kiss you more as you sighed contentedly. you realised there was no other place in earth you’d prefer to be in more than right here, nestled between the two men who you knew would take good care of you.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @hee0soo

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sparta369 · 9 months ago

Note

I bought slay the princess but haven’t started it ‘cause it kinda intimidates me, can you convince me to play it?

Ok now I know you just asked me to convince you to play it but hear me out

Don't play it yet

There's a huge, Free Content expansion coming out on the 24th of this month, in just 8 days called The Pristine Cut, which is going to expand the game by about 35%. The Devs themselves have said to wait for the expansion release if you haven't played it already lol

That being said, I'd never pass up an opportunity to gush about one of my favorite games ever created

I realized far too late that I'd accidentally written far more than either of us probably wanted. So I'll try to sparknotes it, and leave the full thing below the cut.

The less you know going in, the better. However, it is still a horror game. You can find a list of content warnings here. It's just a list, so it doesn't really reveal very much.

A single playthrough lasts about 3-4 hours on average, though I can guarantee you'll want to do more than one. The game is positively dense with choices. It's impossible to see everything in one playthrough, and one would be hard-pressed to have the exact same playthrough twice.

Words cannot really capture how much I love this game. It's story masterfully crafted with a vast ocean of choices for the player to make, all of which make a true and profound impact on the narrative. If you enjoyed Disco Elysium or The Stanley Parable, You'll like Slay the Princess. The game was lovingly hand-drawn, pencil on paper, and the music was beautifully composed. The voice acting, featuring the talents of Nichole Goodnight and Jonathan Sims, are also, in my opinion, phenomenal.

I truly cannot express the emotional impact this game has left me with. It's a game I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Whether you intend to stop here or read on, I'll leave you with this one screenshot. It's only text, and it's literally the second thing you see upon booting up the game, so don't worry about spoilers lmao

"Whatever horrors you may find in these dark spaces, have heart and see them through."

"There are no premature endings. There are no wrong decisions."

"There are only fresh perspectives and new beginnings."

"This is a love story."

Oh boy you clicked the "keep reading" button :o) I wrote this over the course of most of my day today before I realized exactly how long it was. Besides a small change to the end, I'm going to leave most of it un-touched, just for the sake of preserving whatever the hell was going on in my head at the time :o)

Slay the Princess is one of those games where, the less you know going in, the better, So I'll do my best to convince you without revealing anything.

Still, though, It is a horror game. If you would like to look through it just in case, you can find a list of content warnings on their website here. It gives a list of many things you may encounter, but there is a 0% chance that you will encounter all, or likely even half, of the things described in there. In addition, they present these things in a way that reveals as little as possible. Still, I would personally recommend against reading through them, but there's no shame or judgement if you go dig through it. You know yourself better than anybody, if you think ya need it that's fine.

There's also some flickering image effects & a parallax effect that has caused motion sickness for some players, but both of these can be disabled in the settings.

With all that out of the way...

Words truly cannot explain how much I love this game.

It is an absolute masterwork of interactive narrative storytelling. No other game I've played or heard of in my life gives as much weight to every single choice you make, every little thing you do. There are so many choices and possibilities, and not once does the game ever make you feel like you've chosen "wrong." It's impossible to see everything in one playthrough, and you would be hard-pressed to get the exact same playthrough twice. Quite literally, every time I've watched somebody else play the game, they happened upon something I'd never seen before, despite me having 100% of the achievements.

One playthrough usually takes around 3-4 hours, but you will almost certainly want to do more than one.

There are also a number of places where you can safely and logically pause and come back later, should you need to.

The narrative itself is expertly woven. The storytelling is phenomenal, interweaving paralyzing fear with heart-aching beauty, while also carrying a healthy amount of comedy at carefully chosen places. The themes carry through beautifully. I've cried actual tears on more than one occasion, and it's not easy to get that out of me. Slay The Princess is a story that will be a part of my heart for as long as I live.

If you've played and enjoyed Disco Elysium, you'll enjoy Slay The Princess.

If you've played and enjoyed The Stanley parable, you'll enjoy Slay The Princess.

I know that I often struggle with games that require a lot of reading, and that includes a lot of visual novel type games.

Thankfully, the game is, for the most part, fully voice-acted :) The very few bits that aren't voiced are that way for narrative reasons hee hoo

The voice acting itself is, in my opinion, phenomenal. Both actors put their heart and souls into their roles, and their care shows in their performances. The Princess is voiced by Nichole Goodnight & the Narrator is voiced by Jonathan Sims (Who you may recognize from The Magnus Archives, if you were ever into that).

The art of the game is beautiful. It is all lovingly hand-drawn, pencil on paper. Thousands of images, and even a few animations, all coming together to form a wonderfully unique visual style that lends itself well to the game itself.

The soundtrack of this game, composed by Brandon Boone & with vocal performances by Amelia Jones, is absolutely breathtaking. It does a phenomenal job setting and supporting the tone of the game, whether it be tension, fear, hope, joy, or anything between and beyond. I can't put it's beauty into words.

Brandon Boone actually just recently won the "Game Music Award" at the World Soundtrack Awards for his work on Slay The Princess, and I deeply believe that it was 100% deserved.

This is... probably far more than you ever asked for. But I mean it when I say that Slay the Princess is one of my favorite games of all time. I mean it when I say that Slay The Princess is a story that will be a part of my heart for as long as I live. I'll take any opportunity to make more people play it, in hopes that it might impact them even a fraction as much as it has impacted me. I've bought a total of 11 copies of this game (1 for myself, 9 which were distributed to friends, and one that's coming with the Collector's Edition)

As my final word, I'll once again remind you:

"Whatever horrors you may find in these dark spaces, have heart and see them through."

"There are no premature endings. There are no wrong decisions."

"There are only fresh perspectives and new beginnings."

"This is a love story."

#slay the princess #skittypretty #I'm gonna save a link to this post so I can send it to anybody else who might ask me about STP lmao #I don't think I've ever written such an expansive review for a game before #And I don't regret it #Sure. I may have. uh. accidentally neglected some college work I need to get done. but. uh. yknow. Worth it.#And I mean that 100% unironically: Worth it.#My only hope is that this question being met with a 4 page essay doesn't just end up being more intimidating lol #and I'll say it one last time.#I mean it when I say that lay The Princess is a story that will be a part of my heart for as long as I live.#The same way that things like Steven Universe and Undertale have ingrained themselves into my psyche for all of eternity

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imaginedreamwrite · 3 months ago

Note

For second choice Sunday maybe something where reader keeps going back to someone even though she or they know it’s not real/is a situationship sort of thing. Then something with Ghost, or Johnny, or both even? (I’ve never submitted an ask to you before, especially for a day theme so not sure if this is right or if your still accepting requests, please ignore me if not)

No worries, this request is perfect!

Admittedly, you find the dim lighting of this bar just outside the base comforting. In some twisted way or another, you feel like you can shield yourself from the disappointment. The slow burning sting of seeing the man you’d been sleeping with, getting back together with his ex-fiancée drove you here.

The less than crowded bar with cheap spirits and the invisible yet probable presence of rat in the basement felt oddly suitable to your pity. Second best would have been your monicker if you had to carry a visible sign to your emotional presence above your head.

Second best—good enough to sleep with but not enough to date.

Good enough to be a lay but not good enough to be a girlfriend.

You raised the glass to your mouth, the rim brushing against your bottom lip. The cool alcohol had just grazed your skin when the shadow of a man had passed beside you. You hesitated, holding the rim to your lips while he took the seat to your left, and another man took the seat to your right.

“Can’t tell me you actually like that shite?” His elbow props against the bar top, and a quick glance at him gives you few details that you cement into your mind.

Blue eyes with flecks of green, Mohawk hairstyle with a five o’clock shadow, and a devilish half-grin.

“It’s cheap,” you don’t immediately curse him out like you probably should have, but maybe that was your emotional low speaking.

“It’s no better than piss,” the man on your right spoke, leaning in only to grab a menu from the bar top before he slid it toward you, “no one drinks this shite unless they want to forget something.”

The man on your right wore a balaclava, one that had only shown his eyes. A set of blue eyes that lazily looked you over, and though you couldn’t see his lips you imagined he was smirking.

“Or someone.” Mohawk man on your left picked up where the man on your right ended.

You looked straight ahead, your hand tightening on the glass. You were silent for a moment. Wondering what madness must have possessed you for even thinking about talking about the looming shadow above you.

And yet—

“A little bit of both,” you tip the glass of cheap beer back and down it as quickly as possible, the bottom hitting the surface with more force than you intended, “think the cheap beer will do?”

“Dinnae what you’re trying to forget,” Mohawk raised his hand and a bartender approached, already setting a glass down in front of him, “but leave the cheap shite alone.”

The glass in front of you was moved, replaced with another.

“How often must you come here for the bartender to already know what you want?” You lift the new glass and take a look at its contents, a darker and richer ale.

“We all shite we wanna forget.” The masked man spoke, leaning forward with his elbows on the counter. “Might as well drink the good stuff.”

“I was in a…situationship with someone who…” you paused, your mind raced and instead of immediately finishing your sentence, you lifted the glass and chugged.

“…decided to warm some other woman’s bed?” Mask to your right posed the question, as if he had already known.

“I’m good enough to fuck but not good enough to date.” You laughed bitterly, fingernails tapping rhythmically against the edge of the glass.

“Bastard.” Mohawk had angled himself toward you, his blue eyes sweeping over you. “You’re gorgeous, bon.”

His compliment didn’t come across as forced, it didn’t fill you with false promise.

No, his compliment was spoken with so much truth, it actually threw you off. You stared at this Scottish stranger with confusion and surprise, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Fuckers don’t know what they got when they have it.” The masked man on the right had leaned in, his shoulder brushing against you. “Ya don’t have to drink alone.”

“Don’t ‘ave to go home alone either, lass.” The Scot winked at you, another genuine offer.

The glass in your hands seemed to be forgotten, just as the ache in your chest was lessened. By two strangers who had bought you a drink, by two strangers who had been more genuine than the asshole you were sleeping with.

You looked straight ahead again, debating once more what to do. Or not do.

Second best—not good enough to date

No, he was the problem. Not you.

“No pressure lass, thought you’d wanna forget-” the Scot seemed to back pedal, seemed to retract from the offer.

“I do.” You downed the rest of your beer, wiping any residual drops with the back of your hand, and then you stood. “Need to forget. I don’t want to remember any of it.”

If one couldn’t make you forget, the other sure as hell would.

#simon riley x reader #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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iamthesilentwriter · 10 months ago

Text

The Conversation

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: It’s been two weeks since you and Harry shared your first kiss. To say things are awkward is an understatement; however, everything comes to a head, at your traditional Christmas Eve dinner with the Potters.

Warnings: some awkward tension, kissing

Authors Note: Another fic! Only 4 days after the other one? Crazy!! I hope you're enjoying my oneshots so far - I have SO MANY MORE PLANNED, I'M SO EXCITED!!! If you wanted some context to this oneshot, then reader this one The Stars, first; however, it's not really necessary. I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 2545

Navigation | Masterlist

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks since you and Harry had kissed under the mistletoe up on the Astronomy Tower. To say things were slightly awkward was an understatement.

You two have barely had time to talk to each other about this whole… situation. The second you think about bringing it up, something always seems to get in the way.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you get interrupted every time you try to bring it up; after all, facing the truth of your feelings feels daunting, and the distractions give you a chance to gather your thoughts, even if it’s just for a moment longer.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’ve been a bundle of nerves, your heart racing at the thought of what might happen if you laid your feelings bare.

Yet, the fact remains is that the kiss changed everything, and neither of you can pretend it didn’t happen.

The warmth of the freshly baked apple pie seeps through your gloves as you stand outside in the cold December air, snowflakes gently falling around you. The twinkling lights of the Potter’s home glow softly against the snow-covered ground, casting a warm, welcoming hue over the dark winter evening. Your breath forms small clouds in the crisp air, and you shift on your feet to keep warm, the excitement of Christmas Eve buzzing in your chest.

Sirius, however, is far less patient. He bangs on the front door again, a loud, persistent knock echoing through the quiet night. “James! Lily! Open up, it's freezing out here!” he shouts, his voice carrying an exaggerated urgency that makes you smile.

“Dad, they’re probably getting ready for dinner,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t need to knock like you’re the Ministry.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Remus mutters beside you, pulling his coat tighter around him. “He’s just looking for an excuse to make an entrance.”

“I’ll make an entrance, alright,” Sirius grumbles, knocking even harder. “I’m not about to freeze to death on Christmas Eve when there’s food and warmth inside.”

“They know we're coming, Sirius,” Remus says calmly, though there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. “Chill out. They’ll let us in.”

“Chill out? I’m already chilled out! Literally!" Sirius huffs, his breath fogging in the cold. "Besides, how long does it take to answer the door when your best friends are standing outside freezing?”

You laugh softly, exchanging an amused look with Remus. “Maybe they’re hiding from you, Dad. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow at you, a mock-offended look on his face. “Me? Hiding from me? I'm the life of the party!”

Just as he’s about to pound on the door again, it swings open, and James Potter grins at the sight of you. “Alright, alright, no need to break the door down, Padfoot. You lot coming in, or are you planning to camp out there all night?”

Sirius straightens up, his dramatic flair back in full force. “Well, we would have been inside already if you hadn’t left us out here to freeze like a pack of stray dogs.”

James rolls his eyes. “You’re as dramatic as ever. Get in here before Lily hears you and thinks you’ve lost your mind.”

Stepping inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around you like a blanket, the smell of pine and cinnamon welcoming you home for the holiday.

Your eyes glance around, taking in the decorations – a string of enchanted lights twinkling along the mantel, stocking hung neatly, and a fire crackling softly in the hearth.

Lily steps into the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel and smiling brightly. “There you are! I thought I heard Sirius yelling out there.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” Sirius says with a smirk, pulling off his coat. “I was announcing our arrival – dramatically, as always.”

Remus snorts, shaking his head as he follows you both in. “More like demanding entry.”

Lily laughs, walking over to give each of you a warm hug. “It’s good to see you. And what’s this?” she asks, eyeing the apple pie you’re holding.

You smile, handing it over. “Homemade apple pie. Well, sort of homemade. Dad supervised, but I did most of the work.”

“Hey!” Sirius exclaims, raising his hands. “I supervised because I’m a terrible baker. And for the record, I’m great at taste-testing.”

Lily grins. “I’m sure you are. Come on in, everything’s almost ready. We’ve just set the table.”

You follow Lily into the kitchen; you can hear James and Sirius chatting loudly from the other room, their laughter echoing down the hall. As you step inside, you spot Harry standing near the counter, his back turned as he helps set out glasses. Your heart skips a beat, that awkward tension instantly tightening around your chest.

You haven’t talked about the kiss. Not really. And every time you see him, it’s like that moment keeps hovering between you, unsaid and unfinished.

Lily pulls you from your thoughts, smiling as she hands you a dish of roasted vegetables. “Could you help me bring these to the table, love?”

You nod quickly, grateful for the distraction. “Of course.”

Balancing the dish, you move toward the dining room, brushing past Harry. For a second, your arm lightly touches his, and it feels like the smallest spark between you. You catch his eye for just a moment, but he looks away just as quickly, as though neither of you quite knows how to navigate this strange, new territory between you. There’s that same softness in his expression – the one that’s been there since the kiss. But there’s also hesitation, the weight of words unspoken, hanging in the air.

You take the vegetables to the table, setting them down beside the plates Lily’s already arranged. She bustles in behind you, carrying more food, and soon enough, the room is filled with the smell of roasted meats, potatoes, and fresh bread. It’s warm, comforting, but the tension with Harry still lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at you.

As everyone starts to gather around the table, you find yourself slipping into your usual seat, the one across from Harry. It’s always been that way – his eyes meeting yours across the table, a friendly exchange, a joke, a smile. But now? Now everything feels different. He sits down, his movements a little slower, more careful, like he’s trying not to draw attention to the fact that everything’s changed between you.

Dinner begins, with the usual clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation filling the room. Sirius and James are already deep into a playful argument about Quidditch, and Remus is chuckling along, trying to keep the peace. But you’re hardly paying attention. Your focus keeps drifting back to Harry.

He’s quiet tonight, quieter than usual, occasionally glancing your way but not saying much. Every time your eyes meet, there’s this… thing between you, a kind of nervous energy that wasn’t there before. And every bite of food feels like it’s sitting heavy in your stomach because, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to relax.

Lily leans over at one point, offering you another helping of potatoes, her soft voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “You alright, dear? You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly, offering her a smile. “Just thinking.”

She gives you a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t press further. You can feel Harry’s eyes on you again from across the table, and you risk another glance in his direction. His fork is hovering over his plate, but his gaze is fixed on you, intense, like he’s waiting for something – an opening, a chance to talk.

But the words just won’t come.

The familiar sounds of laughter and holiday cheer continue around you, but it feels like you and Harry are in your own bubble, isolated from the rest. Every clink of a glass or scrape of a chair feels like it’s just prolonging the inevitable conversation you both know is coming.

After dinner, the house hums with the warmth of family conversation, but you can barely focus. Plates clatter as you and Harry gather the dishes, the room filled with laughter from the others.

You follow him into the kitchen, the tension between you as thick as it was during dinner. Harry’s hands move with practiced ease as he starts packing the dishwasher, and you find yourself mirroring his actions, the two of you working in silence.

It’s only when the last dish is tucked away, and Harry closes the dishwasher door, that he speaks. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low, eyes darting toward you.

You freeze, a lump forming in your throat. “I know,” you whisper back, already feeling the weight of the conversation you’ve, both been avoiding.

He takes a deep breath, glancing toward the dining room where your parents are still chatting. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggests. You nod, grateful for the chance to step outside, to breathe away from the tension hanging over the evening.

As you move toward the hallway, Sirius looks up. “Where are you two sneaking off to?” he asks, raising a brow. Remus glances over, curious as well.

Harry shrugs casually, but there’s a tightness in his voice. “Just going for a walk. We’ll be back soon.”

Sirius shoots you both a teasing grin. “No funny business, you hear me?”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “Dad.”

Remus, however, just waves you off with a smile. “Go on, you two. Get some fresh air.”

Stepping outside, the cold air hits you immediately, refreshing but also sharp. You walk in silence, your breath visible in the chill, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound for a while. You feel Harry’s presence beside you, close but careful, like neither of you knows exactly what to say yet.

After a few minutes, you arrive at the treehouse, the one you’ve both spent countless summers and holidays in, hiding away from the world. It’s where you’ve shared secrets, jokes, and dreams. But tonight, the treehouse feels different – like it’s holding its breath, waiting for the words to finally spill out between you.

You climb up first, settling into the familiar space. Harry follows, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches out, both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

Finally, you break the quiet, your voice soft. “Our friendship… it’s changed, hasn’t it?”

Harry leans back, his eyes on the floorboards. “Yeah, it has.” His tone is measured, but there’s something raw underneath, something unsaid.

You bite your lip, unsure of how to go on. “I mean… we don’t have to let it. We could just… forget it happened. The kiss, I mean. We can just stay friends.”

The words feel heavy, almost painful, as they leave your mouth. You’re not even sure if you believe them. But it’s easier than facing the possibility of things falling apart between you.

Harry’s head snaps up, his expression one of pure shock. “Forget it?” he echoes, disbelief colouring his voice. “You really think we can just pretend that didn’t happen?”

You shift uncomfortably, shrugging. “I don’t know, I just… I don’t want to ruin everything.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze piercing into yours. “But I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to pretend like nothing’s changed. Because…” He hesitates, and you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s choosing his words carefully. “Because I like you. A lot more than just… as a friend.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching. “Really?” It comes out softer than you intended, the word barely more than a whisper.

Harry looks at you earnestly, his eyes soft but steady. “Yeah, really. I’ve been trying to figure it out for a while now, but that kiss… it just made everything clearer.”

You stare at him, stunned. His confession sends a rush of warmth through you, but you’re still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he feels the same way. “I… I feel the same,” you admit, your voice shaky, but there’s no denying the truth behind your words.

His eyes soften at your confession, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Then he gently lifts your joined hands, his fingers still intertwined with yours, and holds them between you, as if solidifying the connection.

You notice the mistletoe again, still hanging above your heads. You can’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh. “There’s that mistletoe again.”

Harry follows your gaze, then looks back at you with a soft smile. “Yeah… funny how it keeps showing up, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t hesitate this time. Slowly, deliberately, Harry leans in, and your breath catches in your throat. You can feel the warmth of his breath as he inches closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first. But then you both relax into it, the tension melting away as his hand gently cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. You kiss him back, your free hand finding its way to his chest, your fingers gripping the fabric of his sweater as you lose yourself in the moment.

The kiss feels different from the one on the Astronomy Tower. This time, there’s no hesitation, no second guessing – just the two of you, wrapped up in each other and the quiet certainty of how you feel.

When you finally pull back, you’re both a little breathless, your foreheads resting together as you sit there in the stillness. But then a thought crosses your mind, and you pull back slightly, just enough to look at him.

“I just-” You hesitate, biting your lip. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, you know? I mean, I like you. I really like you, but… jumping straight into a relationship? It feels like a lot. And I don’t want to mess things up.”

Harry’s brows furrow slightly, his gaze soft as he watches you. “So… take it slow?”

You nod, your heart pounding as you wait for his response. “Yeah. If that’s okay with you. I just don’t want to rush into something and then lose what we have.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he squeezes your hand gently. “Of course that’s okay. We don’t have to rush anything. We’ll figure it out together.”

Relief floods through you, and you let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Really? You’re okay with that?”

Harry grins, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah. That’s fine. We don’t have to label anything or figure it all out right now. I’m just… I’m glad we talked about it.”

“Me too,” you murmur, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable, more familiar. “So… we’ll take it slow.”

Harry nods, and then, without hesitation, he leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Whatever pace you want.”

Your heart swells, and for the first time in weeks, everything feels less complicated. You don’t know exactly where this will go, but for now, your content with this – taking things one step at a time, hand in hand.

#harry potter #wolfstar daughter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x wolfstar!daughter!reader #fluff #confessions #slight angst #wolfstar #jily #oneshot

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bisexualbrainrots · 6 months ago

Text

part 2 of the louliver fic inspired by this ask from cj's page and fuck, why was this so long I- anyways, enjoy y'all

“When you said you wanted to draw me I didn’t expect you to drag it out this long”

Lou looked up from his chair, and chuckled at the bored expression in Oliver’s face “It hasn’t been that long, c’mon”

Oliver arched an eyebrow and pointed at the clock “It’s been exactly an hour since you started… also, I’m kind of cold in here” he wiggled his hips on the couch, making Lou smile.

“Well, that’s what happens in nude modeling, Oliver”

Oliver scoffed but went back to his original pose, resting his head on his forearms, slightly flexing them, with one of his legs bent high enough to cover his crotch from Lou’s view. He wouldn’t admit it but he really liked it, he liked the way in which Lou studied him, his eyes focusing on different areas of his body at a time before going back to the page.

“If this isn’t going to be one of your best works then I’m sorry but you’ve wasted a good hour where you could’ve fucked me into oblivion”

Lou snorted a laugh, without taking his eyes away from the sketch “Perfection takes time, Oli ” he smirked, knowing the younger was watching him “Besides, you already came before I pulled the charcoal, it’s how I got you to agree to this”

Lou shifted in his seat, remembering the way the younger had come down his throat, leaning against the kitchen island.

Oliver laughed, his chest shaking a little “And it fucking worked, remind me not to listen to you after you’ve gotten me off Lou”

It was not really that surprising the amount of things both men could agree to after coming, given that sex between them was nothing less than extraordinary. They would end up dazed, no thoughts on their heads but the wave of pleasure that just washed over them, which in most cases tended to be intense.

Months of sex could do that to you, especially when it was as exploratory as theirs.

They had gotten to know each other’s bodies well enough to hit those spots that would make them see stars, that would make them lose themselves to ecstasy and not stop until they reached the finishing line.

Lou gave one last brush with his thumb to the paper, the finishing touches done and he hummed, pleased with the end result “Okay, I’m done, you can stop your whining and get dressed… or not ” he looked at him as he grabbed a cloth to clean his hands, carrying that playful smirk Oliver had gotten to know over the last months.

Oliver sighed with content “Finally” he sat on the couch, leaning towards the older “Can I get a peak then?, seeing as I’m probably the only one would get to watch this”

Lou rolled his eyes but gave him a small smile “Okay, get in here” he watched carefully as the younger approached the armrest, and before he could sit and watch he spoke “Look, I’m my worst critic, so I don’t think it’s perfect but… here it is”

He didn’t expect for Oliver to lose his breath as he took in the drawing, brushing it with his fingers, enchanted by it “This… this is really good Lou” he looked up at the older, biting his lower lip before speaking “Is-is this how you see me?”

Oliver did look good, really good. Lou captured everything, from the fluffy curls on his head to the definition in his muscles. The shading made it almost look like a filtered photograph, you could still tell it was a drawing but it was impressive how stuck to reality it was for the most part.

Oliver��s face in the sketch looked angelic, his eyes soft as they were looking at the front, it was a bit eerie since it looked like he was staring into you. He was gorgeous though, his lips looking plump and his birthmark adorning his face. Oliver couldn't believe it.

He looked perfect.

Lou cleared his throat suddenly nervous “Well, yeah I guess, I mean I tried to make this as realistically as possible, I don't usually get to practice this style that mu—” his rambling couldn't continue thanks to Oliver's lips on his, accompanied by his hand that was cupping his face.

Lou closed his eyes and gave into the kiss. It was sweeter than most, it almost reminded him of their first kiss, when they rehearsed for their scene on the show.

When they stopped he was breathless, staring into the younger's eyes and almost moaning at the way his pupils had overpowered the blue.

“C’mere” he said, carefully placing the sketch on the coffee table before grabbing Oliver's hips, making him straddle his lap.

Oliver squeaked at the strength, giggling when he had Lou's hands all over him, and started trading kisses along the older's cheek and neck. He nipped at the earlobe, giving it a lick “I looked really fucking good, Jesus , how the fuck did you do that Lou?” he whispered in his ear.

Lou groaned when he felt Oliver grinding on him and kneaded his asscheeks, getting one his fingers closer to the rim “I just… I have a lot of practice, you know?”

Oliver shivered when he felt Lou's digit stimulating his entrance and demanded him to put it inside quickly. This got him a strong spank that made him whimper.

Lou took the finger out and brought it along with other two to Oliver's lower lip “Coat them well if you want me to fuck you, Oliver” the younger moaned and welcomed the digits immediately, licking and drooling onto them like they were Lou's actual cock.

Lou cooed, complimenting the way in which the younger sucked off his fingers, his other hand playing with Oliver's curls. Oliver closed his eyes, putting on a little show for the older, whom he knew was going to be looking at him intensely.

When Lou had decided it was enough he took them out and slid one finger into Oliver's hole, making the younger squirm and hold himself by the older's shoulders.

He slowly started to open him up, sliding in and out his finger until he could see the way Oliver was looking for more. A second digit was added and Oliver started moaning louder, hiding his face in the crook of Lou's neck.

When it was time for the third finger the younger was sobbing, tears streaming down his face as pleasure overtook him.

When Lou found Oliver's prostate the other jolted and cursed loudly, rolling his hips to get more of Lou's thick fingers “Yeah that's it, ride my fingers Oli , c'mon, fuck yourself with them” the older's voice reached a new low that surprised the younger and made him lean back enough so that their noses were brushing.

“Fuck, Lou… fuckin’ hell” he gasped against the older's lips, their hot breath mingling together. Oliver groaned and joined their foreheads “Fuck me, please Lou just fuck me now, ah ”

Lou took the younger's mouth and slid his tongue in, kissing him passionately as his fingers started to slow down, receiving a loud complaint from Oliver. He continued the kiss as he took hold of Oliver's ass and lifted both of them from the chair, leading them to the couch with him on top of the younger.

Lou held Oliver's wrists and lifted them over the younger's head, grinding against him. He separated from the kiss and started trading some along Oliver's neck, receiving sighs and encouragements from him.

“Why am I the only one still clothed here, Lou? ah yeah, there , t-take those damn shorts off”

Lou chuckled against Oliver's neck and gave him a gentle bite, which made the younger squirm “I’m sorry, your royal highness, but I don't answer to mean”

“You like it when I'm mean”

Lou rolled his eyes and groaned, letting his hold on the younger's wrists go and allowing Oliver to undress him “I do, I also like it when you're needy which I recall you were when you begged me to fuck you” his impression of the younger got him a twist on his nipples and he laughed, letting all his clothes fall to the floor with the help of Oliver.

When he was naked he looked between the cushions and cheered when he found the lube, receiving a mockery from the younger.

“You’re such a dork Lou”

“A dork that will pound you into the couch in the next minute or so, so we better get you ready” he chuckled as he poured some lube on his fingers and slid them inside Oliver, who squirmed at the feeling.

It only took a couple of thrusts with his fingers to get Oliver ready, which both men secretly thanked as Lou took a cushion and placed it under the younger's hips.

Oliver got another cushion to rest his head in and locked eyes with Lou as he lined himself in his entrance. He gasped, breathless as the tip entered and closed his eyes shut the more inches slipped in “W-why did you have to be so big Lou?” he grabbed onto the older's biceps, sinking his nails in.

Lou chuckled “You ask yourself that and I'm still wondering how you are so tight after I opened you up” both men snorted a laugh at that and Oliver fluttered his eyes open. They gasped when Lou bottomed out, Oliver's mouth hanging open as a whimper escaped his throat.

“Fuck… fuck ” Oliver was breathless, taking gulps of air as he felt Lou filling him up “M-move, please …”

Lou gave him a soft smile and slowly started to roll his hips, pulling soft moans from the younger's mouth. He leaned in, kissing his forehead and joining them as his pace picked up, thrusting deeply into Oliver.

Oliver’s legs wrapped themselves around Lou's hips, and his moans filled the room as the older kept fucking him “Harder, fuck me harder Lou”

Lou did as such, letting out a groan as he leaned his head back, admiring the way the younger looked form that angle “Sometimes it’s really annoying how beautiful you are, Oliver” the younger looked at him and smiled faintly, his face and chest covered in a red blush “Makes me want to paint all over you”

Their bodies were sweaty now as they slammed into each other, skin to skin sounds that made both men sigh.

“We c-could, ah , you know there’s edible paint, right?”

Lou's eyes sparkled, thinking about all the things he could create on the younger's body, and how he could lick all of that off with his tongue, taking his time to ruin the other “You’re giving me ideas, Oli”

Oliver chuckled but then bit his lip, looking at the older with pleading eyes “Lou…”

Lou looked at him confused, it was a different look from the ones he had been giving him up to the moment “W-what? Are you okay?”

He cared about him, despite the way Oliver has hurt him before. Sometimes it made him sad, to know he had become so infatuated with a person who will never reciprocate those feelings.

“It’s just… fuck , Lou, lift my legs” the needy moan that escaped Oliver's mouth bounced around the older's head “I-I want you in deeper, please fucking lift my legs”

Lou smiled and gave him a small kiss before leaning back, taking Oliver by the ankles letting them rest on his shoulders. The change in angle made it easier to fuck into the younger deeper and faster, and suddenly, Oliver screamed.

“Touch yourself Oli , c'mon, jerk yourself off” the softness in Lou's voice was a bit too much for Oliver, who teared up as his hand reached his aching cock, pumping it hard.

Lou’s hands caressed Oliver's legs, a soft touch that contrasted with the hard thrusts that drilled into the younger's ass “I’m obsessed with your legs, Oliver, they're so long it's ridiculous, fuck ”

Oliver’s laugh turned into a loud moan as the older kept hitting his prostate, and he just knew “Lou I-I’m gonna come, shit , Lou please come inside, I need, I need—”

“I know” Lou’s thumb stroked Oliver's lips and the younger sucked on it, never letting his eyes off the older “Shit, Oliver ”

The care in Lou's voice was enough to send Oliver over the edge, and he came hard. His cum reached up to his pecs, and his body shook so hard you'd think he was convulsing.

It took a few more thrusts for Lou to reach ecstasy, screaming Oliver's name as he filled his hole, so much he knew he was overflowing it.

He carefully dropped Oliver's legs to his sides before collapsing on top of him, their chests sticking together as they got their breathing under control.

“Fuck, that was…”

“Amazing” Oliver finished, and both chuckled before kissing softly.

Lou pulled out, making the younger wince, and rested his head on Oliver's shoulder “I think I'll stay like this for a while Oli I can't… I don't think I can stand up just yet”

Oliver chuckled “ You can't stand up? Lou I can't feel my lower body… but I'm not complaining, that was a good fuck”

Lou smiled, and kissed his neck “Yeah, it was”

read on AO3.

#louliver #louliver fic #rpf #lou ferrigno jr #oliver stark #smut

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guiltysungho · 1 year ago

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— let the light in

genre : tags. fluff, domestic, comfort, reader is in a slump, oblivious x oblivious

pairing. bsf! leehan x gn! reader

wordcount. 1477

a/n. sunny by boney m. opening line i love disco music !!! also yippee 100 followers, I'll do a little post soon I've just been a bit sad and busy but I hope you enjoy this it's really sweet imo.

@onedoornet

The dark days are gone, and the bright days are here. That was how it felt whenever you saw Donghyun, even after a couple days without him you could feel the grey clouds settling in, casting a grim feeling all around.

Everything would feel so mundane, repetitive, lifeless, and you would try your best to just accept that most days weren’t as fun as you’d remembered them to be in your carefree days. You now had responsibilities, goals that needed to be reached, so happiness would be a luxury for special days.

Special days like this one.

“I think we could go shopping later to get food for the evening, we’ll cook something nice together.” Donghyun points out, carrying his bag over his shoulder as he steps in your flat. You nod enthusiastically waiting impatiently for him to settle his things down so you could regain your rightful spot, in his arms.

He stands up straight with a knowing smile on his lips, looking at you he opens his arms gesturing for you to get closer with a swift movement of his hands, “Come here.”

You let your smile pull your cheeks apart as you rush into his arms, hugging him as tightly as you could. The scent that you missed so much now enveloped you completely, the arms that you missed clinging onto now wrapped so perfectly around you, your missing piece.

It had been a month since you last saw him and it was a hard month, your days could be resumed with three words. Eat, work, sleep. Some days the only constant was work, it wasn’t terrible at first, you needed the money, so you were willing to do what you needed but after some time you realized you’d stopped minding your own wellbeing with the excuse of getting a paycheck.

Then you got a call from him. Talking to him was never hard, you found yourself expressing feelings about the job that you hadn’t even thought to yourself about. He listened attentively, taking note of everything you’d told him, and his conclusion felt like your solution, he said, “If you hate it, you have no reason to stay. Doing something you enjoy pays off more, in every way.”

So, you quit, and the theme for the weekend was job hunting. After being away from each other so long you figured a weekend together would be healing. You had missed his company more than you wanted to admit, your friendship had blurry lines like that, where you never were sure when the amount of emotions you felt would be ruled as “too much”.

Most of the time you would tell yourself that it was okay. Okay to long for his touch when you were inches apart, okay to imagine possible futures together and it wouldn’t mean anything because of the ways he cared for you, it was normal to get kind of confused but you were friends.

“I think you’re gonna be fine, there’s a lot out there, let yourself dream.” His words always sounded so reassuring. You smile at him, expressing all your gratitude in the way your eyes soften.

“I feel so lucky when I’m with you.” You sigh looking down at the floor between you. You always manage to say the most embarrassing things when you’re happy, he’d probably heard every embarrassing thing you could say but it never got less humbling.

“Don’t flatter me too much, you bring out the best in me.” He lifts your chin, blessing your eyes with that bright smile, his whole face smiling just for you. “Come on, we have a whole evening to prepare.”

You left the house soon after, a quick stroll downtown to the nearest mart. You had a few things to get for the weekend, ingredients for recipes you had been wanting to try but with no motivation, snacks for movie night, maybe a few drinks to add to the fun of each other’s company. He walks beside you with the trolley, pushing gently as you walk mindlessly through the aisles, to get an idea of where everything was arranged.

“Should we just grab stuff separately since we have a lot?” you ask turning to him curiously, he shakes his head declining your suggestion with a small smile, placing his hand at the base of your neck to keep you close.

“We’re in no rush baby, stay here.”

His hand stays there at the back of your neck, gently rubbing soothing any tension in that area as you made your way to the vegetable area. It felt so good you wished it lasted longer, the feeling of his hands loosening around your neck made you frown slightly.

You start ticking off items on your list putting all sorts of greens into your basket, echoing the names to Donghyun who crosses them out on the notebook you’d brought. The longer he watches you, scanning the displays, sorting out the perfectly ripe ones to add to your basket, the more he loses focus. Everything about your attire is casual, baggy clothes, ponytail, but it is so alluring, you make everything seem so beautiful. There was something so romantic about sharing this casual moment with you, it wasn’t obvious, but it was all he could see.

He follows you closely as you continued roaming around searching for the last item for the section, you turn to him with a confused frown he tilts his head curiously in response.

“Was it aubergines or asparagu—” The smile on his face makes you lose your flow of words, furrowing your eyebrows you ask, “What?” Trying to keep the smile on your lips contained.

“I feel like I’m grocery shopping with my wife right now.” He breathes out a soft laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you.

You turn back over to the carrots looking through them to distract your mind from blowing things out of proportion, letting out a light scoff you turn back to him.

“What?” Seemingly your vocabulary had been reduced to that word.

“I don’t know… I like this, being with you here, it feels familiar.” You could feel the heat taking over your face, it was stupid, you knew how he meant it so why couldn’t your heart accept it the same way your brain had?

“Yeah… I get that.” You continue your shopping grabbing both aubergine and asparagus, you couldn’t face him. An awkward silence settles in as you walk to the snack aisle, you look over to him meeting his eyes immediately, he stares at you carefully then smiles, not a real smile, just a smile, shying away from your gaze in the same beat.

“Was that weird? Me saying I could see you as my wife?” You want to answer but you’re not sure of your answer, watching him look anywhere but at you as he continues, “I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot, you and me you know?” Your eyes meet again.

“Donghyun… I—”

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make things weird, it’s just a thought that comes up.” He smiles rubbing the back of his neck, then a sigh follows.

“It’s not weird…” You smile back placing your hand on his against the trolley handle. All you wanted to do was tell him how much you liked hearing that from him, that him seeing you as anything more than a friend was exactly what you wanted. You knew he loved you and you loved him but there were levels to it, if he knew all the things you thought about him would he say he thought the same or would he tell you it was “too much”?

“Y/n. I love being with you, I can’t imagine being with anyone other than you, and I know we’re literally in the middle of frozen foods aisle, but I feel like you need to know this now,” he cups your face in his hands, smoothing your cheeks with light brushes from his thumb while you stood there completely dazed,

“Being without you for a month felt like an eternity, all I did was count the days till I would see this beautiful face again; racking my brain to find a word to express how much I love you.”

“Did you find one?” You didn’t realize when your eyes started watering down, contrasting the big smile on your face as you look up at him.

“No,” he laughs softly, wiping your wet cheeks with his thumbs, “not a word.”

You watch his eyes land on your lips, drawing him closer waiting for his lips to meet yours as you shut your eyes. Your lips meet and it feels like something new in born in you, the taste you craved for the longest time was now the only flavour you could taste.

#onedoornet #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #bnd x reader #bnd #boynextdoor fluff #gs.files #bnd fluff #boynextdoor fanfic #leehan boynextdoor #boynextdoor leehan #leehan fluff #kim donghyun #kim donghyun x reader

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leriexoxo · 5 days ago

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THE LOVE DIARY SERIES (STRAY KIDS)

“I’m not always the strong one and that doesn’t make me any less worthy of love. They reminded me of that. And now I’ll never forget it.” - 🐷🐰

Changbin’s POV

I wasn’t supposed to cry like that.

Not in front of them. Not when they already had so much on their plates. I’m the one who’s supposed to hold it together. The one who hugs, not gets hugged. The one who lifts the room up, not weighs it down.

But I cracked.

Everything got too loud — in my head, in the room, in my chest — and I just… I broke. And I hated it. Hated how it felt. Hated the silence after.

Because no one knew what to say.

And for a moment, I thought maybe they didn’t want to deal with me like this. Maybe I’d scared them. Disappointed them. Maybe I’m not allowed to fall apart like this.

But I was wrong. They came back for me.

All of them. In their own ways. And maybe this time, I’ll write it down so I don’t forget it.

Entry 1: 3rd October

Chan

Hyung didn’t look away when I cried.

He just sat there, still as stone, eyes soft, like he knew exactly how much it hurt to let it all out. He didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t rush me.

He just stayed.

After, he put his hand on my back — that steady kind of touch that says I’ve got you even now — and whispered, “You don’t have to be strong for us all the time, Binnie. We’re strong for you too.”

I’ve always looked at him like he’s the glue that holds us together.

But that day, I realized he sees me the same way.

And maybe that’s why he never hesitates to hold me — because he knows how heavy it gets being the one who carries everyone else.

Entry 2: 25th October

Lee Know

I thought Minho would be the most uncomfortable seeing me break.

He’s not the emotional one. He teases. He smirks. He makes everything feel normal again without trying too hard.

So I avoided him for a while.

But he came to me anyway. Sat on the floor beside me with a tangerine in his lap, peeled it in silence, and handed me half.

Then he said, “If you’re gonna cry again, at least eat something after. You looked like a wreck.”

It made me laugh. It also made me want to cry all over again.

He never said “I’m here for you.”

But that’s exactly what he meant.

And with Minho, that’s how I know it’s real.

Entry 3: 14th September

Han

Jisung didn’t know what to do with me when I broke down.

I saw it in his eyes — panic, confusion, pain. He looked at me like I’m not supposed to see you like this, and it broke me more.

But then he did the most Jisung thing ever.

He came into my room that night with two cans of soda and a crumpled bag of chips. He didn’t ask if I wanted to talk. He just sat down, turned on a random anime, and said, “We can be train wrecks together if that helps?”

We watched three episodes. Didn’t say a word about what happened.

Then he said, real quiet, “You take care of me all the time. I wanna be someone who can do that for you too. So just… let me try, okay?”

I did.

And it felt good. To be held in that kind of love. Messy. Loyal. Unconditional.

Entry 4: 20th March

Hyunjin

Hyunjin cried when he saw me cry.

That’s just who he is — all heart, all empathy, all in.

He wrapped his arms around me so fast, I didn’t even get a chance to pull away. He just kept saying, “You’re allowed, Binnie. You’re allowed.”

And it broke me in the best way.

Later, he left a note on my desk — scribbled in the middle of the night, messy handwriting and all.

“You’re still my role model. Even when you’re hurting. Maybe especially then.”

I kept it in my wallet.

He probably doesn’t know that. But I need the reminder. That vulnerability doesn’t cancel strength.

That even when I’m weak, I’m still someone’s light.

Entry 5: 15th September

Felix

Lixie hugged me from behind.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, pretending to scroll through my phone, trying not to look like I was falling apart again.

And he just walked over, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Hyung,” he said, real soft, “you don’t have to be okay right away.”

That made something in my chest crack open.

He didn’t leave for a long time. Just stood there. Breathing with me. Holding me like I was something fragile for once — not the strong one, not the motivator, not the muscle.

Just me.

That kind of tenderness? It healed things I didn’t know were broken.

Entry 6: 22nd September

Seungmin

I didn’t think Seungmin would say anything.

He’s not the warmest when it comes to emotional stuff. He watches. Listens. Stays quiet until the room feels safe again.

But a few days after the breakdown, he walked up to me and handed me a playlist.

Said, “It’s songs I think you need. Don’t ask questions.”

Later that night, I listened.

It was full of lyrics about not having to hold everything alone. About being human. About being loved without being perfect.

I texted him thank you.

He replied: I’ve always known you’re strong. Now I know you’re brave too.

That one got me.

Because brave means choosing to be seen when it’s ugly. And he saw me. Fully.

Entry 7: 8th February

Jeongin

Jeongin didn’t know what to say.

I could tell he was a little scared seeing me like that — crying, silent, small. He’s used to me being big and loud and safe.

But he came into my room with a hoodie I’d left in the laundry, folded and warm, and said, “You always take care of me. This time I wanted to take care of something for you.”

It was such a small thing. But it meant everything.

Because even if he didn’t have the words, he still showed up.

And maybe that’s what love is, really — not knowing exactly what to say, but choosing to stay anyway.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: Changbin is always the strong one. He’s used to being the support system; the first to hold someone when they’re crying, the one who powers through exhaustion, who keeps morale high with jokes and energy. But he rarely gets asked how he’s doing. And on the rare occasion he does break down, he immediately feels ashamed. He thinks he’s failed. That his vulnerability is a burden. That the others won’t know how to deal with him like he knows how to deal with them.

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar

#changbin stray kids #skz imagines #straykids x reader #skz smut #straykids changbin #seo changbin #changbin drabbles #changbin angst #changbin x reader #changbin fanfic #changbin fluff #skz changbin #skz fanfic #skz headcanons #smut headcanons #headcanon #dear diary

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misspelledwordswizard · 7 months ago

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I'm gonna be annoying and ask for more Sky fluff. Can he be taking care of the reader during her period and she has terrible cramps? (That's me, I'm the reader.)

I was suffering from this pain while I was writing, so the feeling was totally true. I need to speed up the requests, Tumblr is starting to disappear with the oldest ones, I almost had a heart attack thinking I had lost this one

I was lying in my sleeping bag, whimpering softly so that no one could hear my monthly suffering. Of all the days this could have happened, this was a bad day.

It wasn’t even completely dark yet, it had been a little over an hour since we set up camp, and this day had been particularly hellish for me. After a whole day of walking and dealing with cramping pains, we were finally able to stop and rest for the rest of the day, only for me to realize that my nightmare in red had arrived early.

I ran to wash myself in the nearby lake, probably confusing everyone, but after having my moment of privacy I was able to deal with this initial problem. But unfortunately for me, the cold shower only aggravated my cramps. Hell.

Now I was here, isolated, in my sleeping bag, while all the boys gathered around the campfire. I wish I was there with them, but I fear that if I moved from this position the pain would get worse. And to make matters worse, I’m feeling sooo lonely, so needy and sentimental, still feeling the effects of the excessive amount of hormones my body produces at this time of the month.

From the distance I was from the boys, I could barely hear them, only their laughter or the sounds of conversation that I couldn’t understand, and I also couldn’t see them clearly. I’ve been looking for my boyfriend among them for some time, hoping that he’ll see me from afar and magically understand my pleas for help. Knowing Sky, he would need less than a glance to understand the message, the problem is that I simply can’t find him in the middle of the group.

This has been bothering me for some time now. Even though I can’t see very well from where I am, it’s strange to have him out of sight for so long, and even stranger that I’m out of sight of him. Where could he be?

This question of mine was answered soon after, when I felt the presence of the blond hero approaching me, spying, I saw him approaching carrying several things, careful not to drop anything. He knelt down beside me, leaving the things on the floor, sighing in relief that he had finally succeeded.

— Sorry for the delay, my feather. I ended up having a bit of trouble finding everything.

Link said, apologizing unnecessarily, as he showed me everything he had managed to get: Chocolate stolen from the Champion, a hot water bottle suitable for this purpose, fresh water for when I get thirsty, another blanket, large and heavy, and he had managed to get a type of colic potion made by Rulie, which would help ease my pain.

My hero. I should have guessed, it’s Sky, after all. He always knows when I need something and is ready to help, my perfect boyfriend. I had to hold back the tears of emotion so as not to scare him, but I couldn’t resist the urge to hug him, even though it might not have been the best idea, considering the increase in pain I felt because of it.

— You’re the best, thank you so much, dear.

I was finally able to enjoy the rest of the night, comfortably, in the arms of my beloved, receiving unconditional affection and drowning myself in chocolate and water.

#link x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #tloz #linked universe fanfic #lu x reader #x reader #legend of zelda #lu sky x reader #lu sky

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lixie-phoria · 1 year ago

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[10.0 americano fiasco] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

◂ previous | masterlist | next ▸

you would have thought that the campus walk ways would be empty considering the match that was about to start in less than fifteen minutes, everyone eager to get a good seat, but it's surprisingly crowded as you and hyunjin walk down the old, cobbled path.

"-and then changbin fell down smack on his ass. funniest thing that's ever happened during practice," hyunjin finishes his story, throwing his head back to laugh. "i wish we got that on camera."

the wind is cold, kissing your skin as it pushes back your hair, and you're slightly concerned at your friend's insistence to drink his iced americano despite the weather.

"you will never let him live it down, will you?"

"of course not!"

hyunjin's excitement is contagious, because you find yourself laughing along as he skips ahead, forcing you to take bigger steps too.

"sometimes i feel bad for him. but then i remember how he keeps stealing my protein powder!"

right. of course. every few days you are reminded your best friend is only a man whose brain is hard wired into thinking about two things - the gym and girls. specifically in that order.

"and-" here hyunjin stumbles over a crack on the ground, squealing a bit.

"careful or you're going to be the one falling on your ass."

he rolls his eyes playfully at your poke, correcting himself and removing the skip from his step before falling into line with you.

"anyways so-"

"hyunjin!"

you halt, turning back to see jeongin jogging down the path towards the pair of you.

"chan hyung said you should come back for some final strategy discussions!"

you hear your best friend groan beside you.

"we've discussed our plan a million times before!" he all but whines, stomping his leg like a toddler. "why does he want to go over it again?"

"not our choice, is it? the coach said we have to."

you pat hyunjin's arm as he slouches in defeat.

"it's fine hyune. i should probably go get a seat too or all the good ones will be taken."

"sure," he mumbles, spinning on one foot to sharply turn towards you. "bye-"

you see it happen in slow motion - hyunjin's mouth opening to finish his sentence when a large body collides into him from the back, sending the boy stumbling into you.

but you feel it before you see it - ice cold americano splashing all across the front of your white top, soaking the fabric and diffusing through it in a few seconds.

"sorry!"

you faintly hear a foreign voice apologize, their figure walking ahead without stopping to clearly notice the damage they had just caused.

"holy shit," jeongin whispers, wide eyes looking between you and hyunjin, who is also frozen in his spot, hand slapped across his mouth.

"that bitch."

the culprit is long gone, melting into the sea of people ahead, and you're still too scared to look down and see exactly how much of the drink had landed on you. but you can see hyunjin's now empty cup that had been filled nearly to the brim only a few seconds ago.

"yn-" hyunjin's voice is only a whisper, and from the horror painting his face you would have thought he had seen a ghost. "shit, i'm so sorry-"

"no time for that," jeongin interrupts, recovering first, and you turn to look at him. "hyunjin did you carry an extra t-shirt or sweatshirt with you?"

the boy shakes his head.

"just your luck," jeongin mutters as he shakes his head. "i have my spare jersey from last year. yn you can borrow that."

it's like a switch goes off in hyunjin's head as he stands straight, his horror slowly morphing into annoyance.

"that won't be necessary-"

"do you want her to freeze to death?"

"well obviously not-"

"then there's no time to waste."

"why can't we ask chan hyung or someone for their jersey? maybe-"

"i have my bag with me right now. do you want to go back to the lockers and explain to hyung what you were doing drinking an ice cold americano ten minutes before a match?"

hyunjin's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, searching for something to say before he slumps in defeat.

"yn are you fine with this?"

you shrug. you really didn't have a choice.

you didn't want to agree seeing the miserable look on your best friend's face, but the drink was really starting to soak through the cloth and the cold it brought was not welcomed by your bones. you could feel the goose bumps lining your skin.

and so you find yourself accepting the jersey from jeongin, trying to reassure hyunjin it wasn't his fault. but the boy wouldn't even meet your eyes.

"thanks jeongin."

he flashes you a reassuring smile before pulling hyunjin and the two are on their way, leaving you to walk to the washrooms alone.

and it isn't until you're in one of the stalls that you really realize it's jeongin's jersey, and it has his name printed on it in big bold letters.

oh.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it smells like him - the same pepper and vanilla mix you had caught on to the at the party.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it falls around you perfectly, but it's nowhere near as nice as it would look on him - highlighting all those muscles you had felt that night.

it's jeongin's jersey, and you're wearing it at his game, something you once used to do for yeonjun.

it's jeongin's jersey, and-

shut up!

you have to physically slap yourself, shaking your head as the sting spreads across your skin.

something was wrong with you. this wasn't that big of a deal. he was just helping you out. he probably doesn't even care.

yeah. he doesn't even care. that's right. it's okay, you shouldn't be flustered about it either, you think, shoving your own top into your bag and marching out determinedly. you were not going to let yang jeongin and his nice smelling jersey cloud your thoughts.

you were here for hyunjin today. he would have your full attention. you were going to support him and then go for lunch without thinking about-

"for fucks sake watch where you're going!"

you yelp in surprise as you face plant into a hard body, stumbling back in shock. it really wasn't a good day for you.

"i'm so sorr-"

"yn?"

you freeze.

no way.

"what are you doing here?"

no fucking way.

"...yeonjun?"

he's right there. in front of you. hair slightly tousled from when you crashed into him and eyes wide as he stares at you.

"yeonjun what-"

he saves you from your rambling by stepping closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"what are you doing?"

"is that yang jeongin's jersey?"

of course he noticed.

you want to turn right back around, dig your grave, and bury yourself alive.

"yn. are you fucking wearing jeongin's jersey right now?"

"no?"

you wish you were six feet under the ground.

"stop lying-"

"bye! gotta go!"

you push him aside, running down to occupy the first empty seat you see in the crowd of spectators, losing the boy somewhere at the back.

fuck. your. life.

taglist 1 - @thisisnotjacinta @jiisungllvr @hanjsquokka @abbiestearsricochet @adestayskz @thisrandombitch @adr1an4 @alnex05 @cheesemonky @endlessheadache @tiapatito202278ok @queen-in-the-shadows @heeee24 @chanceonceli @amesification @conwunder @weareapackofstrays @taejun-sunlix @lofasofabread @untilthesunrises @jinnie-ret @darlingz99 @kibs-and-bits @143lix @simp4myself @thisrandomgoofy15 @vixensss @luvkpopp @skz-streamer @luvenus702 @syds-dead

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smau #stray kids fake texts #skz smau #skz fake texts #jeongin x reader #jeongin smau #i.n x reader #i.n smau #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop smau #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #skz smut #stray kids smut

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kaepop-trash · 9 days ago

Note

Why did y/n leave Jaehyun 3 days before he left to study abroad? We need more of the backstory 😭

My Favorite Things

Starting to wonder if July becomes the month of being creatively reborn? Something something my month of birth something something. This has been sitting in my drafts for *checks absentmindedly* a whole year. Despicable behaviour. This isn't my best work, but I needed to get this out there. If for nothing, to remind myself that I can still write. I would love to hear from anybody who reads this, just to appreciate the ones who never give up on me.

Summary: What came before.

Warnings: none

WC: 3.6K

Mini Masterlist

In the semester that had passed since he started university, the record store outside campus became somewhat of a haven. The first time he passed it, Jaehyun wasn’t sure what he saw. The banner on top had worn with age and the shutters were down.

“There used to be a record store here.” Jaehyun spoke wistfully, wishing he could go in. Who knows when it had shut down.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it open before. It's just too late.” Johnny hummed, probably trying to recall. “Odd thing, to have a record store near the undergrad campus.” Johnny continued to muse,

That surprised Jaehyun, flooding him with relief that he hadn’t missed the opportunity.

“I would love to go in sometime.” Jaehyun smiled, making a mental note to look up the hours.

Jaehyun slid the rusted door open, walking into the small shop that had more records than it did space. The man at the counter looked up, sniggering almost immediately.

”It’s occupied again.” He grinned, pointing his chin to the descending stairs. Jaehyun nodded politely, making his way to the basement.

One of his favourite parts of this place was just how it embraced being out of place, a relic of a time that Jaehyun couldn’t imagine. The basement was even more so, all the unsold records since its inception relegated to this dusty, sunless room that seemed to hang somewhere outside space and time. Each shelf threatened to cave under the weight of all the music that came before, yet seemingly the sturdiest things he had ever seen. Everytime he entered this space, walked down those rotting wooden stairs, Jaehyun felt like he was in a museum. This is how a museum should make one feel, he figured. Like an insignificant speck amongst an ocean of relevance. All the records here felt to overwhelming to approach, the music in them meant to outlast even him. It almost felt wrong to touch them without knowing what they were, and there were far too many to ever make a satisfying random choice. But he liked the space enough, sheepishly carrying down some brand new records to listen to in the solitude, feeling like an imposter.

Most days he got to stew in that feeling by himself, not a lot of people came into the store on weekdays. Even less came down to the dusty, sunless basement, filled to the ceiling with records in yellowing sleeves. But the past month or so, a girl started coming in more and more, using the only player available on this floor, an old thing that felt out of place on the modern top floor, yet still too sturdy to throw away. He had started by using the time to finally look around the basement, to take in some of the records in hopes of being less daunted by them. But as the days passed, the girl seemed to spend more and more time on the player.

Unlike the last three or four times, the sight of the girl didn’t annoy him. Apart from being warned by the attendant, he realised that he had spent his walk to the record shop wondering about her.

As usual, she sat cross-legged on the dusty carpet, hunched over the player and cupping the headphones that were much too big for her head. The shell of a record lay beside her, Duke Ellington today.

It had been Coltrane last time, and Jaehyun dragged himself to where she usually shoved her records in after finishing. His fingers traced the red letters against the blue sleeve, the paper curling with age. When he turned it over he was almost shocked. Four songs, two on each side. He could listen to that. He grinned to himself at the initiative, pressing the record against his chest as he weaved into the shelves to explore some more.

Jaehyun hovered like he usually did, waiting just in case she was done with the player. He sighed as he pulled out a record absentmindedly, eyes honed in on her back like it would telepathically get his message across.

Air sliced beside him followed by a loud series of crashes. Two heads turned to the source.

Somehow, Jaehyun had managed to make an entire shelf of records come loose. He prayed to every god he could remember that they did not break. The sheer weight of that destruction would crush him.

”Are you okay?” The voice behind him sounded perturbed.

Jaehyun had to brush off his embarrassment, turning with his best charming smile.

“What the hell, dude?” Another voice made them both turn, the shop’s attendant leaning from the very top of the stairs.

”Sorry!” Jaehyun winced, “I’ll clean it up!” He chuckled unceremoniously, exhaling in relief when the man just huffed and went back to his counter.

A second pair of hands joined his effort. When he looked up, there were no headphones on her ear. Behind her the player finally left unattended.

”You’re always here.” She gave him a suspicious look that made Jaehyun’s ears heat up more than they already had.

”So are you,” He mumbled his shoddy defense.

”Yeah, but I don’t stare at you the entire time.” Her brows creased further, his ears now boiling.

”I want to use the player but you’re always on it.” He spoke after several moments, sounding to himself worthy of her suspicions.

”Oh,” She looked up briefly from sorting the records, “You should have just asked.” She mumbled, standing up with the last of the records.

Jaehyun had nothing to say to that, the silence eating away at his dignity.

She walked up to the player, removing the Ellington record and gathering her things.

”All yours.” She pointed at it before walking away.

”Thanks!” He announced for the back, “For the player and the help.” He pressed the Coltrane tighter against his chest, not even sure why he wanted her to notice. She did not, scurrying away instead. Jaehyun thought she nodded but she did not turn.

”I’m Jaehyun, by the way.” He announced the next time he saw her, reaching his hand out.

”I know who you are.” She spoke to the floor, removing the headphones and gathering her things, “You gave me your notes on Keynes last semester. I passed econ because of that.”

”Oh.” He failed to recall, feeling guilty for the slight. When she went to take out her record he stopped her.

”Do you mind if I listen to that?” He questioned, eyeing the record’s cover— “The Essential Glenn Miller”.

”Sure. It’s not mine.” She got up, brushing dust off her jeans.

He wanted to ask her if the two other records lying there were also her choice, but she didn’t look in the mood to converse.

The time after that, Jaehyun was in a café with Johnny between classes. She walked by them, earphones tucked in and chin tucked down. Jaehyun watched her walk by, idly wondering what she was listening to. Johnny seemed to catch the movement, making Jaehyun catch himself.

”Hey, (Y/N).” He stopped her with a raised arm hitting her belly, “I still have your pen.”

”You have more than one.” She frowned, before surprising Jaehyun by smiling at Johnny, “What’s up?”

”Just waiting for my next class,” He pointed at the table. She strayed a look at Jaehyun before turning back to Johnny, “Do you know if we have Dr Richard’s class today?” He asked.

”Cancelled.” She shrugged, “Didn’t you have a date today, anyway?”

Johnny laughed, “I can’t believe you remember that.”

”I wouldn’t know it at all if you learned to shut up during class.” She scoffed, earning a quick snigger from Johnny.

”You both don’t have classes together this time?” Johnny asked after a moment, pointing to Jaehyun.

”What business would I have sharing classes with someone in such a different major?”

”You mean, what business do you have sharing classes with a business major?” Johnny wiggled his brows, earning two independent scoffs.

”Okay, chuckles. It was nice catching up, but I have a class.” She put a hand on his shoulder, turning to give Jaehyun a single nod.

”Want me to set you up?” Johnny asked with his teasing tone, making Jaehyun’s ears heat.

”Like I have the time to date.” Jaehyun mumbled.

“Is that Spanish?” Jaehyun squinted at the record.

She nodded, handing him the headphones.

”Will you suggest something to listen to?”

”This is a nice record.” She pointed at the one in the player, turning behind her, “So is this but they’re not jazz.”

”That’s fine. I can trust your taste.” He said in stride, neck heating up when she looked up at him, “I mean–“

”I got what you mean.” She interjected, lips twitching.

She left the record in when she got up, giving him a nod to signal the passing of the baton, a ritual they had established in the past month or so. Jaehyun eyed the song list on the cover, deciding to start with the last track she left.

Jaehyun was enjoying orienting himself to the new style of music, looking up the ones he did like to save for later. He was so deep in this search that a hand on his shoulder made him jerk back with a gasp. He heard a string of apologies when he took the headphones off.

”Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you but it's getting late and I need to get home,” She winced, a record in her hand, “You will like this I think, if the records you leave are any indicator.”

Jaehyun grinned at that, “Are we the only people who use this player?” He turned his amusement to her, glancing at the record— Amor, it read, with the name Eydie Gormé written in yellow beside what he assumed was the woman’s face.

”Yeah, mostly.” She gave him an awkward grin in return, “Track 10 on this is a personal favourite.” She nudged the vinyl in her hand, reminding Jaehyun to take it. “Enjoy.” She gave him an awkward wave to match, turning away. He tugged at her jeans, making her look down. When he patted on the floor she gave him a questioning brow.

In response Jaehyun turned to the player, smiling to himself as he pulled the headphones out and put his own wired earphones in. Putting one into his ear, he raised the other to her expectantly.

”Just want to get your run down on the basics. What are your favourites on the first two?” He smiled, putting all his charm into a smile she missed the first time. She looked like she wanted to say something, but sat down after a moment instead.

“At least I don’t listen to modern music on vinyl.” She said the words with a contempt that made Jaehyun’s side ache with an oncoming laugh.

”At least I am not a snob.” He retorted, making her swallow whatever words were going to come out. Jaehyun let his ensuing laugh spew out, lying down on the dusty carpet to ease the pain in his stomach.

”You don’t know enough to be a snob.” She said after several moments, the sting of the words fading with the delay.

”That’s true,” He spoke to the molding ceiling, looking up at her next, “That’s what you’re here for,” He ran his tongue under his cheeks, playing with a grin, “Snob.”

”Thanks.” She scoffed, bumping her knee into his abdomen. Jaehyun writhed at the action, sitting up with some new words that were interrupted by a knock on the ceiling. They turned to the stairs.

”Time to go, kids. I have to close shop.”

Jaehyun sighed under his breath.

”Can I drop you to your dorm?” He asked once they left the store, ready to walk in the opposite direction as usual.

She seemed to think over his words, lips parted with some unsaid answer. She swallowed, “I don’t live on campus.” She smiled after a second, “It’s really sweet of you to offer though.”

”Oh,” Jaehyun pondered over the words, “With your parents?”

”With my little brother actually. It isn’t too far from here actually, my parents were professors on campus so we still have the house.”

”Oh,” He noted the past tense and she noted his realisation.

”I inherited my music from my mother, actually. Literally because she left all her records. Our player broke last year so I come here now.”

”Quite the inheritance. I should be grateful to her.” He shuffled, unsure how to navigate the conversation. When she smiled he felt at ease.

“You absolutely should. She would turn in her grave if she was someone listening to, what was it?” She pretended to recall.

“Usher.” He tongued the inside if his cheek.

“Usher!” She gasped, “The horror would be too much.” She laughed.

“For a snob like you, maybe. I think your mother would have been more accommodating.”

She snorted, “That’s her alright,” Her tone was dripping in sarcasm, “accommodating.” Some thought seemed to leech the colour in her eyes before she slapped her thigh and took a step back, “I need to get to the bus stop in fifteen minutes. See you next week.”

“I lowballed by way into a car, so next week I might just drop you home, if you’re less of a snob about Usher.” Jaehyun grinned to mask the anticipation in his tone.

She smiled, her grin reaching her eyes in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

“In that case, neither of us should hold our breaths.”

"Have you finished applying?" (Y/N) asked when she remembered that Jaehyun's deadlines were near. When he didn't answer, she turned over.

"What's wrong?" She asked, inching a little closer when he avoided meeting her gaze.

"I've finished putting my applications together, I'm just waiting for the right time to send it." He spoke up after a moment, giving her a clipped smile and throwing an arm over her waist.

(Y/N) looked at his face carefully, tucking a hand between the cheek and pillow and taking in the skittish look in his eyes.

"You can't just hold your applications hostage because you're afraid of being rejected." She sighed, reading him like an open book.

Jaehyun looked a little conflicted at first, closing his eyes to avoid her piercing gaze and huffing in clear frustration.

(Y/N) wondered if she overstepped. It was easy to read his little tells for her by now, to categorise the things that made him Jaehyun. It was something she mostly tried to keep to herself, but this seemed important enough to make her speak. Yet now, with his eyes closed and brows squeezed, (Y/N) wondered if it simply wasn't her place as the fringe friend.

Her worries would have swallowed her whole, but then Jaehyun opened his eyes with a clear defeated look. "What if I'm not good enough?" He whispered, looking at her with palpable vulnerability that made her ribs shake.

Her smile was pained, the words resonating deep inside her. Yet what was a fear of possibility for him, was a reality for her.

"That, unfortunately, is not up to you to decide.” She cooed, pursing her lips when his eyes flung open. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that. Maybe he was hoping for a false lull of reassurance. She sighed, “There's always going to be something you aren't good enough at. That's just the way things are." She reached out to push his hair back, smiling fondly when he nuzzled into the touch like the creature of comfort he was. "Whether it's something you're incredible at or something that isn't for you, you won't know till you try. Will you?" She questioned, smiling when Jaehyun nodded with a pout. Like a child being encouraged.

"Anyway," She smiled, "You're not even close to not being good enough. Nobody works harder than you. It'll work out for you because you deserve it." She said with a certainty that came from an innate knowing.

(Y/N) firmly believed that people got what they deserved, no more no less. And having seen Jaehyun through the years, she knew he had earned his dream.

"As the gatekeeper of mediocrity," she nudged him, veiling her self assessment in a joke. She laughed when he clicked his tongue, "I refuse to accept you as a part of our community. You're just going to have to spend your days being extraordinary." She clicked her tongue back, squealing when his fingers dug into her side to press her against his chest.

"Who called you mediocre? Want me to pretend I'm mean and violent so I can scare them off?" Jaehyun nuzzled against her neck, nibbling the sensitive skin till she squirmed.

"You can try." She gasped when he replaced his teeth with an open mouthed kiss. "But it's unfortunate that I already know you're neither of those things."

Jaehyun groaned into her neck at the words and she had to laugh, choking on it the next moment when Jaehyun swiftly pushed her back into the mattress, his weight pressing down on her from above.

His kisses turned sloppier, leaving wet trails over her neck and shoulders till her gut churned and twisted.

Jaehyun kissed up her jaw, stopping to leave a lingering kiss at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not extraordinary. I'm just always scared to lose." His words were a timid confession, so soft that she would have missed it had he been a hair's length further.

She lowered her gaze, meeting his wary eyes so close. His candid mood was a rare one, hardly seen outside of the four corners of this mattress. But it was always so honest, so him. As two people who never voiced their grievances in fear of being perceived as weak, moments like this seemed to be a bigger secret between them than their strange relationship.

Jaehyun buried his head into her neck, arms holding her sides. It took another moment for her to get out of her thoughts, to realise that Jaehyun was hugging her.

"Life isn't a race, Jaehyun." She mumbled in his ear, hand coming up to card through his soft hair. "Not when everyone always tries to avoid the finish line." She laughed, earning a smile against her shoulder from him. "All we can do is go along for the ride, throw things at a wall and hope something sticks."

"When can I stop throwing things?" He mumbled along, voice small and still hiding in her neck.

"Whenever you want. I know what you'll say," She added when she heard him sucking in a breath, "It's not that easy. But it is. You can take a break, or stop throwing whenever you feel like it. Nobody will scold you, I can't speak for others but I'd never judge you." She dared to squeeze her arms around him, hugging him back.

"You can stop trying anytime if that's what you need." With a sigh, she rested her forehead against his cheek, "You've already done so much. You're already incredible, Jaehyun." A lump formed in her throat at the words, her own fear of losing him taking hold of her for just a moment.

"I just really want to go to this school. It's the best and I need to prove to myself that I deserve it. That I'm good enough to get in." His words got her out of her own selfish motivation. He wasn't hers to lose. Jaehyun belonged to his aspirations and she reminded herself that it was also one of the reasons she loved him.

"If you don't get in it won't be because you're not good enough. It'll be because someone was just better." She reassured, continuing to stroke his head.

"That is me not being good enough." His words were reluctant, like he himself could tell that he was being petulant.

"No it's just someone having different circumstances than you." She sighed, tone softening. "I know you won't listen, but I just want you to remember that. People don't have to always be better or worse than you. They can simply be different."

It was something she wondered all the time with him, a hint of her own insecurities making her sound cold. With how he saw the world, (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder how he placed her in his arbitrary list. Wherever she stood, it had to be lower than him. She preferred not to ponder over how that made her feel.

Jaehyun slid into the booth, grinning at her. Ever since his acceptance, he smiled a lot more.

”You sounded urgent on the phone, what’s up?” Jaehyun asked, sliding his foot forward to nudge hers.

”Umm,” She tried to meet his gaze but cowered, “You want a drink? I might get a beer.” She got out of her seat, “One for you too?”

Jaehyun nodded, a little confused and a little scared.

It came like a slap to his face. She said the words without any follow-up, no explanation. On Jaehyun’s part, he was too hesitant to ask. He was leaving after all. It shouldn’t have felt like it did, but the words rung in his ears just like a slap would. When the silent moments turned into minutes, she got out of the seat.

He should have said something, Jaehyun wanted to say something; anything at all. But his tongue felt like lead. After all, what was the point? This was what was supposed to happen.

He left that dingy bar with a bitter taste in his mouth that he carried to his new home.

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