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jensthwa · 2 months

Text

we can't be friends (CS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

San is your first love. He broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. Now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. But his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid San when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

PAIRING: first love!choi san x afab reader.

GENRE: one shot (fluff, angst, smut)

WORD COUNT: 20k (yikes).

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, unnecesary pinning, a looot of context, bad friends :(, some arguing, tension, drinking and drunk behavior, tears, making out, description of female anatomy, oral (f reciving), fingering, love making, pet names (babe, baby), flirty seonghwa, wooyoung being a little shit again but also a genius, gyuri almost commiting a crime.

NOTES: hi everyone! this is a lenghty one, i know, but trust me when I say the context is necessary to understand what reader goes through with san. also, some of this may or may not have happened to me (have fun figuring out which part) (it's quite obvious tbh). THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE, even though there's some references and characters that you can only know if you read s&t lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: august 06 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68

masterlist.

You and Choi San go way back.

Well, it's nine years way back? You were only fourteen when you first saw him.

He moved back to your area of the city a year after you moved from an entirely different one. You thought you knew every school secret there ever was, provided by your new best friend, Gyuri, but she didn't tell you about him at all.

She claimed that it was because he didn't cause any stir the years they studied together before and after spending a whole first period in your eighth grade classroom with him at the back of the class, silently taking notes, you couldn't phantom why.

He was great at every subject, seemed to have a lot of popular friends and was, overall, a pretty nice guy. He was also very cute, skinny but you could tell he was the kind of guy who played a sport outside of school hours and he had a cute pair of dimples that showed everytime you scanned the classroom just to lay eyes on him.

Choi San was a perfect boy to crush on, even a perfect guy just to have as eye candy during recess. You felt really strongly about him, not really forming a full opinion although your gut told you right away you were right. There was something about him… but you only figured that something until later, next year, starting your ninth grade.

Gyuri and you were avid readers. Precocious girls, with minds way above your age. All your teachers praised came laced with the same compliment so you both decided that was the truth. You rejoiced in it, thinking you shared things in common with the grown ups and decided that that was the key to feeling a little superior in comparison to the rest of your classmates, who neither of you liked very much.

Until they all decided to start dating each other and you two realized you were nothing but two kids with great imaginations and a love for school, praise and fictional men that couldn't be translated to the real world without sounding delusional and weird.

So you decided to do something about it. And so, on a random Tuesday recess, you two scanned the crowd trying to find two boys (or a boy and a girl, because you always knew you liked girls too) worthy of your affections. One for her, one for you. Bonus points if the two of them were also best friends, of course.

Double dates were all the buzz at the time anyways.

Besides, only then they could understand the bond you and Gyuri had. Sisterhood like no other, nevermind Gyuri actually had an older sister and a niece at the ripe age of fifteen.

And so when your index finger scanned the crowd and eliminated at least three potential crushes before landing on Choi San, you felt like it was meant to be.

You see, his best friend, Jung Wooyoung, was perfect for Gyuri to crush on. He was almost as tall as she was at the time and his easy, outgoing personality was compatible with her book crush at the time as well.

He also flirted with her on several occasions before that.

So it was meant to be.

Choi San, on the other hand, had never even glanced in your direction before.

Just like your book crush did before he fell in love with the main character.

See? Meant. To. Be.

It was decided then that, although Choi San was not going to be your first crush ever, he was going to be the guy that motivated you to be at school for the time being, because math gets really boring after trying and failing at least ten times.

You thought nothing of it when it felt a little forced, when you couldn't blush at all at the sight of him and you gathered that it didn't need to happen like in the books you read. You simply needed to say his name when someone asked you if you had a crush on anyone and that was enough to be in symphony with the rest of your classmates.

Your longing glances were caught once or twice by him and you brushed the weird flip your stomach did everytime he looked away, blushing a little. You never really cared when it happened, really, knowing his crowd and your crowd (Gyuri and you) would never even cross paths in the first place.

You two kept to yourselves and your little book unofficial book club, sitting on the floor at lunch time and cursing everyone who dared to call you weird for it. San and Wooyoung had a crowd of people at the loudest table laughing with them over stupid teen jokes and, uh, sports? You didn't even know.

And then the unimaginable happened.

Jung Wooyoung sat down, criss cross applesauce and everything, in front of you on a random Monday afternoon while you and Gyuri discussed the english assignment due next period.

Gyuri was not too excited about that.

Turns out, the only one excited to have a crush at school was you. She was very much still in the Lonely Hearts Club phase while you skipped all the way to your The Notebook phase and she was, in her own words, too afraid to admit it when you came up with your crush plan.

You forgave her, of course, and decided to wait for her as long as needed because you were certainly not about to be an individual and have a crush on your own.

And by the time Wooyoung smiled at you both and introduced himself to you, like you weren't in the same class for a year already, you thought your pretend crush on his best friend evaporated and joined the void superficial and fleeting interests you had.

But then Choi San sat beside him, his knee brushing against yours in the process, and you knew you would have to issue a formal apology to your best and only friend for leaving her behind on this little thing.

Because, oh boy, were you crushing on Choi San.

You felt the blush rush to your cheeks and then fell silent while your friend and his friend discussed Fifty Shades of Grey for some reason you never cared enough to discover and you knew you were done for.

It was the first time seeing his dimples in full action, so close to you, so you completely stopped functioning all together. Amazing.

When you decided to have a crush, you never took into account that you were, actually, quite shy. And he really wasn't, but you noticed that he knew when to talk and what to say and with your friend being a lot more outgoing that you were it gave you the comfort that she would speak for the both of you while you admired from the sidelines as your little duo became a group of friends you still miss deeply to this day.

He was funny and you laughed at your jokes even though you pretended to be tired and completely worn out by the school day, resting your head on Gyuri’s shoulder and stealing glances at the boy while she kept arguing with his best friend.

Wooyoung was popular and liked enough to have a few people sit with you later that week, people who never even knew you existed before that. They were good friends with San as well, so you tried your best to keep up with everyone until she sat down next to you one day.

Arin was not really a bad person. She just was a bit conceited, calling herself princess type of conceited and you never really related to her even if she was nice to you to your face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, you found out with Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder and a whisper to your ear, she had been San’s crush since they were both in elementary school.

That would explain the sudden tension at the table when she sat down next to you, said hello to everyone, offered you a sweet she just bought from the cafeteria, and stared at San for the remainder of lunch time.

You also noticed Wooyoung glaring at her a little and he later explained to you that he didn't really like her all that much. She loved attention and San gave her attention, so she would intentionally flirt with him to get her ego stroked in return.

It didn't really matter how he felt about the girl, though, he didn't have to like her just because his best friend did. And when you caught her batting her eyelashes at San, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.

You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face but both Gyuri and Wooyoung looked at you while the two of them flirted endlessly for the remainder of lunch time and you figured you were doing a pretty shitty job at it. He didn't glance at you once either way, so it didn't really matter.

Arin did but she just complimented your eyes and then started a conversation with someone across the table, her annoying sweet and fake voice making your right ear ring in disapproval.

Either way, you ended up becoming her friend. Gyuri was not very fond of her and neither were you, but you all went to the bathroom together, did your makeup together, did school projects together and then sat everyday at lunch together with the rest of the guys who were, in one way or another, trying to get her to like them.

Because, once again, she was a sight for sore eyes.

It wasn't until later, in the middle of the year, that one of them did. Not Choi San, but Choi Yeonjun.

You remember the day you found out they were together and the gut wrenching concern you felt when you found out that San was not at school that day.

It was after summer break, you remember Wooyoung telling you that San and his family took a few more days of vacation and if you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the new couple sharing a sweet kiss at the designated lunch table, you could only imagine how San felt the next day when he saw the same image right in front of him.

Yeonjun was his friend, right? He knew about his crush and decided to get together with her anyways. Surely, San was devastated.

But he wasn't. He just cheered them on and then laughed along when Yeonjun shoved his arm playfully after the hollering.

But you saw through it.

Your crush on San made you observant. Made you believe you knew him better than everyone else and so, after lunch, you took out your phone and pulled up the notes app. Writing a simple “are you okay?” in it and passing it to him the next second, you were surprised with yourself before you saw him frown a bit. And then he understood what you meant.

Nodding, he passed you the phone back, before giving you a reassuring smile that you treasured in your heart and saw in your dreams.

You didn't believe him, though, but stayed close enough to everything related to the situation to hold Arin in your arms when Yeonjun inevitably broke her heart.

Starting your tenth year, he moved back to his city and decided to play the I thought we weren't even that serious card on her. Which was nasty, considering love it's very, very serious for a sixteen year old girl.

By this point, you were all a little family and hanging out after school and on the weekends was not unusual, so it didn't surprise you when Arin invited you, and only you, to her house after choir practice on a Thursday.

She lent you her older sister’s clothes to wear (because her's would never fit you. Her words, not yours) and took you to a walk in the park just to break your heart for the first time ever.

“You know… I thought love was something I couldn't find in highschool anymore. But San it's really making an effort, you know? He's been there for me ever since Yeonjun left and… Well, I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow.”

Grasping the park bench she forced you to sit at, you only nodded and let out a shuddering breath that gave away what she was trying to figure out since earlier that day.

“I'll say yes but only if you say it's okay to do so.”

Arin was not really your friend, the same way Yeonjun was not really San’s friend.

Because there's no way you would ever be okay with it.

And yet, you tried your best to give her a smile and pretend the sound of your heart breaking didn't bring tears to your eyes “Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?”

A week later, they were officially dating. The rumors spread around like a wildfire and it took out of you with everyone calling San a nasty rebound and you doing your best to prioritize the ghost of the friendship you had with him. That whole fiasco lasted a few months.

Months in which your friendship with everyone just grew stronger. Gyuri was still your best friend, Wooyoung was crushing on her hard and everyone knew, Arin and San were a steady couple, a new girl joined your class that year, named Yeri, and the principal assigned her to you because she thought you two would get along really well.

“I like girls,” was like, the third thing she ever told you while you were showing her the school “I'm just telling you now because I don't plan on hiding it and you are wearing a pride pin.”

“Oh, that's cool. I like girls too,” you smiled, looking at your pride pin “I didn't hide it either and no one gave me shit about it, so, don't worry.”

Yeri also liked the mainstream music that you liked and soon she became a new addition to your group. And with Arin spending all of her free time with San, you, Gyuri and Yeri only grew closer and closer. You didn't have Arin’s voice in your ear telling you the million reasons she found Yeri uncool, but you saw it in her face every time the table laughed at one of Yeri’s jokes.

And so, it went on for a while:

Your mom driving all of you around in her car to the beach, to dinner, to the movies and letting you have mixed sleepovers at your house (meaning you, Arin, Gyuri, Wooyoung, Yeri and San) was fun and all, but it was not enough to distract yourself entirely. Everytime you glanced at the couple, that sinking feeling in your chest would appear and sulk your whole mood for, at least, fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes of pretending you were okay with them before forgetting completely for an hour or so and then the cycle would repeat until you were alone staring at the ceiling and doing your best to not cry about it.

All it took was your first kiss being Yeri of all people for you to decide that it was time to retire your crush for Choi San once and for all.

And for a while, it all went according to plan. You decided to tell Gyuri that it was okay because he was your friend first and the guy that you liked second and that you were not fourteen and desperate for love anymore, that it was time to go on with your life as if nothing really happened in the first place.

You were hooking up with Yeri anyways, so it seemed like you were doing just fine.

You grew closer to San as well and even though he mostly talked to you about Arin and whatever tantrum she was throwing at the time, you really started to feel some sense of normalcy within you when it came to just speaking to him.

You no longer blushed when he made you laugh, you no longer looked at him with the longing of a past life lover and you were really happy for him because, at the end of the day, he was really happy with his relationship.

Until winter break came around and Arin decided to give San his first heartbreak ever.

She decided to call for a break in their relationship because she was, in his words, too overwhelmed with the amount of love and attention she was getting from him.

Which was completely fucking insane considering the fact she forced him to save her contact as Princess Arin and all.

So naturally, you sided with him. And she didn't take it to heart because everyone knew you liked San anyways.

She told you the news herself through Facebook after asking you to explain to her the English assignment due next day and then she decided to tell you something you'll never understand because you no longer are on speaking terms with her:

Princess Arin: u know i broke up with him because of u right? :)

Princess Arin: one day I'll tell u all abt it.

She never told you anything about it. And by then, you were starting your last year and San was your best friend who hung out with you everyday after school, calling you late at night and helping you with assignments through Skype. So you didn't really care.

And as the day passed, you started understanding the connection they talked about in books and movies. You thought you did before, Gyuri being your eternal person in this world, but it felt so different with San.

Different and good. Different and achy enough for you to want to keep it in your life.

Your dynamic was friendly, sure, but it was alright. It consisted of banter and daring stares as well as laughter and soft moments you treasured till this day.

“It's way too early to be this annoying, Choi San.”

“Oh, you think this is me being annoying?”

You both got an hour of detention for disturbing the class that day.

You loved it.

But then, after almost a month of picking up the broken pieces of his heart one by one, and your mother giving him a self-help book to make him regain the confidence he lost during the breakup process, you realized that you were in love with him and there was nothing you could do about that.

You noticed one friday afternoon, when he offered to pay for your and your mom's ice cream at the drive through, when he scrambled to get all the change he had on him to leave a tip for the person who handed you guys the sweet treat, that there was no way you didn't love him.

And it was confusing as fuck when everyone else started to tell you he had feelings for you as well.

“Think about it. You text each other good morning everyday” Yeri listed with her finger and you nodded “Then, you go to school, sit together and spend the rest of the day together” another nod “Then after school you either go get ice cream together or hang out for a bit with your mom while she drives him home. And after that, you get on Skype for the reminder of the afternoon and then he calls you on your house phone and you two spend the rest of the night talking before falling asleep on the line together,” she looked at you like you were insane for even denying the accusations made against San, but she continued anyway “And then it's rinse and repeat and it has been that way since… What? Three months ago?”

You nodded again, defeated.

“Girl, he likes you.” she sighed, annoyed and a little tired, before sitting on your lap and kissing your lips affectionately “And you're here making out with me instead of him. You really are a lost cause.”

That didn't stop you from hooking up with her until she found a girl who's heart was not reserved for someone else, though. Said girl went to a different school and was a year younger than all of you, but she looked very happy and stopped secretly kissing you in the school bathroom like a week after they met.

And when she finally told everyone, you were really happy for her, but San not so much.

It was the night you thought everything was about to change. The night you thought he was about to kiss you or you were about to kiss him, whatever happened first.

Laying in your bed, facing each other in the dim light, he thought it was the biggest form of betrayal and pouted the whole time he explained to you why.

He thought you liked her and you realized he didn't really pay attention to you after all. Not the way you did with him.

Bless his heart.

You didn't kiss him that night because he wouldn't shut up about you and Yeri.

“I mean, why couldn't it be you? She clearly liked you if you two were hooking up for over a year” and when his hand came to rest on your back, under your shirt, you breath hitched enough for him to notice it but not enough for him to just don't do anything about it except trace the curve of your silhouette with the pad of his thumb “I don't understand why anyone would pass the opportunity to be with you.”

Huh. Maybe he did have feelings for you.

No. He's just being a great best friend. Don't take that for granted.

But it was impossible for you not to take Yeri’s words seriously as time went on.

You didn't want to think he was giving you mixed signals, but yet again there was that one time when you reached behind your passenger seat in your mothers car to pinch his leg playfully after he pulled on your hair a little bit from behind, only to end up holding his hand the rest of the car trip to his house.

His fingers slowly caressing the back of your hand were just too much for you not to get everything mixed up.

Or that other time when your school held a Woman's Day event, and your class president decided that all the boys in the class were going to give roses to the girls.

When it was your turn to get a rose, you knew no one would give you one. But Yeri stood in line and collected a rose from the bin before the class president had the opportunity to say anything else.

“I'll take that, thank you very much.” She turned to you, smiling. San blocked her way to you a second after.

“And just what do you think you're doing?”

“Giving my best girl a rose, of course.” She peeked around him, giving you a wink that you could only roll your eyes to.

San turned to you, the fondness in his eyes making you question the decision of not pretending to be sick that day. It was too much for you to handle.

“To the back of the line, then. I already called dibs on her,” he turned to your friend, snatching the rose from her hand in one swift move “I'll take that, thank you very much.”

He had no idea what that meant to you back then. It was true that, at school, he behaved a little differently than when you two were alone.

He was athletic, so he had some friends that you were sure used to ask him what the fuck was he doing wasting his time with a girl like you instead of getting a new girlfriend.

He had a family that didn't approve of yours, too. You felt it the first time you met his mom and, even though she was nice to you and your mom, you could feel the judgemental stare she gave both of you when your mom told her she was a single parent.

San told you that it didn't really matter, that his mom didn't have to like you because you weren't her friend, you were his.

He played with your feelings a little too well. Wanting him, adoring him and letting yourself be consumed by the thought of him loving you back was enough to keep it going. To ignore the fluttering way your heart kept beating whenever he talked to you which was all the time.

You assumed the way he behaved with you in private was the real him. The one who didn't care about appearances or his family approval.

The one who cared about you.

It was dizzying and fantastic and you thought he just might've been the love of your life.

But then he would tell you how much it hurted when he saw Arin at school and how much he missed her, the intimacy they shared before, and reality would come crashing down and setting your delusions on fire again.

He had sex with Arin. You would never stand a chance.

Or so you thought he did. Except when you overheard Arin speaking to her friends and that was the first time you ever got mad at Choi San.

“And, you know, me and San were never intimate like that so I wouldn't know but I think boys have no idea how to please a woman if they tried to.”

What?

Oh. So he lied to you.

And you were so upset by the thought of him making up stories of their intimate time together that it didn't even cross your mind that Arin might've been lying to save face.

So when he came back from the bathroom and sat at his usual desk in front of you, you didn't even think about his feelings when you decided to treat him like shit for lying about something so important like sex to your face.

“Leave me alone, San! I don't want to fucking talk to you right now!”

The hurt expression he gave you after that is one you would never be able to forget.

But you grew to be stubborn and a little overprotective of your own feelings, so you thought him playing the part of your best friend all these months and sweet talking to you was just another one of his lies.

“You guys not being friends right now doesn't make any fucking sense, sweetheart.” Wooyoung's tone is careful and laced with affection, but you knew he was playing the devil's advocate on behalf of San. With his arm around Gyuri’s shoulder (by that point, they were a thing for over two months) you could swear you saw him smirk when the nickname brought a scowl to your face.

He might've been worried, but he was also a little shit.

“You really are going to let Arin ruin what you two have?” Your best friend was, of course, on your side. But she was your best friend for a reason and her love included pointing out when you were behaving like an infant at the age of seventeen and a half.

“You two are practically dating and you're going to let the evil ex-girlfriend get in the way? Over something you weren't even supposed to hear in the first place? Come on.”

Again, Wooyoung was a little shit. And you were so upset about everything that you shyness couldn't even help the fury behind your reply:

“Stop saying that! We are not practically dating, he's in love with Arin and I'm not sure I even like him like that anymore!” Getting tired of everyone and their mother (your mother) feeding your delusions, you came to the conclusion that putting a stop to your friendship with Choi San was for the best.

And, in doing so, you ended up breaking your own heart for the second time in your life.

But he didn't put up an easy fight at all. You remember the feeling of pure joy when he grabbed your hand on the way to the cafeteria one day, pulling you so hard you almost ended up sitting in his lap, and the way his pleading eyes begged you to listen to him one last time.

“Us not being friends doesn't feel right, Y/N…” he said and the word he used to categorize what both of you had hurted you, but you pushed the feeling away “Please, let's not fight anymore. I don't even know what happened, but I forgive you for yelling at me and I hope you forgive me for whatever it is you think I did.”

Of course, you forgave him the next second without thinking too much about it. And for a while, everything went back to normal. You Skyped as usual and occasionally you let your other friends join the call even though it didn't really feel like it used to before.

The next thing you knew, your feelings were in full bloom again and when you realized it, it was too late.

Because by then, you had already let your childhood friend, Sunhee, join a few Skype calls and by the fourth one she invited her friend, Minseo, to them as well.

Terrible, terrible mistake. Because even through the screen, you could see that Minseo looked a lot like Arin with the added bonus that she was down to earth and cool and liked the same things San liked.

You liked the same things San liked as well, but it never seemed to matter.

Because not even two months after you decided to stop talking to San over a lie you weren't supposed to find out in the first place and then became friends one more time, he gets together with Minseo and you're sick to your stomach all over again.

You hated her. Not because she was, suddenly, his girlfriend (not girlfriend girlfriend, but in a friends with benefits arrangement you never even knew why he agreed on in the first place) but because suddlenly she was so fucking obnoxious and didn't seem to like you either.

Was it not painfully obvious San didn't have feelings for you? Why was she mad at you then? You literally brought them together!

And all you got in return was her telling him she didn't feel comfortable with him having a girl best friend. That ungrateful bitch.

He stopped calling. He stopped texting, he stopped carpooling with you and your mom after school and he stopped caring whether your math assignment was done or not.

He stared pulling away more and more and it didn't matter how hard you tried to get him to talk to you, it seemed like he never really fucking cared about you in the first place.

And by may that year, you didn't speak to San anymore. Granted, the only person he did speak to was Wooyoung, but even their friendship was falling apart.

For the first time ever, San broke your heart firsthand. And it felt really, really fucking bad.

You cried to your mom about it, she reminded you that you were nothing but a great friend to him and that, if he didn't take the time to appreciate that, that was his loss not yours.

And she started hating him from that moment on. But you couldn't hate San, not even a little bit.

Why would you hate him for not liking you back? For not loving you the way you loved hi—

Your laptop closes down right in front of you and when you try to look up to find out who's responsible for interrupting your writing time, you get interrupted again.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Gyuri?” the slap to the back of your head is quick and fill with rage.

“What the fuck are you even writing. I can read from here, you know?”

“I'm just laying my feelings down and— Ouch! Stop that!” You try to hit her back but she turns away quickly when your hands almost knock her coffee mug out of hers.

“You can't possibly still have love for San, Y/N. It's been years.”

It's been four and a half, to be precise. But who's counting, right?

“And why are you writing it in third person? You don't usually do that.”

“I don't really know, Gyuri!”

“I’m telling you, this celebratory dinner bullshit it's affecting you way more than it should,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch of your shared living room, and you leave your seat at the table to join her “He might not even show up. He has that thing with Kyungmi.”

Kyungmi.

You couldn't get to that part on your open document, but San left Minseo when he met Kyungmi at one of the frat parties they love to attend. Wooyoung told you that he said that it was love at first sight and you even met her briefly when you picked Gyuri up from the apartment he and San got when they started college together.

She’s gorgeous and doesn't look like Arin or Minseo at all. It’s a different type of gorgeous. She's a year older than San and went to the same school as them and Gyuri.

You think you might even like her better than him.

You tried to be happy for San when you found out, but you two barely even speak a word to each other and you convinced yourself a while ago that you couldn't care less if he sees right through you and your fake smiles.

You gathered, after everything happened, that San knew you liked him and took advantage of that. Unintentionally, but he did anyway.

You sigh, resting your head on your best friend's shoulder. “It’s his best friend's celebratory dinner, though, he needs to be there.”

Two seconds pass and then you both say it at the same time: “He’s in love.”

And when San is in love, he has a one track mind with the name of his lover as the goal.

You nod, but you can't help but to be insistent “It's Wooyoung's celebratory dinner, he needs to show up, right?”

“I might not even show up, he's a pain in the ass.” She replies but you can tell her annoyance is not genuine and it makes you smile.

Gyuri and Wooyoung broke up towards the end of your first year of college but you all stayed close friends. A one year relationship was not enough to fuck up the friendship they had and they decided to stay civil until, eventually, they became close friends again.

To this day, you wonder why you and San couldn't rekindle your friendship when it became clear to you that you missed your friend and not the guy that you liked.

Because San was always your friend first and your first love second.

But it doesn't really matter anymore, because Gyuri is forcing you to shower and reminding you that you two need to keep Wooyoung on his best behavior tonight.

“That girl he used to like before me is going, he said. I looked her up, she's single and he needs to get together with her because I can't take him whining about it anymore.”

They keep things with each other way too civil, you think.

“I'm telling you, if we don't show up he's going to do that thing where he gets drunk and makes a fool of himself. I can't have that, I'm on a mission.”

“A mission to get your ex laid?” You ask, shampooing your hair.

“A mission to get him a girlfriend so he can stop crying to me about feeling lonely.”

“Maybe he wants you guys to—” The shower curtain opens and you see your best friend’s scowl before covering yourself up with your hands.

“Gyuri!”

“Don't you dare say what you were about to say or I'm divorcing you.”

You chuckle “Sure you are.”

You're left alone again with the water stream and she goes back to do her makeup “I told you back in ninth grade that we weren't a great fit and I was right. We can't get back together,” she sighs “It'll ruin everything.”

“I doubt it will but you guys have been friends longer than you were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I'll just have to deal with my parents being divorced and civil.”

“God, don't ever refer to us like that again— Oh! Speaking of parents,” you see her beam at her phone when you move the shower curtain to search for your towel and then she shows it to you “Mingi and Love just celebrated their one year anniversary!”

Love being Mingi’s best friend. Gyuri talks to you about her college friend group all the time. The drama fuels your dinner conversations, you even follow a few of them on social media.

“What does that have to do with parents?”

“They're the mom and dad of the group.”

San is in that friend group, you can see him in the back of the picture and you recognize his apartment layout too. He's not the main focus of it but he's all you can see until you notice the couple sitting near him on the couch.

The picture shows both of them, her in his lap and Mingi looking at her with stars in his eyes.

Good for them.

“Is that the girl he was friends with forever before they finally realized that they were in love?”

“Yeah,” she sighs in contempt, looking down at the picture again “I was there the day it happened. I mean, not physically with them, but they left Yunho's party together and I told Wooyoung that it was finally about to happen!”

Gyuri is not a romantic person at all. Her excitement shows you that she really loves them and so you soften at the news that would usually give you and your dry love life a headache “It was the day before you called me to get you out of that awful date.”

Ah, that also happened back then. You shudder at the memory.

“Tell them I say congrats, babe.”

“I'm bringing you as my plus one.”

You laugh, confused “To where?”

“Their wedding, duh.”

“They practically just got together,” you remind her, a year is not enough time to propose “And I don't really know them, Gyuri!”

“They love you,” she assures you as you step out of the shower “I have been speaking about your antisocial ass for years. They can't wait to meet you.”

“So you've been shit talking behind my back for years? Is that what I'm hearing?”

She laughs “No, babe, that's Wooyoung's job.”

Clearing your throat and looking at your friend through the mirror, you try to be as nonchalant as you can when you ask: “Has he… Did he tell you if…”

“No, Y/N, I have no clue if San is going or not and Wooyoung is actually mad at him at the moment.”

“Why?”

She looks at you, sighing “He's been lacking as a friend lately.”

“Hm.”

“I hope you're not planning on swooning if you see him. Fuck him, Y/N.”

“I know…”

“And by fuck him I mean he doesn't deserve you or your forgiveness.”

“He didn't do anything to me, Gyuri,” you remind her, shrugging “Not reciprocating my feelings is not a crime so I don't have to forgive him for anything.”

You can practically feel her starting the San hate train engine, so you step out of the bathroom but her voice follows you.

“And what about that time he ditched you for Minseo when you asked him to go with you to that medical appointment, huh?”

“Cut it out, Gyuri…”

But her head peaks around the corner, into the hall where you're rushing towards your room “Or that time when—”

“Can't hear you!” Turning to look at her, she gives you an affectionate middle finger and heads back to the bathroom.

Closing the door, you lean into the thin wood and sigh, getting San’s face out of your mind so you can focus on getting ready and actually show up for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only.

He just got a permanent position after completing his internship at a company that's your company's rival. He's going to crush you and steal clients from you but you are genuinely so happy for him.

You should've guessed he enjoyed books as much as you did back in highschool. The debates he used to have with Gyuri were not all about flirting with her but also because he has a passion for books.

And now he's going to work in the same field as you.

You're so proud of your friend.

As you get ready, you remember the excitement cruising through your body when your boss trusted you enough to give you the first manuscript of a new client so you could edit it. You're sure Wooyoung is going to do better than you, taking into account that he actually went to college for this.

You didn't.

You met your boss at the part-time job you got in senior year, when you were trying to distract yourself from all the pain and the horrors of becoming a grown up. She was chatty, got a little too drunk on soju and told you she was starting her own book publishing company.

When she returned months later after remembering that you told her you loved books and would love to work for as a publisher one day, she offered you a job in her company right after graduating highschool.

You took it because you didn't think an opportunity like this would show up ever again.

She was truly a blessing, the kind of person you never really believed in until she taught you all you needed to know about publishing and editing and encouraged you to take online classes during the nights so you could get, at least, a certification on what you do.

You're proud of yourself too. The opportunity found you in a specific moment of your life where both your heart and your self esteem were destroyed and now you're not the person you used to be.

Maybe that's why the possibility of facing San makes you so nervous. Collective memories are dangerous because the details never match the ones on the other person's head.

You know who you were back then but… Are you the same person in San’s head?

You don't even want to find out.

Scanning your outfit in the mirror for the last time, you take the shoes you're wearing tonight out of your closet and walk over to the living room.

Only to find Gyuri laying on the carpet under the coffee table, half dressed and on her phone.

“You're going to mess up your hair.”

“I don't care, I'm not going.”

Sighing, you seat down on the couch and staring at the wood of the table covering her face.

“What happened now?”

“The bitch canceled!”

“Wooyoung?”

Poking her head out, she frowns at you “No, his first love.”

“You were his first love.”

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/N!”

Laughing at her, you offer her your hand “Get dressed. Who cares if she's not going? He's not going to sulk because he's going to have you and his best friends there.”

She whines like a child when you pull her up from the floor “I had a plan!”

“Then make a new one, babe. We're going to be late.”

She starts to whine again but then stops mid-groan to give you a once over. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance for the first time in years.

“You look really hot…” she tells you and you fake gag at her words “Really pretty. Like a fairy and a smoke show at the same time.”

You can't possibly look like that when you have such a simple outfit on, floor length high waist black pants and a flowy sleeve top that ties in the middle. It's barely formal but now you're thinking too hard about it.

Blushing, you wave your hand to dismiss her compliment “Oh, my god. Go and change!”

She rushes to her room on the opposite end of the hall and you finally breathe, looking down at your choice of fit and wondering if it's too much.

Gyuri would've told you if that's the case, but either way it haunts your mind in the car on the way there, leg bouncing up and down under your best friend's judging gaze that only softens when you pout at her.

“They are going to love you, babe. I'm so serious, they've been waiting years to meet you.”

You nod because, yes, you're concerned that her friend group is not all as welcoming as she paints them to be.

And you wish your doubts would go away but you're really, really not good at making friends. You're cautious, extremely closed off to new people and not as good with conversation no matter how much confidence you gained over the past years.

When you walk to the loudest table at the laid back restaurant their friend Seonghwa made the reservation at, you think you won't be able to fit in with everyone else. You feel like an intruder, like Gyuri is supposed to enjoy this part of her life without you here.

That's why you rejected every invitation they ever made.

You celebrate birthdays with her, with Woo as well, but it's all very intimate and separate from their social circle, the one that includes the man you haven't fully faced in years.

But you can't exactly back out now, not when one of them turns to you and seems to light up when they see you.

“Oh? Is this her?” you recognize Hongjoong from pictures, he's the only one facing you when you approach the table, lowkey hiding behind Gyuri like a child.

“Who?”

“Huh?”

San is nowhere to be seen. Thank god.

Slowly, everyone turns around and you see their faces light up with both delight and surprise. Your heart is pounding, you feel it in your throat, in your eyes, in the heat that colors your cheeks.

But Gyuri just steps aside and presents you with a smile “This is her!”

“Oh, Y/N!” Wooyoung gets up, rushing towards you and crashing into your frame with a crushing hug “I'm so glad you're here,” he murmurs into your hair and then turns to his friends, quiet them down “Everyone, this is Y/N, one of my best friends in the entire world.”

He's such a dramatic human being.

You love him so much.

Raising your hand, you shyly wave at them “Hi.”

The entire table erupts with joy. Some of them greet you, some of them are saying that they are happy to be finally meeting you and Wooyoung grabs your arm and plops you down into the seat next to Gyuri, at the edge of the table.

Laughing, you apologize for not meeting them sooner and then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.

Panic raising, you quickly turn around to see who it is before releasing a shuddering, but calmer, breath.

“She's a very busy woman, guys. She works for the competition, my competition,” everyone gasps at that but Wooyoung is smiling at you “and she's very good at what she does. Which means she's busy, get off her case,” he puts a glass and a can of beer in front of you “Drink, babe.”

“Thanks, babe.” You whisper back and he leans in to peck your head before going away.

Gyuri groans “Stop stealing that from us! It's our thing, Y/N, don't indulge him.”

“It's his celebratory dinner…” you argue with a laugh that Hongjoong and Mingi follow.

“Yeah! Can you get off my case tonight, Gyuri?”

She huffs, wrapping her arms around you “I hate you all.”

“No you don't!”

The table laughs and everyone returns to their individual conversations when Woo sits down on his spot.

There's a few seats left, one besides Mingi and one right in front of you but you don't think too much about it because soon Gyuri gets up to ask Yeosang something and Seonghwa occupies her seat right beside you.

You think he can sense that you're more shy than you let on, because he doesn't include you in whatever he and Yunho were talking about and waits until he stops talking to him to turn to you.

“So, you work for a publishing company?”

The question caughts you off guard and you swallow the beer quickly before nodding “Y-yeah, I… Yeah.”

He chuckles “You're nervous.”

“I'm just not as good at meeting people as Gyuri is. She usually does the job and I tag along.”

“I feel like I know you already, though.” He says, leaning back on his chair.

“Because she talks a lot about me?” he nods “Yeah, she tends to do that.”

“Wooyoung also talks a lot about you, San too… Sometimes,” your cheeks heat up and he misinterprets what it means “All good things, I promise.”

You doubt that.

Your brain gives you a hundred and one possible things San could've said about you.

For some reason, none of them are good. But you choose to believe the gorgeous, long haired guy in front of you.

“Well that's good to hear,” you take another sip of your drink before smiling at him “I was sure Woo was trash talking about me.”

He shakes his head with a smile “He wouldn't dare, he has Gyuri on his ass all the time and I'm sure she would kill him.”

“I'm sure she would kill him even if he didn't do it.”

His smile grows wider “That's true,” he says, looking over at them who are, very coincidentally, fighting about something. You let out a sigh and he laughs again before clearing his throat “So, the publishing company. What kind of books do you like to edit the most?”

Your smile grows wider too.

For the next hour, you talk to Seonghwa about your job and how you started in it. He asks you about your classes and the challenges that you face on a daily basis and Wooyoung overhears and ends up joining the conversation as well.

You don't even hear footsteps nearing until a voice cuts everyone off.

“I'm sorry I'm late!”

“Baby!” Mingi gets up from his seat, but no one else does so he's stuck between the table and his girlfriend.

“Oh, that's Love, huh?” you ask Seonghwa, Wooyoung too entertained messing with the couple to hear you anyways.

“Yeah… Is that how Gyuri refers to her?” He frowns.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning into him like you're about to tell him an important secret “I'm not supposed to call her that, don't tell her.”

Seonghwa leans in too, pretending to zip his mouth shut and you laugh.

The girl wiggles her way into the seat reserved for her and everyone lets out a groan when they smooch each other. You can only giggle and the sound draws her attention to you “Y/N?”

You quickly nod “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you! Finally, I thought Wooyoung and Gyuri had an imaginary friend,” you laugh, shrugging at the joke “Love your outfit, by the way, are those— Oh, San, hi— Are those jellyfish?”

You want to answer. You truly do, the yes right at the tip of your tongue, but words leave you when you turn your head around and find San already looking at you with wide eyes.

He looks great, he's a bit more muscular than what the pictures show and than the last time that you saw him, his arms hugging the fabric of the dress shirt he's wearing like it was tailored for him and everything.

How dare he.

You wonder if his heart is beating as loud as yours is right now. If he's surprised, disappointed or happy to see you at all.

“Her favorite animal.” He answers for you “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi…” you whisper back and it feels like you're in a trance. He doesn't look away but the table quieting down once again snaps you out of it and you turn to the girl with a wide smile that you hope conceals whatever the fuck you're feeling at the moment “I love jellyfishes. Had a phase as a child when I would exclusively talk about them, too,” you chuckle, nervously, reaching for your earrings instinctively “Gyuri gave them to me as a present last Christmas.”

You definitely overshared just now. From the corner of your eye you catch your best friend getting ready to step in if needed.

Love looks at you, then at San (who's just standing next to you without uttering a word) and then back at you again, smiling like she just figured something out “Well, I love them.”

“Thanks…”

Coughing unnecessarily loud, Wooyoung gets up from his seat “You're late.”

It takes a second but San tears his gaze away from you to look at his best friend and you take the opportunity to chug down the rest of your beer “Sorry, something came up.”

Seonghwa turns at that and looks at him as well “You good?”

“I am. Did you guys already eat? I'm starving.”

“Nope. We're about to order. Let me get you a drink, come here.” And just like that, he disappears from your view and you almost sigh in relief.

“Are you good?” Seonghwa asks you next and you reckon he's very observant. But then again, you're not the most gracious human being when you're in San’s presence, so, you figure everyone else noticed your change of mood as well.

“Yeah, I just… I haven't seen him in a while and I didn't think he was coming. I was surprised, that's all.”

“I can see that,” his eyes move around your face for some reason, frowning a little bit but then he seems to let it go, getting the menu closer to you “Okay, good, um… I actually made the reservation here because they have the best samgyeopsal in town.”

“Do they?”

“Mhm, so…”

He helps you pick your food and when it's time to order, he moves back to his seat. Gyuri asks you with her eyes if you're okay, you nod and grab her hand under the table with a tiny smile and then everyone is moving around to make space for San and Woo once they return.

He doesn't sit in front of you.

Relief floods you and you can finally feel your muscles relax as he is so far away, at the other end of the table and in the same row of seats, so you don't really see him unless you really try.

Which you don't, so your food goes down easy and the rest of the night as well.

Until everyone but you and Seonghwa move around their seats and he ends up right in your point of view as you do your best to ignore him and focus on his friend.

Seonghwa asks you about your hobbies, you tell him that you love to write movie essays on websites no one even cares to read and he asks you to show it to him so he can look it up when he gets home.

“And you've always done this? Since highschool?”

You nod and he beams “I read like the first three lines and it looks really good, Y/N. Is that why you love books so much? Because you're a writer?”

“I wouldn't consider myself a writer but… Sure, I love to write.”

“Did you know this?” he turns to San and your smile drops a little.

“Know what?”

“Your friend is an excellent writer.”

“Oh, I know. She, uh… Used to write stories on her notebook instead of paying attention in math class,” he sips on his drink and at the detail you didn't know he knew, you turn to him fully “I used to read over her shoulder sometimes.”

“She's really good.” Seonghwa is looking at your phone, still reading “Really smart, too.”

San’s jaw tenses a little and you can't understand why “I know.” He says again.

His friend is none the wiser, blocking your phone and returning it to you “I like it,” he says, smiling and you blush “The essay.” He clarifies after a second, prompting a laugh out of you that he joins.

San doesn't laugh, but you don't pay attention to him because Seonghwa is asking you something else.

When it's time to leave the restaurant, Wooyoung suggests going back to his apartment to milk the get-together as much as you all can.

You all throw your napkins at him in feign disgust at the choice of words but you all accept his proposal either way.

So now you're sitting on the couch, legs crossed and head on Gyuri’s shoulder while you listen to all of them talk (more like argue) about something that happened at their university last week, their voices drowning the soft music playing out of the tiny speaker resting on the counter.

San is on the floor, to your right. It's hard to keep your eyes off him when you feel him looking at you when you close your eyes and let the noise fade into the background. It's not like you're able to add something to the conversation anyway and Gyuri seems to be drinking her sorrows (not being able to hook Woo up with the girl she told you about) away.

Your best friend is slurring her words already, drink in hand and index finger pointing at Jongho accusatively because, apparently, the fight they're talking about was his fault.

“You don't—” she hiccups “You don't even know why it was your fault and it pisses me off even more, you know?”

“Okay, let me take that.” Taking the drink from her hand and before she starts complaining you stand up to make your way into the kitchen.

The sink is full and a mess, so you pour the liquid into it and leave the glass sitting right beside it. Distracted by the dilemma of helping Woo out with the dishes or not, you don't notice someone else also entering the space.

That's why you jump a little when you turn and catch Seonghwa leaning on the wall by the entrance. It startles you enough to laugh the nerves out afterwards and he shakes his head, smiling.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. They're boring me to death with the fight story.”

You nod, realizing that maybe that's because he doesn't attend the university anymore. He told you he graduated last year “They're too drunk to let it go.”

“Too drunk to dance to this amazing song, too. Who's playlist is that?” he frowns and you rest your back into the sink, rolling your eyes because he's pretending he doesn't know “Oh! Right, it's mine.”

“And they just don't know how to appreciate it, huh?” he shrugs and you click your tongue “They're such bad friends, Seonghwa, I truly don't know why you keep them around.”

“You appreciate it,” it's your turn to frown and he leaves his spot at the wall to walk towards you “You were singing along to it,” he explains and you let out an ah, nodding as he extends his palm to you, clearly inviting you to dance.

“Oh, I don't… I don't really know how to—”

“I'll show you.”

His kind eyes are asking you to trust him. You really, really shouldn't.

No matter how hard you try to bury the hopeless romantic little girl who decided to have a crush on a guy back in ninth grade, she's still there, begging you to let loose and live a little.

When you grab Seonghwa’s hand, you think the smile he gives you was worth listening to her.

You can't even tell the song that's softly playing anymore, a mellow r&b melody reaches your ear but you are not listening. You're focused on him, on the way he spins you around even if it doesn't fit the bit, on the way he laughs softly against your ear when he pulls you close by your hand and then pulls away just as quickly.

Laughing as well, the spell of this beautiful stranger (because you remind yourself you don't really know him that well) is hard to break.

Until it does.

Someone clearing their throat behind you stops you and Seonghwa's feet from moving any further. When the tall, older guy turns you around, you're face to face with San and his scowl.

“Sorry to interrupt but I need to get started on the dishes. Everyone else is heading out too,” he looks behind you, at the man who's still standing close to you and grabbing your hand “In case you want to ask Mingi for a ride.”

“They finally stopped fighting!” he fakes excitement, finally letting go of your hand and walking in front of you, blocking San with his body. You chuckle, barely clapping your hands to join the pretense as he's pulling up his phone “Can I ask for your number, Y/N?”

Blinking a few times, you're not sure if your heart speeds up because he's asking or because you hear San sigh exasperated behind him “S-sure.”

When you put your information on his phone, he bids you goodbye with a pat on your head and hugs San on his way out the kitchen.

Now that you two are alone, you suddenly want to run and join Seonghwa. You were doing so, so well.

Avoiding San like the plague it's much easier when you're safe hiding behind your two best friends.

Ignoring his stare would be much easier if you weren't stuck into place.

“I—”

“You—”

You both speak over each other and you force out an uncomfortable laugh that he doesn't return. Instead, he motions you to go first while he occupies the space in front of the sink, turning the faucet on. In doing so, he has to grab your waist and move you out of the way which makes you short circuit for a second “I was going to help you with that.” You finally stammer out.

He lets out what you take as an annoyed chuckle.

“You seemed busy, I don't know how you would've done it.”

Ouch.

Why do you allow his words to cut so deep when you stopped caring about what he does a long time ago?

The band aid rips, the stitches come undone and all it took him were five seconds to melt your resolve away like it was never there in the first place.

“I'll… I go get Gyuri so we can leave Woo and you to get to it, then.”

“Bathroom.” You hear him mutter under his breath as you are taking the final step to leave.

“Huh?”

“She's in the bathroom, probably puking her breakfast out,” he looks up at you to give you a tiny smile “You left her alone with Jongho and Woo for five minutes so she got ahold of another drink.”

“God damnit.”

Rushing out, you run into everyone else at the door and Mingi has to let go of his very intoxicated girlfriend when she reaches you to give you a hug “Don't be a stranger, Y/N! It was lovely to be around you, hm?”

The sudden physical contact almost makes you gasp but you cover it up with a shy giggle “O-oh. Yeah, um, lovely to meet you too. All of you.”

“Sorry about that,” her boyfriend grabs her arms and breaks the hug “She's right, though. Don't be a stranger.”

You nod once, smiling a little more sincerely now and everyone says bye to you, including Seonghwa, who grabs your hand one last time and gives it a squeeze before closing the front door of the apartment.

You think you feel your heart skip a tiny bit under all the shit San’s words pulled up to the surface a minute ago. But there's no time to dwell in that: you hear Gyuri opening up the bathroom door before gagging and closing it again with a slam.

Jesus Christ.

You two are really getting old. You stopped drinking like an hour ago, when you were starting to feel tipsy after your second beer, and you know she didn't drink as much as she used to maybe four years ago, but the visage that welcomes you when you open the door and find her crouched down in front of the toilet certainly brings back memories of those times.

“I left you alone for like… five minutes.” Sighing, you lean in to hold her flimsy ponytail and pat her back.

“I'm good,” she gags again and then holds up her hand to stop you from saying anything else “I'm fine.”

Smiling, you help her up and she grabs the counter as she's washing away the taste of whatever she ate earlier today and alcohol “Me when I lie…”

“Y/N!” she hits your arm but the movement somehow almost makes her trip.

“You want to lay down?”

“Is she okay?” Woo’s head peaks into the bathroom and when he sees his ex, he makes a face.

“Does she look like she's okay?” you help her out of the bathroom and start heading for Wooyoung's room.

“Wow, wow— Where do you think you're taking her?”

“To your room, dumbass!”

“Why mine? San's is literally right there.” He whines, pointing at the door you pass by without a second thought. You don't want to know where his room is or what it looks like at all.

“Yeah, well, did San get her this drunk?”

“How was I supposed to know that she was at her almost black-out phase? She never drinks that much in front of me!” he complains again but you're already tugging Gyuri in, who mumbles something incoherent and then flips Wooyoung off “Na Gyuri if you puke on my bed I swear to God!”

If you didn't know Wooyoung so much, the whining and the attitude would probably make you think he didn't care for her at all. But he's brushing her hair out of her forehead, securing the blanket around her and moving to take her socks off when you reach the door.

“I'm guessing you're okay with her staying the night?”

“Of course you guys can stay the night, Y/N.” He says and he stumbles a little to get to you, so you smile and shake your head, about to let him know that you're not staying anywhere near his roommate when he continues “You can come over whenever you like. You know that, right?”

“I know, Woo.”

“I barely even see you these days, I… Oh! I forgot!” he points to the end of the hall, towards the kitchen “You guys don't really like each other so maybe don't come over when he's here because I don't want to see you sad!”

“Lower your voice,” you whisper to him, bringing a hand to his face and patting his cheek a few times to wake him up “Did the alcohol suddenly hit you or something?” you sigh for the umpteenth time “Anyways, you should lay down and I'll get going. I'll come pick her up tomorrow and—”

“That's such a great idea! Oh, I'm a genius.”

“You didn't come up with it, Wooyoung.”

“San!” he calls all of the sudden and you wish he was sober enough to read the panic on your features. He seems much, much sober when his best friend starts walking down the hall and stops right beside you “Take Y/N home, please, she's going to give you a bag that you must protect with your life.”

Said best friend looks at you, his eyebrow arched in a silent question “Gyuri’s stuff.”

“Ah.”

“Go, go. It's getting late, I'll just… I'll cuddle with my ex until you get home.”

And she has the nerve to say he doesn't want her back.

When the door to Wooyoung's room closes and you're left with San on the poorly lit hallway, you make a mental note to never step foot on this place or allow your friends to drink ever again.

You don't even look at the guy before practically running down the hallway and reaching for your bag. You make sure your phone is secured in your pocket as you slip your shoes on and soon you're grabbing the front door knob and twisting it.

Keys jingle next to you but, again, you don't spare San a glance.

“So—”

“I'll get out of your hair, you don't have to… walk me home or whatever he said.”

“Y/N, it's late.”

Turning to him, your smile is as fake as the ones you've been giving him the past couple of years “And I'm a grown up, San, I can walk myself home.”

“What about Gyuri’s stuff?”

“She can wear Wooyoung's clothes, it's not like they never shared before. Anyway… Thank you for having me, it was nice to see you. Goodnight.” Your response comes out fast and it sounds as planned out as it actually is, kinda robotic and devoid of actual emotion.

San can't see through you the way you see through him. It's okay, he won't mind it.

He probably won't mind that you close his own door on his face either.

If that door is what you hear when you're making your way down the stairs in order to make a fast escape, you choose to ignore it.

You have to stop mid-way to compose yourself. You don't know why you feel like crying or why your heart is beating so fast.

You knew going in that there was a possibility of seeing him tonight. You know how San affects you, so effortless and seemingly like no time has passed at all in between senior year and present day.

You know all of this already, it's an endless loop that will keep repeating until you either move away or decide to stop agreeing to Wooyoung's plans all together.

So why is your chest heaving with emotion? Why is nostalgia playing mind tricks with you? Why do you want to turn back and hug him and beg him to turn back time so you can do it all differently now that you know how to look like and what to say to make him love you back?

Ah, you're definitely not sleeping tonight. So you start distracting yourself while walking down the stairs again. You remind yourself to tell a much sober Wooyoung how proud you are of him. You think about Seonghwa, about his kind eyes and the way he grabbed your hand to dance with him just half an hour ago. You wonder how long it will take you to get home if you jog all the way there. You—

Why the fuck is San outside when you get there?

In a comedic way, you can see your attempt to distract your mind off of him slipping through your fingers and evaporating in the warm summer night breeze.

In a realistic way, you're fucking pissed at him for taking the opportunity of a good night sleep away from you.

You pass him and start jogging like you planned a minute ago. Footsteps follow you until his arm brushes yours and you take a step to the side to stop it from happening again.

“Go home, Choi San.”

“Stop fighting it, Y/N. I'm walking you home.”

“It's a twenty minute walk—”

“Drop it.”

You do. And for the first ten minutes, no one utters a word even if the tension feels electric and the street is so quiet so you can hear when his breath accelerates when he jogs to catch up to you whenever you try to leave him behind.

Isn't that ironic. He was the one who left you behind all those years ago.

“I didn't know that you danced.”

He breaks the uncomfortable but safe silence to say that?

“Well, you saw me dance so I clearly dance when I want to.”

“You never danced with me.”

“You never asked me to.”

He laughs “I'm pretty sure I did on several occasions, Y/N.”

“Well, you're wrong,” you're getting annoyed. How dare he think he remembers better than you? “It doesn't matter anyway, what's past is past and—”

“You also gave Hwa your number,” he interrupts, his long legs taking two strides to get in front of you, still walking, facing your direction with his hands on his pockets.

It's dangerous and stupid, even if the streets are practically empty and the sidewalk barely has any bumps.

You hope he falls on his pretty face.

“I did.*

“I don't have your number.”

“Well, I changed it and you never asked for it, so…”

“You could've called me or texted me to let me know you did it.”

He's getting on your nerves.

“San,” you start, taking in a deep breath you hope calms you down “We don't even text anymore, why would you want my number?”

“Do you like him?”

“Seonghwa?” you ask, frowning and he nods “Like… As a person?”

“As a potential love interest.” He clarifies matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes.

“I met him today, San. Why do you want my number?”

“Because we're friends?” he offers after a second, shifting so he's walking by your side again.

“Are we?” you ask, laughing bitterly at that “Because we haven't spoken a word to each other in years.”

“That's not true.”

“It is, San.”

“You… You don't speak to me anymore, so…”

“Well your girlfriend at the time told me she didn't feel comfortable with me speaking to you anymore,” you sigh “so I didn't and you didn't try to talk to me either.”

“Well, I want to talk to you now.”

“And is your new girlfriend aware of that? Is she comfortable with that? Because I don't want anyone telling me what to do anymore and—”

“Why wouldn't she be comfortable? We're friends, Y/N.”

“Are we?” you insist, petty, bitter and overall very, very hurt.

He looks offended at that “I assumed we were?”

He's getting on your fucking nerves.

“We stopped being friends the second Minseo asked me to stay away from you because she didn't like me, San.”

“She’s not in my life anymore—”

The words are coming out of your mouth without even thinking it through. His demeanor, the way he's somehow reproaching you for whatever he saw between you and his friend, the way he pretends nothing happened between you and him, thinking that you two are still friends.

“We stopped being friends when you pulled away from me, saw me do the same and did nothing to stop it from happening, San.”

He stops in his tracks at that. You don't, pushing forward and quickening your step even if your calves burn.

“Either way,” you speak up “Make sure you tell your girlfriend about wanting my number and then you can ask Seonghwa for it if you want—”

“She's not my girlfriend anymore!”

Now that stops you, just a few buildings down from yours, you turn around just to find San closer that you thought he'll be.

“O-oh. I… I didn't know that. I'm sorry.”

“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.”

“Still, it must suck so I'm sorry you're going through that.”

“We didn't want the same things and so we ended it. It is what it is.”

You nod.

He walks the few steps separating you and you have to raise your chin a little to look him in the eye for the first time since you left his apartment “I wanted to tell you.”

“That you broke up with your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I don't know why. It happened when I broke up with Minseo too, I just… You're the first person that I thought of calling when it happened. I texted you, too, but the messages didn't go through.”

You hum at that.

Why would he even say that?

You resume your step, not really knowing what to say until you reach the stairs that lead to your building’s entrance.

“And you didn't ask Woo for my number?”

He follows you up.

“I don't think he would've given it to me if I asked.”

That sounds like an excuse, so you don't let it slide as you enter the code to your building and let yourself inside, San holding the door so he can get in as well “Why would he do that?”

“Because he…” San sighs, pressing the elevator button “Nevermind. He just wouldn't.”

Frowning, you turn to him “No, now you have to tell me.”

“It doesn't matter, really—”

“Tell me, San.”

He stares for a second and then looks away, like a child, vulnerable and you can't help but soften at that “He didn't like the way I treated you.”

Eating your words from before, you shake your head “You didn't treat me like anything.”

The elevator dings and you get inside.

San follows you.

“Exactly,” he says, resting his shoulder on the metal “Like you said I just did nothing and—”

“Well, sometimes that's just what happens,” you want to end this. You want to pack Gyuri’s bag, give it to him and never see him again.

This conversation hurts, it reopens barely closed wounds and it creates new ones you don't really need when it comes to whatever happened between you two.

There's only so much a person can handle and it really doesn't help that you're a fool for San. He takes advantage of it, of the fact you can't really push him away at this point and the fact that he wants to have this conversation now instead of four and half years ago?

Mean.

He's mean. He's evil. He's… He's staring at you with a spark in his eyes that you recognize too well.

Hope.

When you get to your floor, you try to wipe the image away while busying yourself with your keys. Your hands tremble a little but you're able to open the door of your apartment and get in without inviting him.

He gets in anyway. You take off your shoes as he closes the front door.

He stays silent as he follows you around the apartment and you don't worry about turning the lights on. You get into Gyuri’s room and start picking out a comfy hangover outfit for your friend. Some clean underwear, sweatpants, two shirts and socks.

When you drop to the floor, in front of the closet, to look for a bag to stash all of it in, San silently clutches beside you.

“It shouldn't have happened to us. Never us.”

You can't take it anymore.

“San, what is this? What are you doing? I mean, why are we—”

“I know.”

“It's been years…”

“I miss you.”

He's so mean. But the softness in his tone resembles the one he used all the way back in highschool, when he told you that not being friends with you didn't feel right and you want to cave in right there and then.

Your heart screams at you to do it, your reason warns you that you both have been through this before and it never ends right.

You simply can't stay friends with Choi San.

Your love for him must run too deep, your resentment claws at it and tries to hurt it but it's an immovable force that won't budge even if you try to bury it under the years that have passed, the things he has done.

Tears gather in your eyes and you try to blink them away as you stare at your best friend's clothes on your lap and try to come up with something to close this path up again, reconstruct the picket fence you built around it the second he broke your heart for the first time.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, letting the walls fall a little “I miss you too but I don't think I miss whatever version of you you are right now, San.”

“W-what?”

His shaky voice makes the walls crumble and crash.

Turning to him, your hand shakes as you place it on top of his “And you don't miss the version of me I am right now. You miss what I was back then, the comfort and the shoulder to cry on I offered you when Arin and you broke up. You miss my availability and the way I didn't press my feelings on you because it didn't matter if I liked you or not, you were my friend first and the guy that I had a crush second but—” you choke up, tears falling down your cheeks even if you don't want them to “I can't do it anymore. I'm not that girl anymore and I won't be there for you now that you and Kyungmi broke up because I can't handle it. I can't, I'm sorry.”

He doesn't deny any of it.

He stares at you, tears wetting his cheeks as well and it hurts even more this way. You wish you had the strength to hold it together, to treat him like you did on the street a few minutes ago, but you can't.

There's no way you could ever hate him like you want to.

“You know…” he starts in a whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle “That's what I used to tell myself too.”

“Hm?”

“That you were my friend first and the girl that I had a crush on second.”

How dare he mutter the words you always wanted to hear, the ones you picture being said in a different setting, the ones that haunted your every waking thought that period of time you doubted your friends, your mom, yourself for even believing Choi San could ever have a crush on you.

He doesn't get to say them. You want to tell him but the words die on your throat and form a lump that you can't swallow down.

You don't get to say that. You don't get to say that.

Your hand drops from his and you look away again only to grab the first bag you find on the closet floor and shove Gyuri’s stuff in it.

If the lack of response it's what prompts the hurt in his voice the next time he speaks, you don't want to think about it.

“I wish I didn't. Now it's too late to do something about it, huh?”

This time the rage comes back with a mask on. Feing settlement for all the what if’s covers you like a blanket on a really hot summer night: unwanted, unnecessary.

But you can't sleep without it, so you do nothing to push it away.

“I guess it is.”

You get up from the floor, leaving the room and wiping your face with bitterness coating your movements as you wait by the door for him to get out.

When he does and he steps in front of you, you extend the bag and he takes it without missing a beat.

Voice robotic and words premeditated, you open the front door for him “Thanks for walking me home and taking this back.”

He leans a little into your space and you don't move away. But just as he did in highschool, he takes in your hitched breath and does nothing more.

“Thanks for letting me talk to you.”

He didn't give you much of a choice there but it's okay. This is closure, this is the end of your story with Choi San and you convince yourself you're glad that it is.

“Sure,” you whisper back and he steps outside, turning around to watch you slowly close the door “goodnight, San.”

He doesn't say it back.

When the darkness of your apartment engulfs you, that's when you let yourself breakdown. Covering your mouth with your palm, you descend until your knees are against the wood on the floor and closing your eyes you make it a point to let it all out.

You'll let it all out, drink some water, text Wooyoung and Gyuri to let them know you're safe and go to bed.

And tomorrow you'll begin your day with the freedom of finally knowing what would've happened if you or San ever took the next step.

This is fine. This is moving on. This is—

The doorbell rings.

Opening the door again, you crease your eyebrows in a silent question that San doesn't care to answer, so you look around the floor in case he forgot something you're missing. You wipe your cheeks and under your eyes as you turn to him again “Did you—”

Time slows down when he makes it past the threshold and you can't move an inch, gaping at who you once thought was the love of your life “What are you doing, San?”

“Something about it.”

“What?”

“Forgive me,” he asks, breathless and in a murmur, fueling your confusion. And then he's closing the distance, dropping Gyuri’s bag and cupping your face so gently that it hurts “but I'm doing something about it.”

You stopped dreaming about the possibility of San kissing you that one time you two were on your bed and, another time, you told yourself that, if it ever happened, you wouldn't kiss him back.

It's too late to kiss him back.

But sparks fly when he crushes you against the wall and takes in a breath before slothing his mouth against yours like he's been waiting to do this every single day for the past nine years you've known each other.

There's nothing you can do to conceal the way yearning takes over you, pours out of you, making you breathe into his open mouth and kiss him back like you always wanted to.

You already know it is a mistake by the time you grab his shirt to keep him in place but does it really matter when this is all you ever wanted?

Feeling warmth leave your face, you notice the way he desperately crowds your space as his chest bumps into yours, leg claiming its place in between yours, the palm that leaves you pressing against the wall, next to your head.

The kiss is filled with emotion, with longing and desire and it steals the air out of your lungs tragically and beautifully at the same time. Before, you used to dream about his lips making everything feel right, making you fit in in a world you didn't feel like you belonged to.

But this kiss drops you into uncharted territory, drags you into the depths of something that should be buried by now, after all this time. It brings the flame back to life and it's dangerous.

The fact that it feels this way, both marvelous and catastrophic at the same time, makes you so sad.

Sorrow descends down your face until your mouth is picking it up and your tongue is mixing it with whatever emotion is cruising through San right now.

You have to know.

He spent your entire youth and early adulthood keeping it to himself, knowing when to show his true colors and when to hide them, choosing who to do it with and you realize the San that lives in your head is nothing but a figment of what you wanted him to be.

Because him holding to your waist like it's his only lifeline doesn't fit the San you remember, him telling you he liked you back then doesn't fit the guy who was just your best friend.

You need to know.

“San,” brokenly, you speak into his mouth and he pulls away just enough to see your face. Your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving and your lips trembling “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you, Y/N.”

You push him away, weakly, almost like you don't really mean it because deep down you don't but he steps away like you're asking to.

Because, of course, your mind scraps the bottom of your resentment to give his words a completely new meaning.

“You can find another girl to fuck and be your rebound, San,” more tears spill down and you wipe them away in anger but more threat to fall down so you cover your face with your hands and groan, desperate “I can't do this, especially not when I know that you know how bad I wanted you. Y-you know what you do to me San so stop—”

“I want you in my life. I don't— What? I don't want you like a rebound, I… Can we sit down and turn on a light so I can look at you when I say this?”

His words should be reassuring but they're not, the way you tend to feel unlovable around him coming up to the surface, preventing you from thinking clearly.

You can also feel his lips on yours still. It's dizzying but you manage to push yourself off the wall and pad around until you hit the switch of the warm light lamp near the couch and the apartment comes to life just like that.

He takes in the space he's never seen before, walking slowly towards the living room and looking over the bookshelf that screams your name all over it. He smiles a bit as he looks over the book titles and you look away before your heart starts acting up again.

You can't stay mad at him for long if he's looking through something so personal to you and smiling that fondly at it. It feels even more intimate than the kiss you two just shared.

Wiping your cheeks once more, you are sure you look a mess but he doesn't seem to mind it once he comes into your point of view, sitting down on the couch, in front of your standing form. He grabs you by your hands until you're sitting next to him, close to him, cologne intoxicating your senses.

“I told you I liked you when we were in highschool, right?”

You nod.

“You seemed surprised but it was dark so I'm not really sure. I thought you knew, everyone knew.”

Oh, he's a comedian.

“How would I have known, San? I… Yeri told me you liked me one time, in senior year, but I denied it. Then, my mom told me you seemed to want me in a non-platonic way and I dismissed her as well,” you take in a deep, shaky breath “For me, the thought of you liking me just didn't make sense. You loved Arin and she's… She doesn't look or act like I did back then at all, so how would I have known?”

You didn't need clues and puzzles and what if’s, you needed words and actions that weren't confusing. You needed him to tell you back then, because telling you right now and kissing you senseless after he broke up with a girl he supposedly was very in love with means nothing but pain.

“I didn't realize you liked me too,” you make a face, about to tell him off, but he interrupts “I didn't! I thought you liked Yeri and I thought you saw me as the annoying guy who wouldn't leave you alone. I only just realized it a couple years ago, because Woo told me.”

You raise your eyebrows and mutter under your breath “I'm murdering him tomorrow.”

The corner of his lips twitch before he shakes his head in dismissal of what you said “I liked you. I really, really liked you and never told a soul because… Well, it's scary when you fall in love, right?”

“San, you had no problem telling Arin, Minseo or Kyungmi that you liked them.”

He looks down to the floor, lost in thought and you want to open your mouth to take what you just said into a new direction, but you don't “Maybe that's because I didn't love them the way I love you.”

Oh.

Love you? As in… He loves you right now too?

No way.

“You didn't love me, San. You don't love me right now either, you… Maybe we both were in love with the idea of love? Maybe that's what happened and—”

“Quit telling me what I'm feeling, Y/N. You always do that, you always assume you know what I'm feeling but you don't!”

Raising your voice a little more, you try to get your point across in the worst way possible: by being stubborn “You don't know me! How can you possibly—”

“I knew you back then, Y/N! And I loved you back then, too!” He looks like wants to say something more but he doesn't, instead, he takes a calming breath and then leans into your space for the third time tonight “And I might not know you now but I want to. That's what I meant when I said that I want you. I want you in my life, I want to know the person you became when we stopped talking, I want to talk to you every single day and I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side however you want me to, I just… I can't lose you again.”

His confession renders you speechless and you notice his chest is heaving, going up and down in sync with yours.

But the way he pulled away from you senior year still hurts, it paints a picture of what's going to happen if you accept this.

You can't believe his words.

He must feel lonely and confused, like he did when Arin broke up with him. He must be looking for a shelter you can't provide.

“And when you find another girl that's more to your liking? What then, San?”

“There's no one that I love more than you, Y/N and I'm sorry I was shit at proving it back then and I'm sorry that it took so many years for me to come to my senses.”

He's tearing up and your heart pangs absurdly loud at that.

“I saw you with Seonghwa earlier today, laughing and dancing and flirting and I thought: Oh, maybe if I didn't waste that much time pretending I'm someone I'm not, that would be me.”

You stare for a second, you watch a single tear drop down his cheek and then look away.

“Is that what you were doing? Is that why you pulled away?”

“Maybe?” he offers and you turn to him again. Is not enough and maybe he can see it in your expression, because he goes on “I mean, I… I thought I wanted Arin. I thought I wanted Minseo. I had people in my life who were really happy to see me with them and I just…”

“Wanted to keep them happy,” you nod, understanding. He doesn't have to say his mothers name for you to know he's referring to her and maybe his other highschool friends outside of Wooyoung “Were you pretending with me as well?”

“No,” he answers right away “You and Woo were the only ones who saw me for who I really was back then.”

“And why do you think you love me now, San?” you ask, deflating against the couch and ignoring the way your heart soars at his quick response.

“Because I never stopped,” he stammers out and then clears his throat “Because I looked for you in Minseo and Kyungmi and I wondered for years why they couldn't make me feel the same way. And I told myself I didn't need to feel the same way and that I deserved to wonder for the rest of my days but seeing you tonight? I can't.”

Straightening your spine, the pained look you sent in his direction is not intentional but it prompts him to lean closer and closer until he's cupping your cheek again.

“I can't keep wondering.” His voice is a sweet whisper, a siren song that draws you in until your forehead is resting against his.

All these years, you were so self-focused on changing to a better version of who he used to know, learning from your mistakes and closing off to the opportunity of letting him prove himself a better man, you forgot that time passed for him too. He’s telling you he changed, too.

Imagination is a safe space. Is where you hide, where desire can take its wings and fly high without hurting you too much. Make belief has rescued you before but this? The way his nose nuzzles softly into yours and your breaths tangle? This is very real. And reality is prone to hurt you.

But the want you feel is undeniable. The way your entire being wants to cave in and give him an opportunity is suffocating, it makes you choke out a sob that he follows with one of his own.

You kiss him, softly at the beginning, but his hands on you tighten and you let yourself get lost in the way they go down your neck and your arms, caressing you softly until they reach your waist and pull you into his lap.

Pulling away, you grab his chin with two fingers and force his teary eyes to snap open, searching for an answer on yours.

“If you hurt me,” you start, breathless “If you're mocking me, if you're using me to get over Kyungmi, if you are pulling me back in to break my heart again, Choi San, I swear to God I will kill you.”

“I won't do that to you ever again, Y/N,” he returns softly “I love you, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you but I love you.”

Others would argue that it is pathetic how quickly you forgive him. But then again, you could never be mad at San.

You were only mad at yourself for how everything turned out.

“I love you too, Sannie.”

Saying something never felt so freeing before.

“Oh, Y/N…” you can see the way relief washes his worries away “Y/N…” he starts to say but then leans in to kiss you again and never finishes his words.

You don't mind it.

Pouring out all the pent up affection you pretended to bury for years, you explore his mouth and carve into your memory the way he feels. The way he sighs into it when your tongue brushes his, the way he pulls you in closer when your fingers reach the nape of his neck and pull on his hair there, hands splayed on your back so he can keep you in place as he leans down and places you against the worn out couch.

He maps you out, hands going down your waist in a familiar feeling that brings back that memory of you two laying down on your bed. Only this time, he's actually touching you with a purpose. This time, you two have made up your minds and your limbs are tangled in a way you can feel all of him pressing up against you.

It starts to get stuffy, the space on the couch not nearly enough to have him the way you want to. Soon, you're both standing up, mouths still moving against each other and hands roaming everywhere until you're undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He pulls away to fully take it off, eyes never leaving yours, dropping the shirt to the ground, next to the couch and then he's on you again, making your back crash into the wall as he works the knots keeping your blouse together.

He walks you through the hall, stopping only to take your top off and then he's walking you to a room that has a familiar scent that doesn't belong to you.

“Wrong room, wrong room,” you say into his lips and he laughs, looking to your surroundings “Mine’s over there.” you point to the other end of the hall, taking his hand and pulling him towards it.

You don't make it far before he's yanking you towards him again. He looks down, taking your body in and you do the same, his firm and defined stomach a sight you never thought you would be able to see.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, backing you against the wall again and kissing your cheek “So, so beautiful.”

Turning your head to chase his mouth, he lets out a heavy sigh when his lips trail a path to your neck and murmurs against the skin there “I never told you how beautiful I found you before but you're so perfect, baby.”

“I always thought I wasn't your type, San,” you let out a noise when he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, crashing his into yours “Fuck.”

“And I always thought you were too much for me, too smart,” he kisses his way back up, focusing on your jaw and chin until he's kissing your cheek again “too pretty,” he moves to your ear, pecking right under it and you hold him closer “too good for me.”

It doesn't really matter that this is all new to you, the way he's speaking, the tenor of his voice, the things he's saying… It sparks something familiar in you. You're pulling his hair back to make him look at you, a moan slipping out of his lips at that.

You want to hear it again.

He's smiling at your reaction, hand tightening on his locks.

However, that smile drops when he seems to recognize the gleam in your eyes.

You gather up courage, feeling empowered by the way his hooded eyes darken but wait patiently for you to speak your mind.

“Maybe I'm too good for you now, too,” you lean in, your lips softly tracing his “Maybe you should prove to me that you deserve me, San.”

It's a dare. One that he seems to like a lot because his eyes sparkle with the same fire they used to back in the day.

“Oh, I'll prove it to you, alright.” He whispers, panting when you let go of his hair and he leans into you to kiss your lips briefly before pulling away again.

His hand tilts your head back and you rest it against the cold wall, his fingers touch your bottom lip before going down and down and down until they rest against the seam of your pants, unbuttoning them in one swift movement.

Going back up, his nails softly dig into your skin and you preen, taking the soft sting of his ministrations like you two have done this a million times before.

His mouth is on yours again, his hands are pulling you off the wall and into your room until you two land on your mattress with a soft tud, a moan spilling out of your lips when he sloths his knee in between your legs and pulls them apart with expertise.

You don't have the mind to break down what that means.

Opening your eyes when he kisses down your neck again, you notice your room is barely lit by the street lights outside, curtains pulled open and windows closed but, this way, you can see the way San kisses between your breasts and your belly, catching his eyes when he looks up to measure your reaction.

You sigh, already feeling some sort of build up going on down there and he hasn't even touched you properly yet.

You don't even want to think about how wet you actually are.

He leans back, open palms going down your legs slowly until they reach your feet. It tickles and you can't help but let out a giggle that he joins short after, his gaze never losing the edge because of it, though.

“San…”

He guides your hips up so he can take off your pants and you sigh when his hands return, raising your leg up “I missed your laugh,” he says low, attaching his lips to your calf “I miss being the one making you laugh too.”

You feel like crying again but then he's letting your leg down and grabbing the other one to give it the same treatment, so your tears can wait.

This time, he moves upwards till his mouth nears your clothed center and your breath hitches.

Yeah, you can definitely cry later.

“You want me to prove to you how much I want you, Y/N?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting your mound now “How much I love you?”

“San, p-please…”

“Fuck, look at you.” He sounds like he's too lost in the heat of the moment and you're kind of grateful, because the moan you let out when his fingers hook on your underwear and pull them to the side to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes is loud.

When he kisses you right where you need him, you let out another moan. And when he parts your folds to lick a stripe up to your clit, you curse him under you breath until he's laughing against you softly, the vibrations accumulating heat on your belly.

He doesn't tease you much longer and you look down at him just to catch the moment his self control slips, eating you out like a man starved while his hand stays on your hip to hold you down and keep you underwear from interrupting his feast.

“This is like,” he dives in again for a few seconds and you grab the sheets beneath you “All my fantasies coming to life but better.”

He's so chatty during this and the only thing you can do is stammer a yeah? and pray for it to reach his ears.

“Mhm,” the circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shake “Taste even better than what I dreamed, too.”

The heat of his mouth leaves you, lips spreading your wetness through your stomach until he fully reaches your face, your eyes closed and lips already waiting for him.

Tongue caressing yours, your hands trail down his torso and focus on getting his pants off. You're shaking with excitement so it proves to be more difficult than you imagined at first but he helps you in unbuckling his belt.

Once the piece of clothing is one the floor (or the bed, you're not really paying attention on where it lands), you don't waste time in feeling him up through his boxers.

The hiss you get in return makes you smile.

Bringing your lips to his neck, you suckle on this pulse point and gain another pleased noise before grazing your teeth against skin and moving to his collarbone next.

In a way, you get what he means. If he truly was pining over you the way you were pining over him, the thought of exploring his tan skin and making him moan feels like a dream.

So you kiss him again in order to make it all last longer.

The minutes pass between the both of you, softly making out and figuring out what gets both of you going, discarding your underwear in the process.

You realize your moans make San’s cock twitch against your leg and he seems to notice the way your hips buck up everytime his hands handle you more roughly.

After a few minutes of just this, you feel his hand making its way down again and the pads of his fingers circle your clit until you're grasping the sheets again. He gathers your arousal and then enters one finger slowly and when it slides in and out with ease, he enters the next one.

There's really not much prepping he needs to do, already soft and compliant under him, you relax into his comfortable touch before you're aching for something else. And your mouth is preoccupied with his, so you do something else to catch his attention.

Hands caressing his back, you let them drop to his ass with a soft smack that wins you a soft huff on amusement and then a whine when you move his hips towards yours.

“Condom?”

You shake your head “I'm clean and I have an implant.”

“Oh?” he smirks, about to tease you but you squeeze his butt again and he moans “Fuck. I'm clean too.”

“Good,” you whisper against his cheek, laughing as he arranges his position.

And he might've been touching you all this time, kissing you until your mind emptied and your lips are all swollen up, but the look on his eyes when he slowly enters you is what might drive you over the edge.

Grabbing your hands, he pins them on the side of your head as he moves, dropping his head down with a groan as you take him in, nose touching yours and moth whispering sweet things you can't quite pick up.

He feels so good.

This all feels way too good to be real.

In the cloud you're at, you allow yourself to dream a little more before the reality of what your confessions mean dawns on you.

For now, you allow San to make love to you. Sweetly, slowly and with a passion you never were lucky enough to encounter before.

Maybe it's because your previous lovers didn't have your heart the way San does.

He rams his hips into yours hard, closing his eyes and resting his warm cheek against yours, kissing your face inch by inch when you accompany his movements with your own.

When his pace picks up, you hug him close and secure your legs around his hips as you moan.

“Y-yes, fuck.”

“Like that?” he repeats the movement from before, pulling out and then in with such force it rocks the entire bed.

“Just like that, baby, fuck.”

“God, you sound so good,” you smile a little, forehead resting on his shoulder before your head falls down against your pillow again “I love you,” he repeats against your lips, letting your hands go to cup your face with both of his again “I love you so much.”

Teetering over the edge, you feel happy tears stinging in your eyes. Though closed, you can feel San’s stare on you, on your face, on the way you react to his sweet words and relentless pace.

You say it back in a whisper and he repeats it again and again and again until you're both coming and tears are spilling down your cheeks.

He kisses them away.

You wipe his with trembling fingers as you come down, having trouble breathing from everything that just happened.

You don't feel suffocated anymore, you feel like you've been freed. Like this was supposed to happen at some point and you two finally got around to it.

“I love you,” he says once more before slipping out of you with a parting kiss.

Holy shit.

When San gets up from the bed and you point him to the bathroom, down the hallway, you're left with a sticky mess in between your legs and a lot to think about but you settle on four things.

San just made love to you. There's no way that was just sex.

There's also no way you're coming back from this.

Gyuri is probably going to kill you.

And that, obviously, your feelings for San never left. You feel the familiar warmth of them spreading through your post-orgasmic state. They're there, mocking you, asking you who the fuck you thought you were for pushing them away.

He returns, toilet paper in his hands before leaning in and cleaning you up, lips immediately finding home on your skin as he does.

You both giggle at that.

You probably need to shower but you've been crying and there's no way you're leaving this bed tonight. He throws the paper away on your bedroom’s trashcan and then crashes into the bed next to you, still naked, still looking at you with so much love you're wondering what stopped you from seeing it was there before.

Taking his hand, you bring it to his lip and give his knuckles a peck “That was really good.”

“It was.”

“I can't believe we actually just did that…”

He smiles and what he says next shocks you even more than his confession “I want to take you out.”

“San… You just came inside me not even ten minutes ago.”

“And?” you laugh and he shakes his head, leaning into your space again “I spent many years doing everything wrong, let me do it the right way.”

“Making love to me one time and then taking me out on a date is not the right way, sir.”

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and you let out a pleased sigh “Who said it was just one time, huh?” Attacking your neck with his lips again, you push him away with a laugh.

“Oh, come on!”

He laughs as well “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it two!”

San makes love to you two more times. And by four in the morning, you're snuggled into his arms and sleeping soundly.

When you wake up and find the space next to you empty, you think it was all a dream. Your naked form begs to differ and you quickly put the t-shirt you usually wear to bed on and your panties underneath it to go out and face the feelings of your actions fighting with the blender in the kitchen.

“How do you two live with this stupid thing?”

“We don't,” you answer, startling him “We don't use it. What are you trying to make?”

San’s shirtless, wearing his pants and his hair messy. Looking back at the living room clock, you see it's just five past ten.

Smiling as he approaches you, you forget you must look a mess too when he pecks your lips and barely pulls away “Good morning, beautiful.”

You pretend to cringe at that, pulling away “Oh, God. Morning, dumbass.”

“You like it, you're blushing,” he points out and the pink on your cheek deepens as he's going back to the blender “Does anything work here?”

“The microwave,” you shrug “And the stove. Were you trying to make yourself a…” you look over the ingredients he has pulled out of your fridge “Green juice?”

“I was trying to make both of us a green juice,” he corrects and your heart skips at the immediate domestic attitude he has with you “But now I can tell neither of you drink anything like it, hm? I'm buying you a blender.”

“Please don't.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think that one is broken?”

He hums, huffing out a laugh seconds later and you walk over to him, unsure on how to approach him even though what you did yesterday night and earlier this morning didn't allow your shyness to step in.

Now you're feeling it.

He can tell, because he stops fighting with the steel appliances to grab your waist and pull you close “I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“We can make breakfast together and I can order your green juice,” you compromise and he nods, but he doesn't let you go “And later we can go out on that date you promised me yesterday and we can go over what we're going to tell the two idiots.”

His smile drops.

“Oh, fuck.”

Grimacing, you nod “It was the second thing I thought about after waking up.”

“What was the first?”

“Oh, I was trying to remember if you ever asked me to dance before,” he nods with a smile “Guess what? You didn't.”

He fake gasps at that “I did!”

“No, you didn't!”

“Babe, yes I did,” he insists and you laugh, which prompts him to wrap his hands around you tighter when you try to get away from him “It was when—”

“Oh. My. God. I'm going to be sick again.”

Now when the fuck did Gyuri come back.

And why is Wooyoung with her too, jaw slack as he watches both of you pull away from each other and create a safe distance that doesn't help whatever your best friends just saw.

“It worked?” he asks and you can barely hear him until he hollers like a crazy person “Oh, it worked! I am a genius!”

“Wooyoung, hold me! I'm going to kill them!” Gyuri looks like she's about to launch towards you at any second now, so you close your eyes and accept your fate. But nothing happens “Wait— What worked?”

When you open them again, San is hiding behind you and Gyuri’s back is to both of you as she looks at Wooyoung with, what you assume, murderous intentions.

“Gyuri, let's talk about this,” the black haired guy puts his hands up “You were too drunk to discuss it so I made the choice of— Gyuri, no!”

You burst into laughter when she starts chasing him around the apartment and San giggles as well, only more nervous than delighted by their little cat and mouse game.

He's probably sensing he's next on her hit list.

As if you would let anything happen to him in the first place.

“Stop, stop! I'm sorry, please leave me alone!” you hear Wooyoung’s voice echoing through your hall and in a second he's entering the kitchen, rounding you and San “I'm so happy for you guys, really, this was meant to happ— Stop!” He cries when Gyur catches onto him and yanks his hair to stop him from running.

“Y/N,” she starts, chest heaving and you take a step back, crashing into San’s chest. He holds onto you only to push you a little and protect himself from the fury of your best friend “When I told you fuck him I didn't meant this!”

“I know.”

Wooyoung whines but he can't get away from her grasp so he just accepts it and pouts like a child.

“A-and you!” She points towards the guy resting his chin on your shoulder “How dare you! If this is something casual for you then—”

“I love her.” He defends himself quickly and your heart all but stops at that.

“You do?” Wooyoung coos, amazed at his best friend’s confession.

Gyuri's anger falters at that.

“You… You do?”

“And I love him,” you let out in a shy whisper, smiling a bit “But you already knew that.”

“Of course I already knew that, bitch, I am your other half,” she makes a point to stare at San as she says it, letting Wooyoung go and he massages the part of his scalp that was targeted by his ex “Don't forget that.”

“Y-yes ma'am.”

You laugh again and Woo joins the embrace, eyeing you both expectantly and rolling his eyes when neither of you say anything to him “Well, you are so welcome guys. What are we having for breakfast?”

You and San don't get to go out on that date.

But when you do, he asks you to be his girlfriend the next day.

And when you say yes he almost breaks down in excited tears.

Eventually, even Gyuri comes around and threatens him into treating you right, which means he earned her seal of approval.

You delete the document on your laptop when you find it a month into being his girlfriend and, instead, start drafting your new beginning on it, in first person this time because the story doesn't feel like it belongs to someone else now.

The first line read as it follows:

How did I ever think San and I could be just friends?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #ateez reactions #ateez smut #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san smut #san smut #san x reader #san #san imagines #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #san x you #san x y/n #fic; wcbf.

2K notes · View notes

boiohboii · 1 year

Text

Protective girl (Charles Leclerc x reader)

Inspires by @charles-eclair16 's fic

When fans go too far, yn wants to protect the one treasure in her life

in which we finally get to see the roles reversed

N.B: this is been in my drafts for so long, omg! Let me know what you guys think!! WARNING: not proof read, some swear words, might have messed up a date, don't focus on any dates mentioned, this is all fictional anyways. Hope you guys like it

masterlist

Liked by Arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,379,064 others

itsmeyn: charles always goes above and beyond for every single fan of his, he tries to take as many pictures and sign as many autographs as possible, but what happened last night was a fucking joke. He doesn't like what I'm writing cause he says that it was just a mistake and that it was fine, but it really isn't, it's so disrespectful and disgusting! He always wants to meet his fans and make them happy only to receive this insanity, him falling AND HURTING HIMSELF because some of you can't fucking wait and be organized like a human being! Charles isn't an animal in a zoo where you race to pet him! He is a human being, he is a son, a brother and a boyfriend! This wasn't just an accident, i have seen these 6 girls multiple times in multiple places! it's so obsessive and so so sick of you to follow him everywhere.... Charles won't speak up because he is Charles and he lives seeing the good in people, but I will tear everything and everyone for his safety, so for you 6 girls you will be hearing from court soon so better prepare a good lawyer you assholes!

Comments on this post have been disabled.

Liked by leclercboy, ynistheitgurl, fuckferarri and 91,739 others

F1_updates_live: Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, YN LN, seen today arriving in front of the UK's courthouse in a red SF9 Ferarri. It had been quite a week for YN as she was seen hitting a fan after the said fan pushed Charles. YN took this fan and 5 others to court, no one knows on what bases but what has come out is that she has won the case which means that Charles and YN have restraining orders against the group.

username: OHH HEEEELLL YEAAAAAHH

username: yn doing God's work

username: yn serving justice

username: that's what we needed

username: hot girl shit

username: the car and suit combo is so fucking hot of her

username: I think this is too much, like these girls just wanted to see Charles

username: @.itsmeyn can we make them 7?

username: another one

Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, pierregasly and 617,829 others

itsmeyn: don't blame me, love made me crazy

username: YN IS A FELLOW SWIFTIE?!?!?

username: if I had a nickel for everytime yn and I had something in common I'd have 2 nickels, which is not a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice

username: now I just want her to watch all the charles edits done with a taylor song

itsmeyn: who says i already don't 🌚

username: and I oop-

username: THIS IS THE SWEETEST AND CRINGIEST SHIT EVER!

Liked by wolfffam, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll and 817,629 others

itsmeyn: congratulations to my baby, the love of my life, you deserve it and so much more ♥️♥️

username: FINALLY!!

username: idk how to react, ferarri has let us down too many times that all I know is lose

username: I don't see how he deserves it tbh, all of his results are shit for quite a while , he's only where he is cause he's driving a ferarri 🤷‍♂️

itsmeyn: oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were the one in a formula one car, in a ferarri, that by the words of many professionals is at its worse era. I don't care about you and your opinion but don't state it as a fact, no one can do better with these strategies. I hate to keep saying this but when your own fucking team doesn't have the same dream as you it turns to shit. Even if charles is the only one in the car, it's still a team sport, not a one man sport. Fuck you and your tiny ass brain that can never survive one lap in a formula one car, it'll probably explode cause of all the bullshit in it before the first lap anyway. So next time you wanna talk shit maybe try to do fifth of who you're criticising is doing, I bet that'll shut you up real quick you dimwit.

Liked by leclercpascale, pilotesofmonaco, tswiftyn, and 52,719 others

F1_updates_live: YN LN, Charles' long time girlfriend, seen today fighting Xavi in Bahrain due to his mistake on the radio which resulted in Charles losing his podium position.

username: good for her

username: charles is so lucky

username: I love how she always stands up for him

username: honestly, whenever charles or carlos ignore the strategies they win... I really wanna see more of that.

username: this is just Monaco 2024 GP all over again, yn was so fucking furious (rightfully so) cause Xavi's mistake costed charles a p1 in his home race.

username: this shit was so heartbreaking man

username: I think this was the first time we ever saw yn angry at sabotaging charles, like the most we saw was her holding his hand when crossing the street, making sure he eats first, playing with his hair when nervous, but I've never seen yn make someone literally cry until 2024 with Xavi being her victim

username: pffft, victim, he 100% deserved it

username: oh yeah, definitely. All my homes hate Xavi, like can you not say the strategy properly 😒

#f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #charles leclerc #f1 #charles leclerc fluff #charles x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles x yn #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc twitter au

3K notes · View notes

samandcolbyownme · 5 months

Text

Summary: When reader’s sister is in town to introduce her new beau, all it takes is one drunken night for it to all come crashing down.

Pre-warning: THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN CHEATING. Please do NOT read if you are not fully comfortable with this topic.

Warnings: SMUT18+, CHEATING, Colby cheats with reader, swearing, mentions of alcohol, reader drinking, drunk reader, low key flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, unprotected sex, rough actions, choking, biting, scratching, hair pulling, ANGSTY, cream pie, fingering, oral (f rec), period and pregnancy talk, mentions of puking, general spice

Disclaimer: I am 100% against cheating. If you cheat on anyone, you’re an awful person. This one shot is 100% fictional and for entertainment purposes only! Nothing about this is real.

Word count: 7.4k | not edited

Enjoy!

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

“Another one?” You laughed into the phone and your mother sighs, “Y/n, sweetie. Be nice. She seems to be serious about this one, this time.”

You laugh slightly, “Mm. I’m sure. She was serious about the last three.”

You loved Mara, your sister, but one thing about her that really bothered you, was that she cycled through guys like a carnival ride. One month she’s in love the next, no guy can ever treat her right.

Blah, blah, blah..

But you’re always there for her, so you’ll be there for her with this one, “Did she tell you who it was?” You ask as you sit up, putting your mom on speaker so you can start packing.

“No, she won’t tell me a thing. I keep asking her for things but all she keeps saying it’s a surprise. Um, she did though, at one point say that you’ll understand why it’s a surprise, but that’s it.”

You pull your suitcase out from your closet, “Hmm.” You walk back over to plop it down on the bed, “That’s so weird. I actually have no idea.”

Your mom hums, “Yeah I have no idea.” She sighs, “So your flight gets in at what time?”

“Eleven a.m. Don’t be late.” You tease and she laughs, “Six months without seeing either of my girls is like six long lifetimes. I promise we won’t be late.”

You tear up slightly at her words, “I’m so excited to come home for a little bit. I miss my mommy.” You laugh and she sniffles, “Yeah. I miss my baby girls.”

You smile and sigh, “Alright well before we get anymore emotional, I’ll see you in a few hours. I love you.”

“I love you. See you soon, baby.”

Your mom hangs up and you get to packing. You hated it, and as much as you tried to stop the habit, you always found yourself packing at one of the very last minutes.

Mara said she was talking to someone new, but was very, very vague with the details about him. No matter how hard your pried and how often you asked, she never gave up anything.

You did know one thing, though. Your sister was pretty, so you knew that who ever the poor sap dating your sister was, wasn’t ugly.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Your flight was getting in two hours earlier than your sisters, but by the time you make it to their house, you’d only have an hour to talk shit with your mom and get caught up on the latest hometown drama.

“No!” You exclaim as you slam your hand on the counter, “She got pregnant with her bosses baby, and baby daddy didn’t know the baby wasn’t his until the birth?”

Your mom nods, “I guess her baby daddy knew she was screwing around prior and had his mind set way before anything.”

“That’s absolutely crazy.” You shake your head and stand up, “I think Mara and her secret boyfriend will be here soon. I’m going to run to the bathroom quick.”

She nods, looking down at her phone, “Oh, they’re pulling into the driveway now.”

You nod and make your way to the bathroom. As you’re washing your hands after, your heart literally felt like it detached from inside your body when you think you hear a certain someone’s voice.

You dry your hands and crack the door, pressing your ear to the slight opening and you hear your dad laugh, “Oh, so like a real life ghostbuster.”

“I mean.” The guy you’re really listening to speaks, “My best friend Sam-“

You close the door and press your back against it, hand gripping the knob so hard your knuckles turn white.

Your heart feels like it isn’t even in your body anymore.

You had no idea how this was happening, how he is here, in your parents house with your fucking sister of all people.

Colby. Brock.

The guy in high school you thought you were going to marry. The guy in high school you snuck out to see at midnight. The guy you gave your V card in the back of your car in high school to.

Your mind was spinning. Your heart was back in your chest and racing hard.

Would he remember you?

He has to know that you’re Mara’s sister, right? There’s no way she could keep him from knowing, you’re posted on her socials.

“Y/n?” Your mom calls at the end of the hall, “Are you coming back out?”

Before you can answer, your sister yells, too, “Yeah, come give your big sissy a hug! I’ve missed you!”

You roll your eyes, opening the door, “I’ll be out in a second.” You close the door and look at yourself in the mirror. There’s no way Mara knew you dated Colby, hell. You didn’t even tell your parents.

It’ll be fine, you convince yourself, it’ll be fine. Just act normal.

You take a deep breath, opening the door. You walk out and slowly walk down the hall. Act normal, you remind yourself, standing up straighter and putting a smile on your face right beside you round the corner.

Yep. That’s Colby, and for some reason, he looked just as shocked as you felt.

Your sister pulls you into a hug, holding you tighter, which only makes you feel more guilty when you don’t drop your stare from Colby’s.

“You look so good!” She cups your cheeks, “I hope this wasn’t, too short of a notice, this was the only time I could get off work.” She steps back and moves next to Colby.

He slings his arm around her waist and you bite down on your cheek. You couldn’t lie and say that you missed his touch. You both really didn’t know what you were doing in high school, but he was still better than some of the fucks you’ve had back where you live now.

God, you wanted him bad. You knew you couldn’t have him, and that’s why these feelings were so intense, right?

You mentally shrug yourself out of your thoughts and move into the living room with everyone else as Colby, what it feels like to you, catches you up on his life.

You feel your heart racing in your chest, trying to keep that sick feeling down as you avoid looking at Colby in any certain way.

You knew if you looked, you wouldn’t be able to look away. He looks, fuck. Beautiful now. He’s tall and a lot more muscular than the last time you seen him.

He was.. dare you say, a work of art?

You knew these next two weeks were going to be hard, especially living under the same roof as the very first person you ever fell in love with.

He didn’t know you liked him that much, so it didn’t really hurt him as much when things ended - or so, it seemed like he was okay.

The last three days, you found that Mara is very, very clingy with Colby. You didn’t want to assume or anything, but you kind of thought you picked up on her doing that when you were around them.

You didn’t really think anything of it, so you just moved on from it. You called up one of your friends and planned a night out with a few of your other old friends.

“What are your guys plans tonight?” Your mom asks as she walks into your room. You sit up, looking down at your phone, “I’m actually going to get ready to go to Tayla’s here soon. I’m going out with a few of my old friends from here.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” She smiles, “Your father and I have a work dinner benefit thing and then we’re going out for drinks, so don’t forget to take your key. I don’t know when we’ll be home.”

You nod and your sister walks in, “Did I hear you’re going out tonight with Tayla?”

You laugh, “Yeah. I am.” You look up at her and she tilts her head, “Do you think Colb and I can tag along? We’ve been looking for something to do.”

You see your mom look from your sister to you and you nod, “Yeah, no. That’ll be so fun!” You smile, “I’m going to Tay’s to get ready, but we can all just ride together?”

She smiles as she nods, “I’ll go tell Colby to get ready.”

“I know you probably think I don’t know.” Your mom leans in and your heart drops as she whispers, “But Lesa and I have been close for years, and you know us mom.. we talk.”

You look up at her and she tilts her head, “You still like him don’t you?”

All you can do is nod, but you go right into quietly pleading and begging her not to say anything to anyone, “Please don’t say anything.” You repeat for the fourth time, “I know you said moms talk or whatever, but this.” You shake your head, “Is not for your gossip. I don’t want to hurt Mara like that.”

She brushes hair from your face and sighs, “I know how you’re feeling, sweetheart. I know I didn’t want anyone saying anything, so don’t worry.”

You look up at her and smile, “Thanks, mom..” you sigh, “I have to get my stuff around.”

She smiles, giving your head a quick kiss before she nods, “Be safe tonight. Call if you need a ride.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You kept the whole thing about Colby in from everyone but your mom. You got lucky in the mom department with that one.

Getting around with Tayla wasn’t easy, mainly because she can still read you like a book, “Seriously, y/n. Are you okay?”

You lean back from putting your mascara on, looking over at her, “Yes, T. I’m good. I promise.” You look back at the mirror, “do you have that one top? The black halter top looking one?”

She nods, getting up to grab it, “Can I ask a question?” She reaches out to hand it to you and you look up at her, nodding as you take it.

She walks back over and sits down on her bed. She hesitates for a second, “Is it because Colby is here with your sister?”

You furrow your brow, “Um, no. Why would that be-“

“Because you have a history with Colby.”

You scoff, “Holy fuck. Does everyone know that Colby and I screwed around in high school?” You shake your head and look down.

Tayla moves to the end of the bed and laughs, “You told me yourself, y/n. At the senior bonfire. You admitted you were falling in love with him after one too many shots.”

You laugh slightly, “Yeah.” You nod, “Yeah, that sounds about right.” You scratch your neck and look over at her, “Okay. I’m actually glad you said something because I’ve been dying to talk about this.”

After an hour of filling her in while she got ready, she looked at you, “So he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him?”

You nod, “He looked like I’m who he wasn’t expecting.” You shrug, “It was weird, it’s all weird actually.” You laugh and groan, “Out of all people, why him? She couldn’t have just left this one alone.”

“Did she or does she know that you and him used to..” Tayla trails off and you shake your head, “Well.. I hope not. If she did, she probably would have said something..”

Your phone goes off and you look down, “They’re ready.”

As you pull up to the house, you look over at Tayla, “Please don’t say anything about it.” She nods, “I won’t. I promise.”

You look over, your heart skipping a beat when you see Colby. His chest slightly exposed from his shirt not being buttoned up all the way. The chains that are hanging from his pants, sway with each step.

He looked so good, you were basically drooling for him.

“Hey.” Tayla nudges you, “Take a picture.” She laughs, “it’ll last longer.”

“Oh my god.” You mumble as you slump down in the seat, “Just.. put me out now.” You hear the back door open and you sit up straight, clearing your throat and your sister and Colby get in.

“Heeey, Tay. How are you?” Mara asks as she closes the door. Tayla nods, “I’m good, how are you?” Mara nods, smiling as she looks at Colby, “I’m good. So, Tayla. This is Colby, Colby. Tayla.”

Colby nods, “Yeah, I remember Tayla from school.”

Oh fuck. Your heart anxiously skips a beat.

“Wait, I know you’re from here, too. But if you went to school with Tayla, then you went to school with-“ Mara points at you and you nod, “I thought you knew that Colby graduates with me and Tay?”

“It must have slipped my mind because I graduated high school before you became a freshman.” Mara gives you slight attitude and you raise your brows, “You good, Mar?”

She nods, “Yeah. Why?”

You shake your head, “Nothing, it just.. sounded like you were coming at me for a second.” She laughs, trying to cover up her obvious jealousy, “No, it’s just a really small world, isn’t it.”

You laugh slightly, glancing over at Tay before nods, “It sure is.”

Colby knew you were talking to him.

“So what bar are we going to?” Colby asks with hopes of trying to break the tension. Tay sighs, “Well, I was thinking that we’d try a new one? They just opened one over on Saint Elm, it looks pretty good.”

“Are you talking about that bar you sent me yesterday?” You ask and she nods. You look back at them, your words almost getting caught when you looked at Colby, “Is that okay with you guys?”

They both nod and Tayla takes you guys there. You were actually relived to get out of the car and away from the clearly awkward small talk.

You grabbed Mara’s hand and pulled her back away from Colby and Tayla, “Hey. I didn’t know that you didn’t know Colby went to school with me.”

She sighs, “Y/n. Can we no-“

“No, we’re doing this now because I don’t want you to have a bad night, okay? I knew Colby from band, that was it. There’s actually someone back home that I’ve been talking to, okay. So there’s no reason you need to get snippy with me.” You laugh and you laughs, glancing up at Colby, “I just..”

She looks back up at you, “I’m not used to being with someone who’s so.. famous like Colby is. I’m always thinking that every girl is trying to get him.”

You laugh slightly, “I’m sure it isn’t easy. But it’ll get better. Colby, from what I remember from high school-“

Which is a lot more than you’re leading on.

“And from what I see on social media.” You shake your head, “I don’t think he’s the type of person to fuck you over.”

She sighs, “Thank you.” She pulls you into a hug, “Yeah, I told mom that you’ll know why I hid it, since you watch their videos and all.”

Watch their videos and all, yeah. Not like you had Colby’s dick in you first or anything.

“Oh yeah.” You turn, pulling her with you towards Tayla and Colby, “It makes sense now.” Tayla gives you guys a thumbs up, “We good here?”

You nod, “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Great, because I need a drink.” Tayla turns and walks into the bar. Mara snaps, “Oh shit. Colby.” She looks at him, “I totally forgot to ask you, would you be willing to drive us back to mom and dads?”

Colby nods, “I already planned on having to.” He smirks, looking between you and Mara. You smirk and walk towards the door, going inside to find Tayla and your other friends who were meeting you here.

You were doing pretty well at keeping your resurfaced feelings for Colby suppressed, but as the night goes on, and with help but the alcohol you keep putting in your body, your wandering eyes happen more often and you just slowly start to not care.

Everyone else was wasted, well. Everyone but Colby.

And he had his eyes on you, too.

You really did care about Mara, but Colby wasn’t helping matters with the way his pupils dilated when he looks at you.

You start thinking about how to get him alone and that’s your cue to bring up something about going on, “Alright. Once I finish this.” You point to your glass, giggling as you lean forward to grab it, “I’m.. done. I’m tired.”

“Aww.” Your friends pout, “We barely see you anymore, y/n.” “Yeah, come on stay out please.” “Please one more drink!” “One more shot!”

“Fine. One more drink.” You laugh, enjoying your friends praise you and Colby takes note real fast of that kink.

You slurp down that drink and stand up, “Alright. Who is my DD? I’m leaving.” You start walking towards the door and Mara and Tayla come running after you, laughing as they cling to your arms.

They were both absolutely shitfaced.

You were borderline blackout - anymore and you’d be a goner.

“You’re the best sister ever.” Mara slurs as she lays her head on your shoulder. You look down at her, quickly looking back to make sure Colby is behind you, and his eyes are on you.

You give him a smile and look back down at Mara, “No, you’re the best sister ever.” Tayla sighs, stopping outside of her car, “I need to go to sleep.”

You laugh, “I feel that.” You walk to the passenger side and Mara whines, “Tay.” You look at Tayla and smile, “You wanna sit in the back with Tay?”

Mara nods, her eyes closed, “I love her.”

You laugh, moving to the back door and opening, “Okay. In we go.” You and Tay get Mara in the car before you help Tay in. She pats your face, “You need to come back home more. I miss you.”

You nod, “I will come home more.” You buckle her up and shut the door, your drunkenness quickly blowing away as you get into the passenger seat.

You would have sat in the back, but you didn’t feel like moving Mara’s legs.

“Ready?” Colby asks and you nod, “Yeah, they’re good.” He puts the car in drive and starts heading back to your parents house, “Are you good?”

He asks that question a little quieter and you know he’s not just talking about the situation right now, “Uh.” You clear your throat quietly, “Yeah. Yeah.” You look over at him and he looks at you as he comes to a stop at the red light.

You looked away as you see the red light creep onto his face and you have to look away or else you’ll do something you really know you shouldn’t do.

It’s pretty much quiet, except for the snoring from the two girls in the back. They passed out as soon as their asses hit the seat.

“Did you have fun?” Colby asks, breaking the slightly awkward silence. It’s only really awkward because of who is sitting in the back. If it was just you and him, that’d be a different story.

“I did.” You look over at him, “That was until I realized how drunk these two were.” You point your thumb towards the back, “So now, I’m just tired.”

Colby nods, “Yeah. I expected to not stay out this late, but I should know by now who you guys are.” He chuckles and you scoff quietly with a smirk, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Colby smiles, and fuck. It’s insane how fast you still just melt into the seat for him.

“Party girl, y/n. Ever since high school.” He bites down on his lip and you know his mind went to that memory of you and him sneaking off at Friday night party because yours went there, too.

“You started that.” You point to him, “So, that isn’t on me.” You laugh quietly and you would have swore it was just you and him again, but the loud snort that came from one of the sleeping drunks, robs you of that being true.

“Mhm.” Colby smirks as he parks the car, “You get one I’ll get the other?” You rest your head back, closing your eyes as you prepare to drag Tay’s body into the house.

You sigh, opening your eyes to find his already on yours. You feel a heat rising in your cheeks and you nod, “Let’s get it over with.”

You get out, finding your key before opening Tay’s door. You lean over, looking up at Colby as you both lean in to unbuckle the girls.

Fuck you wanted to kiss him again - No, no.

You shake your head and lean back, pulling Tayla’s seatbelt with you. You see a slight look of disappointment on Colby’s face as you glance up at him.

Before he can say anything, you start to pull Tayla from the car, “C’mon, T.” She groans, resting your head on your shoulder.

You spin around and close the door, making sure your grip is tight on her as you walk her up the sidewalk to the front door of the house, “Alright, hey. I have to unlock the door, okay?”

Tay starts to giggle, “You do..” she pokes your cheek, “What-whatevvveer it is you got ta do.” She laughs and looks over at Colby and Mara, “MarMar!”

You laugh as you push the door open, “Oh my god.” You shake your head, motioning for Tayla, “Come on. You have to be quiet.”

“Quiet.” Tayla repeats in a hushed whisper, “Got it.” She walks in with you guiding her, Colby following with a now grumpy Mara.

She groans, trying to push away from Colby, “m-mm. I can- I can do it myself.” Colby sighs, “alright.”

You glance back, watching as Mara tries to remove her still buttoned jacket. You laugh to yourself, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

“Stay here.” You look at Tay and she nods, “Yes ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you make your way to your sister, bending down to unbutton the last button on her jacket, “Alright. There. Now come on. Follow Tay.”

“Tay!?” She looks up and gasps, “She’s still here!”

You give Colby a look and shake your head as you sigh, laughing as you walk back to Tayla, “Alright, can you do the steps?”

Tay nods, but in reality, it was a dreadful, ten minute stair climb. Once you were up the steps, you kicked open the door to the room you stayed in as a kid.

Colby takes Mara to her old room and then you both eventually meet out in the hall.

You pull the door closes behind you, making sure to be as quiet as possible. You turn, freezing when you see Colby walk out of Mara’s, doing exactly what you did.

He turns, freezing when he sees you.

You kick your heels off, pushing them out of the way before you just walk past Colby and down the steps, but he’s hot on your trail, “Y/n.” His voice is quiet, “Hey. Please.”

You make your way into the kitchen, flipping on the lights above the sink, giving you more than just the moonlight pouring through the windows.

You turn, looking at him as he walks through the door, “What are we doing, Colby?” You press one of your hands to your cheek, “Y-you’re with my sister.. but th-“

You stop talking, shaking your head, “You’re with my sister.”

“But what?” He asks and you look up at him, “You’re with my sister. So, it doesn’t matter.”

“You had me first, y/n.”

His words catch you off guard, all you can manage to shoot back is a sharp, “so?”

You can tell he wasn’t sure where he was going with that either, but he shakes his head, “I knew you were Mara’s sister. I know what we have in the past, frankly.” He shrugs, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we broke up.”

“The day you and Sam moved to LA.” You correct, shooting a smirk at him.

He sighs, smirking, “The day I ruined your life, alright.”

You laugh, pointing to him, “There ya go.”

He rolls his eyes, “Still the same fucking fire you had in you when you were eighteen.”

You smile, cheeks turning darker, “I’ve missed you.”

The words feel like they’ve barely left your tongue. Your voice was so quiet, you didn’t think Colby heard until you feel his hand slide over top of yours.

“I wish you knew how much I want to message you each time I see you like my posts.” His thumb brushes over your skin, “How much I just want to call you, talk to you. Catch you up on everything in between that day and now, stuff you don’t see on social media.”

You feel like you could puke.

Colby’s unexpected confession has your nerves zipping back and forth at high speed, “I-I don’t..” you sigh, trying to calm yourself down, “Colbs.”

He smirks at the nickname you gave him in high school as you try to stay focused, “I-..” you sigh, “You’re with my si-“

He cuts you off, words coming out fast, “Say the word and I’ll be with you.”

You stand there in silence as you stare at him.

You knew what you wanted to do, but you also knew that what you wanted to do, was one of the absolute worst things you could possibly do.

But, you do it anyway.

Your hand drags along the grey marbled island top as you walk around the thing that’s standing between you and Colby.

Inches from each other, you look up at him. His hand slowly reaches up to caress your face, and as soon as his touch meets your skin, that’s the last sign of gentle you saw for a while.

His hand moves down to your neck, gripping tightly before your lips were on his. Your hands work at your jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing the zipper down before your push them down your thighs.

Your hands slide up Colby’s chest, moaning quietly and he bites down on your lip.

His other hand moves to your hip, pushing you to spin so he can lift you up onto the counter. He pulls your jeans down, letting them fall to the floor and your thighs immediately divorce each other as soon as his hands lay on your knees.

His lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at random spots. He kisses up to just below your ear, fingers pushing further and further up the inside of your thighs, “I’ve thought about this pussy every day.”

You moan at his words and he muffles them quickly with a kiss, “hush now, baby. It’d be a shame if we got caught.”

You nod, whimpering quietly as his fingers hook into your panties and pull them aside. He grips your bottom lip with his teeth and tilts his head back before allowing your lip to gently slap back against your top, “Still wet for me?”

Colby’s voice is deep, slightly raspy, and so, so hot.

That alone was such a turn on, and right there was how you knew you were absolutely fucked.

“you know I am.” You manage to whisper out. You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into you. Your lips press to his and you gasp as two of his fingers push into your eager opening.

“Fuck.” You whimper quietly, wrapping your leg around his waist, “Colby.”

Colby he reaches up, laying his hand on your neck, his lips meet yours once more before he leans down, throwing your legs over his shoulders and not wasting another second before plunging his tongue where his fingers just were.

He groans against you, pressing his face into your to muffle his own moans. You lay a hand over your mouth, looking at Colby devouring you like he used to do years ago.

You did feel bad, you really didn’t want to hurt Mara, but at the same time, Colby’s eyes locking onto yours as he grins like the devil just tops everything.

You reach down, pulling him up to you. Your hands move to his belt and his lips kiss any skin he can find.

You try to quiet the clanking of metal as you pull the leather through. Once out, you unbutton and zip his pants and he’s pushing them down with you.

He grips your thighs, sliding you to the edge of the counter and your legs lift up to lay on his hips as he pulls his cock from his boxers.

You watch down as his cock slides into you and Colby slaps his hand over your mouth right as you start to moan.

He pulls you closer to him as he slowly pull out and thrusts back in to you, this time, bottoming out completely.

Your eyes roll back and your nails dig into the back of his neck. You look up at him, brows burrowed as you squeeze his cock.

He groans lowly into your hair before looking down at you, “So much better than I remember.” He presses his lips to yours, moving them in sync as he thrusts slowly into you.

You moan against his lips, already feeling that band in your belly tightening, “M’gonna cum.” You mumble with your lips still smashed to his.

He nods, resting his forehead against yours, “Mhm.” He presses his lips to your slightly sweaty forehead and he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, “Feels so good, baby girl.”

You squeeze around him, and he chuckles at the indication, “Still like that, huh?” He brushes his lips against your cheek and you whimper out, “Yes.”

He smirks, “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Your grip on him tightens, and you roll your hips forward as you moan quietly. Colby’s brows raise and he lets out a breath, “Fuck, do that again.” He squeezes your hips, “That felt good.”

You roll your hips, meeting his thrusts the best you can as your orgasm rolls in, wreaking havoc over every inch of your body.

Your legs start to shake and you bury your face into Colby’s shoulder. He slides his hand up your back, holding you close as he guides you through your high.

His following close behind.

It didn’t register until after you were redressed that he didn’t pull out, but you just shrugged it off. You wanted all the time with Colby you could get right now.

After he buckles his belt, he walks over to you, “Hi.”

You smile, laying your hands on his biceps, “Hi.”

His eyes scan your face, licking his lips as he shakes his head, “I should have just messaged you.” You nod, “I agree with you on that one..”

You laugh slightly, “Now we’re in this.. this mess..”

Colby knew you were stressing. The only thing Mara ever talked about was how special or a relationship you guys have.

He cups your cheeks, “Hey.” He makes you look at him, “Well figure this out.”

You nod, “we will?”

He nods, “We will.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Since I haven’t posted much, I added a little subplot for you all 🖤 thanks for reading, I love you all so much.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Ever since that night at your parents, you and Colby have been non stop texting, calling, talking - you’ve been basically catching each other up over things that happened within the last seven years.

Mara still doesn’t know what happened that night.

Your poor parents still don’t know about the island countertop.

You and Colby were just in your own little world for a little while.

“Fuck.” Your roommate, Jordan, groans from the bathroom, “Do we have stain remover, y/n?” You look up from your phone and close your eyes, “Um, yeah. I think there’s some on the shelve above the washer.”

You look over towards the bathroom, “What did you stain?” You laugh slightly and your smile fades as she walks out holding up her red stained pants.

“Oh, fuck. Okay. Here.” You walk over to her, taking her pants, “I’ll make you a lemon juice mixture. This just happened to me last month.”

“You and your little hacks. I’m glad we’re roomies.” She laughs and walks over, watching as you grab the lemon from the fridge.

You smile, “Right!” You grab a knife and slice the lemon a few times before you have to stop because you felt like you were going to puke.

“Y/n?” Jordan leans in, “Are you okay? You just went pale.” She stands up, “Hey.”

“Be right back.” You manage to choke out before dropping the knife and bolting to the bathroom. You slam the door shut, falling to your knees and heaving over the toilet.

You reach up, pulling down the silver handle and leaning back. You shake your head, thinking to yourself how weird that was. You’ve never gotten sick over smelling a lemon before.

Jordan knocks on the door, “Hey, you okay in there?”

You turn your head slightly, “Y-yeah. I’m good. I think I might be coming down with something.”

“Oh no. Keep it to yourself please.” She laughs slightly, “What am I talking about, I probably already have it.”

“I’ll be out in a second.” You explain to her how to apply the mixture before getting that sick feeling again.

“Okay. If you need anything let me kn-“

You lean forward, gagging as squeeze your eyes shut, “Oh fuck.” You wipe your mouth and let out a sigh. You pull your buzzing phone out and see a text from Mara.

Your heart sinks a little as you open it, Mom and Dad want us to go home at least once a month now. I guess they missed having us at home.

You let out a breath of air and rest your head back against the wall, taking a second to calm your racing heart before you reply, Sounds good to me.

You go to set your phone down but then you see the date.

Your heart starts to race again.

You quickly unlock your phone and go to your period tracker app and your heart falls into your stomach as the words in the circle read, PERIOD IS FOUR DAYS LATE.

“Oh shit.” You scramble to your feet, any feeling of sick being gone and now you were just freaking out. You wipe your forehead, washing your hands before walking as calmly as you can from the bathroom.

“I’m going to run to the store quick, pick up some juice or something, plus I need pads.” You lie, I just got my fucking period, too.”

She groans, trying not to laugh, “Oh shit, dude. Well you know what they say. Girls who hang around together a lot tend to sync cycles.”

“I blame you.” You squint your eyes, “Do you need anything?” She shakes her head, “Oh!” She holds up her fingers, “Grab me one of those coffee Starbucks frappe things.”

“Okay. Text me if you think of anything else.” You walk towards the door, grabbing your keys before you open it and leave.

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry as you go to your car. As soon as you get in and connect to the Bluetooth, Colby’s name appears on the screen of your car.

“Fuck. Okay.” You take a deep breath, hitting answer, “Hey, Colbs!”

You can tell he’s smiling through the phone, “What’s up, baby girl?”

You smile slightly and start driving, “I’m just running to the store, Jordan is sick so I’m going to get her some stuff. What’s are you up to?”

“Sam and I are just editing a new video and we took a break, so I figured I’d call you.” Colby yawns, “I’m so tired.”

Tired. Thats another thing you’ve been.

“I feel that. These last few weeks have been just a shit show at work.” You lie again.

You didn’t want to say anything until there was another line indicating that there was even anything that needed to be said.

“Anything in particular?” Colby asks and you sigh, “Just other people, you know.” You pull into the parking lot of the store and lean back, “You and Sam going on any new adventures soon?”

Colby chuckles, “Actually, okay. So I did have another reason to call you.”

You laugh, “What’s the first reason?”

Colby laughs, “Well, because I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice, obviously.” You laugh slightly and tilt your head, “Yeah. I needed to hear yours, too.”

“Aw how sweet.” Colby teases and you roll your eyes with a smile, “Anyway. Reason number two?”

“I talked to Sam and he thinks it’ll be a good idea if you do a video with us. Like a mini high school reunion special, Tayla can come too.” Colby says and you smile, “Yeah.” You say, totally ignoring your current situation, “I know I would and I’m sure Tayla wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Great. Great. I’ll talk to Sam and then I’ll keep you posted with the deats, yeah?”

“Sounds good, Colby.” You smile and hear Sam yelling in the background, “Hi, y/n!” You smile, “Hi Sam!”

“Alright. I’ll text you. Gotta get back to that grind.” Colby laughs, “Ya know?”

“I do. Have fun.” You smile and Colby scoffs, “I will now that you said to.”

You laugh, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

As soon as the car goes silent, tears well up in your eyes and you just start sobbing. Fuck these hormones, you think as you try to pull yourself together.

You take a few deep breaths and grab your bag and keys before walking in.

You managed to get in, grab a few things, the tests and get out. You cried the whole way home. No matter what you did, you couldn’t stop it.

Finally once you were home and in the driveway. You pulled it together, hoping you could hold it long enough.

You walk in, “Hey. I’m back.” You close the door and walk over to the counter, setting down the bags. You get the stuff out and grab the box of pads, “I’ll be back.”

You hand Jordan her drink as you walk by, avoiding eye contact because you couldn’t, not only answer, but handle a why are you crying question right now.

You sit down on the toilet, tossing the box to the floor before opening your purse. You stuffed the box with the tests in there as a way to keep your potential secret hidden from Jordan.

A few moments later, you set the stick down on the counter, covering it with the instructions because you couldn’t care to look.

You set a timer for three minutes, stopping it right before it goes off. You sit there for another second, feeling almost unable to look at it.

You muster up enough courage and pull the paper off, revealing a double lined answer.

It feels like hours pass by as you stare at the tiny oval shaped screen.

You blink, shaking your head as you pick it up, laughing in disbelief as you cover your mouth with your free hand.

You look around, eyes wide as you panic on what to do, “Mm. Fuck.” You set the test on your lap and grab your phone from the sink.

Your thumb hovers over the little phone icon, shaking like a scared Chihuahua, “Fuck.” You sigh and slowly bring your phone to your ear.

By the time your phone meets your ear, you hear Colby talking, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You break, taking in a choked sob, sniffling as you try and talk, “C-col-“ you cover your mouth, you don’t want to be loud enough go get Jordan’s attention.

The less people that know, the better.

You keep your eyes closed, listening to Colby’s soothing voice, “Hey, hey. Y/n.” You can tell he stands up and starts walking, Sam asks him where he’s going. He doesn’t answer him, he just keeps walking, “What’s going on, y/n?”

Your tear filled eyes are locked onto the two lines and you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

“Hey. If this is about us and what we’re doing I pr-“

You cut him off, “n-no. No.” You shake your head to yourself, “I-it’s not that.” You sniffle, looking up, “Um.”

“Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Colby assures and you can’t help but laugh, still unable to believe that this is happening, even though it’s right here in front of you.

You were scared. Scared for what is going to be said about you from Mara. Tayla. Your parents.

You feel your heart rate pick up again and you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but you just inevitably blurt it out, “I’m pregnant.”

It’s silent on both ends, at least for a few minutes before Colby breaks it, “Is it.. mine?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, resting your elbow on the sink, hand on forehead, “Haven’t slept with anyone else since you.”

“Did you tell anyone else, sweetheart?”

You smile slightly as a tear falls down your cheek, “Mm. No.”

“Do you know how far along you are?” Colby’s voice is soft, gentle. He didn’t seem mad, but you felt like you needed to ask, “Probably like four or five weeks? They won’t get me in for an ultrasound until eight weeks.”

You take a brief pause, “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” He questions right away, “Why would I be mad? This is on me, too.” He chuckles slightly, “I mean, I knew I’d find you again, but I didn’t plan on having this happen right off the bat.”

“I was on birth control, I promise. I must have..” you groan quietly, “missed a pill.” You feel like you want to start crying again but Colby’s voice snaps you out of it, “Shit happens, Princess. We’ll get by. I promise, It’s okay.”

“I’ve been sitting here long enough, I think I’m going to take this other test, just to be sure.” You reach into the box and pull out the other test, unwrapping it before you set your phone and other test on the counter.

“I’m here, okay.” Colby reminds you, “I’m sorry you’re doing this alone.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper as you cap the test, setting it down, “Now we wait. Three minutes.”

After an almost quiet three minutes passes, you let out a sigh, “Okay.” You sit up, reaching for the test, already knowing what it’s about to read.

“Is it the same as the first?” Colby asks and you flip it over, taking in a sharp breath, “Yeah.”

“Okay I’m coming.”

“What?!” You lean forward, “Colby, you can’t what ab-“

“I told you. We will figure this out, and it just so happens that Sam and I have a place to investigate in Seattle, which just so happens to be where you’re living.”

“Mhm.” You smile slightly, “What a coincidence.”

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Hi, hello. Sorry I haven’t been posting much. I’m currently working on giving each person their own masterlist and I have to make banners for each one and it’s just a process.

I hope this kind of made up for it. I love you all so much, thank you for reading and as always.. let me know what you thought of this!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #smut warning #Colby Brock #Colby Brock smut #dirty colby brock #colby brock one shot #colby brock one shots #colby brock fluff #colby brock fanfic #colby brock dirty imagines #colby brock x reader #colby brock x reader smut #colby brock x you #colby brock x y/n #Colby Brock x y/n smut #pregnant!reader #xplr club #xplr #colby brock x pregnant!reader

341 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 4 months

Note

Hello! I would like to please request a MCYT preference (Quackity, Tommy, Ranboo, Karl, Tubbo, Badlinu) dating a SO who can do voice impressions. A fictional character, a real person, an animal, or a sound effect. Imagine the MCYT is playing a horror game and suddenly a sound of a baby crying jumpscares them but it was actually their partner

omg stop this is adorable I love it LMAOOOO ; thank you for requesting, hope u enjoy!! ; I made these mostly kinda funny cause idrk what I'm doing

MCYT ; vocal impressions

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was playing a slenderman game with ranboo and charlie

he was super on edge cause he was just being chased around and it was all dark

you, as a joke, decided to scare him by making a noise

you were sitting on the beanbag chair behind him and he definitely forgot you were still here by now cause you went quiet for a while

you notice the game is silence because he's whispering for a moment until he's quiet again

you say it loud enough for it to scare him and so he can hear it, in a Jimmy Neutron impression you slightly yell, "One more paper to go, Tommy!"

He JUMPED.

he spends the next minute and a half bickering with you (playfully) while almost crying cause his heart is pounding in his chest

RANBOO

he was playing a horror game with some friends

cue scary music and silence, they were fucking terrified

you wanted to mess with them + you had a poll on your Twitter really quick if you should or not

you started barking like a chihuahua to scare him

literally fell out of his chair

it went backwards cause he pushed his feet away and he threw his headphones off

lots of laughter and apologies afterwards

FREDDIE BADLINU

he finds your impressions so fucking funny

you reference memes 24/7 and sound exactly like the original and he can't help but laugh

you're like a meme jukebox

"What!? What the fuck!?" when something weird happens

you recreate vines 24/7

you'll wake him up in the middle of the night quoting some demon from a movie and he'll actually be scared out of his mind

ALEX QUACKITY

he finds that shit so funny

he always asks you to quote Thanos in a Thanos voice (2020/2021 era)

he asks you to do an impression of him and you end up play fighting for an hour over it

"I don't sound like that!"

"I don't sound like that!" you mock

"Shut up!"

and you sound exactly like him.

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #mcyt x gn reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #badlinu x reader #alex quackity x reader

188 notes · View notes

rosedpetal · 1 month

Text

Until Death Do Us Part

Summary: Harvey and you have been on a rocky road lately, but hopefully, you can still find each other.

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 932

Warnings: stablished relationship (reader and Harvey are married), mentions of body image struggles, hints at +18 themes.

Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not." Your husband frowned when you came out from the closet wearing your 'costume'.

A huff of annoyance leaves your lips.

"What the fuck is wrong now? Did I gain weight and suddenly you can't get up or something?" Venom drips from your sarcastic remark and Harvey rubs his temples.

"Why are you like this? Jesus Christ, Y/N, it's not about some shit like that, stop trying to make me a bad guy at every given chance!" He snaps. "It's just your stupid wings, okay? You look like you came straight from a Barbie movie, when you said you'd like to roleplay being a fairy, I thought you'd use one of those Lord of the Rings-"

"Those are elves. Not fairies. They don't have wings!" You seethe, taking your plastic wings off and accidentally pressing the light button on them, turning the pink leds on, and Harvey's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry if my knowledge in a fictional world lore is lacking, it's because I actually have a real job."

That was cruel and uncalled for and he knew it. Harvey had a bad habit of saying the most callous things without even thinking. It didn't help that he hated the idea of roleplaying from the very beginning.

"How could I forget, it's the only thing you care about!" You raise your voice, and it breaks in the end. "Tonight was supposed to be fun!"

Harvey immediately regrets the jab he made at your wings. Well, it's not that he couldn't get himself to be motivated by you while you were wearing them... It's just that it was fucking weird because he was a grown man and he was pretty sure his kid niece wore the same pink fairy wings every Halloween.

And he could explain that to you, but you just had to make a self deprecating comment about your body and imply that he wasn't man enough to look past his partner putting on some weight.

Which was another ridiculous thing, because, seriously? He couldn't care less if you were a size 2 or 20. It didn't matter. He married you because he loved you, inside and out, and you weren't an airhead that couldn't carry on a conversation with him. He respected you. He was interested in what you had to say (most of the time, at least).

But for months now, you two have been fighting nonstop, and more than often saying some hurtful shit to each other and no longer searching for the comfort of each other's arms in the middle of the night.

He wondered if your sudden self consciousness regarding your body was because you've been stress-eating ever since the chasm between you two was created.

Harvey was selfish, harsh, arrogant and snappy, but he wasn't insensitive to how women sometimes had insecurities that ate them alive.

He sighed, following you in the closet, his chest tightening at the sigh of your angry tears while you put on sweatpants and a top (the sleepwear you wore on nights you made sure no intimacy was gonna happen).

He even agreed on going to therapy with you, which he thought was an admission of defeat, that you two weren't mature enough to solve your problems on your own.

"Honey." He called, his voice soft with regret.

He hates the 'homework' your therapist gives you every week. A dinner date, a little getaway, a road trip, sitting down and talking for an hour. He feels like his own relationship is being scripted and that you can't find common ground anymore.

"What?" You wipe your tears, unable to look at him in the eyes.

"We don't roleplay." He said in a teasing tone. "Why would I want you to pretend to be someone else when you already exist?"

He gently holds your face in both hands, wiping the remaining tears with his thumbs.

"I'm an idiot. I promise my reaction has nothing to do with whatever's been making you feel vulnerable right now. Seriously. The wings just reminded me of halloween, and halloween reminded me of children going trick-or-treating and you don't want your husband to be thinking of children in the bedroom, do you?"

You grimaced. "God, no."

"Glad we're on the same page, babe." He gently pressed his forehead against yours. "Dance with me."

"There's no music." You sniffled.

"We have a nice record player in the living room. Come on, baby."

Gently, he guided you out from the room, his fingers intertwined in yours as he put on some sappy jazz music. He sways barefoot with you on his arms, your head on his chest, and it takes you back to simpler times.

"I'm sorry. For everything." He's the first to speak, and you appreciate the sentiment, because you know how hard it is for him to apologize, specially when he's the first one to bend the knee to make peace.

"We'll get through this." You mumble, and he kisses the top of your head, and suddenly the golden ring on your finger feels lighter.

"I love you more than anything in the world, darling. Please, don't doubt that. I need you to remember that every single day, specially when I'm at my worst."

"I love you too, Harvey."

He knows there's a long way to go, but the little progress you made tonight makes his heart feel more at ease, as long as you're both on the same side, because he knew with every fiber of his being that he meant it when he said 'until death do us part'.

#harvey specter x you #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fanfic #suits usa #suits fanfic

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empresskylo · 4 months

Note

hai hai!! i have some cod nsfw headcanons ^_^ hope you don’t mind i just have brainworms that need to be let out

price has a MASSIVE (pun intended) size kink. he loves having your small frame beneath him, just manhandling you everywhere >_<

simon is actually really gentle. he definitely has dacryphilia, but the first time you started crying during the act, he got so scared :’( you had to reassure him you were alright ! now he can be more rough, even downright mean at times .

gaz looks like the most ‘proper’ of the 141, but he’s freaky !!! he’s really into degradation and praise, and he’s a huge ass man idc idc ! but he’d also spend hours with body worship just taking care of u

soap’s favorite position is cowgirl / just you riding him, he loves seeing his dog tags dangle between ur tits, holding your hips and just having you on top :p

aah that’s it sorry for spam </3 love your writing

I NEVER MIND HEADCANONS ARE WE KIDDING?!!!

price having a size kink makes my brain malfunction. like i neeeeeed that man. i’m so sorry but i also feel like he’d have a bit of an age gap kink. he’s not that old—he’s like what? late 30s early 40s??—but he secretly really likes dating someone way younger than him. the fact that irl i’m like oh ew gross at those kind of men! but in fiction, i’m like i want that man down bad and obsessed with the fact that he’s larger and older than you. need him to feel like he’s taking advantage of you: being older, bigger, and in higher power, and he hates how much he gets off on that.

no im obsessed with simon being a gentle lover. the thing is, i love him soft and rough, so combining it is just 😩 him being so sweet and slow and gentle at first, but once you convince him you’re ok with him being rough, my man goes a little crazy. he loves to leave bruises on you. loves to degrade you (“look how easily you spread your legs for me. pathetic.” “beg for it, love”). loves to toss you around like you’re nothing. loves seeing your eyes water when he’s just pounding the shit out of you, the way you struggle to form coherent words. if you don’t have tear stains by the time he’s done, he clearly didn’t do his job right. but that’s not every time.. he’s still gentle and takes his time and whispers sweet praises in your ear in between. like UMMMFFF.

gaz is younger (and acts like it) so ofc he’s freaky. i don’t think he gets too weird with it or too obscure in his kinks, but he definitely likes to try new things. he lovesssss to talk dirty, watching you get flustered beneath him from just his words is his favorite thing. and my guy lovessss eating puss lmao. he definitely texts you randomly “please let me come over and go down on you. i just miss you so much.” like he straight up doesn’t expect anything in return, he just likes to get off by pleasing you and needs to taste you or he’ll lose his marbles.

i feel like entire fandom has all agreed soap likes it when his girl is on top 🤪 and they’re right!!! he is most definitely and without a doubt, a boob guy. so watching them bounce as you ride him sends him into aerospace. he is obsessed with watching you work yourself on top of him. and he can be dominant when he wants, but a lot of the time he likes when you take charge. he goes crazy when you shove his chest back down as he tries to sit up and you just mercilessly ride him until he’s a whimpering mess.

thank you for this, anon. i always love seeing other peoples headcanons <3

#foaming at the mouth #chatting ˘͈ᵕ˘͈#headcanons #cod headcanons #gaz headcanons #simon riley headcanons #captain price headcanons #soap headcanons

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wannabehockeygf · 16 days

Text

cut my hair - matthew tkachuk

part of the think later fic series

"Just wanna cut my hair Lose myself Make you sweat Go out and get messed up Find myself in your bed"

***

request: “heyyyyy me again. Would you be able to do another Matthew Tkachuk for cut my hair? a lil angsty and smuty with a happy ending. Thank you!”

summary: after being dumped, you make it your mission to have him regret everything. word count: 9.2k pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader warnings: 18+ NSFW! Unprotected sex, talk about sex in the past, a lot of slightly kinky shit (biting and stuff like that, not too crazy), creampie, alcohol, sex in public (but sort of hidden?) degradation & degrading talk, toxic relationship. notes: - i actually started this a few days ago & then i got a request for something similar so i tweaked it. girl u read my mind.

-^ my loyal requester. please don’t worry about sending too much in, trust me I love you for it, but don’t expect things too quickly ❤️ - ^^ this is barely edited or proof read. i tried but there's gonna be repetitive shit & i'll probably end up tweaking it but here it is yayyy - haven't written smut in a while 😋 - guys as much as i love chucky & quinn i really would like to write about people from the team i support the most...(the leafs if you somehow couldn't tell?) so i'm gonna be focusing on them for a bit & if you would like to request one (or clayton keller, he's my exception) please do! - ^ that being said, i will start working on qhxga pt.3 soon. - in light of everything going on, i would like to clarify matthew has not drinken anything in this despite him being in a bar & this being fiction. PLEASE don't drink and drive. ***

You’re mad.

You’re mad about a lot of things. Which is weird, because usually, you’re not mad, you just bask in your misery all day.

You’re too touchy-feely for your own good. The sad girl act is getting old, and you know it.

At least, that’s what he told you.

“You’re so fucking dramatic! Like, holy shit, can you just let go for once and have fun? Because that’s it. That’s all we’re doing, we’re having fun. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings, I’m not the guy you’ll marry!”

The lump in your throat seems to grow by the second as you try to speak. “So what, you’re saying we should break up?”

Matthew scoffs over the line, and you can basically imagine him pacing his apartment, tugging at the curly strands of his hair as if it could make him think more clearly. “We were never dating! But if you really want to see it that way, then, fuck yes, let’s break up.”

The phone call ends with a click, but the sound echoes in your head like a slammed door. Matthew’s words hang in the air, and for a second, you just stand there, staring at your phone screen as if expecting an apology to pop up. But it doesn’t. Because he never does that.

You feel the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not this time. His voice still rings in your ears, mocking you. You’re so dramatic. Maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You chew your lip, pacing your small apartment. Your reflection catches your eye in the hallway mirror—your long hair falling in waves past your shoulders, the way Matthew always said he liked it. Suddenly, the sight of it makes your stomach twist with resentment.

He doesn’t care about you. He never did.

The anger rushes through your veins, fueling you, pushing you towards the scissors in your bathroom drawer. You grip them tightly, the cool metal biting into your palm as you lift them to your hair. He liked it long, huh? A bitter laugh escapes your throat. Without giving yourself time to overthink, you hack off the first chunk, watching it fall into the sink. It feels… freeing. With every cut, it’s like you’re snipping away the pieces of yourself that he’s picked apart. The version of you that wanted him to love her. Gone. The version that begged for scraps of his attention. Gone.

When you’re done, you barely recognize yourself. The hair that once framed your face is gone, leaving behind a sharp, choppy cut that makes you look fiercer, harder. It feels good.

The little black dress hangs in the back of your closet, practically taunting you. You haven’t worn it in months—Matthew hated it. Said it was too much, too revealing, that it would draw attention. But tonight, that’s exactly what you want. You pull it on, the soft fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. You glance in the mirror once more, a smirk curling your lips. Let him see what he’s missing.

“Let’s see who’s too dramatic now,” you mutter, grabbing your purse. The night is still young, and you know exactly where he’ll be. The bar on 5th Street, right near your apartment—his favorite, your least favorite. It always smells like spilled beer and desperation. Fitting, considering that’s where you met him.

Your heels click against the pavement with each determined step outside. You’re buzzing with anticipation, nerves, and spite. It’s like electricity under your skin, the kind that makes your hands shake but your heart pound in excitement. There’s something so satisfying about this, about showing up like this, looking like you don’t give a damn when, really, you give so many. Too many.

You try not to think about what he’ll say when he sees you. You can already imagine his eyebrows shooting up, that condescending smirk tugging at his lips. “What the hell did you do to your hair?” he’d say, because that’s Matthew—always focusing on the superficial, on the surface, never diving deeper. But tonight, you don’t want him to dive. You want him to drown.

The bar looms ahead, its neon sign flickering like some kind of cheap welcome–you know he’ll be here. You hesitate for only a second before pushing the door open, the familiar smell of alcohol and sweat hitting you like a wave. Your eyes scan the room, searching, until you find him. He’s leaning against the bar, laughing with some girl, unopened Corona in hand. He doesn’t see you at first, but you see him.

Your stomach twists in knots, anger and nerves swirling together. For a brief moment, you wonder if this was a mistake. If you’re being too... well, dramatic. But then his voice from earlier echoes in your head: “I don’t give a fuck about your feelings.”

Your spine straightens, resolve hardening like steel.

You walk toward him, every step feeling like an eternity. He turns, and there it is—his eyes widen, confusion flashing across his face before that stupid smirk settles in. He looks you up and down, taking in the dress, the hair, the new you. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—a twisted satisfaction at the way his mouth hangs open slightly, like he doesn’t know what to say. You arch a brow, waiting for the inevitable comment. He doesn't disappoint.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?”

There it is. Just like you predicted, and somehow, it still stings. Of course, he’d focus on that first. Not the fact that you showed up here looking like a goddamn queen in the dress he hates, not the fact that you’ve changed in a way he can’t even begin to comprehend—no, it’s always the surface with him.

You cross your arms, throwing every ounce of defiance into your stance. “I cut it,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for noticing.”

Matthew’s eyes narrow, his smirk faltering just for a second before he recovers. “Yeah, I noticed. What, you having a meltdown or something?”

There’s the laugh. The one that makes you feel small, like you’re just a joke to him. Your blood boils at the sound, but you force yourself to keep your expression steady, hiding the tremor in your voice as you reply. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending to be the version of me that you liked. Ever think of that?”

He blinks, thrown off by the venom in your words. For a second, you wonder if he’ll apologize, if he’ll say something that softens the sharp edges of this moment. But no. Matthew is Matthew, and his pride won’t let him back down.

“Jesus, you’re really something, huh?” His smirk deepens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes now—something like recognition, like maybe he’s starting to see the version of you he never bothered to notice. The one that’s done waiting for him to care. “You don’t have to get all dramatic about it. We were just having fun, that’s all.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, each beat like a drum, loud and insistent. He’s standing there, smug and arrogant, as if he still holds some kind of power over you. Like you’re a joke. Like you haven’t just hacked off your hair and thrown on the dress that makes you feel like a goddess in defiance of everything he’s ever said.

And yet, despite the burn of his words, you can’t deny the pull. That stupid, magnetic draw that he has over you. You hate it. You hate him. But there’s something intoxicating about the way he’s looking at you now, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. Something you recognize all too well.

“I’m dramatic?” Your voice rises, thick with sarcasm, but the pain seeps through, like a tear you can’t stitch up fast enough. “You’re the one who just broke up with me—or, sorry—broke up with me from the relationship that apparently never existed. So excuse me if I’m a little dramatic, Matthew.”

He leans back against the bar, taking another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving yours. There’s that look again. You know it well—half-annoyed, half-amused, like you’re entertaining him somehow, like this whole mess is just another game to him. His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. "Well, if you're gonna throw a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way, maybe this is for the best.”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as the anger bubbles beneath your skin, ready to burst. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s an asshole, that he’ll never deserve you. But the words lodge in your throat, tangled up with the hurt, and instead, all you can do is glare at him. God, you hate him. You hate how he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin, to make you feel small, even now.

But as much as you want to storm out, to prove that you’re better than this, you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, locked in place by the storm brewing between you. The air feels electric, like something is about to snap, and you can feel it—this pull between the anger and something else, something darker and heavier.

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. The smell of his cologne—woodsy, warm—hits you, and it pisses you off even more because it brings back memories you don’t want. Late nights tangled in his sheets, the way his lips felt against your neck, the stupid, tender moments that don’t match this Matthew standing in front of you, smirking like none of it mattered. Like you don’t matter.

“God, you’re such a prick,” you mutter, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. But he hears it. His smirk falters for just a second, and in that moment, you see it—something cracks behind his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Oh, I’m the prick? That’s rich coming from the girl who’s been throwing herself at me for months,” he fires back, his voice dripping with mockery. His words sting, but you don’t flinch. You’re done letting him hurt you. Not tonight, but then he keeps then talking. “You wanna know why I never saw this as anything more than fun? Because you pull this shit. Every time. You get all clingy and needy, and it’s fucking exhausting."

You stand there, staring at him, his words a knife twisting deeper and deeper into your chest with every syllable. Clingy. Needy. Exhausting. They echo in your head, bouncing around like cruel little taunts, each one sharpening your anger until it feels like it’s going to spill out of you, red-hot and uncontrollable.

Clingy? You’ve been "clingy?"

You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but instead, the sound that escapes you is more of a strangled scoff. How dare he? How dare he act like you’re the problem? Like you’ve been the one hanging on too tight, when all you ever did was try to be close to him. All you wanted was to feel wanted by him, but apparently, that made you exhausting.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, like the world’s closing in on you. Or maybe that’s just your body’s way of processing the tidal wave of rage, hurt, and—goddamn it—desire that’s pulling you in too many directions at once. You can barely think straight, your heart pounding in your ears as his smirk only deepens, like he knows he’s hit a nerve and is more than happy to twist the knife in further.

Exhausting? You can feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, heating you from the inside out. No, you’re not exhausting—you’re furious.

He has the audacity to stand there, cool as ever, his gaze sliding down your body as if this entire thing is nothing more than a minor inconvenience for him. You want to slap him. You want to scream at him. You want to walk out of this bar and never see him again. But instead, you’re rooted to the spot, because there’s something else simmering beneath the rage—a sick, twisted pull that’s keeping you here, stuck in this toxic mess of a situation, and it’s only getting harder to ignore.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself before you lose it completely. “Clingy, huh? Is that what you call wanting a fucking relationship? Needing someone to actually give a shit about you?”

Your words are sharp, biting, but there’s a tremor beneath them, the anger barely masking the hurt that’s been clawing at you since the phone call. Matthew doesn’t miss it. His eyes flicker, just for a second, like he almost feels bad, but then his expression hardens again, that irritating, cocky grin sliding back into place as if he’s made of stone.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like the world’s ending every time I don’t text you back, we wouldn’t be here,” he retorts, his voice laced with mockery. He takes another step closer, his body towering over you, the heat of him pressing into your space, but you stand your ground, refusing to be the one to flinch first. “You get so goddamn dramatic about everything. I didn’t sign up for that shit.”

His words should make you snap, should make you storm out of this bar with your dignity intact, but instead, you’re frozen. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but not just from anger. No, it’s that stupid, horrible, unbearable attraction. The one that makes you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. The scent of his cologne strengthens, the same one that used to cling to your sheets after he’d sneak out in the morning. The same one that’s tied to every bad decision you’ve ever made where he’s concerned. And God, you hate him for it.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, voice low and tight, but your throat is closing in around the words. “I’ve been throwing myself at you? Right. Like you weren’t the one showing up at my place at two in the morning, wanting to ‘hang out’ when we both know what that meant.”

His smirk falters again, but not for long. He steps even closer, close enough now that you can see the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A spark that you know all too well. The same one that got you into this mess in the first place. You shouldn’t still be here, you shouldn’t still be entertaining this bullshit, but it’s like your body and mind are at war, and your body’s starting to win. Your fists clench at your sides as he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin when he speaks.

“You loved every second of it,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t act like you didn’t. Like you didn’t beg for it.”

That’s it. That’s the final straw. Something inside you snaps, and before you can think better of it, your hand lashes out, shoving him hard in the chest. He barely stumbles, but the shock in his eyes is enough to make you feel a small, fleeting victory. “Fuck you, Matthew,” you spit out, your voice trembling. “I didn’t beg for shit. You’re the one who kept coming back, like some... like some goddamn parasite!”

The second the words leave your mouth, you expect him to snap back, to yell, to argue. But instead, his eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s two seconds away from either tearing into you or kissing you. And you hate that you can’t tell which one you want more.

The air between you is thick, suffocating. You’re breathing hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and he’s right there, barely inches away, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. And then, as if some invisible thread snaps between you, he moves.

In an instant, his hands are on you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and before you can protest or even think, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate, angry, a mess of teeth and tongues and heat. You want to push him away, to scream at him, to throw something, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as hard, your body betraying every rational thought in your head. It’s like everything inside you is on fire, all the rage and hurt and lust combusting into one reckless, overwhelming need.

His hands are rough as they grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt as if you’re trying to ground yourself, to keep from getting swept up in the tornado of emotions swirling around you. But it’s no use. You’re already lost in it.

The kiss deepens, and you can taste his signature mint gum on his breath, can feel the urgency in the way he’s touching you, like he can’t get enough. Like he needs you as much as you hate needing him right now. Your back hits the bar, and he presses into you, his body solid and warm, and it feels so familiar, so maddeningly familiar that you could scream.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.

But you don’t stop. Neither of you do. Because even though you know this is a bad idea, even though you know you’ll regret this in the morning, right now, it feels like the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping tightly, and you moan into his mouth, your body arching against his. The sound makes him groan, low and rough, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kiss. “You wanna get out of here, princess?” he whispers, his voice rough, “Or did you want to put on a show for everyone? You were obviously planning on it, with this slutty little thing.” he punctates his last words by snapping your visible bra strap against your shoulder, making you gasp.

Your breath hitches at the sting of his words, but there’s a part of you that thrills at the edge of humiliation, at the way he’s using your vulnerability against you. It’s twisted, but it’s like a key unlocking something deep inside you. You’ve been fighting so hard, trying to stay in control, but with him so close, with him touching you and talking to you like this, everything unravels.

“Get a grip, Matthew,” you manage to snarl, though the tremor in your voice betrays you. “You don’t get to act like you’re above this when you’re the one who dragged me into this mess.”

His eyes flash with something dark, almost predatory. “Dragged you? You came running. Don’t pretend you didn’t want this, didn’t want me to notice you. This whole act—” he gestures vaguely at your dress and hair, “—is just you trying to get me to see you. Well, guess what? I see you. And you know what? I don’t fucking care.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you can’t back down now. You’re in too deep, and the anger mixing with your lust makes you reckless. “I don’t need you to care,” you snap, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer. “I just need you to fuck me right now. Show me how much you don’t care.”

His lips are on yours again before you can even think, stealing your breath and your sanity all at once. You hate him for it. God, you hate how easily he can undo you, how quickly he makes you forget why you’re angry in the first place. But even as the thought crosses your mind, you’re kissing him back, harder this time, as if the sheer force of it will somehow knock sense into both of you. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Your body presses up against his, the heat between you almost unbearable, and you can feel him smirking into the kiss, the bastard. You want to wipe that cocky look off his face, but at the same time, you want to see just how far he’s willing to push you. It’s like every nerve in your body is buzzing, caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to strip him down and ride him until neither of you can remember your own names. The worst part? You’re not sure which one you’ll end up doing first.

He bites down on your bottom lip, sharp and deliberate, and you gasp, the pain only fueling the fire inside you. "That all you got, princess?" he mutters against your mouth, his voice a low, mocking growl. It’s the same tone that’s always driven you insane, always made you want to throw something at him—and now, it’s making you wet. Great.

You narrow your eyes, wrenching yourself away from his mouth long enough to glare at him. “Don’t call me that,” you spit, hating how breathless you sound, hating how much you’re giving away with every ragged inhale.

He just grins, the kind of grin that makes you want to slap him, but instead, you find your hand curling into the front of his shirt, yanking him closer. “What, don’t like your cute little nickname? I thought you loved attention, baby.”

“I don’t need your fucking attention,” you shoot back, though the lie burns your throat on the way out. “I just need you to shut up and make yourself useful for once.”

He chuckles darkly, his fingers digging into your hips with bruising force, and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin, how quickly he can strip away all the walls you’ve built up around yourself. “Useful, huh?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Funny, I don’t remember you complaining the last time I had you screaming my name.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but you refuse to let him see how much that rattles you. “That was a fluke,” you mutter, though your voice wavers. “Let’s not pretend it meant anything.”

That was a fluke? Did you really just try to sell that lie? The memory of his name leaving your lips—no, leaving your throat in a desperate, pleading gasp—burns behind your eyelids. You can still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, the way he pulled sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making. And now, here you are, trying to convince him, and yourself, that it didn’t mean a thing.

Pathetic.

The silence stretches for a beat too long, your throat tight with the effort of holding back all the things you want to say, all the venom you want to spit right in his smug, infuriating face. He’s just standing there, practically vibrating with amusement, like he knows he’s won this round. And that—that’s what sends your anger spiking again, turning into something molten.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you shiver despite yourself. “Fluke, huh?” His voice is low, dangerous, and you hate that it sends a ripple of something dark and wanting straight through your core. “So, if I touched you right now—if I slipped my fingers under that pathetic excuse of a dress—I'd find you soaking wet by accident?”

You hate him. You hate him so much, it hurts.

Without thinking, you pull back just enough to whisper, “Let’s get out of here.” Your voice is rough, breathless, and you hate that he’s the reason for it.

His eyes flash with something dark, something feral, and he smirks down at you, his lips swollen and red. “Yeah?” he taunts, his hands still tight on your hips. “You want me that bad?”

You grit your teeth, hating how he twists everything, how he always knows exactly where to hit. “Fuck you,” you bite out, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Take me somewhere, or I’ll find someone who will.”

His grip on you tightens dangerously, his eyes flashing with anger and something else, something possessive. “Over my dead fucking body.”

Before you can blink, he’s pulling you away from the bar, his hand gripping yours tightly, practically dragging you through the throngs of people. You stumble after him, your head spinning, your body still buzzing with adrenaline and anger and lust. The music pounds around you, the heat from the crowd suffocating, but all you can focus on is the way his hand feels in yours, the way your heart pounds in your chest like it’s trying to break free.

It’s reckless. It’s insane. And it’s exactly what you need.

The air outside should be cooler–but it’s not. It’s humid, sticky, and uncomfortably warm, Florida summers coming into full effect. The night threatens to swallow you both whole as he hauls you down a side alley, the noise of the club fading but the adrenaline still roaring through your veins. Every step you take feels like it’s leading you further into the eye of the storm, and even though you know there’s no going back now, you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

“What’s the rush?” you sneer, yanking at his hand, though not hard enough to actually break his grip. “Afraid I’ll change my mind?”

He glances back at you, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his swollen lips. “Nah, princess. I’m just getting us somewhere quiet so I don’t have to listen to your whining while I fuck the attitude out of you.”

Your throat tightens, a hot flush crawling up your neck as you realize where this is headed. A dingy alley behind a club, dimly lit and reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke—this is where it’s going to happen? Your body is screaming at you to care, to turn around and leave, but your legs keep moving forward, drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

He pulls you into a narrow alcove, barely wide enough for both of you, and the second you’re tucked inside, he’s on you. His body presses against yours, firm and demanding, and it’s all you can do to keep your knees from buckling as his hands grip your waist like he owns you.

This is ridiculous. How did you end up here? Again. Every damn time. You swore after the last time that you were done—that you wouldn’t let him crawl back into your space, under your skin, and wrap his filthy, bruising grip around your heart. But here you are, yet again, like some stupid moth drawn to the inferno that is Matthew Tkachuk.

You want to shove him away, to scream in his face that you’re not the girl who falls for this. Except, you know better. You are exactly the girl who falls for this. The one who caves when he looks at you with those maddening blue eyes. The girl who lets him wreck her in alleyways behind clubs in the sticky heat of a Florida night, knowing damn well how this will end: messily.

“Still pretending, huh?” His voice rumbles low against your ear, mocking and sharp. He’s pressed so close you can feel every word vibrate through you, igniting your nerves like a lit fuse. "You keep telling yourself you hate this, but you're so fucking obvious. Look at you—" he pauses, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls your body tighter against his, "—practically melting into me. If you were any more desperate, you’d be begging."

The insult should sting. It should make you slap him, curse him out, anything—but instead, a fire blooms in your chest, fierce and hot, because the bastard’s not entirely wrong. And isn’t that just the worst part? He knows how to press every button, dig under your skin like it’s his damn playground, and worse yet, you let him. Every. Single. Time.

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” Your voice is breathless, each word shaky and ragged, but at least you still manage to get them out. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Please. The only reason I’m here is because no one else in this godforsaken place knows how to shut you up.”

The second the words leave your mouth, you regret them—not because you don’t mean it (you do)—but because it only serves to fuel him. That cocky grin spreads across his face, slow and deliberate, like he knows he’s won something. His eyes flicker with amusement, the kind that makes you want to punch him in the throat.

“Shut me up?” he repeats, one brow arching. He leans in, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice low and dripping with arrogance. “Funny, you didn’t seem so eager to shut me up the last time I had you moaning my name loud enough to wake up half the fucking city. So, what’s the plan this time? You gonna play hard to get until you’re dripping for me again?”

Heat rushes to your face, your pulse racing at the way he’s goading you. The memory of that night comes rushing back with startling clarity—the way he made you unravel piece by piece, the sounds he dragged out of you, your body shaking in his hands. No. Not again. You grit your teeth, fighting back the whirlwind of feelings that threatens to consume you.

“God, you really are delusional,” you bite out, shoving at his chest, though it’s mostly for show. His body barely moves under your weak attempt to push him off. “I’m not here because I want you. I’m here because I pity you. You always need someone to tell you what a good job you’re doing, don’t you, Tkachuk? Can’t go five minutes without being validated.”

It’s a low blow, you know it. But you’re playing dirty, because that’s what this is—dirty, ugly, and twisted beyond recognition. His expression darkens for a split second, and you think maybe you’ve gotten through that thick skull of his. But then his grip on your waist tightens painfully, and suddenly you’re pinned against the wall, your back pressing hard against the brick harder, the air punched out of your lungs by the force.

“Oh, I don’t need validation from you, princess,” he snarls, his face inches from yours now. His lips curl in that infuriating smirk, all teeth and malice, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I get that plenty from everyone else. You’re just the one who can’t seem to keep your legs closed when I’m around.”

You hate that his words stirs something in you, some deep, primal urge you’d rather ignore. He can see it too, the way your breath catches, the faint flush that creeps up your neck. Every scathing insult, every venomous remark felt like a bruise that you both pressed harder into because neither of you could seem to stop. And worse, some traitorous part of you doesn’t want to stop. You’re furious—at him, at yourself, at how easily you let him turn you into someone else entirely. Someone who gets off on the ugly, spiteful mess you make together.

But what do you do when that mess feels so fucking good?

Your thoughts swirl, a chaotic storm, as his eyes bore into yours, dark and predatory, daring you to do something—anything. God, how do you always end up here? You swore you were done. You told yourself that the last time he fucked you against a wall like you were something to be used and discarded. You’ve never been able to stay away, though, and the worst part? He knows it.

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, the words tearing from your throat as if that could somehow free you from the pull he has on you. “You think you can talk to me like that and I’ll still—” But your words die in your throat as his hand slides up your side, fingers pushing over the straps of your dress. The sensation makes you jump, a sharp gasp escaping before you can bite it back. Goddamn him.

His lips curve into a wicked grin, eyes narrowing like a predator who’s caught the scent of blood. “Still pretending you don’t like this?” he breathes, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl that rakes over your skin. His other hand trails lower, brushing the inside of your thigh, and your body betrays you—your legs quiver, and he feels it. Of course, he does. “Tell me again how much you hate this,” he mocks, his lips grazing your ear, the words sending a shudder down your spine. “Go ahead. Convince yourself you don’t want my hands all over you right now.”

I hate this. I hate him. You keep repeating it, as if the words could solidify and become truth, as if you could convince your traitorous body to listen. But no matter how hard you try to summon any real anger, all that rises is a wave of heat that feels like it's going to swallow you whole. You feel him smirk against your skin, his breath hot on your neck, and it makes something in you snap.

"God, you're so fucking predictable," you sneer, even though your voice trembles. "Always gotta prove you're the big man, huh? Does it get tiring, being this pathetic?"

You’re trying, trying so hard to dig your heels in, to maintain some sense of power in this wretched game you’ve both played a hundred times before. But you know—he knows—it’s crumbling fast. His hand is already inching higher, under your skirt, rough fingers ghosting along the inside of your thigh, and every ounce of resolve you cling to feels like it's slipping through your fingers.

Don’t react, you tell yourself. Don’t give him the satisfaction. But then his fingers brush the edge of your panties, and your whole body jerks involuntarily, a shuddering gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. And there it is. The crack in your armor, the proof that despite all your sharp words, your body is already begging for him.

"Still got that smart mouth, huh?" His voice is velvet laced with venom, a dangerous drawl that makes your skin tingle. "It’s funny, you talk such a big game, but I’m pretty sure I can feel how much you want this. You’re soaked."

His words slam into you, making your cheeks burn with humiliation, but there’s no denying it. You can feel it—the heat pooling between your legs, the dampness that betrays everything you’ve been trying to deny. It’s pathetic, really. How he can reduce you to this, turn you inside out with just a few touches and that goddamn voice.

“I fucking hate you,” you hiss, pushing at his chest again, but the movement is weak, half-hearted. You’re shaking—whether from rage, lust, or some twisted cocktail of both, you don’t even know anymore. But he doesn’t move, not even an inch. Instead, he presses closer, so close you can feel every inch of him against you, hard and insistent.

“Yeah?” His lips curl into a smirk, eyes dark and glinting with amusement. “Funny how hate looks a lot like you grinding on me, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want to rethink that?”

Your body answers before your brain can. Without meaning to, your hips roll against him, just a slight shift, but enough to make his breath hitch. And God, the satisfaction that flares in your chest at that tiny victory is intoxicating. But it’s short-lived, because suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are—pressed against a brick wall in the sticky heat of a dimly lit alley, where anyone could walk by at any moment.

Your pulse spikes with a new kind of anxiety. “Wait,” you breathe, suddenly feeling exposed, raw. You push at him again, harder this time. “Not here. Someone could—”

But Matthew doesn’t even blink. If anything, his grin widens, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your ear. “Oh, what’s this? Now you’re getting shy? That’s cute.” His fingers rub your thigh, a deliberate, maddening slowness that makes you want to scream. “Don’t tell me the idea of someone catching us is what’s really got you worked up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a dizzying mix of arousal and panic swirling in your veins. You’ve never been this close to losing control in public before, and the idea of someone seeing you like this—needy, desperate, coming undone under Matthew’s hands—it sends a jolt of fear straight to your core. Although you’d deny it, there’s a tiny part of you, buried deep, that doesn’t hate it.

“Matthew, I’m serious,” you manage, though your voice is strained, shaky. “We can’t—”

“Oh, now you care about getting caught?” he cuts you off, amusement dripping from every word. “Come on, don’t act like this is the first time we’ve done something reckless. Admit it—you like it.” His hand slips underneath your panties, pressing against the heat there, and your knees nearly buckle. “You like knowing someone might see what a filthy mess you are for me.”

A soft, involuntary whimper escapes your lips, and it’s like throwing gasoline on a fire. His grip tightens, his body pressing harder against yours, pinning you firmly in place. You can feel him—all of him—and it only makes the ache between your legs worse. Your body is betraying you at every turn, no matter how much your mind is screaming at you to stop.

“Filthy mess?” You force out a bitter laugh, your chest heaving, trying desperately to regain some sense of control, but your body is betraying you at every turn. You can feel the wetness between your legs, undeniable, a humiliating testament to just how much he affects you. “Coming from the guy who begged to get his dick sucked the last time? Please. You’re so easy, Matthew. One touch and you’re practically falling apart like a teenager.”

His eyes darken at the insult, that dangerous spark flaring behind them, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. But instead of backing off, he leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, his breath hot and ragged. “Keep running that mouth, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Your pulse quickens, your stomach twisting at the way his words seep into your skin like venom. You hate that he’s right—hate that he knows exactly how to unravel you with just a few touches, a few sharp words. His hand moves again, slipping further down, his fingers sliding over your slick folds, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes your lips. It’s involuntary, humiliating, and the satisfaction that flickers in his eyes makes your blood boil.

His fingers press harder, slipping inside you, and a sharp jolt of pleasure surges through you, your knees nearly buckling from the intensity of it. You bite your lip, hard, refusing to let him hear how much it affects you, but the way your body trembles against his tells him everything he needs to know.

His lips curl into a wicked smile as he watches you fall apart, his thumb brushing over your clit with a gentle, almost mocking pressure. The sensation sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you, your knees buckling under the weight of it.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're all bark, no bite. Always talking like you're too good for this, but look at you. Practically fucking yourself on my hand."

Your breath comes in ragged gasps now, your body shaking with the effort to hold back the moans threatening to spill out. The shame and arousal twist together in a tangled mess, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“I fucking hate you,” you spit again, but the words sound weak, hollow. You’re losing this battle, and you know it.

“I know, baby,” he coos, his voice soft and patronizing, fingers curling inside you just right, and fuck, you can feel yourself slipping. “You hate me so much you’re about to come on my hand.”

Your vision blurs, the world around you narrowing down to the feel of his fingers, the press of his body against yours, and the way every filthy, degrading word he speaks sends heat pooling low in your belly. You’re so close, teetering on the edge of something dark and all-consuming, and you know—God, you know—you’re not going to last much longer.

But Matthew isn’t done with you. Not yet.

His free hand slides up your body, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose the curve of your breasts. His mouth is on you in an instant, teeth grazing your skin as he sucks a bruising mark into the delicate flesh. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge, a sharp, desperate moan ripping from your throat as your body convulses around his fingers.

“There it is,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he presses you harder against the wall. “There’s my good girl. You can pretend all you want, but this is who you are. Mine.”

The word echoes in your mind, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding, breathless and trembling under the weight of his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, barely able to form the word, your body still trembling. “Fuck, yes.”

You’re still reeling from the orgasm he ripped out of you, your legs barely able to hold you up as Matthew unbuckles his belt with that smug smirk never leaving his face. The sound of the metal clinking should send alarm bells through your mind, but all you can focus on is the throbbing ache between your legs, the way your body is still trembling in the aftershocks of what just happened. You can feel your own wetness on your thighs, sticky and undeniable, and it’s infuriating how much you want him again already.

Your breath is still ragged, and there’s a knot of panic building in your chest as you realize what’s happening next. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before—Matthew getting you worked up, wrecking you with just his fingers or his mouth, then leaving you raw and aching. But this? This is different. It’s so public, so reckless, and you’re spiraling, caught between the shame and the all-consuming need that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

His hands are rough, impatient as he slides the leather through his belt loops, and the sight of him makes something inside you twist. “What, can’t wait to get your hands on me?” He mocks.

“Shut up,” you snap, the words sharp, but your voice is ragged, breathless. You’re trying so hard to hold onto some semblance of control, but it’s slipping through your fingers faster than you can catch it. “Just—do you have a condom?”

For a second, you think maybe, just maybe, you’ve managed to cut through that smug, self-satisfied exterior. His hand stills on his belt, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you, and then he snorts, a low, condescending sound that makes your stomach twist. “A condom? Really?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he speaks, voice dripping with arrogance. “I don’t give a fuck.”

You blink, taken aback by how blunt he is. The rational part of your brain is screaming at you to push him away, to tell him to go to hell, but the rest of you—the messy, broken part that always falls for his shit—is already caving. There’s something dangerous about the way he says it, like he knows you won’t stop him. And God, isn’t that the worst part? He’s right.

“Of course, you don’t,” you hiss, trying to muster up some semblance of dignity even as your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your belly again at the thought of what’s coming. “But we both know you don’t want me to have your demon babies.”

His laugh is low, dark, and filled with derision. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers working the zipper of his pants. “You’re still going to let me fuck you raw in this goddamn alley, though.”

Your mouth opens to protest, to tell him he’s wrong, that you’re not some pathetic, needy thing desperate for his attention, but the words die in your throat when his hand slips back under your skirt, gripping your thigh and hooking your leg around his hip–then pushing your panties to the side. You bite back a moan, your body trembling with the need for more, and the smug look on his face tells you he knows exactly how close you are to breaking again.

Before begin to think anything else, he’s lining himself up, his breath hot against your skin, and without warning, he thrusts into you, hard and fast, burying himself to the hilt. The sharp, overwhelming sensation rips through you, a gasp tearing from your throat, and for a moment, all you can feel is him—filling you, stretching you, claiming every inch of space you swore you wouldn’t give him again.

It hurts. It always does with him, at first—he’s too rough, too insistent, too much—but you’ve always liked the pain, haven’t you? That’s the sick, twisted truth of it. The burn, the way he takes without asking, the way he knows exactly how to push you to the brink—it all leaves you breathless, dizzy with need.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, anything, but you’re unraveling, piece by piece. His hips slam into yours with a brutal, unrelenting pace, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the narrow alleyway. You can feel the dampness of your sweat mixing with the sticky night air, your skin slick against his, and it’s filthy. All of it. Filthy and wrong, but God, it feels so good.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you spit out between breaths, voice trembling from the force of his hips slamming into yours. His pace is punishing, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, and you can’t help the way your nails dig deeper into his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Matthew grunts in response, his breath ragged against your neck. His lips skim over your ear, and his teeth nip at your skin, making you shiver despite the oppressive heat. “Says the girl getting fucked against a wall like a desperate little slut.” He’s ruthless with his words, throwing them like knives that slice straight through you, but the sharpness only spurs you on.

You bare your teeth and bite down hard on his shoulder, not holding back, feeling the satisfaction of his skin giving way beneath your teeth. It’s a desperate, feral reaction—your body’s twisted way of regaining some control. He hisses, his muscles tensing as your bite sends a shockwave through him. You know it hurts, and you want it to. You want him to feel a fraction of the chaotic mess he’s making of you.

But it only makes him rougher.

His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back hard enough that it stings. “Oh, you like playing rough now, huh?” His voice is a growl, low and dangerous. His grip tightens painfully on your leg as he slams into you harder, forcing you to choke on your next breath. “Biting me, clawing me like a desperate little whore—pathetic. You’re just pissed ‘cause you know how much you want this.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you lie, gasping as another wave of pleasure courses through you, your body responding despite your brain screaming at you to stop. It’s pathetic, truly—how your body betrays you, how you’re falling apart in his hands, coming undone at the same pace that he’s pulling you tighter against him.

He laughs, breathless and cruel. “Liar.” His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, and you’re instantly undone by the sensation, your hips bucking against his despite yourself. “You’re squeezing me so tight, it’s like you’re trying to keep me inside you.” The smugness in his voice makes you want to slap him, but you can’t even think straight, not with his body driving into yours, his fingers working you over like you’re nothing but a puppet on strings.

Your response is unintelligible, more of a broken moan than actual words. You try, desperately, to hold on to some part of yourself, to remember who you are beneath all this anger and lust, but it’s slipping, unraveling with each thrust, with each word he spits at you. Your nails drag down his back again, harder this time, drawing a hiss from his throat, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter.

“You can keep trying to hurt me, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough, “but it just makes you tighter for me. Keep going—I can take it.”

You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying to stop the sounds that are escaping you. The alleyway feels suffocating, the heat of the night clinging to your skin, making everything feel more intense, more raw. The smell of sweat and sex mingles in the air, and you’re hyperaware of every sound—the way your bodies slap together, the wetness between your legs, the soft, desperate gasps that you can’t control.

“You’re going to regret this,” you manage to say, your voice trembling as you try, for the millionth time, to regain some semblance of control. It’s a weak threat, and you both know it. Matthew’s grin stretches wider, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“I’ve never regretted a thing with you,” he growls, his pace quickening. He’s relentless now, hips snapping into you with a force that makes your head spin, his thumb working over your clit faster. "Keep biting, sweetheart," he says through a tight grin, his pace never faltering, "I’ll make you scream for it."

And God help you, you do. Every thrust has you trembling, gasping, barely able to think beyond the white-hot pleasure searing through you. It’s too much, too fast, but you can’t stop yourself—you’re pushing against him, meeting every punishing stroke like you’re trying to match him in this sick, twisted game of dominance.

Your breath hitches, your body arching against his as that familiar, unbearable pressure starts to build low in your belly. You can feel it—feel yourself slipping, unraveling, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. His name slips from your lips, ragged and broken, and you want to hate yourself for how desperate you sound.

"Already?" he taunts, his voice low and dripping with condescension. "Didn’t take long this time, did it? Always so damn easy for me."

"Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, but it’s weak, barely above a whisper, because he’s right. You’re already falling apart around him, your body betraying you in the worst possible way.

"Too late for that," he growls, thrusting into you harder, and the sharp slap of his hips against yours sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. "You’re already fucked, baby."

And that’s when it happens. That tight, coiling knot inside you snaps, and you fall—hard. Your whole body clenches, thighs shaking as a violent orgasm tears through you, your head tipping back against the brick wall as a choked, guttural moan rips from your throat. You’re shaking, barely able to breathe, and he doesn’t stop. Not even for a second.

Matthew’s grip tightens on your hips, bruising, and he’s still moving, driving into you with a brutal intensity that makes your whole body ache. "God, you’re such a fucking mess," he mutters, his voice rough and breathless, and you can hear the strain in his tone, the way his own release is close, just out of reach.

Your fingers scramble against his back, your nails raking down the muscles there in a desperate attempt to hold on to something solid as your mind spirals. You can feel the raw scratches your nails leave behind, but it’s not enough—it’s never enough to satisfy the gnawing need to make him feel this too. You can feel him, hard and throbbing inside you, and somewhere in the haze of it all, you hear him grunt, low and rough. “Where do you want it, huh?” His voice is breathless, but there’s still that edge of arrogance in it. “Tell me. Where should I come?”

You should tell him to pull out. You should tell him you’re not that stupid, that you know better. But the words that come out of your mouth aren’t the ones you intended.

“Inside,” you gasp, before you can stop yourself. “I don’t care. Just—fuck, Matt, do it. Please.”

His eyes darken at your words, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, his grip on your hips tightening as he slams into you one more time, burying himself deep. With a rough, guttural groan, he lets go, his body tensing as he spills inside you, the warmth flooding your core in a way that makes your already oversensitive body shudder.

For a moment, neither of you move, both of you breathing hard, the sticky heat of the night settling back in around you. You’re still pressed against the wall, your legs trembling, his body heavy against yours, and for a second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’ll say something that makes this less horrible. Maybe he’ll apologize or admit that this is as fucked up for him as it is for you.

"Need a ride home?" he asks, his tone almost casual, like he’s offering you a lift after a night out with friends and not after he just fucked you against a wall without even a second thought.

You blink at him, still too stunned to answer right away. "Are you serious?" you snap, your voice laced with disbelief. "After everything, that’s what you say?"

He shrugs, unbothered by your tone. "What? You wanna walk?" His eyes flick over you, taking in the disheveled state of your dress, your mussed hair, and the bruises already forming on your hips. "Thought you might want to clean up a little before you try to get into an Uber looking like that."

The nerve of him, acting like this was nothing, like he didn’t just wreck you in every possible way. "You’re such a piece of shit," you hiss, shoving him hard in the chest, though it feels more like an afterthought than anything else. You’re drained, physically and emotionally, but of course, Matthew doesn’t care.

He just laughs, low and dark, brushing off the shove like it’s nothing. "Yeah, well, you still let me fuck you, so what does that make you?"

You hate him. You hate him so much you can barely breathe through the anger, but all you can do is be dragged by him out of the alley, with a promise of nothing.

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 month

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Hey have you broken down Marinette's crush on Adrien and the ways in which it

A) misrepresents how teen girls get crushes on people they actually know and

B) sets Marinette up to seem really weird in a way the show literally cannot address because the universe thinks it's fine?

I know you can't prevent people from misinterpreting your show, but i think at the point where a significant portion of your audience and people with secondhand knowledge think of your main character as a stalker, that's a breakdown of communication on the writers part.

I've mentioned it offhand a few times, but I can go into it in more depth because it is a pretty massive writing flaw for reasons we're about to get into.

Marinette is not written like a teenager with a crush on her friend. She's not even written like a stalker. She's written like a teenager with a celebrity crush or a crush on a fictional character. In fact, if you go read fics from when the show first started airing, then you'll find that a lot of people assumed that Marinette's crush came from before she met Adrien or that it was rooted in a love of his professional work. That she was a fan who suddenly got to meet her idol and didn't know how to handle that.

I completely understand why that read was so popular. It's the only thing that makes sense! I assumed that was the case, too, until we got to Origins and her crush suddenly went from "obvious celebrity crush" to "crush with actual depth that's just been badly written."

While I'm ace, most of my friends are not, so I am very familiar with the experience of teenage girls getting crushes. I'm also deeply familiar with the experience of teenage girls getting crushes on celebrities and fictional characters. I, unfortunately, also know quite a bit about stalking. The three experiences are wildly different. For now, let's focus on the first two.

Celebrity crushes and crushes on fictional characters are experiences rooted in fantasy. You can be as over the top as you want because you know that nothing will come of this. You can go to a concert and scream the cute boy's name or have his posters all over your walls or publicly squeal about him with your friends without caring if people overhear because you don't expect him to ever care or even learn about your behavior. You know that you will never actually date him. He's a dream. A fantasy. A thing that will never be. That's the fun of this kind of crush. There's freedom in it. (This isn't unique to hetero crushes, btw, this was just an example based on my lived experience.)

I have strong memories of my best friend acting like Marinette, but only when it came to fictional men. When she was crushing on guys that she actually knew? The experience was wildly different because it was real. This could actually be a thing. She's not the only woman that I can say that about, either. I had many friends who had a celebrity or fictional crush and none of them ever carried that behavior over to their "real world" crushes. The stakes with the "real world" crushes were far too high for that sort of freedom.

Writing Marinette like someone with a celebrity crush is a terrible call on multiple levels. The most obvious issue is that it makes her look unhinged and creepy. While I don't agree with this take, I'm not surprised that people label her a stalker because celebrity crush behavior feels really creepy when it's applied to a person that you actually know. Whenever stories do the thing where someone meets their celebrity crush and actually gets to know them, there's normally a noticeable shift in their behavior as the character mentally goes, "Oh shit, you're real now." They lose the freedom that came with this being a mere fantasy.

The other issue with this writing choice is that it makes Marinette's crush feel superficial. The show spends hours letting her fantasize and obsess over Adrien, but rarely lets her actually spend time with the poor guy! It's incredibly awkward writing. You could have Adrien be a celebrity that Marinette never met and a lot of the episodes wouldn't change. That's not a great choice if your goal is to write an actual romance. Romances generally let the romantic leads interact.

As creepy and awkward as Marinette's writing can be, I will stand by my statement that she's not a stalker. She's nowhere near that unhinged. She's not stealing Adrien's things or following him home every day or breaking into his private spaces because she knows that they have a "special connection". We're never once made to feel like she's making him uncomfortable or harassed. Those are the kinds of things that stalkers do. They're delusional and divorced from reality. Do any of you really believe that Marinette would keep pursuing Adrien if he told her to back off? Hopefully the answer is "no" and, if so, then she's really not written like a "true" stalker because true stalkers just get dangerous when you say "no." They don't respect things like firm boundaries or restraining orders.

Watching Adrien's public appearances isn't violating his privacy and that's mostly what Marinette does. The rare occasions where she follows him somewhere private mostly revolve around someone else doing something questionable first, making Marinette's actions less "I want to see Adrien" and more "I'm worried for Adrien's safety and I'm doing something questionable because of that". The first is the behavior of a stalker, the second is... well, I'm not going to call it good behavior, but it's certainly not straight up bad behavior because the show isn't treating these moments as wrong so it's less Marinette being wrong and more the writers making really questionable writing choice. I mean, one of her break-ins was literally forced on her and orchestrated by her friend group! (See: Gabriel Agreste)

In fact, most of Marinette's creepiest behaviors fall under the "questionable writing choice" category as they're often just very obvious jokes of questionable quality. For example, I've seen people freak out about her having Adrien's schedule and it's like, guys, you do realize that was literally impossible, right? She claimed it was his schedule for the next three years! Nathalie doesn't even have that! You don't schedule things that far in advance unless it's a major event. It's impossible to take this claim seriously if you think about it for five seconds.

If you wanted to treat this schedule claim seriously and have it match the show's tone, then you'd have to tone Marinette's claim down, too. It would go from having his schedule for the next three years to just being aware of what he does on a weekly basis because they're friends and in the same class and you just sort of learn this stuff if you pay attention. How does Marinette know that Adrien has fencing on Wednesday? Because he has fencing every Wednesday. That's how this stuff tends to work.

I don't blame anyone for disliking the way that Marinette's crush was written. I don't like it either! It leaves a lot to be desired! The show would have been much better if they scrapped using Marinette's crush as the main source of comedy, but then they would have had to let Marinette and Adrien become close and we can't have that because it breaks the formula. The simple truth of the matter is that Marinette is written the way she is as a stalling tactic, which the episode Simpleman straight up admits:

Marinette: What am I doing, honestly? The truth is, I'm scared that Adrien will reject me if I tell him how I feel about him. That's why I over complicate everything, so that moment never comes.

In this scene, Marinette is claiming that this is a her thing, but it's really more of a writing thing. Miraculous is a formula show. Part of the formula is the akuma/sentimonster of the week and part of the formula is Marinette trying and failing to confess her crush. The show makes this pretty obvious, but if you want a more official source that this is what's going on, then here you go:

[The writing director] sold the Miraculous series to broadcasters as a formula show.... [This is why] Marinette tries to confess her love for Adrien in every episode, but is unable to do so.

They made Marinette's failure to confess part of the weekly formula which means that there can never be any romantic progress, thus Marinette being written like a fan obsessed with her idol instead of a teenage girl with very real feelings for her kind sweet friend. The first makes for an easy formula, the second won't work in that model. It requires there to be progress and a planned endgame. I'm not against formula shows, but this is a terrible element to make part of the formula!

The same issue plagues Adrien, too. It's the main reason why Chat Noir can come across as overly pushy. He's not allowed to move on just like Marinette isn't allowed to confess her feelings because they're the endgame couple. But we keep pushing back the endgame by adding seasons and so it's all become a total mess with terrible pacing and awkward, unhealthy relationships dynamics that really aren't suited to the genres or audience that Miraculous is clearly aiming for.

#anon ask #marinette deserves better #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #the stalking thing

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 11 months

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man i personally dont like tswift, but that statement makes it sound like she was a celebrity trying to get away from like the tabloid dating rumors and shit which, even if i dont like her, is still shitty to deal with for anyone. so like, do the gaylors not realize that they're the problem here???

Lilly I'm gonna be just so straight up with you, I have plenty of things I don't like about Taylor (CEO of carbon emissions, applauded for the most bare minimum allyship like its groundbreaking activism, has released the same album three or maybe four times now) but as someone who has experienced like. one BILLIONTH of the parasocial weirdness she's subjected to I genuinely do feel for her on that front. like I don't have to enjoy someone personally to the kind of deep discomfort that comes from people scrutinizing your entire life and getting vitriolic when your actions don't align with the person that they made up in their heads. having to live with the knowledge that there are people who are playing with a fictional version of you and treating like a barbie is nauseating, and I can't imagine how shitty it feels to have so many people who claim to love you throwing public tantrums because you tried to talk about your own life. like every celebrity must know the support they receive is conditional on xyz, but it's so galling to see that made so obvious in this case.

anyway check your parasocial bonds, kids. when they get too intense they're bad for both parties.

#gaylorgate

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 months

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BABES THIS ISN'T A REQUEST BECAUSE I SAW THEY'RE CLOSED BUT BUT BUT i'm still thinking of your friends with benefits Tan post from a little bit back and ahhhhhhhh i need more! anything you have 😫😫

(obviously no pressure my love)

like why does it work SO well with him? like he's you friend/coworker and you get along sooo well but then on the side you're fucking like rabbits?! yum!!

he'd 100% be the first to catch feelings and then be in complete denial and probably mess things up in the process until he finally gains some brain cells and fesses up 😌

the experimenting you could do with the sex bc you aren't "technically" dating so it isn't really as weird to bring up any kinks. Dbsjbffnnd

my brain is mush rn fr.

that is all, ily 💕 xoxo

YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL BRAIN OMG! ily and hope you’re well💓 no idea if any of this makes sense

FWB WITH TANGERINE.

so here for it. friends in public and bumping butts in private. you know that sound “everyone knows that he fucks you” that’s just ringing in my ears rn. you think no one knows, but those looks and glances aren’t fooling ANYONE! and bc you’re friends and you understand each other the sex is so good and there’s no other feelings and complications involved… WRONG. it’s bound to happen

I do also think he’s first to catch feelings. I do believe that all relationships in the past were strictly physical and there were no other feelings involved (tho i do hc him to have one very serious relationship in his twenties and that wrecked him when that ended. she was his first proper love but we’re not talking about her) so like his feelings for you kinda blur and merge bc they’re so different to just lust and sex. so he has the foundations of friendship and common ground with you already, and then add something physical and then boom. he’s confused and he’s in love bc he can’t separate those feelings (me too man, me too)

sounds so mean, but he’s a screw up??? like he runs away when things are complicated or hard and it always makes things worse. like he pushes people away, lies, AND in major MAJOR denial!! and then bc it’s so good in fiction, the fwb stops bc it’s created a clusterfuck of a situation and you both like each other but don’t do anything about it

OMG THE EXPERIMENTING BIT!!!?!?!!?!!?!? YES!! and you’re trying new things and seeing what you do and don’t like. and then bc you’re really good friends you mention a jokey kink you want to try (its a lie but you’re being serious when you say it) and he immediately knows you’re bluffing bc you’d never do that. I imagine a “fuck off, you’d hate that” and a laugh bc you’re so full of shit. and you’re like “no? ive always wanted to try it” and mention how never felt comfortable with partners in past to do it. but he still doesn’t buy it. BUT bc he’s a shit, he lets it go and says “okay” and that he’s ready to try it out rn

he’s waiting for you to surrender and you’re like “shit” bc he seems ready to try it. but all just some fun harmless mind games. ALSO would be a huge non-judgement zone and i love it

#g0lden-sky #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine headcanon

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midnightechoes · 1 year

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So this week is going to go down as maybe the most sapphic week in animation history. It’s going to have a great case, there are so many sapphic shows or shows with prominent sapphic couples airing this week.

Don’t know what I’m talking about? Here’s a quick rundown:

Yuri Is My Job!

Premiering on Crunchyroll on April 6th.

Yuri is My Job! is based on a yuri manga of the same name. It follows high schooler Hime, who cares deeply about her image as sweet and helpful, even though she’s actually selfish. She accidentally injures the manager of a cafe, and agrees to work there to make up for it. But this is no ordinary cafe, it’s like a cafe dinner theater where all the waitresses play characters from a fictional high school and act out skits for the patrons. Hime’s character is supposed to be in love with one of the other waitresses’ character, but she starts actually falling for the girl. Only problem is, behind the scenes the other waitress seems to hate her.

Yeah, that sounds kind of bonkers! I can already see the story now, Hime starting out playing a role, and eventually having to legitimately earn the love of Mitsuki.

Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story

Season 2 premiering on Crunchyroll on Friday, April 7th

Ah Birdie Wing. If you saw season one, you know just how delightful wacky this show is. It follows the stories of Eve, a golfer that plays in illegal underground golf matches for the mob, and Aoi, a golf prodigy and the new sensation of the golf world. Their lives crash into each other and the chemistry is overwhelming and immediate.

Technically Eve and Aoi aren’t canon as of the end of s1, but it’s hard to imagine that the show isn’t heading in that direction. It makes no effort to hide the fact that these two are into each other.

I’m so excited to see what season 2 has in store for these two. Birdie Wing is just a delightfully weird little show.

Princess Principal: Crown Handler Chapter 3

Premieres in theaters in Japan on Friday, April 7th

Alright, so this won’t be useful to a lot of people reading this, as this is only premiering in Japan this weekend. But I wanted to mention it because (a) it’ll come over to the US sometime this year, and (b) Princess Principal is awesome and I want to promote it when I can.

Princess Principal was a 12 episode series that aired in 2017, and Crown Handler is a six-part sequel OVA series.

In a nutshell, Princess Principal is a steampunk spy thriller set in an alternate universe European kingdom that has been divided by a wall, Berlin-style. It follows a team of spies, masquerading as high school girls, as they try to prevent the two sides from going to war.

I know, “why is this on a list of gay shit?” Well, because it is. Two of the main characters, Ange and Princess Charlotte, are big-time into each other and while the original series does the anime thing of “we’re only allowed to go so far with this”, the OG series has a lot of intimate scenes between the two and does end *SPOILERS* with the two of them sitting on the beach together while holding hands.

And perhaps Crown Handler, being made years later, can finally take their relationship farther.

RWBY Volume 9

Volume 9 episode 8 airing on Crunchyroll on Saturday, April 8th

RWBY has been ongoing, and the current volume has been airing since February, but there’ll be another episode this Saturday. Right now RWBY is in the middle of dealing with a lot of trauma, BUT, the bees are canon and dating so every episode of RWBY is now officially gay. So says me.

The Owl House: Watching and Dreaming

Series finale airing on the Disney Channel on Saturday, April 8th

I’M NOT READY TO LOSE THIS SHOW! 😭

*ahem* The third and final season 3 special airs on Saturday, and promises to be mega emotional and super gay.

I’m grateful that this show had a chance to finish its story, something a lot of sapphic media doesn’t get to do. But I am still pissed about it getting cancelled in the first place simply because it didn’t fit their “brand” (read: this show is too gay for Disney).

But I just know that Dana and her team put together a sensational finale.

Mobile Suit Gundam: the Witch From Mercury

Season 2 premiering on Crunchyroll on Sunday, April 9th.

Affectionately called G-Witch, season 1 of this show was a revelation in the fall. It follows the story of Suletta Mercury, precious cinnamon roll and the most talented mobile suit pilot around, and Miorine Rembran, daughter of the president of the Benerit Group, a mega-corporation that has massive political power.

The show revolves around a school that’s mostly full of the children of powerful people. And then there’s Suletta, a nobody that just wants to be a normal girl and have a normal school life but through a series of events ends up in a mobile suit duel that she easily wins, earning her the title of Holder, which makes her Miroine’s groom.

At first, the two treat the arrangement as a business arrangement, both seeing practical value in this arranged engagement. But it’s obvious that Miorine is actually pretty into Suletta from the start, and we see Suletta slowly falling for Miorine too.

G-Witch is incredible. Part awesome mecha fights, part political intrigue, part romance between two useless girls who’d rather die that admit their actual feelings.

I am SO EXCITED for season 2!

LGBTQ media hasn’t had it great as of late, with a ton of frustrating cancellations and it almost feeling like Hollywood is going backwards in terms of its commitment to giving us space to tell our stories.

But animation, both in the US and in Japan, seems to be making great strides, being our light in the dark.

All five of these shows are airing episodes this week, and Crown Handler will be in theaters this week and on streaming/blu-ray later this year. RWBY has been airing for weeks and its been the gayest volume yet. the Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady just finished airing and was wonderfully sapphic. I’m In Love With the Villainess is scheduled to air sometimes this year. And just maybe we might get Arcane season 2 before the end of the year.

I’m excited for how sapphic and yuri animation is progressing, I hope it keeps going forward.

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pseudowho · 1 month

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okay soooo likeeeee. How did you tell your husband you wrote fanfiction or if you started writing after you guys were married or dating, how did he like- find out? And how did he react? Or was it just like:

You: I like fictional men and I write incredible and award worthy fanfics about them.

Him: yeah?

You: yup.

Him: cool.

I feel like if I were to tell my s/o that I have a mental hospital worthy obsession with fictional men and an addition to reading/writing about them, would they think Im weird? Creepy? Would they break up with me? Idek I'm like rlly struggling here

I will be totally honest, I think @mrhaitch went through a slew of "oh my god am I not good enough does she hate me oh well she loves a fictional man now how do I kill a fictional man with a fictional knife oh god how do I fix this--" before finally coming to his senses, when I told him.

Which went something like this, after he'd been worried about me spending a lot of time on my phone (which is where I do all of my writing):

Me: Hey, listen, so I...started writing some stories.

Him: ...stories.

Me: Mmm. Fanfiction.

Him: ...right?

Me: *clears throat* Most of them...dirty. But not all of them.

Him: ...right?

Me: ...and they're...popular.

Him: Popular?

Me: Like, thousands of followers popular.

Him: Well...shit.

Me: Shit.

Him: Shit.

*silence, tea drinking, kids burning the house down in the background*

Him: ...since when did you write?

He absolutely assumed my writing was shit because it was 1. On Tumblr and 2. Fanfiction, but eventually accepted I can write fairly well. Which is high praise from him.

Once I berated him ruthlessly for being so childish, he took some time to reflect and realised he was being childish, and has been nothing but supportive since.

My answer to you: if they think you're weird or creepy or break up with you because you spend a bit of time hyperfixating on make believe men, within the boundaries of a normal healthy relationship, or if they try to control you or make you seem small or stupid or wrong, then throw them down the drain.

Because I promise you, if they think that being nasty to you will stop you fixating, they're so categorically wrong.

Initial surprise or uncertainty is normal, I think, but it's how they respond to feeling bad about something safe or normal that makes them feel foolishly threatened, that's really important. If they feel threatened and use that to make it your fault, there's a problem there.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

#pseudowho #Haitch #pseudowho answers you

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bbrissonn · 1 year

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𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which your relationship with quinn was never what you though it was, secrets being keep, one of those being you

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, this does NOT reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn't how i imagine them acting

warnings: angst, swearing, asshole quinn, not proofread

pairing: quinn hughes x gn!reader (im pretty sure)

wc: 4.5k (including lyrics)

a/n: the ending is kinda shit because i really wanted to post this before the rest of the album came out sooo yeah

GUTS series

Hate to give the satisfaction asking how you’re doing now

How’s the castle built off people you pretend to care about?

Just what you wanted

Look at you, cool guy, you got it

I see the parties and diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes

Six months of torture you sold as some forbidden paradise

I love you truly

You gotta laugh at the stupidity

If someone would’ve asked you how to describe yourself a year ago, the words confident, independent and strong would’ve been some you used, but using them now if someone would ask you the same question wouldn't be right. You were no longer that person, the one who always had a smile on her face, one who was always kind and considerate of other’s in the room. No, that you was dead, and it was all his fault.

When you had met Quinn almost a year ago now, he was the sweetest boy you had ever meet, his personality almost the same as yours. So it was no surprise to you that the two of you ended up hanging out as friends multiple before eventually asked you out on a date. You hesitated at first, scared to ruin your friendship, but the hockey boy was everything you dreamed of in a man, and you knew denying him would be a mistake, so you agreed.

The two of you then started dating in January, and everything between the two of you was amazing. Sure, you guys didn’t see each other as often as you’d like, with him having practices in the morning and you working until late at night, mainly around the time his games would start. But you made it work, you saw each other at least twice a week, and when time wasn’t in your favour, facetimes were your go-to night time activities.

But all that changed when summer started approaching, Quinn had let you know months in advance that he’s be heading home for pretty much the whole summer, excited to spend time with his family. Of course, he invited you, but you had the decline the offer, your job would never allow you to take the whole summer off. Thankfully though, you were able to switch your two weeks vacation you had taken in September, and move them to the begin of July.

When you informed your boyfriend you’d be able to join in a month after he left, a weird look creeped up on his face, making your brows furr.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him, your head looking away from the TV and over to him.

“Nothing. It’s just… we’re already a full house. You said you couldn’t come so Jack invited another friend. There’s no more bedroom.”

“Oh, well, I though we’d just share, you know, I mean we already do.” You explained confused, it seemed pretty obvious to you that you’d be sleeping in the same bed. He was your boyfriend after all, why wouldn’t you sleep in the same bed?

“Right.” His answer was short and quick before his attention was back on the TV. “You’d have to meet my parents, and all my brothers and their friends. It’s a lot of people.” He said, almost as if he was trying to discourage you to go. You shrugged it off, thinking nothing too much of it. Quinn was a shy person, you told yourself he was probably just nervous for his two lives to meet together.

“That’s okay, I’ll be fine.” You assured him. You didn’t worry much about meeting his brothers and their friends, especially considering the fact that you were the same age as Jack and his friends. You hoped that being the same age as them would make the whole meeting easier, something you had mentioned to your boyfriend everytime he’d talk about you having to meet his brothers, but each time, your statement never seemed to make him change his mind, always acting weird whenever you’d bring it up.

When the older boy didn’t answer you, you grew anxious. Did he not want you to meet them? Was he too ashamed to bring you home with him? Doubt and self conscious thoughts being to fill your head and you couldn’t help but ask him about it.

“Do you not want me to come?” You questioned him, your voice shaky and low as your eyes focused on your lap, while his shifted over to your figure. As seconds ticked by, regret overcame you, maybe you should’ve just dropped the subject instead of asking questions.

“Of course I want you to come.” He lied, he couldn’t tell you the truth, you’d leave him if he did, and that was the last thing he needed. Well, it wasn’t a full lie, Quinn wanted you there, but not as his girlfriend, only had his friend.

“Then why do you act so weirdly every time we talk about me meeting your family?” You pushed, you were desprated for an answer, you needed to know.

“‘M not.”

“But you are, Quinn! You always try and find reasons for me not to meet them. Are you ashamed of me?” You continued. The boy could feel the anger rising in him, he hadn’t signed up for this. An argument was not what he wanted when he walked into your apartment earlier that night, no he expected a silent movie night and sex, that’s the only reason he had even agreed to come over in the first place.

“God, Y/N, you’re so delusion.” Quinn groaned, pushing himself off the couch, walking towards the front door of the apartment. You were quick on his trail, walking only feets behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” He mumbled, slipping his shoes on, only to find you standing in front of your door with your arms crossed over your chest.

“No.”

“Y/N, move.”

“No. Answer my question, Quinn.” You told him, your voice stern. The boy only rolled his eyes before gently pushing you the side and leaving you all alone in your apartment. This was not how either of you planned this night to go.

Looking back at it now, that night was the first sign that things were going sour in your newly formed relationship. You knew it at the time, but you refused to acknowledge it, your feelings for the boy overshadowing the red flags being waved in front of you.

The second sign was not even a week later, the Canucks winning a big game in overtime, and obviously they all wanted to go celebrate with each other and their significant others. Of course, that meant you were invited, you always were. So to say you were confused when Quinn didn’t open the driver door of your car like he always did when you arrived at the bar was an understatement.

“Get back in the car, Y/N.” He told you as he walked towards the entrance of the bar, only to stop when you yelled out his name.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Go home, I’ll find a ride home.” He said hrashly before walking in and joining his teammates at a booth, while you stayed in the freezing cold outside for a solid five minutes, confused as to what had just happened.

The two of you hadn’t exactly cleared the air after your little argument at your place the previous week, so you just convinced yourself that he was probably still a little angry and just wanted a night alone. But deep down you knew that wasn’t the case, he had called you the next morning acting like nothing happened, and he had been acting that way ever since.

You should’ve called it quits after that night, go back to his place and pack all your things before going home and packing all of his. But you didn’t, instead you waited until the next morning when he’d called you and act like it didn’t happen, that became his go-to thing after that, acting like you two had no problems.

The third sign hit you like a truck. The season had ended a little while ago, the Canucks missing the playoffs, meaning Quinn was going to head home soon. He didn’t tell you when, you guess he’d probably stay a month, enjoy some time together before he left for the month and you’d join him in July.

Only when it was almost one in the afternoon and you still hadn’t heard anything from him, you started getting worried. You went to his place after work, only to find his apartment empty, barely anything left in it. You called him, five times, three voicemails, not answer. Part of you started freaking out a little, deciding to call Pettey to see if he knew anything. You wished more than anything you hadn’t.

The foreward informed you that the boy had left for New Jersey early in the morning, confused as to why you had asked him. You didn’t answer him, instead hanging up and trying to call Quinn once again, only to be met with the sound of his voicemail.

It wasn’t until the next morning that your boyfriend answered you, telling you he was staying with his brothers to cheer them on during their playoff run and that he’d be heading to Michigan right after. You had never cried over a boy so much before, having to call in sick to work because of how unwell you felt. He left, no warning, no note, nothing, he just left. Little did you know, the next time you’d see him would end up becoming the worst day of your life.

‘Cause I’ve made some real big mistakes

But you make the worst one look fine

I should’ve known it was strange

You only come out at night

I used to think I was smart

But you made me look so naive

The way you sold me for parts

As you sunk your teeth into me, oh

Bloodsucker, fame fucker

Bleedin’ me dry like a goddamn vampire

A wide smile was plastered on your face as your taxi pulled up in the driveway of Quinn and Jack’s shared summer house, the July sun hitting your skin as you stepped out. After getting all your bags out of the car and paying the driver, you made your way to the front door, choosing to knock on it instead of just barging in.

The door opened a couple of seconds later, the loud noise of music playing through the house as boy who looked your age opened the door, a confused look on his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Is Quinn here?” Your question made a slight chuckle come from the boy, making you a little confused. An awkward smile formed on your face as you realized maybe you had the wrong house.

“You’re not his type, sweetheart.” The boy chuckle as he leaned against the door frame, making your brows furr. Not his type? What was this guy talking about.

“Not his type?”

“Yeah, he’s usually more of a skinny blond guy, at least the one last night was.” The boy explained, making your heart drop.

“Last night?” You mumbled, hoping that he wasn’t talking about Quinn sleeping with someone else, someone who wasn’t you, who didn’t even look like you.

“Look, I don’t how you get this address and all, but please leave.” He said before trying to close the door, only you pushed it, keeping it open.

“I am his girlfriend.” You told him, holding up your phone in his face. Your lock screen being a photo of the two of you in bed, the side of his face pressed against yours as wide smile were present on both your faces. The smirk that was once on the boy’s face dropped, before looking back into the house.

“I’ll got get him.” He mumbled before closing the door. A minute later, the door opened again, Quinn standing in front of you as a couple of guys were standing behind him, all of them looking at you. Just as the boy from before was about to say something, Quinn stepped outside, slamming the door behind him.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, his tone harsh and mean as tears started to form in your eyes.

“Did you sleep with another girl last night?” You asked him, your voice small and shaky as your eyes stared into his.

“Go home, Y/N.”

“Did you?” You asked again, your voice a little louder this time, frustration building up in you as he avoided your question.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He said, his tone the same as before.

“You invited me here, Quinn, you said you wanted me to be here!”

“Well, I don’t anymore! I don’t want you here, Y/N, so go the fuck home!” He yelled, making your jaw drop slightly at his words.

“You don’t want me here?” You asked after almost a minute of silence, your voice back to being small and shaky. Meanwhile, Quinn was staring at you with anger, rage almost.

“Yeah. I don’t why in you’re right mind you’d still show up here when I’ve haven’t mentioned you coming here at all in a long fucking time.” He responded, his words slowly cutting your heart in half. He didn’t want you here, he didn’t want you.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, you’re eyes now staring at the ground beneath you as tears slowly started falling from your eyes.

“Go home, and leave me the fuck alone, Y//N.” He finished, his tone not changing. Before you even had time to say anything he had disappeared back inside the house, leaving you all alone again.

You were sat on the steps of the front proch, waiting for a taxi to come pick you and bring you back to the airport. Where were you gonna go? You had no clue. All you knew was that you had the next two weeks off and you weren’t about to spend them in Vancouver.

Suddenly, the boy who opened the door was sitting next to you, a small awkward smile on his face as you wiped as many tears away as you could.

“I’m Alex.” The boy said softly, making you look over at him, trying your hardest to smile at him.

“Y/N.”

“‘M sorry, about before, what I said.”

“You got nothing to be sorry about. But, the blond girl you were talking about…” You trailed off, the though of saying the words out loud making you go quiet.

“He slept with her. She wasn’t the only one this summer.” He told you, making your heart break a little more the more he talked. In all honesty, you didn’t even know who the boy next to you was, Quinn had never mentioned an Alex, but then again you knew they probably had a weird nickname for him like they do for everyone else. The only thing you knew was that he was Jack’s friend, knowing none of Quinn’s friend were here yet. Yet this stranger you’ve known for a couple of minutes has been more open and honest about your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend you weren’t sure at this point, had been during your whole relationship.

“Save me the pain of knowing how many, would you?” You asked, more tears falling from your eyes. But they weren’t falling because of Quinn, no, tears were rolling down your cheeks because of yourself. How stupid you felt for no noticing how weird he had been acting, well more for just ignoring it, how you should’ve ran away from the moment he was avoiding the subject of you meeting his family and friends. You should’ve ran the moment a girl requested to dm you, warning you about Quinn’s playboy past when she saw the two of you at a bar. You should’ve ran and never look back multiple times, but you never did, your love for the boy too strong for your head to do what was right. You let your heart and emotions control your life, and it’s came back to bit you in the ass.

“So, I am guessing you don’t wanna know that he never told us he had a girlfriend?” He knew he shouldn’t, your heart was already broken enough, but he needed too. You had travelled all the way from Vancouver for Quinn, only for your relationship to fall apart because of him. He needed you to know the truth.

“Should I even be surprised at this point? He’s always avoided talking about me meeting any of you.” You scoffed, at the same moment, a taxi pulled up into the driveway. Thankfully, it wasn’t the same one as before, saving you the embarrassment of leaving the taxi the happiness women on earth, only to go back in the most heartbroken one. Alex helped you load your bag in the trunk of the car, silence sitting over the two of you.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t beat yourself up over that idiot.”

“I will.”

And every girl I ever talked to told me you were bad, bad news

You called them crazy, God, I hate the way I called ‘em crazy too

You’re so convincing

How do you lie without flinching?

(How do you lie? How do you lie? How do you lie?)

Oh, what mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked up little thrill

Can’t figure out just how you do it and God knows I never will

Went for me and not her

‘Cause girls your age know better

You had decided to spend your two weeks off of work visiting your best friend in Calgary, being with her seemed like the only way Quinn wouldn’t be on your mind 24/7, and you were right. During your time there, you barely thought of the boy, your best friend being a light in your dark world, making you forget all your issues.

Of course, that all changed the second your plane landed in Vancouver, all your memories of coming here to see Quinn after a road trip coming back to you. And it only got worst once you got to your apartment, one of Quinn’s hoodie before thing you saw when you walked in, tears immediately forming in your eyes. You couldn’t, you had already cried way too many tears over him during your relationship, you couldn’t let yourself cry some more now that he was gone.

He made clear the state of your relationship when he sent you a simple two word text. We’re done. That was it. No sorries, or any signs that he felt bad, just we’re done. Luckily, you were already in Calgary when he texted you, meaning your best friend was there to make you feel better. But she wasn’t when he came by unannounced to pick up his things.

It had been two months since your relationship ended, and you were doing horribly. Everything reminded you of him, and of how stupid you were for sticking around, every where you went, he was there, not physically, but in your memories. You had just came back from work when he arrived, knocking loudly on your door scaring you a little.

When you opened the door, he just walked in, didn’t even look at you or say hi, instead heading straight for your room. He looked the same that he did in July, only his hair was a little longer now. When you joined him in your bedroom, half of his bag was already full, your drawers all opened with your clothes everywhere.

“Are you at least gonna clean up the mess you’re making in my room?” You asked him, your voice full of anger. There was no way you were gonna let him barge in here with no warnings, then make a mess in your room, not say a single word to you, and then just leave, and if he thought so, he was dead wrong.

“I am talking to you, Quintin!” You said louder this time, walking towards him and grabbing his bag just as he was about to put some sweatpants in it. His head flew up, giving you a death glare before finally speaking to you.

“Give it.”

“No.”

“Y/N, give me my fucking bag.” He mumbled harshly, reaching out for it only for you to step back. You had the upper hand now, or at least you thought so.

“You want your bag back? Then clean the fucking mess you made in my room, in which you came in without asking permission.” You said firmly, only making the boy scoff, his glare still present.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“I could call the cops on you right now.”

“Really? You’d call the cops on me?”

“Yeah. Clean up, or it’s the cops you’re gonna have the deal with.”

“You’re seriously fucking insane, Y/N.” Quinn mumbled before ripping his half packed bag out of your hands and storming out of your apartment, leaving you all alone again. Tears of anger started rolling down your face, part of you wanting to chase after him and yell, while the other wanted to just scream into your pillow and cry. You decided on neither, taking in the fact that half his belongings were still in your room.

The next day, you quickly go into action, cleaning the mess Quinn had made the previous night, all while putting his things aside. When you were done, a pill of clothes was splattered on the floor just outside your room, and you soon joined it with a pair of scissors in your hands. One by one, you started destroying his clothes, letting out all your anger and rage on the pieces of clothing.

He deserved it, after everything he had put you through in the last year or so, he deserved it, all of it. You showed no mercy, going crazy on the clothes you wore more often than the others, or the ones you knew held a special place in his heart, like his NTDP and Michigan hoodies.

Next were all the gifts he had given you. It pained you, chopping off the heads of so many adorable teddy bears, but it needed to be done. Those gift were given in a way of saying ‘I love you’ but it didn’t mean anything to him. You didn’t mean anything to him. Everything single thing he had given you was destroyed, but the one that hurt the most was the ring he had gotten you for your birthday, both your initials engraved on the inside of it. Scissors weren’t enough for this, so you made your way to your kitchen, grabbing one of your big knife, doing anything and everything to bend the ring to the point where he couldn’t return it.

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you placed the ring at the top of the box, above all the other gifts and his clothes, making sure it’d be the first he saw. It felt weird, like you were truly saying goodbye to your relationship. It was the end, after today you’d never see him again. Your boss telling you you could transfer to the compagnies office in Calgary as soon as next week, something your best friend was over the moon about. You’d never have to face the boy who completely broke and changed you, you’d never have to be in the same city as him.

You didn’t even bother knocking on his door when you dropped off his things, instead just walking in, knowing he barely ever kept his door locked. He was sitting on his couch, a random TV show on the playing when you walked in. You heard him curse under his breath, but you didn’t pay any attention to him, instead dropping the box in the middle of his apartment.

“I hope you rot in hell, Quintin.” You said harshly before turning around and making your way back out his home.

“You’re a psycho you know that.” He called out, making you stop right before his door. You turned around, only to see he wasn’t on his couch anymore, now standing about five feet away from you.

“Yeah? Then what does that make you? I hope one day you’ll feel that you’ve made me feel. That your self esteem is so low that you don’t ever want to leave your apartment. Karma’s a bitch.” You told him before opening his door and walking out. Part of you hope he’d follow you, tell you it was all a big mistake and that he still loved you, that way you’d be able to crush him, making him feel what he made you feel. But you weren’t okay with the fact that he didn’t knowing karma would eventually come back to him.

And it did.

You said it was true love, but wouldn’t that be hard?

You can’t love anyone ‘cause that you would mean you had a heart

I tried to help you out, now I know that I can’t

‘Cause how you think’s the kind of thing I’ll never understand

A year later, you were sitting in the living room of your shared apartment with your best friend, mindlessly scrolling on your phone when an article caught your eye. Karma had done it’s thing. Barely a month after you left Vancouver, Quinn had found himself a model girlfriend, she was the complete opposite of you, but you didn’t spend any time analyzing everything difference between the two of you like you would’ve done when you first broke up. No, now you just wished nothing more than for her to break his heart.

And she did. Barely a year into their relationship she cheated on him, publicly, meaning everyone knew about it. Quinn had grown a little famous because of his relationship, meaning almost every city he went in, people would stare at him, teenagers would giggle at him, while adults gave him looks of pity.

You had ran into Alex during the last season, when the Kings were in town to play against Calgary, and a friendship was born. The two of you talked quite a lot, almost every single day, getting to know each other pretty quickly. The boy soon became like an older brother to you, and you became a little sister to him.

This new friendship of yours meant if you ever wanted to, you could get updates of Quinn. Hearing that the defenseman was heartbroken over his girlfriend cheating on him brough you the most amount of join you had ever felt in the last two years. You slept amazingly that night, knowing Quinn was in his bed, his heart aching, just like yours was last summer.

She had done to him, what he had done to you. Only, his was way worst because of the whole affair being public. To you, it felt like you had won. For months, it was him who wasn’t hurting, but now the table had turns. While you slept peacefully each night, Quinn struggled to find sleep, his mind asking himself so many questions. Did she even love him? How many other guys were there?

One night, your words replayed in his head. Karma was a bitch.

#bri writes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #alex turcotte #guts series

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algea · 5 months

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hi guys here’s some more headcannons for Lars (btw i’m doing these literally right before my exam🥲)

like i said last time, these are my headcannons, they may not be yours…

Lars loves ice cream. Even though he may deny it, he has a massive sweet tooth. You most definitely can bribe him with sweets.

Lars is a cat person. Sorry guys, had to say it. It’s not that he hates dogs, he just thinks it’s easier to take care of cats, plus they’re super goofy. He would probably own a black cat or a calico. Lars would so spoil his cat as much as possible, you think it’s a little unfair.

Lars’ favorite genre of books is dystopian fiction. Something about robots and future make him excited. He really likes the book Brave New World.

Lars takes you on a date every week. That’s how his momma raised him. He may not be from America, but he sure knows how to treat a lady. He really enjoys going to the movies or the beach with you. He thinks you’re so beautiful when the salty air blows your hair softly around you. Lars loves the smell of the sea and thinks that he would definitely propose to you on the beach.

He is super good at video games. Not like the Last of Us or Call of Duty, I mean like Centipede and Donkey Kong. It’s what he grew up playing, so expect him to be insanely good. Also don’t play him in Super Smash Ultimate, he would shit on you fr.

Lars hates when you talk to someone on the phone when he’s with you. He likes being the center of attention when he’s with you. He also thinks it’s super rude because you’re spending time with him. Unless it’s your mom, then he completely understands and gives you some slack.

His favorite comedian is Bo Burnham. More importantly, he likes the music Bo creates. It makes him literally giggle when he listens to it. You think it’s a little weird, but you’re glad he’s actually enjoying something.

Whenever you’ve been at the lab for a few days, Lars always makes you a bath before you come home so you can have some alone time. Probably the nicest thing he’ll do for you, but it definitely shows that he loves you so much.

Lars doesn’t like the heat. He’d rather be in the cold where he can wear multiple layers instead of sweating to death. Poor dude was stuck with that most of his life, so he loved it when he moved to New York.

Mr. Nerd geeks out when someone talks about Ghost Corps in a good way. He’ll yap on and on forever about it if you let him. Sometimes you’ll have to drag him away from the poor soul who struck up a conversation with him.

He has a photo album like the ‘Our Adventure Book’ from Up, which contains photos of you and him together. He looks at it whenever he feels sad or needs motivation.

He has a system of marks for when you looks especially attractive to him. Normally they’re color coded for the color you wear and have a specific shape for what kind of outfit it is.

Surprisingly, Lars’ love language is gift giving. He loves giving you little trinkets that you’ve mentioned you liked. It’s the cutest thing ever. It shows he pays attention to you.

Lars loves it when you wear his glasses. He thinks you look like a nerd and it makes you 10x cuter. If you’re in the lab and you steal them off him, he won’t take them back until you give them to him.

um sorry if these are a little short, i’ll definitely make more in the future

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield #ghostbusters x reader #lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield x you #james acaster

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 9 months

Text

Hey, Mickey! [Pt. 2]

University AU TW: Language, Alcohol Consumption, P w/out P, Hook-Up Culture, Y/N's a bit promiscuous but so are her friends lmfao Smut Warnings: Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Sloppy Make Outs, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, Name Calling, Fingering, Handjob, Oral (F!Giving - Blowjob), Lowkey face-fucking, Overstimulation, San's a meanie (translated: soft dom ish), Unprotected Sex (contraceptives are sexy guys), Double Penetration, Anal, Creampie, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Genre: Romance, Smut, Exes-to-FWB-to-Lovers, Minors DNI Pairing: Choi San x Reader ft. Yeosang YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 3.8K

[Other Groups Masterlist] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I didn't mean to write a sequel to this but... here we are ig lmaooooooo BUT THIS IS IT I PROMISE! Also rq you do not need to read part 1, this can be a stand alone, but if you want to read that filth go ahead. Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"I hate you, (Y/N)!" Your friend cried. "You said he's free!"

"Okay, and? He's not free anymore," you sipped on your iced tea while your friend lamented on the table in front of you.

"Was he... was he at least a good fuck?"

"I guess you'll never know."

"No!" Your friend cries into her arms. She looks at you with sad eyes. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yup," you finished your tea and placed it aside while you continued your paper. "Plus, you don't want to date that asshole," you rolled your eyes and groaned.

"Why not?"

"His idea of a date is a movie and a fuck, he's so unromantic," you complained.

"Why are you dating him then?" She asks, regaining her composure and touching up her eyeliner now.

"I guess I'm just used to it," you eyed her weirdly but continued your own business. "Maybe I kinda missed it."

"Wow, your friends were right, your standards are really on the floor, huh?" She huffs. Apparently so.

"I know," you couldn't stop the grin from rising on your face. "Anyway, we have a date later, so we'll see what happens," you rest your chin against your palm.

"Aw, what's the plan?" She pushes.

"Let's see," San chimes behind you while placing a hand on your shoulder, "dinner at 6, movie at 8, and sex in my car at 10," San lists off on his fingers behind you.

"You're stupid," you rolled your eyes again and looked at your friend, "what did I tell you. Unromantic, right?" You sighed.

"Just the way you like it," he shoots you a wink and steals your coffee.

"What else did I tell you? Absolute asshole," you deadpanned toward your friend. San, making no comment, walked off. "Look, he just came here to fucking embarrass me and take my shit, ugh, why am I talking to him again?" You shook your head and went back to work. "Consider yourself lucky, friend." You stole a glance at her, catching her watching San walk off.

"I wish I had a guy who treated me like shit."

"You're even stupider than he is."

"Let me live my whore era in peace," her head slips down her hand and she giggles. "You have two other friends, right?"

"Why are you so attracted to my friends?!"

"Why are your friends so attractive?!" She fires back.

"Really, San? I thought you'd at least be a little more classy than this," you crawled over to the backseat and straddled his lap. The earlier date was a bit of a blur, to be honest, the movie was boring and dinner was okay, but part of you felt that weird semblance of him trying to be more romantic. It didn't work though. In the end, you were still about to fuck in his car, one of the most unromantic of places.

"I mean, yeah, but you're here anyway, aren't you?" His hands rest on either side of your hip. "If you want me to take you home to my place right now then I'll do it," he shrugs. "But can you wait that long?" He teases you.

"Shut up," you leaned down and kissed him. Your lips moved together slowly while San's thumbs started to trace circles around your hips. His hands slipped into your shirt and sent a cold shock up your spine, something that elicited a small groan from you and allowed San to push forward while deepening the kiss. You felt your hips relax against his lap and you could feel his boner against his jeans. You separated for a moment, leaving San to chase after you.

"What?" His voice sounded more disinterested than annoyed.

"Your windows are tinted, right?" You looked out into the nighttime.

"Nope," he pulls you down to his lips once again.

"San," his name was muffled between your lips. "Mm mmm," you shook your head. He pulled away.

"Come on, no one's here, you can see the lot better than I can," he starts to kiss your neck instead. He wasn't really wrong per se, you really should've suspected something when he parked back here, but here you were being surprised again, huh? "What are you so worried about? It's not like anyone we know would be here at this time," he continues. Again, he wasn't wrong.

Plus, part of you thought that car sex was hot.

"Fine, but I do expect you to bring me home still," you said.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he pulled your shirt off and kissed you again, something you welcomed and reciprocated. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra before tossing it to some unknown part of the car, and your hips bucked against his, something that made him smirk against you. "Needy much?" He teased you too often, in your opinion.

"Shut up and just fuck me already, okay?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," San separated from you and you groaned. "Hold on there, baby, we're not just fucking around anymore," he lowers you against the seat and your breath catches in your throat. "Nah, we're "talking," right? I'm fucking to keep you now," he presses small kisses against your chest. "Then again, my competition is Mark, so I'm not too concerned," he grabs the waistbands of your skirt and your panties and pulls them off slowly.

"Don't be mean!" You tug at his hair and he groans around your nipple.

Mark, San's polar opposite. He was sweet, romantic, and just so caring, kinda bad at sex but you would never tell him. You didn't deserve him, now that you thought of it, especially since you're about to be willingly dicked down by your ex, but what's new?

"And? Since when were you into the nice guys? I know you, you like us mean," San's fingers ghost over your clit and your back arches. He pushes himself up and presses wet kisses along your jaw just as he traces his fingers around your folds and, fucking finally, he presses two fingers inside of you.

"Haa..." you let out a shaky moan and felt yourself sinking into the leather seats. You pulled his face to yours and kissed him hard. He let out a low groan as you started to palm at his crotch.

"You like us stupid too," he mutters against you. "You like it when we can't think of anything other than you, you thrive on that shit, it gets you off every time," his voice was a low rumble on your lips.

"No," your response came out as a low moan, "that's not..." you couldn't finish your sentence, not with how he was moving inside of you.

"You're all I ever think about," he presses up against your g-spot and your legs nearly clamped together as you started to grind on his fingers. "I could be doing whatever and all I can think about is how much of a cock-hungry whore you can be, all I think about is how you can barely even talk after I'm done with you. You should see yourself right now, where'd all that pride from earlier go?" He pulled his hand away in a swift movement, licking them clean before pulling his jeans off. The opportunity presented itself and you weren't one to back down, besides, you couldn't let him have all the glory. You were quick to push him back now, taking more of a front and wrapping your hand around his dick. "Oh?" He asks with a confident grin. You dragged your hand up and started to slowly jerk him, taking your time to listen to his own pretty moans.

"I usually prefer to be the one dumb fucked stupid but... you said it yourself, I'm fucking to keep you," you crawled into the space between his legs and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, your tongue drawing languid circles around it while San's head hit the back of the seat.

"Fuck..." he drew the curse out and his hand rested on the top of your head as you took more and more of his cock into your mouth. He wasn't pushing down on you, thankfully, but the force was there, and god did it turn you on. You pulled your head up along his dick now, jerking him all along the way while he started to pull at your hair. The bitter taste of precum dragged along your tongue each time you tried to take more of him. "You can take more of it, I know you can," he starts to push your head down further and you gagged around him. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and San cursed again. "Fuck, you look so hot like this," he brushes your hair out of your face right as you take the last of him in. Deep breaths, just relax. Not the first time you blew him, just the first time in such a restricted space. You try to pull off of him again, but his hips move up and he holds you in place.

"Mmph," you moaned around him while he thrust into you. Your legs started to give way under you, sliding further apart while you sank to the bottom of the car and your wetness dripped out of you. One of your hands moved to your pussy and you slipped your index and middle fingers inside to scissor yourself while you gagged on his cock. San moaned on top of you just as he pulled you off of him to give you a chance to climb back on top of him, your pussy hovering above his cock for just a moment before you spread your lips and sank down on him. He pulled you down into an open kiss, with wet moans being stolen with his tongue. His hands settled on your hips, squeezing them gently to urge you to move at your own pace, and a small shift from him was enough for you to start riding him. Your hips rocked back and forth, the car shifting under you with every movement but your wary glances around confirmed that you and he were still alone. Finally, you felt your abdomen tighten and you tugged him away from you. "I'm... haa... I'm almost there," you told him.

"Are you?" His words had a heavy sultry tone to them and you felt his lips trail up your jawline. "Hold it in," he bites down on your neck and you whimpered.

"I don't think... mmph... I don't think I can," your voice mixed with your moans now and his hands tightened on your waist to hold you still.

"You know, I just cleaned this car too," he spoke against your neck. This asshole. "Would be a shame if I had to clean it again," he sighs and lowers you down again, taking full control of you.

"San, please," your hands squeezed his hips and he thrusts into you. "Please, please, please," you begged him. You couldn't hold your orgasm in any longer than you already have.

"Go then," he releases your hips and you grasp onto his shoulders and lean forward, moving up and down his length to reach your orgasm all the while he whispers dirty things. Your pussy slid against his cock, feeling the way he stretched you open with each glide up and down, it was almost too good. The things you would do just to get him to let you sit on his cock forever. "Damn, only I can make you like this, huh?" He grins just as you stilled over him, your orgasm wracking through your body, and him moaning on top of you, staying in place while your pussy tried to pull him in further.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed repeatedly and San flipped you so that your stomach was against the seats and he pistoned into you. "Fuck, oh god, I can't," you shook your head against them now while San thrust into you with enough force that your wetness gushed around his cock. And when you felt his thumb press against your pucker you grabbed onto the seats with a vice grip, then right as you reached your second orgasm he stilled for a moment, letting you ride it out, until he spoke again.

"You ready?"

"Mmhmm," you moaned and he pushed into you.

"Shit..." he let out a breathy moan, while you moaned loudly, not caring if anyone was around to hear you. Your hand moved to your clit, trying to speed up to your next orgasm.

"Ugh, oh god," your hands moved faster and soon, somehow, you were on his lap again, your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your waist while he fucked you and you bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming while the car rocked back and forth and, then, you made a mistake. You opened your eyes.

And Yeosang's jaw dropped.

Immediately, you zipped your mouth shut and San, sensing the sudden unease, stopped all his movements. You and Yeosang were stuck staring at each other for a bit, and carefully, awkwardly, he held up a bag and pointed at it.

"Haa, fuck," you cursed, rolled your eyes, and pointed at San's head. San turned his head just enough to see him, before he looked at you.

"Down?" He asks. He didn't specify what in particular, but with enough context, you were able to piece it together.

"In here?"

"Sure."

"Ugh," you groaned again. "If he is," you finally conceded. You looked out the back window again and, for whatever reason, Yeosang was still standing there. Of all the times to run into him it happened to be when your ex was balls deep into your pussy, of course. Wordlessly, San turned just enough to see him again and raised his hand up, motioning for Yeosang to come in. Yeosang, seemingly, took a deep breath and sighed. He looked at you, showing you a thumbs up and a look as if to ask if it was really okay, and with another roll of your eyes you nodded, and he shrugged, and he walked over. "God, it's about to get so cramped." You grumbled.

"Whatever, not the first time we fucked in this car," San groaned. You made a move to pull off of him, but he held you still while he leaned over and unlocked the car.

"I have, uh, waba grill," Yeosang slides in. "You look hungry, (Y/N)."

"A little, yeah," you nodded.

"Yo, you gonna join us or are you just here to fap?" San leans over to ask him. "Lock the car for me too."

"Yeah, yeah," Yeosang locks the car. "You cool if I join for sure, right?" He asks you.

"Woo might be mad that he's not here," you looked away for a moment.

"Aw, man, Woo doesn't have to know," San reasons.

"Well, whatever," Yeosang tosses his food onto the driver's seat and climbs in the back. "How far are we?"

"Three orgasms... was about to be four until you decided to look in here," you muttered.

"Whoops," Yeo pulls his shirt off and you look away.

"Yo," San whistles lowly.

"You guys suck," you mumbled and San pulled you off of him.

"I'll take a breather, you two have fun," San says. That's... different.

"Huh? You sure?" Yeosang asks and even you were surprised.

"Sure, last time you two get to fuck at least."

"Last?!" You both exclaimed.

"Yup, next time (Y/N) and I'll be official."

"In your dreams, Choi San," you rolled your eyes and turned Yeosang's face toward yours, capturing his lips with yours in an instant. Yeosang matched your rhythm quickly, holding onto your hips with a gentle grip while you moved on top of him.

"Oh," he mumbles. Yup, you both knew it, he was planning something. "Whatever, (Y/N), come here," he pulls you close to him and you press your lips to his.

Okay, you had to admit it, this wasn't the first time you and Yeosang fucked. The first time was because you both got drunk at a party. The second was because he picked you up from a failed date. And the third was now. And yet every time and with every partner, of course, you ended up comparing them to the jackass sitting behind you. Yeosang was gentler in his movements, he had control, easily, but he let you go through the motions. Even now, while you sank your hips onto his, you could feel the motions of him pushing you down too. You held onto both headrests on either side of you when he started to thrust into you, and you fought the urge to clamp your legs whenever he pushed into you just right. Your hands traced up his abdomen, wrapping around either side of his chest while you rode him, in some ways Yeosang was just perfect and if it hadn't been for San then maybe, maybe, this would've felt a little less cruel. Then, you felt San press his hand onto your back and he pushed you down onto Yeosang, close enough that you two nearly fell into a kiss.

"You know, (Y/N)," San whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it too. "Yeo's had the biggest crush on you since we were kids."

"Come on, man, don't tell her about that," Yeosang's face twists in pleasure. He holds onto you tighter, thrusts becoming more pointed.

"The dude used to cum in socks thinking of you," San laughs. "What do you think? Pussy better than fabric?" San chides.

"San!" You tried to turn to glare at him, but his hand kept your head in place.

"And look at you two now, fucking in the backseat of my car," he continues to taunt. "How's it feel, Yeo?"

"Fuck you, San," Yeosang holds onto your hips tighter and you let out a breathy moan.

"Don't even listen to him," you pressed your lips against Yeosang's, and he kissed back, with both of your hips rolling against each other. Then you felt San's cock rub against you. And when you felt it push against your asshole, you broke off of Yeosang and buried your head in his neck, muffling your moan against his skin. "Fuck," you gripped onto Yeosang's arms and he groaned with every movement. Every time San pushed further into you, you ground down on Yeosang, and with every thrust you moved forward and back between them until he had finally settled in. You lightly chewed on Yeosang's skin, trying to get used to the feeling. Yeosang moaned under you, feeling the difference almost instantly.

"Shit," he clenches his jaw, holding back as much as he could.

"Don't be a little bitch," San growls, wrapping one arm around your torso and pulling you up against his chest, he thrusts into you and you grab onto his arm, your nails digging into his skin with every movement and Yeosang biting down on his hand to stop himself from cumming inside of you. "You cum in her and I'll make sure you regret it, Yeo," San says.

"I'm fucking trying, asshole," Yeosang makes a move to pull out of you but San pushes you down on his cock further.

"Oh god," your hands were on either side of Yeosang now, mind going blank from both cocks moving inside of you. Yeosang pressed open-mouth kisses against your skin, leaving it burning in its path. You turned your head so that you could whisper to him, being sure that only he could hear you.

"Fuck me like you got to me first," you said beneath a moan. Yeosang turns his head to look at you.

"Fuck it," Yeosang shakes his head and grips your thighs, pushing into you at a new pace to match San's, and you fell limp against him, fighting against his own strength to close your legs.

"Attaboy!" San was almost having too much fun with this. "Savor it, lover boy, this is the last time you get to try it." He could be so mean sometimes.

"Fuck! Oh, god, don't stop!" You felt your orgasm building up inside you again, your pussy clenched around Yeosang's cock and your hands dug into his hair while San constantly reminded you that he was there.

"Haa, shit," Yeosang cursed under you. From the way he was moving you could tell he was close and, fuck how amazing it would be to feel him. "Where?" Was all he could get out and, before you could even answer, San pulled you off of him and wrapped his arms under your legs to keep them open.

"Not inside, that's for sure," San said between grunts, he thrust into you at a faster pace now, not being held back by the previous resistance, and your head fell against his neck, just barely able to see through bleary eyes the way Yeosang jerked his cock. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, trying to get some kind of pleasure, any, and luckily Yeosang knew you better than you thought. His mouth wrapped over your clit, tongue circling around the sensitive nub while San continued to fuck into you, and when Yeosang pushed his tongue inside of you you knew you were done for. Your next orgasm hit you hard, so hard that you swear you blacked out for a second before getting pulled back to the reality that was San cumming in your ass. Your legs shook under his hold, and your breaths were heavy and hot. Yeosang sat up, wiping the cum from his chin as he did so.

"No more... I can't..." you shook your head and San pulled out of you slowly, watching the trail of cum follow his dick.

"Yeah, yeah," San was quiet, finally. Yeosang, meanwhile, reached over and grabbed his clothes.

"Well, I'm out," he pulls his shirt on.

"You're leaving already?" You asked with your eyes screwed shut.

"Yeah, exam," Yeosang rolls his eyes, wiping his dick off before shoving it back into his boxers. "Later," he steps into the passenger seat before unlocking the door, he looks back at San. "Also, you're an asshole."

"I know," San holds his hand up until Yeosang leaves. "You staying back here or moving up?"

"Ugh..." you turned so that your head laid on his chest, "can we just stay like this for a bit?"

"Sure," San's hand rests on your back now. "Too hard?"

"Like you care."

"Hey! I'm trying here," his hands rose up momentarily before settling on you again. You pressed a small kiss to his chest.

"Were you telling the truth about Yeo?"

"Oh yeah, big time," he nods.

"That's mean."

"Just how you like it."

"Fuck you."

"So soon?"

"I... ugh..." you closed your eyes again.

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