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#sigh. maybe this isn’t as big of an issue I am making it out to be
worldsewage · 5 months
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hello late night , I am going to rant for a bit so excuse me. i have been seeing a lot of artwork of body types beyond the skinny slim tall -ish build, which is great! That’s wonderful !
But I’ve learned a lot of people don’t know what the hell “fat” is… “Normalize fat (blank)” and the artwork just gave them thighs + you can’t see thier ribs , that’s not fat, when the fat on character is depicted softly or squishy people pretend like they’re plus sized. .I see drawings of characters with big tits and their waist still dips in at the same width of the skinny card board cut out genshin character build get called ‘fat’, sometimes it is rather the comments that are like “I love fat bitches!!” On artwork of rather short and buff girls— or with broad shoulders or rectangular builds, they are not fat, you do not fuck with fat bitches.. The skinny build has been so horribly exaggerated that you can not comprehend a body type that isn’t slim as anything but fat…
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toruro · 1 year
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— ✧ exes and oh's
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pairing. choi seungcheol x reader
description. when your ex-best friend breaks up with your other ex-best friend, you’re stuck between keeping this door (that you never wanted closed) shut tight, and making amends. naturally, choosing to let your heart open to the person who ripped it apart isn’t the easiest of decisions, but then again, life has a funny way of making you choose.
tags. smut (18+), UNEDITED (i wrote this mostly when i was half asleep, there will be missing words), angst, oral (f receiving), petnames, past toxic relationships/ friendships, referenced cheating, alcohol consumption (+ mentions of vomiting + poor decisions abt alcohol in general), rebuilding relationships, trust issues, joshua is extremely protective it's honestly a little annoying, a disgusting amount of internal monologue i am So sorry, theres a lot in this one so if i missed anything lmk
fic playlist.
w/c. 15.8k+
a/n. 1K SPECIAL SORRY IT'S A LITTLE LATE...anyways i really tried to make sure this wasn't super corny but i prob got carried away i can't even tell anymore. update. this is cringe as hell
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Your day today is slow, like every other. You aren’t sure why you expect anything different—well maybe you do know. It’s the optimist in you, a small voice in your head says, as you drop down your bookbag next to Joshua’s chair, the two of you slipping into your seats. Optimism my ass, you shoot back at yourself.
“Can you cover my shift?” Joshua asks, turning to you on his chair. You two have just finished your econ lecture and are sitting in the library to catch up on notes.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you give him a wary look. “Joshua,” you whine, pulling out your notebook and pen down.
“C’mon you said you needed some extra cash, and I need the night off anyways. I’ll get you back with something,” he promises as you narrow your eyes.
“Now what do you have that makes you need the night off?”
“Well there’s this party—” he pauses when you huff.
“And what’s to say I wouldn’t like to go to this party?” you retort, slightly annoyed that he expects you to cover his shift over something like this.
Joshua signs, running a hand through his hair. “Well I can say that I don’t think you would be especially keen on going,” he tells you honestly, and then when you catch the look in his eyes you falter.
You think about probing further, but second guess yourself—you probably shouldn’t. It isn’t good for your heart. You are trying to work on putting yourself, your heart, first, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. “Why do you say that?” you ask, and Joshua gives you that look.
He knows where this is going, and he’s slightly disappointed in you for going against your personal goal of not bringing it up. Then again, he doesn’t control you, and while he can try to guide you down the path of reparations and healing, he can’t force you anywhere.
“Cheol’s birthday is tomorrow,” he tells you like you don’t know. Like you don’t still have it marked down in bright blue sharpie on your calendar. It’s only been six months since you’ve last talked to him, and you don’t feel the need to buy a whole new calendar for the sake of getting rid of his and Yejin’s name.
That, and you don’t think taking his name off would help you forget anyways. Ten years, you think to yourself, ten years shouldn’t be disposed of as easily as a calendar, although it seems Yejin and Cheol had no problem doing just that.
Joshua catches you zoning out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No it’s okay,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair. “It’s not like I didn’t know, I don’t know why I asked.” Joshua looks at you sadly.
“The party…it’s going to be a big one, since Soonyoung is throwing it. You can come if you really want, you probably won’t run into Seungcheol anyways,” Joshua offers.
You scrunch up your face, shaking your head. “And Yejin? Either way, I don’t want to even think about how it would look if I showed up to a party for his birthday.”
Joshua gives you a wear look. “You don’t know?”
“Huh? Know what?”
“Cheol and Yejin broke up a while ago.”
“Oh.” You blink once, then twice, staring down at your shoes before inhaling sharply.
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
You shrug, responding, “Whatever. Don’t apologize. I don’t have any business with either of them anyways.”
“Okay but—”
“Seriously Josh,” you mutter, turning to him so he can see the pleading look on your face. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah? I’ll cover your shift.” Joshua gives you a tentative look, opening his mouth before you stop him. “Seriously,” you repeat, “It’s fine.”
And the truth is, you are fine. Sure it hurts when you think about them too much, and even if they are broken up, it doesn’t really make you feel much better, but you are okay. Your days are often dull, yes, but you aren’t unhappy. You’re content, and being in your final year of university, you figure that being content is all you need.
Excitement and love are not quite at the forefront of your mind, and while it does cause a nasty knot to build up in your throat when you think about Cheol and Yejin and all the fun times you have spent with them, you quietly tell yourself that things just played out the way they were supposed to.
You tell yourself that if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t meant to work out. That your life had plans, and that those plans didn’t include them.
As you walk home, you scoff to yourself, thinking about how Cheol and Yejin were willing to give up ten years of friendship with you—with each other—for something that didn’t even last half a year.
Of course it’s painful, but at the end of the day, you’re okay with that.
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“You’re pathetic,” Yejin spits out, and you feel yourself growing dizzy. Her animosity that’s more apparent than ever is all you can think about it, and it has your jaw going slack. “How could you—” her face contorts into something so full of hate that you brace yourself for her next words, “How could you do this to me?”
You still, blinking as you let the words sink in. You want to argue, to fight back, to defend yourself, but the words fall flat on your tongue. You want to scream, I didn’t do anything to you, want to tell her that your feelings aren’t there to hurt her, but you can’t. “Yejin—”
“It doesn’t even matter now,” she cuts you off, sucking in a sharp breath, her face that was momentarily scrunched up into anger is now relaxing, looking back at the door where music booms from the party.
“Are you just going to leave?” you manage to ask, steading your breaths as best as you can. Yejin looks at you and from the way she’s slightly taller than you, you nearly cower back in anticipation for her next words.
Yejin always did tend to have a bit of a mean streak, but only towards those she felt had wronged her—never to you. Always had a snarky comment to throw, but never in your direction. Always ready to be on the offense if she felt she needed to, and for the first time in your ten years of friendship, you know what it’s like to be on the receiving end.
Yejin never answers your question. “Cheol likes me,” she tells you as if it isn’t obvious. As if you haven’t mulled over that fact for the past month, the tell-tale lips of Joshua spilling you Seungcheol’s secrets many nights before. “He doesn’t like you.” Yejin pauses. “Because you’re boring.”
Your world stills. Everything was spinning in a hazy maze a moment ago but now it all has paused and her words are hitting you in slow motion. “What?” you try to ask but your voice comes out hardly above a whisper.
Yejin scoffs, and you know in this moment that that is the meanest thing she could have done. “You’re boring,” she repeats, “and that’s why—” she takes a deep breath, “—even if he didn’t like me, he wouldn’t like you, so I’m telling you now to give up.”
You gulp, and the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop. “I was never going to make a move on him,” you retort, finally finding the words stuck in your throat, and while you gain confidence for a moment, it withers away when you catch the amused look on Yejin’s face. “I can’t believe you would think I’d go for him if you liked him.”
“That’s your problem!” Yejin exclaims exasperatedly. “You were going to do nothing even if none of us found out,” she spits out, and you feel your knees growing wobbly again as Yejin continues. “You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”
She turns on her heel, and you call out to her one last time. “Are you—”
“Get Joshua to drive you home,” is the last thing she ever says to you.
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Taking Joshua’s shift is boring. Not that you expect anything different—getting you excited for work is not one of your optimism’s capabilities. Evenings at the coffee shop are busier than one would expect, but after considering the fact that it’s the only one open past seven p.m. on campus, the crowd begins to make sense.
You spend your time making drinks for the many students who are—much like yourself—simply trying to get through the night, but you would be lying if you say you don’t notice that the turn out is a little…smaller. After all, it is a Friday evening and Soonyoung’s parties are infamous on campus for being…well for being thrown by Soonyoung.
He’ll invite anyone and everyone, so you wouldn’t be surprised if your instagram feed will be filled with nothing but pictures from Cheol’s party tonight. Not that you care. You don’t want to go, you have no reason to.
Still, you wonder: would Yejin show up? If they did break up, like Joshua told you, what were the circumstances? Are they still friends? What happened? Why did they—
No.You shouldn’t do this to yourself, you can’t. Yejin isn’t your friend anymore, and neither is Cheol. What happened between them shouldn’t be your business—it isn’t. Leave it alone, you tell yourself, tapping your foot on the ground.
Yet, every time you look over the empty seats that fill the cafe, you’re reminded of just why not many people are here tonight. Seungcheol. Chewing on your bottom lip, you go against your better judgment and pull out your phone, immediately tapping on instagram.
Your stories are filled with a plethora of videos and pictures from the house that Cheol shares with Jeonghan and some other friends. It’s dark both inside and out, the only thing illuminating the house being led lights and pool lights in the backyard.Fondly, you remember last summer and Cheol’s birthday, which was spent at his house with you. Yejin, and some other friends in his pool from morning ‘til night. Fun times, you think, and you quietly wonder if Cheol will remember those memories today, or if he will leave them in his dust.
Tapping through the stories, you purse your lips together, inhale sharply, and begin to make yourself a drink. It’s too late in the evening for you to be thinking about this.
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Seungcheol’s head is pounding. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears and then there’s the music that has its vibrations going straight to his heart as he stumbles over his own words.
Lights everywhere flashing different colors and he isn’t sure when one cup turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into fuck-knows-how-many until Jeonghan is grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pushing him into an empty room, calling Joshua over.
Again, Seungcheol’s head is pounding. And he fucking loves it.
Joshua and Jeonghan, on the other hand, are frustrated. Cheol is trying to push through them, clawing for the door as his legs hit each other in a mangled mess until he’s falling onto them as they hold him back.
“You guys can’t fucking do this,” he whines, throwing his head back as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“When you said you were going to go crazy tonight,” Joshua mutters, “I didn’t realize you meant literally. Are fucking insane?” he hisses.
Cheol gives him an angry look, seeming to sober up for a moment as he straightens his back. “It’s my birthday, giving me a fucking break.”
“If you keep acting like this it’s going to be your death day soon too,” Jeonghan warns, earning him a glare.
“Seriously, do you want alcohol poisoning or something?” Joshua agrees. “Don’t drink anything else for the night, I’m serious.”
“And if I do?” Seungcheol challenges.
“We’ll tell Soonyoung to call it all off. You know he’ll do it if we ask,” Jeonghan states simply.
Cheol scoffs, but doesn’t reply, exercising his last bit of common sense to understand what Jeonghan and Joshua say, they mean. He needs to tread lightly.
Not that he cares much. He hasn’t got much to lose—Cheol only suggested this party because he knew that if it was anything short of big, he’d be reminded of the missing holes in his life right now.
His plan was unsuccessful, clearly, because even with cups after cups of spike punch, he’s still mulling over the fact there’s over a hundred people in this house and not a single one of them is you. Cheol had asked Joshua to bring it up with you—asked him to lead you in the right direction. The right direction being him.
He wasn’t really sure what his expectations were when he suggested it, but now it’s clear that Cheol really was expecting you to show up. He didn’t prepare for any other outcome, especially not one like this, where he’s wasted before the clock even strikes twelve. He’s on the verge of passing out when Joshua leaves the room, only Jeonghan and Cheol in each other’s presence as the former makes sure his elder doesn’t collapse.
Seungcheol’s head is pounding and he thinks it feels fucking great.
Fuck, he really needs to throw up.
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You’re back at the cafe two days later, once again spending your evening serving students. It’s a bit of a lighter day, so only you and Jeongyeon are working, catching up and making light conversation through the day.
“Tired?” you ask her, when you catch her leaning against the counter with a wince.
She nods, turning up to look at you. “Chemistry is killing me. I want to cry just thinking about my next exam,” whe groans, throwing her head back. “I think humans have evolved too much. There’s no reason we should have explore this much about like, fucking atoms. Why can’t we just be happy creatures—ignorance is bliss, after all.”
You laugh out loud, not bothering to look at the door when you hear the bell of its opening ringing. “Take a break, yeah? I’ll manage for the next half an hour, if you just wanna sit and chill for a bit,” you offer, Jeongyeon letting out a sigh of relief.
“Are you serious?” she exclaims before hugging you tightly. “I fucking love you,” she says, pulling away and hopping down the back counter and to the back room while you smile widely before turning around to face the new customer at the counter.
Your smile drops faster than you can blink.
Seungcheol’s smile, at one time, was among one of your favorite sights on the whole damn planet. Now, you can’t help but turn away, too scared to look him in the eye. Scared that if you look long enough, you’ll find something you aren’t ready to see.
Don’t falter, you tell yourself. You haven’t been healing for months for it to amount to nothing. “What can I get you?” you ask casually, looking down at the cashier tablet, pretending to look through the catalog.
You didn’t look at him long enough to see if his smile vanished just as quickly as yours, to see if he expected you, to know what he was thinking at all honestly. You aren’t ready for that, and it’s pathetic, you think to yourself.
“Uh,” is the first thing you hear Cheol say to you after six months. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting him to follow with, but it is most definitely not, “Don’t you know my usual?”
It takes all your self control to not snap your eyes up and say, of course I know your usual, I never forgot, how could I forget, it’s always an iced latte with—“No, sorry, I don’t,” you say flatly, still not looking at him.
Cheol is slightly surprised by your choice of words, partly because when Joshua told him that your door was shut and not going to budge open, he didn’t really believe him. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t be able to hit it straight off the bat when he tried to reconcile, but he definitely wasn’t expecting this.
Not that he planned this—he knew you worked here, just not when. Cheol was just struck with luck when he walked in, ready to order a coffee when his eyes landed on your familiar figure this evening, and as an opportunist, he just couldn’t turn down the chance to try and talk to you.
Of course now, he isn’t sure if this course of action was the right one—you were never cold, not to him, not to Yejin, not to anyone really. It’s weird, he thinks.
“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup, please,” he replies with a small nod of acceptance. Joshua was right. Your door was locked.
“Your drink will come out over there,” you say, pointing over to the left counter. “Cash or card?”
He thinks it’s worth a shot to try again. “When was the last time I used anything but card?” Cheol accepts defeat when you don’t crack a smile, not even one bit.
“So you’re using card?” you ask plainly, turning the tablet over so he can swipe down. Cheol chuckles nervously as he pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t say anything after that, and for that, you are grateful.
Once he’s done paying, you turn on your heel quickly and make his drink. You don’t look up, don’t turn back—you don’t know if you’re ready to see him watching you, if he is at all. You aren’t sure what you’d like more: having him watching you, or having him not.
Gulping down a hard lump in your throat as you wait to pull the shot of espresso, you think deeply. It’s just how Jeongyeon said it, you figure: ignorance is bliss.
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Jeongyeon thinks parties aren’t your thing. “They just don’t suit you,” she explains when you’re working one afternoon.
You furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean not my thing?”
She shrugs, carrying in some boxes of cups. “It’s not a bad thing—I’m not calling you boring or anything—I’m just saying. You’re a very work-at-a-coffee-shop kind of girl, and not a let’s-go-party kind of girl, you know?”
The word bounces around in your mind. Boring.
“I can be both,” you huff. “You’re only saying this because I actually do work at a coffee shop.”
“Whatever,” Jeongyeon shrugs. “Come with me tonight then?”
You scrunch up your face. “Tonight? I work tonight,” you tell her with a frown.
“Get Hyunwoo to cover your shift then, I’m sure he’ll do it,” she suggests. You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your other co-worker.
“Okay, but if he says no it isn’t my fault.”
“Ya-da, ya-da, ya-da,” Jeongyeon mutters, waving her hand at you with a sly grin. “So I’ll see you tonight?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.
“If Hyunwoo is willing to give up his Saturday evening, I guess so.”
“Ugh, he better agree. Tell him if he does it, I’ll set him up on a date with Nayeon.”
You roll your eyes with a small giggle. “You need to stop using her to get what you want—she’s going to stop being your friend if you keep setting her up on dates so people can do you favors.”
“If that ends up happening…” Jeongyeon’s voice trails off as she glances at you. “…well that’s what you’re here for!”
It’s how you end up putting on some cute pants and black crop top that you’ve been saving for a night just like. Jeongyeon and you are ubering the way to whoever’s house this party is at, and you’re pretty sure neither of you have a good idea of how you’re supposed to get home, but that’s a problem for another time.
When you arrive, the house is already packed, but the two of you don’t have too much trouble slipping through the open door and into the crowd of people that fill each room. You haven’t been to a party in a while, and the loud music along with the rush you naturally feel when you're around so many people starts to return to you.
You see many faces—mostly ones you recognize, but the names fall flat on your tongue. Like you said, it’s been a while since you’ve come to a party.
When you make your way to the kitchen, you’re greeted by a kind, familiar voice. Smiling at Joshua as he calls out your name, you give him a sideways hug before you make your way to the counter with all the drinks. “Fancy seeing you here,” he teases, and you push him lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Jeongyeon invited me last minute…I had to get Hyunwoo to take my shift,” you explain.
“Ah, that makes sense,” and there’s a funny look on his face when he says it.
“What’s with that face?”
“Nothing! It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“You know Hyunwoo likes you, right?” Joshua says casually, pouring you a cup of punch. Usually, you don’t trust what other people hand to you, but Joshua is a safe exception.
“What?” you ask, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. “You’re lying. Did he tell you that?”
“Not directly…but it’s obvious. Seriously, who gives up their Saturday evening unless they’re making major bank or they have a crush.”
“Whatever. He’s a sophomore,” you murmur, taking a sip of the drink. It’s so sweet it almost masks the taste of alcohol. “Plus, he’s not my type. And I’m not interested in dating. I have too much going on,” you list.
“Please,” Joshua scoffs. “Your thesis and being a barista is not too much.”
“Shut up! I’m here, at a party, aren’t I?”
“Will you come to the next one?”
“That depends.”
“On?” he asks hopefully.
“Hm,” you hum, tapping a finger on your chin. “When, where, who, why, how.”
“Ugh, you’re seriously annoying about this. Just show up when I call you next, okay?”
“No promises. This night better be good if you want me to live up to that.”
“Well I’m not throwing this party so I can’t control that.”
You grin. “Too bad.” You’re having fun, you realize, even if it’s with the comfort of Joshua. You’re glad Jeongyeon brought you here. Joshua glances around for a moment and then back at you, opening his mouth to speak. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell him before he can say anything, “I can take care of myself.”
“I know, I just—” he stops himself. You know where this is going, and Joshua knows he doesn’t really need to say it. Cheol is here.
“It’s okay,” you tell him, patting his shoulder firmly, and in this moment you aren’t lying. Not to yourself, not to Joshua. It is okay. You are okay.
He watches you for a moment and then nods, ruffling your hair for a moment before waving goodbye to head off in some other room. You spend the next few minutes tossing your now empty cup to the side, heading off to some other room to find Jeongyeon. She’s dancing with some friends and the moment her eyes lay on you, she notices the deep flush to your face.
Calling you over, you dance with Jeongyeon, music blaring in your ear as you’re pressed up against her and other girls you’re sure you knew the names of at some point in your life. It’s exhilarating for a moment, but then suddenly, after around fifteen minutes, it isn’t.
“I’m going to head out for a breather,” you tell Jeongyeon loudly over the music, and she doesn’t seem to hear your words but with the way you’re pointing at the back door, she figures out what you’re saying. Nodding with a thumbs up, she smiles before turning back to dance along with her friends as you slip out of the huddle of people.
You notice a familiar face from the corner of your vision, but you feel too hot and the air is too stuffy for you to bear another second longer, escaping to the backyard.
It’s quiet outside. The night air is cool, and you now realize why no one is out in the pool like they usually are. Looking down at your feet, you contemplate your next actions for a moment before rolling up the hem of your pants until your knees and sitting by the edge of the pool, dipping in your legs.
You hiss at the cool feeling for a moment, but quickly adjust—you’ve been feeling too hot all evening and this is exactly what you need to take a moment to calm down. Alcohol has never quite been your best friend, the liquid always sending a flush of heat through your whole body.
The water soothes you, and you feel at peace for a moment. Then there’s the sound of the door sliding open and a familiar patter of footsteps thuds against the concrete.
“Isn’t the water cold?” Jeonghan says casually, standing next to you.
You shrug. “I needed to cool down.”
“Hm, fair,” he murmurs, sitting down himself and crossing his legs on the concrete edge of the pool. “It’s been a minute.”
“Has it?” you reply quietly. Yeah. It’s only been six months. You don’t let Jeonghan know that you’ve been counting.
“You don’t stop by to drop off the old pastries anymore,” he says. “Mingyu tries to make croissants now, but it’s the one thing he isn’t great at baking.”
You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol speaking but you’re blunt when you respond, “That sucks.” Jeonghan laughs quietly, nodding. He isn’t used to you being like this —when Cheol said you were different, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t really this.
“How’s school? You working on your thesis and shit?”
You shrug. “I guess. Busy times.”
“You’re being awfully cold,” Jeonghan says with a tick of his tongue. “D’you not have any drinks—you’re always more fun when you’re drunk.”
“Thanks,” you mutter with furrowed eyebrows. Yejin used to tell you that.
“Sorry, that was rude,” Jeonghan says quickly when he notices how you still. “I didn’t mean it like that—I mean, I guess everyone is more fun when they’re drunk.” You chuckle a little at that and he lets out a sigh of relief at the fact that he’s able to get you to loosen up, even just a little. There’s an awkward silence that settles over the two of you as he watches you as you kick your feet in the water. Jeonghan thinks he might take his chances.“He misses you.”
You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you really hope Jeonghan doesn’t notice. You hate how you know who he’s talking about right away, not needing to say the name. “Jeonghan,” you say, and you know that your wobbly voice gives it all away, “Do you really think that’s fair?”
He says your name, and you turn away.
“Do you think that’s fair to me?” Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “He misses me? What about me? What about how I feel? Has Cheol thought about that? Has he?”
“I’m not trying to say it’s fair, I’m just telling you how he’s feeling—”
“Okay? There isn’t much for me to do about it,” you reply quickly. “Cheol and Yejin—” you let out a humorless laugh, “—it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. I was able to deal with it. I’m sure Cheol can too.”
“He’s really upset with himself for it,” Jeonghan tries to reason. “Even when he was with Yejin. They’d have arguments about it.”
“Okay? It’s not like I asked him to do that. It’s not like he was my friend to tell me about it.”
“Well if you would just listen—”
“No, you listen,” you say firmly, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Did you know what Yejin said to me the last time we spoke?” Jeonghan shakes his head. “She told me I was boring,” you spit out, and you realize that it’s the first time you’ve ever actually recounted that night to anyone but yourself. “And that she wasn’t even mad that I liked Cheol, but that she hated how I let her have him.” You pause to wipe away some tears. “And she was right. I didn’t put myself first. I could have told Cheol first, could’ve worked things out before she found out, could’ve done something for him, but I didn’t, and I’m not going to make that same mistake again so right now I am going to put myself first.”
Jeonghan is frowning now at the intake of all this information. It’s his first time hearing your side of the story, and he can’t help but get confused with the different timeline’s he’s got going on inside of his head. “Is this really putting yourself first?” he finally asks, and you glare at him.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying. He was your best friend for a whole decade. Maybe having him back in your life will do more good than you think.”
You scoff. “You mean do Cheol more good to his life. Don’t look at me like that—what do you know about me that makes you so sure of this?”
“Cheol knows you, you know him, and as far as I know, you could use a friend or two.”
“Thanks for calling me friendless,” you say dryly. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m fine. I am over it, and I don’t mind having two less friends. And either way, Cheol couldn’t have been that good of a friend if he was willing to just let go of me like that after all those years.” Jeonghan stays silent. “I don’t need more drama in my life anyways,” you conclude, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up.
“You’re not going to give him a second chance?”
You don’t answer as you walk away.
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Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, for once in his life. Okay that is an exaggeration, but it’s the first time in a few months that he isn’t stumbling over himself at a party. It’s the first time in a long while that he hasn’t even had a sip of alcohol at this outing, and honestly, he’s quite proud of himself.
He knows why that is, and he isn’t afraid to admit it. When Joshua walks past him and gives him a funny look, Cheol knows what’s up. “No drinks?” Joshua asks, quirking up a brow.
“Joshua,” he murmurs, and he’s surprised his friend can even hear him over the music. “Jeonghan is talking to her.”
Joshua purses his lips. “Yeah, I know.”
Choi Seungcheol is quiet at a party, for the first time in…well pretty much ever. He isn’t under the influence, but it feels like everything is racing through his mind at a hundred miles per hour. Leaning against the wall, Joshua softens his gaze.
“Loosen up,” he says, and then thinks again. “And please don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m not drunk,” Cheol scoffs, standing up straight as he glances out the back door, watching you kick the pool water. He remembers his birthday party over a year ago—the pool, you, Yejin, fun. Cheol walks away, not sure where he’s heading and Joshua, using his better judgment, doesn’t follow.
Choi Seungcheol isn’t drunk, but he might as well be out of his damn mind.
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Tonight is not your night.
Your head is pounding. You fucking hate it. You don’t like getting drunk, at least not like this. Not in the way that you’re seeing two of everything. Not in the way that your body feels like it’s on fire, sweat soaking your sheen black shirt. Not in the way that you’re thinking about everything you shouldn’t.
After your conversation with Jeonghan, you realize you don’t have an answer. Pandora’s box is too tempting, and all your better judgment tells you to leave this door closed. To bury it up, throw it into the ocean, burn it—anything to keep it away from you, but the alcohol that courses through your veins brings the memories flooding back.
Now, you aren’t sure if your head hurts from thinking about Cheol, or from the alcohol, or both.
It’s too much.
You lean against one of the steps as you sit on the stairs, clutching a bottle of water close to your chest. Jeongyeon is…she’s fuck knows where. You lost track of her hours ago—after you came back in from the backyard, you got lost in conversations with people you haven’t caught up with in ages, and one thing led to the next and now you’re on nth drink.
You feel dizzy and the cup in your hand without the water bottle slips past your fingers and before you can act quick enough, the cup is tumbling down the two steps in front of you and spilling all over the floor. Granted, it isn’t the only mess made in this house tonight, and by the looks of it, it won’t be the last, but you still feel bad, quickly scrambling up to pick up your cup and find some tissues.
As you lean forward and stumble over the steps a little, you realize your center of gravity is off and you’re about to fall forward, quickly holding out your hands to brace your fall. As you land on the ground with a thud, your mind spins—everything spins, you feel too warm, and then you feel your drink stain your pants in the spot you fell onto and—fuck, this really is too much for you.
Maybe you should’ve just accepted what Jeongyeon said. Maybe—fuck, who are you kidding—parties definitely don’t suit you. You’d be a fool to deny that now, especially when you’re aching to just leave already, even though you never made any plans of getting home.
That problem that you saved to deal with “at a later time” is becoming a problem you need to deal with now and you race through your options, all while seated on the floor, forgetting about how you need to clean up this mess.
It’s when your head starts to hurt and you scrunch up your face in hopes to soothe your headache when you hear his voice. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and then it’s pulling you up and onto your wobbly legs. “Let’s get you out of here,” Cheol mumbles, and without weighing the consequences of your actions, you nod along.
You don’t care anymore. You need to leave, and if Cheol is the path to getting out, you won’t mind.
When his arms lead you out the front door and into the night, you feel cold. Extremely cold. Maybe it’s because your body is so warm, maybe it’s because the wet alcohol on your pants is sending shivers up your spine—maybe it’s that you’re starting to slowly realize who you’re with.
Standing on the grass, you aren’t sure what to do now. What should you do? What does Cheol want you to do—you stop yourself. It shouldn’t matter what he wants you to do, you remind yourself, so why do you find your gaze lazily making its way over to his face?
Fuck ignorance and its bliss. Right now, you want to know what Cheol is thinking. He’s looking down at you, and suddenly you feel small. His face isn’t demeaning, it’s not angry, he’s not upset, but you just feel so pathetic.
And god, do you hate that word. It echoes in your head. Your dirtied pants, flushed and puffy cheeks, disheveled hair, all as you struggle to stand up—pathetic. You turn away from him, not being able to watch him watch you any longer.
“Let me drive you home,” he says finally over the thick air.
“You’re drunk,” you protest mindlessly—you don’t have a clue if that’s true at all, but knowing Cheol, it probably is.
“I haven’t had anything all night.” Nevermind, you tell yourself, maybe you don’t know him at all. Can six months really change a person that much?
Cheol is thinking the same thing about you. Your eyes are glossy and you look so out of it and he can’t even remember the last time he saw you like this—the only memories he has are when you first got drunk with him and Yejin in high school. The memory shoots an arrow at his heart, but he brushes off the feeling, focusing on you right now.
“Trust me,” he says. You blink a few times, staring at the ground, then at the sky, and then at Cheol. “Trust me,” he repeats, and now you remember just how well you know him. Cheol isn’t asking right now, no, he’s begging. You think as deeply as your wasted mind will let you.
Do you trust Cheol? No.
Cheol hurt you. Yejin hurt you.
Is this about Yejin? No.
Do you trust Cheol? No.
What is this about? I don’t know.
Do you trust Cheol? I don’t know.
Can you trust Cheol? …
He places a hand on your shoulder and the touch is firm.
Can you trust Cheol? Of course you can.
His eyes are soft as you look up at him.
Do you trust Cheol? Absolutely.
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Optimism would say that you left the door unlocked. Joshua would disagree and say that you weren’t going to be inside even if the door was wide open. Jeonghan, surprisingly, doesn’t agree with Joshua—your words were harsh, but the water streaming down your cheeks told him that there was more going on in your head than you let on.
Seungcheol tends to only listen to what he wants to hear, at least that’s what all his friends have noticed. They saw it with Yejin—ignoring all the red flags, late nights of arguing until Cheol would murmur, “it’s fine, let’s just go to sleep.” Reality wasn’t the easiest for him to face, and now it’s more apparent than ever.
“He’s too optimistic about her,” Joshua sighs, throwing himself onto his friend’s couch the morning after. He slept over at his friends’ place, and they follow carefully behind him now.
“He still has hope?” Mingyu asks incredulously, sitting on an armchair.
“Too much of it,” Joshua replies, sitting up straight so that there’s room for Jeonghan on the couch.
“She’s still nice to me,” Mingyu says thoughtfully. “Maybe she doesn’t hate him.”
“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” Jeonghan says. “She’s still close friends with Joshua, so I don’t think she’s going to let that whole situation get in the way of her own friendships.”
Joshua nods in agreement, adding, “That, and I never said she hated Cheol.”
Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “She doesn’t?”
“I don’t think she ever did,” Joshua says honestly, leaning back into the cushions as he stretches his arms.
“Really? I would’ve,” Mingyu admits and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.
“We know that you would,” he teases, causing the taller boy to pout but keep his mouth shut. “Anyways, I think Cheol is going to keep trying.”
“I know he will,” Joshua mutters, running a hand over his face. “He’s going to go in circles after her.”
“She’s not gonna give in?” Mingyu asks, and Joshua shakes his head, but Jeonghan puts his hand up in protest.
“I think she might eventually come ‘round to a stop,” he says, and Joshua shoots him a look of surprise. “I dunno, I know you and her are close, but I just have a feeling. We’ll have to see.”
“Don’t let Cheol hear that. He’ll take it as a sign to never stop,” Joshua warns.
Seungcheol doesn’t hear this conversation now or ever, but he never had plans of stopping in the first place. He was always more optimistic than you—than anyone you knew, really—and anyone who knows him should know better than to underestimate the extent of his determination.
Jeonghan and Joshua are making that mistake right now, and even though Cheol will never know what they said, he is determined to prove them wrong, for the sake of his own sanity.
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Jeongyeon picks up the phone after the first ring. “I am so sorry,” she babbles into the line. “I—fuck—we should’ve figured out a ride—I mean I should’ve figured out a ride since I basically forced you to come and I knew I would be drinking and—god, I am so sorry.”
Your head rings at the way her voice blares through the phone, and you sit up and against your headboard. You woke up only moments ago, greeted by a million texts from Jeongyeon, not bothering to soothe your hangover headache before calling her back—she must have been worried, you told yourself.
“It’s okay,” you mumble, reaching over to grab some water from your bedside table. “I got a safe ride home.”
“Yeah, Joshua told me…but still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you to find a ride on your own.” “Don’t apologize Jeongyeon, I left you without a ride too so stop apologizing or else you’ll start to make me feel bad.”
You can hear her huff on the other end, and you smile. “Okay fine, but seriously. I’ll cover one of your shifts or something soon because I feel bad for even taking you. You looked miserable.”
“That was only because Jeonghan came up to me,” you tell her honestly.
“Jeonghan? Like Seungcheol’s friend?” she says, and you can tell from her voice that she’s hesitating to even say his name.
“Yes,” you sigh softly. Jeongyeon wants to know more, you can feel it, but you aren’t in the mood to bring it up, at least not with her. “It’s whatever. I’ll see you Wednesday?”
She pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend your quick switch of topics. “Uh, sure. Text me if you need anything, okay?”
“Mhm,” you hum, pulling back your phone as you click to hang up. Letting your head fall back onto your pillow, you inhale deeply. You remember the night before too vividly—even if you were drunk, there was too much happening for you to forget.
You know you can’t forget, so you decide to do just what you’ve been doing for the past half year: ignore. It’s what you’re best at, after all. Yet as your day goes on, your mind begins to trail off. You think, and you think, and you think until you aren’t sure what was real and what was not from last night.
You start to realize that you aren’t as good at ignoring as you like to think.
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“You think too much,” Hyunwoo jokes, watching you stare at the shot of espresso in front of you. You’d made it for yourself as an attempt to feel more energized after your lecture, but you find yourself zoning out as the small cup sits on the counter, waiting for you to gulp it down.
“Uh, sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head a little. “This shift is light and we haven’t had any customers in a few minutes so I just…”
“It’s fine,” Hyunwoo replies with a smile, and you purse your lips. Ever since Joshua told you that Hyunwoo likes you, you’ve been warning yourself to tread lightly. Not that he isn’t a good guy—Hyunwoo is great—he’s just not your type.
What is your type? The thought is swept out of your mind before you even come up with an answer, swooping up the shot of espresso and holding it up to your lips.
It’s been three days since the party, and you haven’t talked to Joshua in a minute, so your mind is slightly frazzled. Hyunwoo is nice, but you miss the comfort of your close friend, and maybe you’re just a little curious to see if he has anything to say about Cheol driving you home that night.
You’re sure he does—you can already predict his words: “you told yourself you wouldn’t talk to him.” Joshua might be harsh with his words, but you feel with the way you’ve been losing your damn mind recently, you need someone like him to bring you back to reality.
Maybe that’s what went wrong with you, with Cheol, with Yejin—with the three of you. You and Cheol were too lost in fantasies, Yejin always holding you two down. She was right—Cheol wouldn’t like you. Two people who didn’t know a reality other than their imaginations couldn’t work out.
Cheol needed someone to ground himself, you needed someone to ground yourself, and at the end of the day, Yejin chose to help him. You still think about what you would have done if you were in her situation, and after months, you can’t come up with an answer.
You remember the events leading up to her decision like it’s as clear as day, and no matter how many times you replay that moment, you don’t know what to think, except that you’re angry, you’re sad—they left you.
“I heard you and Joshua,” Yejin tells you quietly, and you feel your heart stop. “You like Seungcheol?” and the way she uses his full name makes you feel almost ashamed for confirming it with a nod.
“I—” you pause, “—I didn’t know you liked him.”
“I love him,” she corrects you.
“Oh,” is all you manage out.
“You’re pathetic.”
That was the start of it. Yejin sent Chaeyoung over the next day to pick up her stuff from your apartment. You didn’t hear another word from Cheol. The last thing you remember him saying to you was from that night is still a jumble in your head.
You hate crying, and everyone knows it. So when you sprint out of the room minutes after Yejin, eyes red and puffy, Cheol knows something is wrong. Before he can walk up to you, there’s a hand on his shoulder and Yejin has her head pushed up next to his ear.
You don’t know what she tells him, but his gaze falters. The last thing you hear him say is your name quietly as you rush away.
That night, Joshua drives you home while you think about how you’re going to tell your mother that Cheol and Yejin won’t be coming to your house for spring break.
That was six months ago. Of course, six months pales in comparison to the decade you spent as friends. The years from middle school, to high school, to college—you three side by side. Things changed so quickly, too quickly.
Sometimes you think about what she might’ve told him—what she could’ve said that made him turn away at every gathering you were both at after that. That made him erase the years you shared before all this. That made you all strangers.
You figure things like this will never make sense to you. You don’t understand now, and you probably never will—you are content with that.
At least, up until three days ago you were. Some small voice in your head is reminding you of the confusion, the hurt, the heartbreak you felt when it all happened. Now, you’re more desperate than ever to know what exactly happened, it’s just a matter of if you’re willing to go down this rabbit hole of reconnection.
It’s like the universe hears you and laughs. The ringing of the door fills the little cafe and you’re pushing yourself off the counter, nodding and Hyunwoo. “I got it,” you tell him, dropping your cup in the sink and walking over to the register.
Of course it’s Cheol standing in front of you. You can’t tell if he found out your schedule from Joshua (but no, Joshua wouldn’t do that to you) or if it’s just something like fate. Fate.
You sigh, preparing yourself for yet another onslaught of thoughts. “What can I get you?”
There’s something mischievous glinting in his eyes. “Don’t you remember my usual?” Cheol attempts, and you’re surprised by his forwardness. Don’t be shocked, you think. Cheol never backs down, never stops trying.
Do you give in? Just this once? He did help you out that night—you aren’t sure if you’d be able to get home in one piece if it weren’t for him. Then again, it could’ve just been one of Cheol’s kind favors, something that isn’t reserved for only you, but just any drunk girl in general. You don’t want to mistake his qualities of a gentleman with him holding out a figurative olive branch.
Trust me, his words are like a broken record in your mind.
You’re thinking too much. Fuck, if he didn’t hold out the olive branch that night, you’re going to try to now.
“Iced latte with hazelnut syrup,” you say quietly, tapping it into the tablet. You’re scared to look up because you know he's grinning. You shouldn’t want to be the reason behind his smiles, but you do.
“Thanks,” he chirps, holding out his card so you can turn around the tablet for him.
“Your order will come out on your left,” you tell him, not looking up. You expect things to stop now, for things to quietly go back to normal.
“Hey, when do you get off?”
You do a double take to make sure you heard him correctly. “Sorry?” You finally look up at him and god, you start to remember why you loved his smile so much.
“I asked when you get off from your shift? Six?”
“I—uh, yeah,” you reply without thinking. “How’d you know?”
“That’s when Joshua gets off on Fridays. Just a guess,” he shrugs. You purse your lips and don’t respond, not sure where to take things from here; yeah you held out the branch but you didn’t expect him to grab it just this quickly. “Can I stay until then?”
You should say no. You really should say no. But then you’re thrown back to three days ago and the words are sounding an awful lot like trust me, trust me, and then you realize you just can’t deny him.
“Okay,” you say softly. You can tell from the look of relief on Cheol’s face that he wasn’t expecting this, and you aren’t sure what to take from that. As you turn to make his drink, you glance at the clock. Thirty seven minutes before your shift ends, and you can’t figure out if you’re going to try and make the time before them fly or go slow.
Handing Cheol his drink, you don’t say anything, your movements swift as you try and unbox your own feelings. Of course, you aren’t given the liberty to do that, not when Hyunwoo is standing in front of you.
“Is that Seungcheol?”
“Take a wild guess,” you mutter, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. Maybe if you think hard enough you’ll realize it’s just a dream where your actions have no real consequences.
“I thought you two didn’t talk.”
“Did Joshua tell you that?”
“Kind of…maybe…I sorta figured it out on my own,” Hyunwoo admits. “Sorry, that sounds weird.” You sigh softly, feeling bad for how flustered Hyunwoo is.
“It’s okay…let’s just get back to work,” you suggest, turning away to clean up some of the counters with your extra time.
You don’t notice it, but Cheol watches the conversation between you and Hyunwoo unfold, and while he can’t hear what you two are saying, he has a feeling he won’t like it. He has to remind himself to not have high expectations, to not get his hopes up, just like Jeonghan and Joshua warn, but he just can’t help it.
But when you agree to see him after your shift (he knows you didn’t technically agree to that, but he knows you and is sure that you caught onto his underlying message), he just has to stay hopeful. So as he patiently waits for the clock to strike six, he thinks about what to say.
To be honest, this all happened on a whim. Again, he didn’t really know that you were working today, he just happened to get lucky. Cheol himself isn’t sure what exactly he wants to say to you, he just knows it is a lot.
He thinks about you a lot. The good, the bad, all the in between—Seungcheol misses you. And he knows that it isn’t fair, that he shouldn’t do this, that he doesn’t have the right—Joshua has made that clear to him on numerous occasions.
“She’s fine without you.”
“But—”
“You don’t have a say about being in her life.”
“And you do?” Cheol shoots out.
Joshua steps back. “I don’t either, but I know how she’s doing better than you. I know how she felt after everything happened.”
Cheol pauses. That, Joshua did. Cheol didn’t know anything, did he? “This isn’t about you, it’s about me and it’s about her.”
“There is no you and her,” Joshua says bluntly. Cheol doesn’t say anything, but he knows in his mind that he needs to change that.
Cheol lets the idea run through his mind, that he's making a royal mistake right now, and all this is going to amount to nothing. He doesn’t mull over it for longer than ten seconds. He is going to do this, and if he doesn’t, he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.
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You get off your shift while Hyunwoo continues his. “You’re going to talk to him?” he asks with knitted eyebrows, pointing at Cheol.
“Uh, yeah,” you say sheepishly in the back, untying your apron. “Don’t tell Joshua, he’ll kick my ass,” you add, only only half joking. Joshua definitely won’t let you hear the end of this, but that is another problem for another time. Hanging up your apron, you grab your backpack from the shelf and slip to the back door. “See you later!” you chirp, throwing Hyunwoo one last wave before you enter the seating area from the back to make your way to Cheol who’s sitting at an elevated stool by the window.
Your once confident strides are much smaller now, you find yourself holding back each one more and more. Do you really want this? Trust me. You’ll just have to find out. “Hey,” you say quietly, and this time you don’t let your gaze fall, tapping on Cheol’s shoulder. He turns around quickly, straw in his mouth as he drinks the half finished drink with a smile.
“Hey, you’re early,” he states casually, glancing at the time. It’s 5:57.
“I guess,” you reply, voice as still as you can manage.
“You’ve probably been here for a while,” Cheol murmurs to himself, getting up from his seat. “You want to go on a walk? The weather is nice right now.”
You want to roll your eyes and tease him, saying “it’s August, of course the weather is nice,” but you stop yourself—you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that level of comfort yet. “Sure,” you agree instead, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you follow him out the door and onto the main street.
“How was work? Stopped working at the bakery, huh?” he says, and you just don’t get it. How is he being so casual? How is he acting like this is the first time you two have had a real conversation in months? How is he—you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he calls out your name. God, you really missed how it sounded when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”
You don’t even think before responding. “What do you think is wrong?” Cheol is standing a few feet in front of you and the look on his face is confusing…you can’t read it. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s confused, or if it’s because you just aren’t used to this, or what. Whatever it is, you don’t like it.
“I’m sorry,” Cheol says softly, stepping forward. You still don’t move. “I—uh shit, sorry—this,” he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “this is weird, you’re right I just, I don’t know—”
“Is there something you want to say?” Your eyes bore into his, and Cheol knows he can’t keep any secrets from you.
“I’m sorry.”
You nod. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he asks hopefully.
“What do you want me to say?” you ask with a shrug. “Sorry for what?”
“A lot of things. Everything,” Cheol admits, and your eyes widen slightly at his honesty. You pretend to glance down at your watch.
“Well you’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him truthfully, “and don’t have a lot of time.”
“I’ll come again!” he says quickly, holding his hands up as you’re about to walk towards your car. “When do you work? Tell me. I’ll come after every shift.”
“I work almost everyday.”
“I’ll come everyday,” he says with no hesitation. Your heart tightens. You a month ago would have said fuck no, but then trust me, trust me is echoing in your head again and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding.
“Mondays and Tuesday I get off at 6, Wednesdays at 9, Thursdays at…”
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You used to believe Seungcheol always lived up to his promises. When you were younger, you couldn’t think of a single time when he didn’t go by his word. You trusted him, always, so when he broke the promise of “we’ll stick together”—arguably the only one that actually mattered—you were shattered. You still are, or at least your trust is.
Right now, Cheol promises he’ll come see you after every shift. You don’t think you should trust him, but you do anyway, watching the clock to make sure he’s always here on time. You tell yourself you do it because you don’t like to be kept waiting, but you know deep down that you’re just trying to find an excuse.
You’re trying to justify your distrust, even though you already have a perfectly good reason for being tentative around Cheol. Somehow, whenever you’re with him, you forget about it all.
It’s awkward most of the time. Well, more like you’re awkward and Cheol just pretends you aren’t, acting all normal and like you aren’t stumbling over your words and blanking out mid sentence.
You’re not nervous, you just don’t know what to say, the words getting lost in your head as you wonder whether or not there’s a line and where it is and if you should cross it.
Today is the fifth day Cheol comes to see you after your shift. He comes in at 6:54 which is a bit earlier than usual, and it’s the first time that Joshua is seeing the scene unfold. As Cheol walks in, your friend throws you a careful glance before waving over at his friend and connecting fists as he hops over to take his order.
“Iced latte with—”
“I’m not here for a drink,” Cheol says quickly, putting his hand up before he can watch Joshus key in his usual order.
“Huh…did I miss something?” Joshua asks, checking his watch for any missed messages. You chew your lip and Cheol glances at you, realizing that you haven’t told Joshua that you and him are speaking again.
“Uh, no,” Cheol murmurs. He points at you and when he sees that you don’t protest, he proceeds. “We’re, uh, I’m just waiting for her shift to end and—” he stops talking when Joshua whips his head around to stare at you with a look of bewilderment.
You nod shyly, untying your apron as you make your way to the back room. Joshua follows quickly behind you, closing the door behind him while you hang up the garment. “What does he mean by that?”
“I dunno, Josh,” you say, because honestly you aren’t sure how to explain it either.
“Remember what you said?” he tells you—you know where this is headed, and you really don’t want him to bring it up. “You said you’d never forgive them.”
You did say that. “In a moment of anger,” you argue, grabbing your bag. You know he’s just being protective of you, but right now it’s getting on your nerves.
“And? You’re just going to forgive him because he drove you home when you were drunk?”
“I haven’t forgiven him!” you pause. “At least not yet.”
“You’re seriously going to forgive him after all that you said about moving on?”
“I have moved on, Joshua,” you tell him. It’s true. “There’s nothing wrong with letting him back in my life now, especially if he wants to.”
“And what if he fucks up again?”
You roll your eyes as you walk to the back door. “How’s that supposed to happen? Thought you said he and Yejin broke up?”
“They did, but that isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?” you ask exasperatedly. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. You’re acting like I don’t know the consequences of my actions. You’re acting as if I wasn’t the one who had to go through all that, so please just let me make this decision.”
Joshua steps back and sighs, and by the way he doesn’t say anything as you open the door, you assume he has accepted defeat.
Cheol meets you on the other side of the door, wearing his usual smile. You can only pray that he didn’t hear your conversation with Joshua. “Hey,” he greets and you nod in response. Well if he heard anything, he pretends he doesn’t. The truth is, Cheol hears every word, he’s just very good at putting a smile on his face.
You two walk out of the store silently and side by side. “How was work?” Cheol asks.
“Good. It’s most fun with Joshua,” you reply, walking on the sidewalk like you two usually do. You follow a trail down the street and through some parks for kids, always making a round trip back to your cafe where your car is parked.
The days have been getting shorter, and it’s evident by the way the sky is painted a deep orange right now. “Didn’t sound like he’s too happy today,” Cheol comments, and you halt your steps for just a moment, realizing he did hear you two.
“Uh, yeah,” you mumble. You two haven’t talked about that since you started speaking again. All the things Cheol said he wanted to apologize for were left suspended in the air, waiting for one of you to pluck it out and face reality. Neither of you were ever really good at that. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 
“I’m sorry you had to say that,” Cheol responds almost instantly, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face you.
Your eyebrows furrow when you respond, “What?”
“I mean, shit, I worded that badly,” he groans, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry that…you know—you said you’d never forgive me and I’m sorry. And I know you probably shouldn’t forgive me but I’m sorry.”
You certainly weren’t expecting that, but then again, you need to remind yourself to never be surprised when it comes to Cheol. You bite back the words, “it’s okay,” because you aren’t ready to say that, so instead you just nod. “Okay.” Your eyes glaze around your surroundings and they fall on a bench. Pointing at it, you say, “Let’s sit, yeah?”
You two sit side by side on the bench, and you think that this is the closest either of you have been in a long time, your thighs almost brushing against each other’s. The sky darkens above you, and you usually would take this as your cue to go back to your car, but tonight, you stay.
There’s a question that’s prodding at the back of your mind, and you chide yourself for even thinking about it. Don’t ask him, don’t do it, and you almost listen. Almost. You figure that the fact that you’re even here with Cheol right now is a sign that things are changing more than they already have, that you’re changing in ways that you didn’t know you could, and Cheol is changing, and he’s changing for you.
Cheol senses it too, that you’re thinking deeply, and he waits. When you’re finally lifting your head and looking up at the sky, he turns to you as you open your mouth. “How did you guys break up?” You can’t bring yourself to say “you and Yejin.” It’s too painful of a reminder that there was once a Cheol and Yejin, and that it came at the expense of you and Cheol and Yejin.
He takes a deep breath and hesitates, but you don’t retract your question. You feel after everything, you deserve to know, no matter how aching the memory is. “She cheated on me.”
“Oh.”
Cheol’s voice is flat for the first time since you’ve started speaking again. “Yeah,” he mutters. You purse your lips together, unsure of what to do, what to say. There was a time that you felt you knew all the right words, all the right things to do, but now you’re lost. Maybe it’s because Cheol has changed, but then—no, it’s not him, it’s you. You’ve changed. You thought you didn’t care, and that was true.
You didn’t care about what happened to Cheol or Yejin or them because they had left you and there was nothing after that. You didn’t care because caring wouldn’t help you get either of them back, and you didn’t care because caring only made long nights of you crying in your bed even longer.
But did you ever stop caring about Cheol? About Yejin? There’s a fine line, you realize, between caring about your relationship with someone and caring about them, and it hits you that not once did you not care about Cheol.
What would you have done if this had happened six months ago? What would you have said? You were never the best at words, but when it came to Cheol and Yejin, you always found some way to make them feel better. Looking over at Cheol, his head hangs low as he chews on his lip.
You reach over your hand and place it on his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry,” you tell him.
Cheol chuckles hollowly, causing you to frown deeply. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”
“We have time for that later,” you reply honestly, not breaking the contact even when he shifts a little, finally looking up at you.
“Later?” he asks hopefully. You smile and nod. This is a promise, you both know. Joshua is going to kill you for this later.
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“He got fired?” you snort. “Didn’t he say he could get away with anything?”
“Yeah,” Cheol chuckles. “And to be fair, he did get away with a lot. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t get fired months ago. He would give me and Soonyoung discounts all the time, it was crazy.”
“I remember that…” you say quietly.
“Yeah, anyways, he got fired and now he’s complaining about not having extra cash. Minghao’s telling him to just find another job but Hannie is convinced that he’ll be able to convince his boss to hire him back…”
“Knowing Jeonghan, he might just be able to pull that off.”
“Who knows,” Cheol murmurs with a shrug. “It’s late. Do you want to go?”
“Want me gone already?” you tease. Things are more comfortable now. It isn’t the same as before—how could it—but it’s getting there. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be “back to the old days,” but you sure are trying to get as close as you can.
“You know that isn’t true,” he shoots back. You trust him, and if that’s a mistake, you hardly care. Maybe this is where you start to crumble. “I’m just trying to make sure that it’s not too late when you get home.”
He’s being caring, although it isn’t unexpected. Cheol was always caring. “You’re right,” you murmur, not wanting to admit that you might have wanted to sit here and talk to him a bit longer. You stand up, grabbing your back and he follows after you as you walk up the street in the direction of the shop. You return back to the conversation of Jeonghan and his antics both in and out of the workplace, and before you know it, you’re back at the parking lot.
You’ve grown to look forward to these meetings—how could you not—and it does kill a little bit of self control inside of you every time you realize that fact.
“You gonna go now?” he asks softly, and as you stop walking, you let the tension grow thick. This part is always awkward. You don’t know if it’s fitting to say “bye” or “goodbye” or “see you later” or hug him or wave or—you usually settle for a smile but there’s a growing ache in your heart which tells you that maybe you want more.
Cheol seems to think the same, and it all happens so quickly, too quickly, and suddenly you’re going dizzy and your world is spinning.
Choi Seungcheol’s lips are soft.
And they don’t press against yours for more than a second before you place your hands on his chest and push him back. You almost indulge. Almost.
“Why would you do that?” you whisper, not meeting his gaze. Cheol runs a hand through his hair, steeping back with wide eyes.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—shit, shit, shit—I’m sorry, I’m so sor—”
You ball your fists and your face contorts into some ugly sort of grimace. “Stop saying that!” you cry out, and Cheol stills. “Stop fucking saying you’re sorry! I-I-I hate it!”
“What?” and the hurt is more than evident in his voice.
“I know you’re sorry, okay? I get it,” you tell him exasperatedly. “And you keep saying it—you’re sorry for everything, you’re sorry for all of it. It’s all you say, but maybe if you just stopped and thought for a second you’d realize that no matter how much you keep saying it, I have not once said it’s okay.”
He gapes at you for a moment but recovers quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I—” he pauses, “I don’t know how else to tell you. It’s been a few weeks and—”
“You didn’t speak to me for six months,” you spit out, and you wonder if this is what it’s all going to come down to. The past month of you figuring out your emotions, working out what you want, what’s good for you, what’s not—you’re afraid that right now it will all amount to nothing.
Maybe you two were in your heads too long. Maybe this was your harsh pull back down to the ground.
“Six months, Seungcheol,” you repeat, and he winces when you use his full name.
“I know, I’m s—”
“You’re sorry, I know,” you say quieter this time, slumping against the wall. His lips were so warm, so soft, you still feel their ghost on your lips. You calm down for a second at the thought, but then your anger bubbles up when you remind yourself that Yejin got to taste him too. Got to have him, love him, cherish him for those six months. Jealousy doesn’t suit you, but that isn’t what this is about anyways. Right now, all it does is fuel your heat.
“I just—I don’t know how to really say it,” Cheol admits.
“Well you should figure that out,” you tell him harshly. “I can’t stand here forever, waiting for you to find the right words.”
“You’re right, I know.”
“Do you?” you ask, exhausted. It’s all catching up to you know—you’re tired, so tired.
“I do.”
Do you trust Cheol?
“I don’t believe you,” your voice quivers when you say it, and Cheol feels his heart break at the sound. “I can’t.”
“I know—that’s my fault, I know.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m trying.” You know he is, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. Inhaling deeply, you choose your words carefully.
“We need to talk about everything,” you tell him slowly.
“Okay,” Cheol agrees quickly. “Okay, where do you want to start?”
“Where do you think we should start? I think that’s where we should start.”
Cheol sucks in a breath and pinches his eyebrows together. You can tell that he, just like you, is making sure he doesn’t say anything he’ll regret. “Well, the beginning, I guess,” he sighs, and you open your mouth in protest but he holds his hand out to stop you. “Okay just listen.” “Fine.”
“I found out Yejin liked me in January,” he tells you.
“That was a month before…” your voice trails off and he nods.
“Before we got together and…” And we stopped talking to you. He doesn’t say, doesn’t need to. “Yeah. Chaeyoung told me. Yejin didn’t know I knew until…”
“Until you started liking her,” you mutter under your breath. You furrow your eyebrows and look up at him. “You know I know this, right? Joshua told me when you told him.”
Cheol seems surprised by that. “What, really?” you aren’t sure why he never expected that—you and Joshua are pretty much like siblings, after all.
“Yeah. I think I knew before Yejin,” you admit. Your voice is small, and the way the entire event of six months ago is playing out in your head is a not so nice reminder of why you’re in this situation in the first place.
“Oh.” Silence. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You frown. “What was I supposed to say? ‘No Cheol! Don’t like Yejin! Like me!’” you say in a mocking tone. “Why would I do that to her? Why would I do that to you?” you were calm a moment ago, but you feel yourself growing upset again.
“I thought you—” Cheol thinks for a moment, wondering if he should say it, “—I thought you liked me.”
“I did,” you seethe out. “But did you think I was going to beg you to change your mind? To change your feelings?” Cheol is quiet now, and you take it as your cue to continue. “I…I cared about you and Yejin so much—” that’s a lie (you still do)—“and you should know that if you guys were happy I would be okay with that.”
“What about your feelings? Why didn’t you do anything about that?” Cheol shoots back, and it’s starting to sound an awful lot like your last conversation with Yejin.
“You claim you love him but you’re just willing to give him up like that? That’s pathetic. You are pathetic.”
You feel tears stream down your cheeks at the memory and you need to remind yourself that it isn’t worth crying over—but then again, it is. “I would’ve dealt with my feelings just as I have been for the past six months—by myself and totally fine.”
Cheol doesn’t have a response to that, because if there’s one thing he won’t even attempt to refute, it’s this. Because after everything, you have been okay. You have been healing. It killed him every time Joshua would tell him you’re doing fine, because he wasn’t doing fine and he was having a really, really hard time accepting that.
He knows it’s unfair, Cheol knows he’s being anything but fair, but he just doesn’t know how to help it.
It’s the worst that you’re crying now—crying ‘cause of him. Because Cheol knows that you were okay and it was him that decided to butt back in your life to try and make amends, and you being you, decided to let him back in and fuck—he knows he’s being selfish by doing all this and he know he doesn’t deserve this yet you are still here, trying to hear him out.
“I fucked up, I don’t deserve a second chance.”
You choke back a sob, “Damn right you don’t,” and Cheol knows that you’re right.
“I’m still going to try.”
You brush some tears away from your face. “I know.”
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You go home that night without another word, and Cheol only stops you to make sure you’ve stopped crying before you start the car and drive off. It’s the next day, and you can’t help but glance back and forth between the door and clock as your shift nears its end.
“You waiting for him?” Hyunwoo asks you from the side, and you feel a little bit bad at the way his voice sounds a bit sad.
“Uh—” Are you waiting for Cheol? “—I guess, yeah.” There’s no reason for you to deny it. You’ve replayed last night’s conversation more times than you can count, and you still aren’t sure how to feel. You need to see him.
As the time nears six, an uneasy feeling pools at your stomach, and you wonder what you’ll do if he doesn’t show up. End it for good? Add it to the list of reasons why you should never talk to him again? Block h—
The bell above the door ringing saves you from that rabbit hole. It’s 5:59 and Cheol waits in front of the door and for once, he isn’t donning a smile. Looking at Hyunwoo, you throw out a small wave before slipping to the back room. Hyunwoo doesn’t follow you, he stopped doing that after the first two times Seungcheol started coming, although you aren’t sure why. It’s a passing thought though, definitely not at the forefront of your mind as you hang your apron routinely and exit through the back door.
Cheol waits for you by the door and you don’t say anything as you both leave through the front. The atmosphere is thick and you aren’t sure who is going to say what and when. It’s only when you’ve walked around two minutes down your regular path that Cheol stops in front of that bench. Flickering his eyes towards yours for a moment of confirmation, he sits down and motions you to follow. You sit side by side and once again, you two are almost touching, but aren’t quite there just yet.
“So,” you finally say. “Where were we?”
“That night,” Cheol replies quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You glance over at him and can’t help but realize how…small he looks. You want to reach out and hold him for a moment, but you shouldn’t.
“What about that night?” you murmur. There’s too much about that night for you to even fathom what he’s thinking about.
“What did Yejin say to you? In the room?” he asks.
“Does that matter?” You seriously don't want to recount it, but then Cheol is nodding and you just have to give in. “She was mad…same reason as you,” you mumble.
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t like how I was accepting of it all,” you sigh, leaning back. “I think she just got sick of me,” you finally confess. “Didn’t like me anymore, and then she thought I was pathetic or something and used that as an excuse to just—I dunno, drop me.” You pause, turning to look at him again. “What did she tell you?”
You know you probably shouldn’t ask. It’ll be painful, you know, but you’re confident you can handle it.
“She said it couldn’t work…the three of us. That it was either me ‘n’ her or nothing, because nothing could go back to normal after this.”
You look down. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“You believed her?”
“Well, at the time,” Cheol murmurs, “Yeah I did.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.” Trust me, trust me. “I liked that she liked me. I liked her and I thought I was going to lose you either way and—”
“I said okay.”
“Is it okay?”
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “I beat myself up a lot for all that, you know? Wondered what she could’ve said that made you not wanna fight to be my friend.” You scoff to yourself. “I guess we both suck at that.”
“Huh?”
“You know: fighting for what we want,” you clarify.
“That can change,” Cheol says, clearing his throat. “I’m fighting right now.”
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That conversation is the first of many. One month later and Cheol is still fighting. It’s your birthday, and you aren’t surprised that he remembers, but you are surprised when he gets you a gift. A new apron. “Your old one is getting…well, old.”
You’re both sitting at the bench once again, and for the first time, your thighs brush against each other’s fully. It’s warm, it’s welcoming, it’s soft. Maybe you and Cheol haven’t finished crossing the bridge yet, but you’ve definitely finished building it. There’s time for the rest later. You want to focus on you and him now.
“I wonder why,” you say sarcastically, taking it out of the bag. “It’s cute—hey, is this my name?” you ask excitedly, holding up the little spot on the top with some letter embroidered in.
“Uh, yeah, it’s custom and all…I got Minghao to help me with the design.” You smile genuinely, turning to him.
“Thank you, I love it.”
“Thank god. Jeonghan said it was a stupid gift but I thought it was thoughtful…”
“Jeonghan once got you a rubber duck for your birthday, so I would take everything he says about gift-giving with a big fat grain of salt.”
“Hey, I still have that duck,” he tells you, and you both laugh together. “It’s in the bathroom, I only take it down for special occasions.”
“Special occasions being…?”
Cheol taps his chin. “Hmm…birthdays, the last day of school, Christmas…I’d like to think my luck is pretty great whenever I use it.”
“Is that so…” you hum. “When was the last time you used it?”
“Like two days ago.”
“Nothing special happened two days ago.” That’s a lie, and he sees right through it.
Cheol smiles smugly. “I know. It was just right before I came to see you.” Your cheeks burn as you turn away.
Two days ago being the last time you and him talked about all of it. From beginning to end, just like you had so many times before except for the first time, you were finally able to utter the words, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”
“Right…maybe luck really was on your side then,” you tease.
“Whatever,” Cheol says with a pout, watching you glance at your phone. “Do you need to go? I thought you didn’t have anything planned?”
“I don’t,” you say with a huff. “I just saw that my birthday gift from my parents got delivered. It’s fine, I’ll pick it up when I get home later.” You ponder whether this is the right moment to bring it up. “You can… come along if you want.”
It’s almost as if his ears perk up. “To your place?”
“Um, yeah,” you try to come off as casual. “Only if you want,” you add quickly, and he picks up on the double meaning right away.
Which is how you end up here.
“Haven’t been here in so long,” Cheol murmurs, looking over your apartment. It’s the exact same, save for some pictures with Yejin and him that have since been taken down. He would have been upset about it a month ago, but now he is content. It only makes it a goal for him to take more pictures with you now so you’ll have some to put up.
“Mhm,” you nod, putting your bag down on your kitchen counter.
“Hey…” he says softly as you flick on one light. It’s dim, but there’s just enough light for you to see the worried look on his face.
“Everything alright?”
He chews on his lips and he looks pretty. “I need to know where your head is at right now,” he admits. There’s a lot of different meanings to what he’s just asked, but with the way he’s looking at you, you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to say. “I don’t want to misread anything like the last time I—the last time.” The last time he kissed you.
You look down at the counter. You brought him here for a reason, but are you ready?
Trust me, trust me.
Of course you are. With Cheol, you’ll always be ready.
So when he’s pushing you up against the wall, hands grappling at your waist, feeling his warm, wet lips against you, you don’t waste a single second thinking about anyone else. You don’t think about what Joshua will say, you don’t think about how Jeongyeon will react, you don’t think about the look on Yejin’s face if she were to ever find out about this because right now, it’s Cheol that’s in front of you, and it’s Cheol that will always be in front of you.
One leg around his torso, your mouth smashes against his in a tangled mess of tongue and lip and it’s desperate and has you aching for more. And then he’s leading you to your bedroom and you are reminded of the fact that Cheol knows this place so well that he doesn’t even need to ask for directions.
Throwing you onto the bed your mind goes blank—it’s as if all the happiness in the world rushes to you at once, leaving you all light-headed and disoriented when Cheol clambers on top of you, his thigh wedged between your legs.
With his fingers pressed deeply into your hips as he runs his tongue along your jawline,rocking  your clothed cunt against Cheol’s bare thigh, his gym shorts hiked up so that you can press your core as close to him as possible. Your breath is slightly labored as his lips press open mouthed kisses all the way down, and you feel yourself become increasingly needy at the way you can see the imprint of his cock against his shorts.
“Shit—you’re so—wait,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away from your burning skin to bore his eyes down at you. “Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling his knee back so there’s some space between you and him. Cheol doesn’t expect for your eyes to widen, hand shooting out and grabbing his thigh to make sure it doesn’t move another inch.
“Yes,” you gasp out, pulling his leg so hard that he stumbles forward a bit when you do, the hard muscle pressing back against your core. Cheol lets the initial shock of you being needy for him settle in, and suddenly he’s grinning and having one hand back at your waist, the other at your neck so he can tilt your head up and have better access to skin over your collarbone.
His fingers are rough and calloused as they slip beneath your shirt, pushing it up just far enough that your bra is exposed. Hovering above you, you watch through hazy vision as Cheol’s eyes dilate at the sight, swooping his head down to free one of your tits from the cup and catching a nipple in his mouth.
Your body jerks against his as he swipes a tongue over the hardened peak, and suddenly you feel that there’s too much fabric between you and his thigh. “Ch-cheol,” you mutter, tapping at his head that is currently burning beneath your shirt while he sneaks kisses all up and down your stomach, between your tits, and over your cleavage.
“What is it, baby?” he coos, pulling his head out and looking up at you, the pet name shooting shivers up our spine.
“Pants—ah—” you whine when he presses his thigh harder into you. “Pants!” you cry, trying your best to unbutton them with shaky fingers. Cheol picks up right away, helping you unzip them before hooking two fingers on the waistband and yanking the fabric down and over your feet, freeing yourself and your pussy of its unbearable restraints.
“Fuck, this is—you’re so hot,” he murmurs, looking down at your bare legs and tracing his fingers from your ankles to your knees, and then finally through your inner thighs where he bends down and starts to place rough kisses.
Usually, if he was in his right mind, Cheol would have wanted to take his sweet time with you, unraveling, unwinding all of you. But he’s figured that both of you have waited long enough and that you both deserve to be needy, to be desperate, to let this moment pass as quickly as it started because there will be plenty of time for a round two and three later on.
All you need right now is to feel each other, which is how he ends up pushing your panties to the side and digging his tongue into your dripping folds without warning. “Cheol!” you moan loudly, your hand gripping his hair tightly while he simultaneously wraps one arm over your hips, pulling you closer.
Seungcheol is going crazy, he thinks, because the taste of your pussy is better than any alcohol he’s ever drunk. You’re sweet and your cunt is literally fluttering its pretty fuck folds all for him as he slides one finger through them to collect your growing wetness. He feels himself growing high on the feeling and taste alone, his own hips pressing into the mattress in hopes of relieving some of the tension in his own pants.
There’s a slobbering mess that runs down his lips and chin as he fervently makes out with your pussy, and you briefly wonder how a man can be so good at making you feel this good before the thought is swept from your mind by one of Cheol’s thick fingers prodding at your entrance.
Holy hell, you’re so tight for him—gummy walls clamping down on his single digit the second he started to move it in and out’ta you, his mind racing as he thinks about how you might feel around his cock. And Cheol isn’t the only one thinking about it either, because when he’s slipping in another finger, you’re already crying out for more.
“I gotta work you up to it baby,” he tells you sympathetically, using one free hand to shove down his pants leaving him in only a shirt and boxers.
“Don’t wanna wait…” you protest with a pout, eyes shamelessly looking down at his figure hunched over you so you can catch sight of the imprint of his cock against his boxers.
Cheol chuckles, even though he’s on the brink of giving in himself. “Take your shirt off for me, yeah? It’ll save us some time.” That’s all you need to hear before you’re sitting up and yanking the stupidly tight shirt over your head and throwing it to the side as Cheol’s fingers continue their onslaught deep inside your cunt.
It’s less of an in and out motion now, and more of a curling motion that’s exploring you, finding out what makes you hum, what makes you moan, and what makes you go—“Oh fuck, Cheol!” He grins at the sound, leaning down to press a kiss on your clit as he pulls his slick fingers away.
“You wanted more?” he murmurs, slipping his own shirt over his head to reveal the familiar set of abs and toned chest. You let out a dazed smile at the sight, letting your body fall back onto the mattress.
“‘course I do,” you reply without hesitation, watching eagerly as his hand holds the waistband of his boxers and pushes the cloth down, revealing his cock all thick and hard as it springs out and hits his abdomen.
It’s long and it’s thick, and it’s nothing less than what you expected from Cheol, in fact, it’s a lot more than that. But you don’t even have time to think about how pretty his cock looks, pink tip all flushed as a thick vein runs down the side of its length, because it’s pushing against your entrance as he watches your face carefully.
When your eyebrows knit into a convulsion of pleasure and you squeak out his full name, he knows he can't hold back, slamming into your drooling cunt in one go.
And his cock is so big it’s pushing you open, but the pain is so good, so enthralling, that you don’t even mind being split in half if it’s like this—if it’s because every time he pulls his hips back, you know he’ll slam it deeper and deeper every single time, hitting spots deep inside of your cunt that you didn’t even know existed.
All while your limbs are flailing around him, thrashing as you bite into his shoulder, muffling your cries of, “Cheol, Cheol, Cheol!”
Your name falls from his lips too, mixed in with the mindless words of, beautiful, pretty, princess as he compliments you for takin’ him so well and squeezin’ him so good he doesn't know how he hasn’t bust already.
“God, fuck,” he moans when you look up at him through heavy lashes, tethering his boto m lip between his teeth to try and slow his impending orgasm. “Fuck,” he chokes out, “shit—I love you—”
And there is your breaking point. Like the world has come to a stop and there is only you and Cheol and this moment and—god, you really are too far gone now—and him and you is all that matters.
You cum like you never have before, his cock battering your cunt ‘til you’re shaking and crying and yelling out his name as you feel nothing but him, think nothing but him, know nothing but him.
This is the moment you’ve both been waiting for, and as soon as Cheol has noticed your slower breaths he’s pulling out and letting you wrap one hand around his fat cock to help jerk himself off. He’s so close—so fucking close—and then you’re whispering those fated words—those three words—he feels everything in him just snap, hot cum shooting all over your swollen, abused cunt, and Cheol feels his heart swell.
Love.
There’s a lot more you need to work on, you both know that, but it’s okay.
Trust me, trust me.
I love you.
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a/n. literally wrote the last part half asleep and i hate the ending but... okay wow … i had a tough time writing this because i really wanted it to be taken slow and i’m not really sure how well it went … also this story might have been a bit a lot of a reflection of a friendship that went wrong in my own life LOL so this might be me playing out how i wish things ended up :/so anyways please sharing ur thoughts and like and reblog!
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starlightsuffered · 2 months
Text
Sperm Donor
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Info - unprotected sex, trying to get pregnant, jealousy, teasing, finger sucking, breeding kink, a little bit of hard Dom
“Positive?” Timothée asked Hopefully as I opened the bathroom door. I shook my head sadly.
Timothée and I had been married for five years. We had finally decided we were ready for kids. The issue was, I wasn’t getting pregnant. We had been trying since his birthday and nothing.
“No,” I sighed.
“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” Timothée said mournfully. He wrapped me in his arms and petted my hair.
“Maybe we should use a sperm donor,” I said jokingly.
“Excuse me?” Came the harsh response.
“Yeah, since you can’t get me pregnant,” I said casually. I could sense his jealousy and anger. For some reason, I wanted to poke this sleeping lion.
“Y/n,” Timothée growled. I secretly loved when he got this way.
“You jealous?” I asked. This was all I needed to say. I was thrown against the wall and kissed. I put my hands I. His hair and moaned.
He was stripping me all while one hand dove into my panties. He was rolling my bud of pleasure and I couldn’t help but jerk a couple times.
“Baby, I’m your husband,” he purred.
“But I’m not pregnant,” I responded just to get it rougher. He slapped my cunt.
“Are you saying you’re not grateful for my cum?” He asked.
“Load after load, but I’m not with child,” I said in a sing song voice. I knew this would piss him off. I was right. He threw me over his shoulder.
I was on the kitchen table, bare and displayed. Timothée was eating my pussy. His mouth was inside me. I was so wet and heady.
“You’re delicious, you sure I haven’t made you the bearer of my child?” He asked.
“Test says no,” I gasped out. Timothée made a face. He was on me in a second.
He entered me and began to fuck me like an animal. He was shoving his cock so deep inside me. He was even laughing. He was treasuring my desperation.
I lifted my legs and pressed them to my chest. He kept them there. He held my legs down. He kept fucking me wildly.
“You ask me if I’m jealous?” He asked as his long and hard cock was slamming into me.
“Of course I am. I am your fucking husband.”
“I-fuck, oh, fuck, Timothée,” I wailed.
“You want a sperm donor huh?” He asked me. I tried to answer but he shoved his fingers into my mouth. I suckled needily. My eyes rolled back in my head. He was going at me like an animal.
“As if you’d ever touch someone else’s sperm, you’re a fucking addict to me,” he chuckled darkly. I groaned. He took his hand away from my mouth.
“Mmmm, wanna suck,” I said in a pathetic voice.
“I thought you were thinking about sperm donors,” he teased me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I gasped out. I couldn’t make words come out. I felt so good. I felt my toes curl. He lifted one of my legs so he could hit me at a deeper angle. My leg rested against his shoulder.
“Say it again. Say my sperm isn’t good enough,” he egged me on.
“Just, fuck, wanna be, oh shit, pregnant,” I squirmed.
“Oh you’ll be pregnant, I’m gonna breed this fucking cunt,” he growled and punctuated his words with thrusts. I was panting. Just those words leaving his mouth made me wetter.
“Breed,” I begged.
“That’s right princess,” he smirked.
“Breed me,” I pleaded.
“Yes darling,” he agreed. He bent over me and continued to slam in balls deep. He kissed me sloppily. Saliva was everywhere as our tongues met and caressed one another.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” I whined.
Timothée was massaging my sensitive breasts. His cock was buried inside me. I could feel him twitching as he possessively fucked me.
“What’s wrong with my sperm?” He whispered in my ear.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” I breathed.
“So you don’t mind if I dump my big load inside you?” He purred.
“Oh fuck, oh yes, please do it, breed me,” I moaned.
“Good girl!” He cried out. He began to shoot ropes and ropes deep inside my fertile womb. I was shaking with my own orgasm. We were both shaking and moaning as I was filled. He was still going, fucking his sperm further inside me. We were kissing again. I wrapped my legs around his waist so that he didn’t pull out.
“Let’s go again,” Timothée gasped. “Gotta fill you to bursting. I want to make you full.”
“Yes, make me round. Give me all your cum.”
Sure enough a couple days later I registered as pregnant. Timothée was so proud of himself he bred me all over again.
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sameschmidtdiffname · 8 months
Note
Can I get a Derek Danforth x shorter Male Reader where reader is like the only person Derek cares about. Reader is very cuddly but Derek isn’t big on PDA but when they are alone Derek loves holding the reader in his arms.
If not it’s ok!
OFC YOU CAN!!!
I had like fifteen different drafts for how this story could go and I couldn't make up my mind until literally last night, thus why it took so long. I hope this is okay!!!
Tangled
Derek Danforth x Male! Reader
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Summery: The holidays are a miserable time of year, especially when ones mother won't even talk to them to let them know she's not coming, sending Derek into a breakdown and wrapping you up in the process.
Tags: No use of Y/N, short! Reader, hurt/comfort, mommy issues, drug use (marijuana), arguing, breakdown, banter, comedy, injury, eventual fluff, holiday fic. (I don't give a fuck that it's Febuary, shut it.)
Notes: honestly I was HYPED when I saw this request. I fucken GOT YOU babe and I am so sorry it took this long. I hope this was worth the wait <3
•°○《▪︎☆▪︎》○°•
I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest; who likes the holidays?
The decorations are nice. The food's better. But in the matter of family and visitation, could anyone honestly say they liked the whole routine? Picking who to see, booking flights, trying not to lose yourself in a bottle of liquor that you bought on the way to their house.
Maybe not every detail is the same, but you get the general idea.
"Please sit down," I begged Derek, watching him pace the floor. All week Derek had been in a mood, which isn't totally uncommon I will admit. But usually he could be coaxed out of it, sweet words whispered in his ear finally bringing him off whatever edge he was ready to fling off of and convince him death was for another day. This week however was different, Derek always tapping his foot, glaring at something. And pacing. Neverending, always thinking, lasts through the night pacing. I was beginning to feel sick from the anxiety, and my mood was making Derek even shorter in his.
"I'm fine," he snapped.
"You're clearly not," I said. In his hand he gripped his pen, clicking it to life with five rapid clicks before taking a long pull like he couldn't breathe without it. "Derek."
"I said I'm fucking fine."
"I have never seen you as more of a mess, will you please just sit down for one moment?" I pleaded, shifting closer to the edge of the plush loveseat kept in front of our bed. "I'm worried about you."
He wants to snap. His jaw is tight, teeth gritted as he spins on the heel of his black, pointed boot, mouth opening as he begins to point one finger at me. But the minute he actually makes eye contact the edge drains, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhales his smoke, bags appearing under his eyes. Derek had a reputation for being a hard-ass, but when we were alone and I grabbed his attention, his demeanor would shift into one more gentle, more honest. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he finally crossed over to me, sitting beside me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
"I'm fine," he said quietly, tucking my head under his chin. His hand strokes up and down my back, his heart still pounding but beginning to calm as the smoke begins to work into his bloodstream, allowing him to focus on me more than his thoughts. His cologne compliments mine, smelling mostly of cinnamon to match the winter season. The silk material of his red shirt is soothing against my skin, little silver snowflakes decorating it. Always a pattern with him.
"Is it your mother?" I asked quietly. He stiffened, his heart rate picking back up against my ear.
"I don't want to talk about this," he said quickly, beginning to pull away. I gently grab his arms, making him look down at me before he can close off once more.
"We've been together for almost a year and you won't say anything about your-"
"I said I don't want to talk about this."
"We have to talk about this at some point or you're going to have a giant fit and I won't be able to help you."
It isn't meant as an insult, but I hear it as soon as the words come out. Derek's eyes narrow into slits, bitterness seeping through.
"Fuck you. I don't throw fucking fits." He pulled away quickly, the battery of his pen glowing as he took another hit, long and deep, blinking rapidly to show he's hit his limit.
"You are on the cusp of one right now. You're in denial," I said concerningly.
This time he really is about to snap when someone knocks on the door, popping her head in to announce dinner will be ready shortly.
"Is she on her way?" Derek asked the redheaded assistant, blowing his smoke out through his nose, hands on his cocked hips. The woman presses her lips together tightly, glancing between the two of us before speaking.
"I haven't heard anything from President Danforth for a few hours, sir," she finally said. Derek sighed deeply, looking down and pinching the bridge of his straight nose as he taps his foot at impressive speed.
"Thank you," he said quickly, not meeting anyone's eyes. She takes the opportunity, quickly nodding at me and ducking out of the room with the quick click of the door, leaving us alone again.
I simply stare at him, hands folded on top of my lap as I wait for him to say something, do something. When he goes to take a third blinker, I finally stand.
"Don't you fuckin' dare," Derek warns me, holding out his palm.
"You are going to get stoned to the point that you'll fuck up this dinner the you have been worried over for the past week. What the fuck is wrong with you?" I hiss, stepping closer.
"There's no fuckin' point, she's not coming," he said, shrugging harshly and scoffing.
"And that bothers you. Will you just admit that?" I said. I step closer, close enough to reach for the pen, but I wait, letting him narrow his glazing eyes at me first.
"What is your obsession? You want me to break down? Cry? You wanna fix me, huh?" His tone is harsh, paranoia settling in as he takes a step towards me. "Whatever savior shit this is, I'm not taking."
I snatch the pen quickly from his grasp, only to have his hand grab my wrist without any real thought. Derek towers over me, gripping me tightly enough it hurts.
"Drop it," he growled.
"No," I growled back.
"I'm not asking."
"Tough shit."
"What is your-"
"Derek." The snap does something, my voice bouncing around in his ears as he glares at me, but releases my wrist nonetheless. I step away quickly, tucking the pen into the inside pocket of my evergreen blazer. "You'll get this back tonight," I tell him, not looking back. Derek mutters under his breath, brushing past me to exit the suite. Fine. Let him hate me. See if I care.
Derek never liked public affection in the first place. Growing up in a house with a politician for a mother he was hyperaware of all the right and wrongs to a public reputation. I think he also just had no desire to be seen as any kind of vulnerable in a crowd. But tonight it's different. Tonight there is a tinge of hate with the distance he creates, and my side feels cold without him. With each step forward he takes five back. People filter in and out of each room, some I'm sure just here with a friend of a friend for the free food. But if there's anyone I never see through the passing hours, it's Derek's mother. I can see him checking his phone every five, three, then every other minute.
It was a touchy subject. Derek loved his mother, adored the ground she walked on. And when she would visit him or welcome us over to wherever it was she was staying it was obvious she loved him too, allowing him to get away with things most mothers wouldn't. But her head was always in work, her eyes always scanning a document with a pen in her hand to sign off on anything at any given moment. There were times we'd spend the visit gathered in silence lest she retreat to an actual study, claiming she could not focus with our chatter. Derek loved his mother, but it was obvious he was neglected by her too.
He'd been planning the party meticulously. Ordering dozens of sample just for garland, asking my input on plates. Yes, Derek was known for throwing elaborate and wonderfully tasteful parties, but if he thought his mother would be in attendance he would go the extra mile, not sparing an inch of detail and making sure that it was so perfect she'd have no choice but to attend.
Problem is, Madame President has many choices for her perfect Christmas party.
It isn't until the clock strikes ten and security begins to push people out that he finally locks eyes with me, the hate draining and giving way to the exhaustion underneath. He disappears through a doorway, and I follow after him, watching his snow white suit that matches my shirt perfectly work its way quickly through the endless halls as I chase him down the rabbit hole. Oh yes, don't think I escaped his scrutiny just because I'm a living being. I didn't even know we'd have complimenting outfits until I stepped out of the shower that morning while he worked on a cigarette, waving it around between his fingers on one hand with the hangers in the other and a phone pressed between his shoulder as he shouted something in Spanish at the poor assistant on the other line.
He doesn't bother shutting the bedroom door behind him whether he knows I'm following him or not. But when I gently push the door shut behind me, finally turning away from him, I feel his warm body press against mine from behind. His arms wrap around me, one around my waist and the other around my shoulders, alcohol thick on his breath as he buries his head into the crook of my neck. His hand finds my hair, burying his long fingers in it as he takes a deep inhale of the pine scented cologne dabbled on my neck. His body is heavy against mine, swaying slightly from exhaustion.
"Hi," he says softly.
"Hi," I say just as soft, reaching up to find his curls. I smile slightly at the feeling of his fried ends, tainted from overprocessing. "You wanna talk?"
"No," he maintained. But his voice cracks, and the collar my shirt is starting to feel wet. Not to mention his arms are shaking.
"You wanna not talk on the bed?" I ask him.
"I'm fine right here," he says in a broken voice. But when he softly sniffles and takes a tiny gasp for air, he's finally done in and dragging me towards the oversized bed, not bothering to actually open the canopy as he flops himself down onto the lush, green and gold duvet.
"It's fine, I'm fine," he insists even though he's dragged half of a gold chiffon curtain down and around him and he's too high to figure out how to get it off. "She has meetings, this happens."
"Yeah, well. It happens a little too often," I say gently, trying to help him before he gets this thing wrapped around his neck. In his vulnerable and understandable fit he's making this curtain situation much worse, actively reweaving whatever I untangle from him in his blind confusion.
"I mean, I get it. Running the country, having a conversation with your own son, it's fine," Derek hiccuped as he gestures his hands like scales weighing the options, one drastically higher than the other. His face is as red as his shirt, large tears streaming down his face as he paws uselessly at the fabric. He swipes frantically at them, clearly becoming frustrated at being unable to control his raw emotions. "I mean, priorities shift so what the fuck am I complaining about?"
"Honey, I think you're sitting on it."
"What?"
"The curtain."
Derek moans inconsolably as he throws himself against the bed, taking down the rest of the gold chiffon and covering us both in the material.
"What does it matter?" Derek cries pathetically. "I could hang myself with this and she'd have a fucking meeting in Germany!"
"Your mother would come to your funeral," I say softly, stroking his hair as I press my lips together, letting him heave out his sobs. He brings a bundle of the fabric to his face, bunching it up and sobbing into it before raising his head once more for another comment.
"Probably have a flood in Uganda day of. I'd fuck up my own suicide day," he snaps to no one in particular.
"No you wouldn't," I say, continuing to run my hand through his hair. Derek sinks into the golden bundle once more, curling in on himself like a child. Then suddenly his eyes grow cold again.
"And the fucking appetizers were cold!"
The comment is so out of left field that a short laugh escapes me, my hand immediately covering my mouth. I instantly feel awful, looking away as I try to compose myself from the dramatic change in complaint.
"Don't laugh at me," Derek snaps. "I paid good money for those."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, that was just a bit random. Would you like to get off of the curtains you also paid for?" I ask him softly, fighting the fit of giggles his hateful eyes inspire to continue. I try to wrap my arms around him in comfort but he moves away in irritation. Or tries. This curtain is keeping us pretty close, which only adds to the whole thing.
"No," he says as he finally gives up. He crosses his arms in irritation and huffs, but after a long moment and a glance at my bemused face he moves to get the curtain off of his own. "Yes. Get this off of me!"
"Okay, I'm coming."
"Where the fuck is the end?"
"I told you, I think you're sitting on it."
"Your mother is sitting on it!"
"Let's not bring anymore mothers into this-"
We struggle in the cocoon of chiffon, twisting and turning in the same and opposite directions, both of us bickering over who has what and who's preventing our freedom.
"This shouldn't be fucking hard!"
"Quit moving, you're making it worse."
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you!"
"Hang on, I think I-"
With a forceful tug I pull the end out from underneath of Derek. Unfortunately, Derek had shifted himself to move off of the end at the same time, leaving me to fling off the side of the tall bed and hit the lush rug underneath that hardly cushions the oak floor with a loud 'thud' that makes the artifical blond gasp.
"Fuck! Are you okay-?"
Derek scrambles to the edge to look down at me, but he's too high to realize he's overshot his position and sends his larger body crashing on top of mine, making me cry out as I break his fall.
"Eat a salad," I groan, curling in on myself as I try to catch my breath.
"I did, that's why I'm the tall one." Derek and I are once again tangled in the curtain, laying on the floor in a pile of limbs and half of Derek's face is burned from the rug. "Are you okay?" He asks worriedly, looking over my body for obvious injury.
"Have roses at my funeral," I cough, clutching my stomach.
"Rose's are cliché."
"Rose's are fucking iconic."
"If you have basic taste, then yes."
"I don't mix snake and cheeta."
"It's French."
"Then get fucking cheeta print rose's."
"Don't be hysterical."
I shoot him a look and finally he manages a laugh, wiping at his nose with the cuff of his blazer and smiling.
"Maybe I'm a little hysterical," he offers.
"I think I have a concussion."
"Oh, you don't have a concussion," Derek says dismissively. He cups my cheeks gently, his soft hands forcing my eyelids open wide as he checks my eyes. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, you have a concussion."
I laugh, pulling him close and keeping my eyes closed to keep from getting sick.
"Mister 'I Don't Throw Fits,'" I tease.
"I can just not take you to the hospital."
"Bitch."
"Cunt."
"Dickhead."
"Fuckface."
"Fashionably handicapped."
"Poor."
Derek finally figures out how to free us from our prison, pulling away the fabric and looking down at me from above with a gentle smile on his tear stained face. "You've got good bone structure, though," he says.
"It's my daddy's," I tell him.
"I don't remember buying you that."
I smack Derek's chest playfully, groaning as I try (and fail) to sit up. "You're awful."
"You love me," Derek says softly, sitting beside me. The statement is true and meant as a playful reminder, but it's the way his bloodshot eyes still glisten with leftover moisture that makes me cup his face. Or try. I can't see.
"I love you," I say softly.
"That's my chest."
My hand moves.
"Knee."
My hand moves again.
"That's my dick."
"Jolly good friend," I say with a squeeze and overexaggerated British accent. This knocks the last bit of sorrow out of Derek, making him laugh loudly as he finally lays down beside me. He wraps his arms around my smaller frame, pulling me close to him as he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
"I'm sorry,' he says softly.
"We really do need to talk about your mother at some point," I tell him, stroking his arm that lays across my chest.
"I know." Derek's voice is soft, his fingers playing with one of the buttons on my blazer.
The silence is sweet, the sound of Derek and I's breathing the only sound in the room. And the slight ringing in my head.
"I think you need to call someone," I tell him.
"My problems aren't that bad," Derek says in a hurt voice, moving to look down at me.
"For me."
"Oh!"
▪︎《•☆•》▪︎
I'm going to be so fr, I haven't watched 'The Beekeeper' since it was in theaters so if the mommy issues are inaccurate that's on me. But y'know what it works better for his character so it's °~*accurate to meee*~°
Taglist:
@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3
Masterlist
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loviingpedri · 11 months
Text
they caught us - p. gavi
prompt: gavi x gamer!fem!reader. hard launching your relationship on stream
warnings: cursing, grammar issues
credits to owners for all images.
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inspo for this story ^^
-
you were a growing streamer. big in the minecraft and riot games community. you appreciated your fans from the unconditional support. ever since being an exposed barca fan, your platform definitely grew. content was trending to the point where you met the one and only, pablo gavi. his simple message of complimenting you building camp nou in minecraft ended in a few date nights, a lot of kissing, and some risky nights. your fans wanted some player in barca to notice you, but little did you know that you spent your nights with your dream barca player everyday.
exposing your relationship was not in your agenda any time soon. it was the peak of your gaming career and gavi had big plans for the national team. the internet would practically blow up from the news. both of you were not ready for that amount of personal space to be invaded.
it was that time of the day to start your daily stream. it was a good balance of work and relationship. start your stream when gavi is at practice, and end it when he’s at home to solely focus on him.
“hello, hello everyone! welcome to today's stream." waiting a few seconds as more people started joining. “today will be a minecraft stream. i’m thinking of making the barca logo.”
reading the comments blow up by the mention of the club is probably the funniest thing you’ve seen.
“change your shirt on the minecraft skin the jersey of your favorite player. i love that idea, but i don’t really have a favorite player. maybe i’ll do xavi or something.” lying isn’t the best thing to do to your supporters, but personal business is personal business.
after playing for hours and halfway done with the logo, you hear the door opening. “one second guys, i think my roommate is home.” roommate meaning your boyfriend. the plan is really thought out. your best friend occasionally popped into the streams, pretending to be your roommate, and it works. thinking you muted and turned off your camera (which happens often), gavi walks into your gaming room.
“hi gorgeous,” walking in and instantly kissing you made both of you smile. “are you streaming?”
“yeah, i am. i was building the logo. i can show you later when i’m ‘done greeting my roommate’.” making quotation marks with your fingers.
“yeah i’ll sit over here. i’ll just look while you continue playing.” you blew a kiss at him as you put your headset back on.
“alright guys, i’m back. did i miss anything?” your eyes tried to keep up with the chat. it was going faster than usual. you thought it was a raid, but nothing was happening. everyone was going crazy. finally, a donation came through with a message.
read aloud from the automated voice, “viscabarcaaa_11 donated $10 with a message. 'was that gavi you just kissed?’” fuck. gavi quickly sat up from the seat. you realized your camera and microphone was never off. your eyes panning from screen to screen in panic. speechless, you turned red instantly.
you were kissin’ and they caught you whether you like it or not.
you cleared your throat, still don’t know what to say. gavi unplugged your headphones from your pc tower to be able to hear what was going on. he urged you to get up. you had no idea what he was doing, but you just listened.
sitting down, he spoke slow and steady. “hello everyone. this was a very unexpected thing for you. not to mention, an unexpected plan from us. y/n and i have been seeing each other for a few months now. it wasn’t really planned for us to be revealed this early, but thank you for supporting my girlfriend. i am glad to get this off of our chest, because i’ve been wanting to show her off.”
playfully pushing him to the side, “okay thank you for attending this stream, see you tomorrow. love you guys.” making sure you ended the stream fully before giving off a sigh.
“looks like i can show you off now.”
“okay, that’s enough fame for you.”
————————————————————
author’s note: this story has been sitting in my drafts for months and i’m deciding to complete it on a random weekday.
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royalsweetteaa · 2 years
Text
To be claimed
Pairing: alpha!Johnny Storm x omega!reader
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WARNING - the following story contains: sexual themes/tension, A/B/O verse, tiny bit angst, fluff, talks about mating/bonding, P in V sex, knotting, scenting, kissing/biting, brief fingerfucking, dirty talk, jealousy, slight possessive behavior, pet names.
Summary: Johnny wants you to bond with him but you hesitate to go through with it, - for whatever reason.
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Second person POV
You and Johnny were taking a walk around the park on the weekend, spending time to unwind from an intense week. You were walking behind Susan and Richard, who were going into a discussion of where to spend their vacation this summer, which left you and Johnny to talk for yourselves about whatever was on your minds, - in this case about being claimed.
Richard and Susan were newly mated, their mating glands freshly bitten and swollen. Johnny hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the pair since then, - admiring how his sister had taken the next step with the science nerd of the bunch.
“That could be us, you know. Claimed and bonded, just like these two lovebirds. Haven’t you ever thought about it?” Johnny asked, intertwining his fingers with yours in a tight grip.
You swallow and shy away, lowering your gaze to ignore Johnny’s blossoming bonding fever. “Of course I have..” you reply meekly. “But I think it’s too soon, don’t you think?”
Johnny narrowed an eyebrow, unsure of why you thought so. “Why would it be too soon? We’ve been together for almost two years now. We’re in love, - clearly meant for each other. I don’t see why we should wait..”
He was right. You had known each other for years and Johnny had for two years been in a committed relationship with you, leaving his bachelor lifestyle behind. He had never given a reason for you to doubt him, so why were you so hesitant?
You shrug, removing your hand from him and stalling while being unsure of what else you could say to move past the topic. You had managed to brush it off whenever Johnny brought it up, but now it seemed to be occupying his mind more than any of the previous times, and he was looking for answers.
The silence was worrying Johnny, and he stopped as his face fell when he realized there had to be a reason behind it. He reached for your hand again, and you let him take it as you faced him.
“Talk to me baby,…there’s gotta be a reason why you won’t bond with me…not to mention why you won’t let me claim you.” Johnny trailed, his tone reeking of fret. “Is there something I’m doing wrong? Am I not good enough of an alpha for you?”
Your eyes widened at Johnny’s questioning. “No! No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just…” you were thinking over the right words to use before you spoke, causing you to halt a little, “- You know bonding is a very big step, right? It means we’ll be mated for life, and…that means if you ever change your mind, we will have to remove them…which is a dangerous and painful procedure. I don’t…- I want us both to be sure about what we want before we take that step.”
“Baby,…I’ve never been more sure about anything my whole life. I want it. I’ll always and only want you. I want to be claimed by you.” Johnny stated while searching your eyes. When yours still didn’t meet his, he continued, “I know I used to have a very non-exclusive life style in the past, and I’m guessing that’s making you doubt me…that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re scared I’ll go back to my old habits.”
“I…” you gave up your sentence by the first word and let out a defeated sigh. “Maybe…”
Johnny’s mouth fell shut as he held back from expressing despondency as a first response. “I get it,…it stings a little but I get it. I’ll keep proving to you that I’m all yours until you full-heartedly believe it, firefly.”
Seeing your alpha hide how upset he was through his usual toothy grin made you feel sad. The omega in you was crying for you to change your mind, - let your trust issues disappear.
Having the Human Torch as your boyfriend wasn’t the easiest with how his fan girls showed little to no respect to your relationship. It was as if you didn’t exist when you stood there, witnessing them crowd Johnny so desperately.
You weren’t angry at him for being flattered and letting his ego get stroked after being surrounded with so many admirers. He was a hero after all, and you weren’t about to get jealous of the praise he gets for being one. The only thing that bothered you was the smell of other omegas that would linger on him as they pushed themselves onto him for wanting a selfie, or when they were shooting their shot with a flirtatious pick up line with their hands all over him.
It made you incredibly jealous, even if Johnny put actual effort on pushing the omegas away. It would end up with you turning possessive. Johnny had made it clear since day one that he was only your alpha, but it wasn’t always easy to remember that with how involved he was with other people, and how the lingering omega scents gave you doubts of Johnny’s commitment.
Taking all of that into consideration, it left you feeling unsure of taking that big of a step.
“I’m sorry, Johnny…” was all you could say. You felt incredibly guilty for admitting you were scared, but Johnny was always one to reassure.
“No, no, it’s whatever.” Johnny shrugged the matter off easily. “Like I said, I get it. Hell, before we started officially dating, I used to say how I would never commit cause it wasn’t ‘my style’…fuck, how dumb I was to create that kind of reputation. I don’t think I would have gained it if you were in my life earlier, but it is what it is. I’ll wait for you, as long as you need, okay?”
You were about to speak up, - say something uplifting to make him feel better, because you knew his mood had been brought down even when he was hiding it so well. It was all too late when Richard disturbed your space, introducing the topic of their upcoming mission to Johnny.
Perhaps it’s better to lay it to rest for now, you thought.
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A week passes by since that discussion, and it’s an evening of another fancy party celebrating worldwide icons, - in which of course the Fantastic 4 were mainly guested to partake.
You were dressed in your glittery blue dress, with shiny silver accessories decorating your neck and ears. Meanwhile Johnny dressed up in a dark red tux with a golden chain hanging on his neck, a perfect contrast to your appearance.
You were about to leave out to the public together, when before you could make sense of it, Johnny had pulled you back into the corner of the hallway, making you yelp at the quick and unexpected act. You had only seen a glimpse of camera flashes coming from the main entrance right across the room before you were out of sight again.
Johnny was already on you before you could question him, keeping you against the wall while he was pressing himself against you.
“Johnny, w-what are you doing?” You asked, flustered as he kept on gliding his nose along your collarbone, inhaling your scent deeply.
“Making sure I reek of your scent, and you of mine. It’ll push the omegas away from trying to hit on me.” Johnny explained, and you could feel his smirk as he hid his face by the crook of your neck.
He grinded against you and licked a stripe on your mating gland, making you shiver with ecstasy.
“Ever since the first time I caught your scent and saw you, - I was whipped. Now I don’t want anyone or anything else.” Johnny purred his confession in your ear, and it made you close your eyes while taking in his touches.
“J-Johnny…” you whined the alpha’s name, your fingers tangling in his hair as you held him equally close to you.
He snickered in response and pulled away when he thought he had gotten enough. “Sorry, I’m being a bit of a tease, aren’t I? We’ll have our fun when we get home, but the party has just started. We can’t miss out.”
You pouted, but understood that now was not the time to get down and dirty. He pulled you with him out of the corner and you were already surrounded by paparazzi and fangirls outside, though this time there weren’t nearly as much omegas jumping at him with how close he held you against his body.
The omega in you felt a sense of pride when you saw the disappointed pouts. Johnny smelled ‘taken’, - almost as if he was claimed with how he had thoroughly rubbed your scent onto him.
For the first time, you went through a party together where no opportunities arose for others to flirt with your alpha, and you felt content about that.
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The night ended far too quickly, because you had enjoyed yourself so much this time. Johnny was also more enthusiastic and upbeat, and when you had asked about it he responded in the most endearing way possible.
“Cause you look so happy and carefree, firefly. Makes me feel good that my girlfriend is having a fun time at a party.”
Yet again Johnny had said something that would stick with you the entire night.
When the party had died out, and you returned to your suites, Johnny was already all over you, ready to break through the sexual tension you had going all evening.
Johnny pulled you to bed behind him, allowing you to collapse on top of him when he laid down on his back. Your dress was left on the floor, leaving you in the expensive lingerie Johnny had bought you not too long ago. Desperate kisses and love bites were exchanged non stop, keeping you almost distracted from dropping the big bomb you had wanted to share with Johnny. Almost.
As your lips finally detached for air, you stared into Johnny’s eyes, lust clouding you with heavy bonding fever.
“Johnny, I thought about what we talked about a while ago, - about bonding and…I think I’m ready.”
His eyes popped out at your proposal. “What? Like…you want to bond? Like right now?” He asked as he sat up with you still in his arms.
You nodded shyly while cupping his face. “You’re a good alpha, Johnny. You’ve proven that so many times already and yet you do so much more to further prove it. -
I want to be your omega permanently.”
Johnny’s face darkened slightly as his grip was beginning to claw on you. “Omega…if this is a prank you’re pulling on me it ain’t funny.”
You laughed at his serious pout, shaking your head to deny his claim. “I’m not, alpha. I promise.”
He grinned widely, and eagerly pulled his shirt off, revealing his unmarked mating gland as he moved his head to the side.
“Mark me first, omega.”
It stunned you how he was easily offering to have himself marked first by you, an omega. It went against tradition as alphas were typically always the first to claim under the ritual, but times have changed and you had found a wonderful alpha who was willing to go on his knees for you before you reached the ground yourself.
“Really? You’ll allow me to do that without even negotiating?” You asked for more clarification.
He smiled adoringly at you, “It’s all I want, baby. Even if you aren’t ready to be marked yourself, I want to belong to you. I’ll be your alpha before you become my omega.”
Your heart swelled at his words. Finally you had let yourself agree and trust the omega in you. He is the right one for me. He is the right alpha.
“I’m already yours,…we’ll go all the way, - together. I’m serious when I say I’m ready to be marked.” You said, and you found a comfortable position on his lap with your thighs widely spread, your butt grinding on his groin. He groaned audibly, his eyes resting as he felt your heat. The smell of your arousal was radiating, making his cock twitch with excitement.
Your lips met as you began grinding against him harder. A whine barely escaped his mouth, the sound being muffled as you barely let his lips move anywhere else from yours. His hands were holding firmly on your hips, as if to make sure you cannot escape this moment and change of your relationship. You wouldn’t want him to have second thoughts either.
His cock was fully erect, straining against the briefs of his trousers by the time your tongues danced with each other. Johnny was flushed, his cheeks red as his eyebrows knitted, showcasing his pleasure.
“Make me yours, omega…” Johnny pled, and your heart fluttered for it. You ground against him, Johnny’s leaking cock soaking through as it ultimately moistens your underwear.
You kissed him once more before you leaned on his neck where his unclaimed mating gland is, ready to be bitten by you. His breath hitched as his hands pressed more firmer around your waist, not wanting you anywhere else.
Your canines sink into his mating gland, and he whimpers as his nails dug into your flesh. You mewl in response, your arms clinging around him as you finally claim your alpha, gifting you the bond tied between the two of you. You lick his wound before giving it a kiss, and when you pull away you are met with his eyes, fully dilated.
“I can feel you…” he murmurs through a heavy breath, “I can feel your emotions through the bond…feel how badly you want to be fucked, omega…can feel how much you want my fucking knot…fuck, this is amazing..”
Your face grows red with everything he tells you. He smirks with the reaction he receives, and takes the opportunity to flip you over to be beneath him this time.
“I’m going to fuck you hard and make you whine around my fat cock, baby. Then when I swell, I’ll claim you, - Make you mine the way you made me yours... “
You swallowed, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through you. You were so, so ready.
His trousers are off before you can make out of the process, but he takes his time on pulling his boxers off, just to tease you as he always does. You bit your bottom lip when his erected cock came into view in front of you, your cunt couldn’t help but pulse at the sight.
You whined, “Johnny, you better pound me with your dick the next 3 seconds or I’ll go crazy -“ Cutting your sentence, a finger was shoved into your core, making you yelp out a moan.
“Greedy girl…” he murmured in your ear as he lied over you, close again. “I know you’re desperate but I’m not going anywhere, baby…I’ll make my teasing worth it for you.”
After thoroughly fingerfucking you, he slot his body closer between your thighs, aiming his length directly into your pussy.
Johnny already snaps his hips into yours and drives in balls deep with one forceful thrust. He sucks in air as he whispers, “Always so tight…so perfect for me, omega.”
He pistons into your cunt, already ripping an orgasm out of you as your pussy oozes out juice. Your eyes are rolling back as he keeps going, taking what he needs in order to reach his climax. You don’t mind him taking control at all, already craving to cum around his cock soon again with the special awaiting finale to the round.
“Alpha,…my perfect alpha…” you whispered in his ear, making him growl lowly as his canines became visible. He was incredibly tamed for being an alpha, which was unlike him as he was rather impulsive. You can’t count the many times you thought he would mark you through instinct, but he proved you wrong each time, - just like now with how he didn’t claim you right away as you had claimed him.
“Fuck! Omega, m’close…wanna claim you as I cum. Will you allow me to do that, omega? P-Please let me..” he purred his request. “Mmh, you smell so fucking good, I can’t keep myself off you, omega..” he added through a lustful groan as he kept his face buried under your neck.
“Mmh, W-Wanna be marked and knotted so bad, Johnny…ahh, - please, do it!” You pled with need.
His knot began to swell and he was left to repeatedly push in what was getting stuck inside to receive friction. With a loud growl, he sunk his teeth into your mating gland, making your whole body jolt as you howled from the sting of pleasure and pain it caused.
“Love you, omega..” he mumbled against you when he retracted his bite, licking the bruised up skin. His body steamed as he came inside, his load of hot temperature, making you really feel what was happening inside of you. He licked the skin from any blood, before giving the sensitive spot kisses. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never ever.”
You smiled. “Love you too, alpha..” you murmur back softly, rubbing your nose against his collarbone as you let yourself feel what the two of you had manifested. A deeper connection unlike any other is what you had welcomed. It felt unreal but so good, you could almost forget the stingy pain on your shoulder blade.
“Mine..you’re all mine now.” Johnny growled, almost possessively as he kept you pressed underneath him, locked together. He was more feral now, revealing his typical alpha possessiveness which was normally just an undertone whenever he was a tiny bit jealous.
Your hands tightened gently around his back, not wanting to be anywhere else but close to him at this very special moment. He kept himself inside of you even when his knot deflated, but flipped you around to have you on top of him as you cuddled. Your head laid on his chest, his purring more audible to your ears, but it was music to your ears.
You finally felt complete, and it was all thanks to Johnny, - your forever to be mate through your bond.
“Yours…”
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A/N: Finally, out with some writing after what, 1 and a half month of just nothing? It feels accomplishing to say the least!
Hearts & Reblogs are always appreciated! <3
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The Wedding
Y/N is stressed planning for their wedding and Harry can’t seem to do anything right.
Warnings: angst, sad ending, explicit language
Word Count: 1.2k
Y/N gazed at the bling on her finger, the stone catching in the sunlight. It had been 6 months since she had said yes and wedding planning was in full swing. Of course with Harry being CEO of one of the largest Fortune 500 companies in the world, their wedding was all any of the tabloids were talking about.
Harry and Y/N. London’s power couple. There were now less than 2 months before the big day and Y/N had everything under control. Well… she thought she did. Y/N sighed and rubbed her temples as she stared at the seating chart, a massive binder beside her. A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of her as Harry kissed the top of her head before sitting down next to her.
“Y/N. You’ve been staring at those charts for the last two hours. Why don’t you take a break?” She raised an eyebrow before taking a deep breath.
“Take a break? Are you kidding me? Our wedding is in 2 months Harry. And the seating plan still isn’t finished. I still haven’t bought my dress, you haven’t been to get a tux and we haven’t booked the flowers. We haven’t booked the flowers Harry!” He chuckled before tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“It’s going to be fine Y/N. Ok let me help. We can have our parents seated together on table 2… wait. Your mom isn’t on this list?” Y/N sighed as Harry looked up at her quizzically.
“I don’t know if I want to invite her. We still haven’t worked out all of our issues and I don’t need her coming in and running the whole show.”
“Why don’t you invite her for a visit? You need to work things out and I’m sure she would love nothing more than to be there for you on our day.” Y/N took a large sip of her coffee, shaking her head violently.
“Nope. No way Harry. I can’t deal with her right now. I’m stressed enough as it is.”
“But maybe if you tried you could-”
“I said NO Harry. Stop pushing it.” She turned her attention back to the seating chart, shutting him out completely. Harry watched her for a few moments before shaking his head and walking to the study. She’s just overwhelmed, he told himself. We’re going to be fine.
~
3 weeks later Y/N felt like she was drowning. She had found her dress but it was the wrong size since she had lost so much weight for the wedding. Everyone was getting on her nerves. Even Harry. Well… especially Harry. She heard the front door open then close and tore her gaze away from her planner to see Harry come in through the front door. Noticeably, without a tux. He leant down to kiss her hello, before noticing her annoyed glare.
“Everything ok hun?”
“Harry… where’s your tux?” Y/N asked coolly. His expression turned to confusion.“Y/N, what are you talking about? You told me last week to pick it up on Wednesday. It’s- he checked the date on his phone- shit. I thought it was Tuesday. Doesn’t matter, I'll just go tomorrow.” Y/N slammed her book shut before glaring at him once more.
“You can’t just “go tomorrow.” They’re closed for the next 3 weeks Harry. You won’t have time to make any adjustments if it’s wrong. God why can’t you just listen for once?!” She bit out frustrated.
Harry laughed dryly.
“Why can’t I just listen for once? Jesus Y/N, I have been listening to you for the past 6 months complain about each tiny thing that has gone wrong. Big deal. I forgot to collect it. I’ll go and get it when I can. Calm down.” Y/N stood up from the couch seething.
“Calm down? Are you fucking serious? I am so busy Harry. I have a company to run and the wedding of the year to plan. Have you seen these tabloids? I am so sick of all of them asking whether or not I’m having a baby because I seem to have ‘gained a little weight’ lately. I’m asking you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. What have you done to help me Harry? I am so sick of you.”
“Oh my god Y/N what the hell is wrong with you? It’s our wedding, it’s not the hunger games. No one is dying if it isn’t perfect. I don’t understand why you-” The doorbell rang, silencing the both of them.
Y/N stalked over to the door and wrenched it open.
“My baby!” Y/N spat out a mouthful of blonde hair as she was brought into a bone-crushing hug.
“I’ve missed you so much! And a wedding? When Harry called me last week to invite me, I just couldn’t believe it!” Y/N tugged out of the hug shooting a death glare at her fiance.
“Harry did what?” Lauren Williams beamed at her daughter, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“He invited me to the wedding honey.” She repeated patiently. Lauren moved around to give Harry a hug.
“I can’t wait to help you with everything sweetie. Have you chosen a dress? Can I see? What about flowers? Because they can be hard to-”
“Mom,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. “I just need to have a quick chat with Harry ok?”
Y/N dragged Harry to the spare bedroom down the hall to make sure Lauren couldn’t hear them.
“Ok what the fuck Harry? I specifically told you I didn’t want her here!” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“I thought it would be better for you guys to sort out your issues before the wedding but it seems like we have some stuff to work out ourselves.” Y/N huffed before crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yeah? No kidding. This is another example of you not listening. You don’t make an effort Harry and it drives me insane since I’m here fighting for this wedding. For us.” Harry snapped.
“Well if it’s so difficult for you then maybe we should call off the wedding! This clearly isn't working for us anymore! He yelled.
Y/N’s mouth snapped shut, her anger replaced with sadness. Her eyes glistened with tears and her bottom lip trembled.
“Are you… serious?” She asked quietly. “You just want to give up on us?” Because of an argument?” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration evident.
“One argument? All we do is argue! I haven’t had a single conversation with you that hasn’t ended with one of us screaming in the last 2 weeks. I don’t know what you want from me Y/N! I’m trying. I swear to god I’m fucking trying.”
“So is that what we’re doing then? Calling it off?”
“No Y/N I didn’t mean that. I just-”
“No, you made it pretty clear what you meant.” She let the tears fall freely now, dodging around him to get through the door, grabbing her purse off the table ignoring the confused look from her mother.
“Y/N, come back! We can work this out.”
“I have to get out of here Harry.” She rushes out onto the street, tears clouding her vision, her one goal being to get to her car. She doesn’t hear Harry screaming her name until it’s too late. The car hits her just as she looks up, but she’s unconscious before she can even feel the pain.
A/N: 🫠
Taglist:
@lukesaprince @intimacywithceline @styleslover-1994
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belli5 · 2 months
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Things fall apart — Niko Omilana
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Genre/warnings: angst, trust issues, reader is from Brazil in this story.
Summary: Niko constantly coming home late, never spending time with you anymore, makes you question if the relationship can move forward.
A/n: im so sorry for not updating, I’m not in my home country so also the Wifi is expensive asf 😭 sorry if there’s mistakes, rn I’m too lazy to read it through but once I’m not gonna be, I’ll read it through 😭
Masterlist
Niko constantly came home late, these past few weeks, you understood that he has a YouTube career with the beta squad and it’s completely fine, you loved all of them like they were almost your brothers.
You were also sometimes spending your time with them, it was so much fun. But when Niko started coming home late, you refused to believe that they were filming everyday and SO LATE.
You were fine by it the first days, maybe he did have to film late or something, but not everyday.
You had confronted him about it and he didn’t see it as a big deal. Today was a day he only came earlier than he always NOW did.
“It’s exactly what I mean. We haven’t spent a lot of time together, we haven’t made love, you haven’t took me out.”
“Niko, don’t you think we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately?” You ask him, as he watches the tv on the couch.
“What do you mean?”
“Well if you want I can take you out this weekend!”
“I don’t want you to take me out because I want to,” you sigh “I want you to take me out because you want to”
“I promise you, I wanna take you out. I will pick you up at 7pm, Saturday, if you’d like that?” He promises, his promises now meant nothing to you, but you atleast hoped he meant it this time.
“I’d like that.” You smiled at him
When Saturday finally came, you just prayed he wouldn’t cancel on you once again, it was now 5:30pm you started to do your hair, make up, and finally clothes.
You wore a tube top short summer dress in yellow (lol sorry if you don’t like, I thought it was cute asf) you wanted to look good.
When you got ready it was already 6:50pm, he said he’d be there at 7pm so, you didn’t worry at first. When it came to 7:10pm, you decided to text him, because if he isn’t taking me serious and always late, what’s the point of anything?
Neeeko 🤭💗
Where are you?
Are you coming to pick me up?
7:11pm
Yes, soon.
7:20pm
When?
You’re already 20 minutes late..
7:21pm
I know. Something just came up.
7:22pm
What came up so suddenly?
7:22pm
Niko, do you even take me seriously?
7:23pm
Of course I do.
Why do you think I don’t?
7:23pm
I wonder why.
7:23pm
Don’t be like that please.
We’ll talk once I get home.
7:26pm
I left him on read, he’s literally not taking me serious. I don’t even wanna see him anymore, he promised to take me out, he lied once again. I don’t even wanna know what he’s been doing that he comes home so late.
If he thinks that coming home late is normal and not even telling me why he’s been doing it, and doesn’t even care that he has a gf waiting back home, then why am I even here?
Niko came home at 8:15pm, I already changed back into black Nike wide leg sweatpants and into a simple oversized shirt to be comfortable.
When he walked into the living room and saw me into sweatpants, he questioned “didn’t you wanna go out?”
“Before yes. Now? I don’t want to.”
“Why?” He asks, he even had the audacity to ask.
“I don’t know. Maybe you wanna go and take out the people you’ve been hanging out with since you’ve been coming home so late always.” I say out of pettiness.
“What’s this all about?” He asks, “I’ve been busy with the beta squad.”
“Oh and you were so busy today, when you promised to take me out. And exactly today you also had to be late?”
“I’m here now. I still have the reservation.”
“You can stick the reservation up you ass,” I argued, “I don’t wanna go out with you anymore.”
“Come on,” he says, coming over to me “I’m sorry I came home so late.”
“A sorry isn’t gonna change anything.” You said, he came over trying to hug you, “Niko, don’t touch me.”
You went over to your computer searching in, Britishairways.com going to look for the soonest flight to Brasilia, back home.
“What are you doing?” Niko asks seeing that you’re searching for a flight to Brazil. Niko has been to Brazil with you to meet your family.
“I think it’s gonna be better for now.” You say, booking the ticket, the soonest one was at 10:20pm, which meant you had almost 2 hours more. You called an uber so you won’t miss the flight.
“What do you mean better?” He asks following you to y’all’s bedroom where you started packing everything you needed for the time you’re gonna be away. “Running away from our problem isn’t the answer.”
“It isn’t. But we need a break from each other. I’ll be back in 2 or 3 weeks, I don’t see us going forward right now.”
“I’m really sorry Y/N. I wanna fix this.”
“You should’ve thought about this, when I gave you signs that you coming home late is bothering me.” You said getting up closing the luggage.
He helped you carry the luggage down, “I promise once you get back, I’ll fix this..” you didn’t even know if you could trust him on this one, he’s promised so many times and that meant nothing. But if he really wants us to work out, he’ll keep his promise.
“That’s fine.”
“I love you Y/n, tell me if you need anything.”
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smileysuh · 1 year
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Fix You TEASER
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🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader
🔮 synopsis. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it, if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it, endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton. Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need… I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”
tw/cw. unprotected sex with an AI robot, virgin!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, Mingyu's body is perfect, hand job, blow job, deep throating, pussy eating, fingering, flavored cum, praise, breast worship, switchy/submissive!Mingyu, multiple orgasms, slight overstim, AI slavery/working philosophical issues, risk of AI termination/job loss, technically this relationship isn't very worksafe, etc...
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. will be linked on tumblr posting day
🍭 aus. automaton/ai au, ai!Mingyu, robotics behavioral researcher!y/n, wellness center, future au, Promethean theory, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. i was so excited when @idyllic-ghost announced this collab in @svthub. Had a great time creating this world and working with everyone through the Discord server :) The masterlist is coming out July 15, but find the list of creators involved here and join the taglist :) also shoutout to @idyllic-ghost for being my beta reader, it really helped
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It’s always kind of sad when you run a new level one automaton through their personalized wellness schedule. You’ve worked with all manner of high-class robots, from athletes to opera singers, but none of them have ever come into your program with the type of preexisting regimented day plan Mingyu has. 
You suppose it shouldn't be a shock that, as part of one of the biggest automaton boy groups in the galaxy, he’d had close to zero down time. When you show him the library and explain he should sit down in a spot of sun somewhere and read for an hour every day, at a slow pace, he looks at you like you’re crazy. 
“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help me,” he tells you, as you walk through the facility towards one of your favourite wellness locations; the pool.
“This might be an archaic example,” you explain, “but back when humanity first started making computers, laptops and such, many people would keep their computers on indefinitely. Sure they’d close the screen, but that’s not enough. You’d need to actually power down the device to keep its performance up.”
“I’m not a laptop,” Mingyu reminds you, with a flash of something like humour in his eye.
“You’re not,” you conceded, “which is why your nightly power downs aren’t enough. As an automaton, you were built to emulate being a human, but many people disregard one of the most fundamental aspects of humanity; the need for rest. Sleep and powering down isn’t enough if every waking moment is spent working or learning or practicing your trade- you have to allow for a variety of restful activities, such as reading, painting, gardening- it depends on who you are and your skillset though. For a chef, he might not gain rest from cooking because his neurons would still be firing with the intensity of someone doing their trade. Which is why, although I’ve given you physical activities such as swimming and tennis, you won’t be doing any dancing while you’re here.”
“What if I forget my moves?” 
“Something tells me the likelihood of that is very low,” you smile. 
“Okay, maybe I won’t forget my moves,” Mingyu sighs, “but I was made to dance. I was made to perform. What am I if not a level one dancer and singer?”
“There’s more to life than one’s job, however all-encompassing being a level one might be,” you explain. “I’m sure it’s very taxing on you.”
Mingyu pauses in the middle of the corridor you’re walking down, and you stop to assess him. 
“Are you alright?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he gives his head a little shake, and you’re shocked again at how human like the automaton is. “It’s just… no one has ever talked about this sort of thing with me. It’s always been work, work, work. It’s what I’m designed to do-”
“You may have been designed to be a dancer and a singer,” you nod empathetically, “but part of being alive is choosing your own destiny, as you and your bandmates all did when you escaped your facility.”
“Do you really think that?” he questions, standing very still and looking at you with a dark gaze. “That I’m alive?”
“At this point in time, artificial intelligence has progressed to the level where we’re told you’re sentient, that you can feel and think. That you’re as life-like as you’ve ever been in the history of the galaxy. You might have been created in a lab, hand-crafted and designed by some would-be God engineer, but to me, yes, Mingyu, you’re alive.”
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☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.1k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here
👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr this Saturday, July 15th
🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list
interact with a reblog/reply to guarantee a tag when i post the fic, tumblr has tag limits and my taglists already have most of the spots, so a reply/reblog is the only way for me to tag you
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Tagged by @thesingularityseries <3 thank you!!
Slapping a big warning on this and only tagging the NSFW list folks this week. I am sharing some of chapter 13 of Evening of Score which is basically Rory and Price dealing with the major argument of their relationship after he makes her torture someone using their wife and kid, which is a big goddamn issue with Rory. Warnings for: m!receiving handjob, dirty talk, emotional manipulation (but also Rory is used to this shit from Price, so she sees it pretty blatantly and is not fooled), piv sex, unprotected sex, honestly this is the ship at their most toxic but lessons are learned
*also this is such a long snippet, I AM SO SORRY, this chapter is like 5k words that keeps bouncing between them fighting and fucking*
“You gonna talk t’me again, love?” He asked in a low rumble, his own frustration setting in as he crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight between his feet. It wasn’t like her to bring her work home with her, but this instance had stuck. There was a shift in the paradigm. It twisted at her, digging into her whole belief system and choking the life from it like brambles. Her father’s words echoing in her head: a poor influence. He wasn’t wrong. She had forgone everything her mother and father had instilled in her – protecting others, helping them at their lowest. It was unforgivable. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the loss of what she was becoming. 
Scouring at her scalp with her fingers, she built up a frothy foam of bubbles in her hair – the lightest thing that existed on her shoulders at the moment. Working her jaw as she relented and finally spoke, “Eventually.���
The tension in her voice was palpable, the anger a very real force that lifted its ugly head as much as she tried to bury it. Her usual go-to of slapping on a smile and pretending as though she didn’t have a care in the world wasn’t holding, the exterior long since shattered as much as her will was as she came to terms with what she had been capable of. “This is ‘cause of the interrogation, isn’t it?” John’s voice remained firm, unapologetic in his requirements for the mission. Rory sighed, dipping her head back under the water, letting it cascade over her, washing her sins away and restoring her resolve as the soap circled the drain. Opening the glass door, steam poured out in a cloud around her, turning the air around them hot and oppressive as she stared him down with a glare that brooked no argument. “It’s not the interrogation – I've done a million of those. It’s the fact that I was made to cross a very real line I have set for myself. One – my darling,” the term of endearment having lost its sentimentality as she spat it out, “You are very well aware of. I don’t hurt children –”
“You didn’t,” Price interrupted, giving her a little shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t harm him or the wife.”
“Christ, are you listening to yourself, John?” Rory snarled. “Didn’t harm him?” She snatched the towel from the bar beside the shower and wrapped it around herself quickly. “He’s going to be bloody traumatized having been kidnapped and forced to witness his life, and the ones of those he loves, being threatened.” Wiping her arm across the bathroom mirror, clearing it of the film of mist, glancing at him through it, their eyes met in a battle of wills through a plane of glass. “We may as well have signed him up to join AQ ourselves – certainly gave the poor little bastard enough of a reason to do so.” Rory sighed, shaking her head as she gripped the edge of the sink counter. “We are going to be the enemy to him for the rest of his life after what we did. A very real monster under the bed… and maybe he’s fucking right.” She glanced over her shoulder, her furrowed brow held tight along with the purse of her lips in an angry pout, staring at the man she loved, not quite sure what sort of answer she expected from him at that moment. 
Rubbing at the back of his neck, his steely gaze locked on hers, trapped in a tug of war between the two sides of himself. One, The Captain, who did whatever it took, whether savory in his actions or not. A mindset trained into him to put the mission first, no matter the cost. The other, John Price, the man who loved the woman stood before him, who tried to be a better man for her.
“You know that’s what it takes, Ror. This fight is never gonna be pretty, it’s never gonna be clean. Blood on our hands, it’s what we do – I know you know that. It’s nothing new to either of us.” The muscle in his jaw clenched, a reminder of the hidden savagery he wore buried beneath his rugged features. “You’re angrier with yourself than you are with me. Don’t try and deny it. Worried about pissin’ off your father, betrayin’ some vision he has o’you. – and maybe you are, but he can sod off.” Before she could argue, Price stepped forward, collecting her chin and holding her steady in his grasp, the calloused pad of his thumb drifting tenderly over her plump lower lip, freezing her like a deer in the headlights. “Might make us monsters,” he whispered in a husk, “But we do the bad things so that the rest of the world only deals in the good. And, speaking for myself at least,” his voice hoarse with the admiration he held for her, head tipping to the side as he offered her a sly smirk, “Feel a little less like one when I’ve got you with me.” Her eyes closed, sighing heavily, as he pressed his forehead to hers, tipping her chin upwards to meet him in a searing kiss, apologies in each press of his lips against hers without ever uttering the actual words. Far too stubborn a man to concede openly – with John, actions always spoke louder than words. 
Pulling back, the fire still burned in his blue eyes, the torrid desire turning a sensual kiss into something more primal. His hand gently stroked her jaw down to her throat as if she were made of porcelain – despite the danger he willingly let her be thrown into – with him, there always seemed to be that fear he might break her, that he was forced to be gentle. 
“I might ask you to cross some lines, but you know I'd never make you do something that’d harm you, darlin’.” His voice kept low, an insidious purr, as his mouth traveled down the smooth column of her neck, his whiskers rasping against her flesh still slick from her shower. “You know I’ll always take care of you, my girl,” he murmured against her pulse. Rory’s hands curled around the counter of the sink, her knuckles shifting from red to white as she leaned her weight against it. The backs of her thighs pressed against the cool edge, her head rolling back granting him full access to her throat with a quiet moan. 
She hated this, the anger that still welled inside her, the way he denied her side of things. One of his worst flaws was his belief that he was always right, despite the evidence before him. She hated that he could make her feel so goddamn docile sometimes, so obedient. His good girl.
Price’s firm hand on her hip held her in place with an unyielding grip. Fingers kneading at soft, smooth flesh under the towel, dug in to leave a claiming bruise upon her. His body – heavy, dominating – was an iron embrace that never let go. 
“Christ, John,” she mewled, her arm coiling around the back of his neck, fingers splayed through short, cropped brown hair as his teeth scraped gently along her skin. A shiver coursed down her spine, the humid warmth of the bathroom doing little to prevent the goosebumps that scattered her body in the wake of his touch. 
A low chuckle rumbled from deep within him, vibrating against her. The surge of lust was undeniable, a force that pulled them together like two magnets. Gently grasping her wrist, he moved Rory’s hand away from his hair and guided it towards his stiff member, throbbing with want, strained against the material of his pants. "You and me, Rory," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire as she cupped him over the material, her fingertips gently caressing the outline of his bulge. "Trust in me, that’s all you’ve ever had to do." “You know I trust you, that’s the bloody problem,” she snarked while unbuttoning his pants, zipping down the fly with a fervor that was a testament to the devotion she held for him, one that had never faded after two years together and the crucible of bullshit they had faced throughout their careers. The anger still simmering inside her, just below the surface fueling the lust in equal measure as she tore his pants down his thighs. 
Cock springing free, he was eager to have her. Taking a deep, ragged breath, he pulled back slightly. "Look at me," he commanded softly, insistently. His darkened gaze daring her to deny him anything. “You can be angry with me all you like. Won’t change a damn thing, and you know that. This is our job, Rory.”
Hazel depths burned like the embers at the end of one of her cigarettes, holding within them a mix of rage and ardor as she glared at him. Swallowing thickly, her back to a wall, knowing full well this was what the man she was in love with was capable of, and always had been. Dangerous – confidently so – wielding power and secrets without a hint of a question in his purpose and with no remorse.
"Come here,” his command dripped with authority and laced liberally with carnal desire. Claiming her mouth once again, he took what belonged to him. His hand slid through her damp hair, carding his fingers. Grasping her chin, tender in his touch, he intensified the kiss. Their bodies pressed against each other, a declaration of their unbridled hunger.
Heart pounding in her chest, each rhythm matched the pulse between her fingers as they encircled the thick of him. The gentle friction of her soft palm against his hardness, the warmth of her hand enveloping him as he thrusted slowly, deliberately into her grip, bucking his hips with the same control over his body he showed on the battlefield. 
His breathing became rough as she tightened her hold, eliciting a low groan from deep within him. "That's it, love," he rasped, panting as his forehead pressed against her own, watching her hand pump against him in a fist. Gaze rolling up to fix on hers, whimpering with need, he searched for the reassurance he craved from her, to know that she was his entirely.
Eyes darkening with her own arousal, they reflected equal intensity in the black depths of her blown out pupils. Chest and cheeks left flushed, the same rosy shade as her pebbled nipples.
Thrusting harder, he reached up to cup her face. The calloused pads of his fingers brushed against her cheekbones and traced the curve of her jawline, his thumb stroking the edge of her lower lip, watching as her mouth opened slightly in response to his touch.
"Kiss me, Rory," he demanded gruffly, his voice husky with desire. 
Both needed the connection more than oxygen, breath hitching as their lips finally met and their spark so easily ignited. The kiss – deep, mirroring the carnal heat that radiated between them like white phosphorus, impossible to be extinguished. 
His hips continued to move, driving into her hand with a hunger that threatened to consume him, a hunger that was never truly sated when it came to her no matter how many times they laid together. Breaking the kiss moments later, his breath came in ragged gasps. "I need you," his voice a rough whisper. "Now."
Quick to grab the underside of her thighs, scooping her up into his arms, he lifted her onto the countertop, the cold sting of marble biting at her once more. Slotting himself between her thighs, his own muscular ones kept her spread wide open for him and with a quick move of his hand, her towel fell away and Rory was bared to him in all her glory. 
Large hands roamed over her supple skin scented with the subtle perfume of her vanilla body wash and he nuzzled in against her neck and wet locks of hair, luxuriating as he breathed her in, unable to get enough. "Mmm...you smell like heaven, my girl," he murmured, his words barely audible above the thrumming of their hearts. 
Price’s touch grazed over the sides of her waist, exploring the curves he had mapped out in his memory, moving to cup her pert breasts in his grip. He stood before her, savage jubilation in his eyes, making it staggeringly clear he'd do anything to keep her close – in bed, in battle, in life. 
The possessive gleam in his eyes would make a lesser individual wilt, but not her, Rory was made of the same stuff. That lupine smirk of hers pulled at her full lips, the predatory stare blatant in her eyes as they flared up at him, the amber in her depths flickering alight. Evidence of need coated her inner thighs, her slick folds awaiting him to delve within.
He moved then, swift and certain, the force of desire propelling him forward as he dragged her towards the edge of the counter, hands roaming with the expectant touch of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. The dance between them was as familiar as breathing.
Long legs wrapped around him, jerking him towards her with a press of her heels. Wrangling him. The rare occasion where she controlled the Captain with the tug of the leash he’d given her reign over, the shepherding dog submissive to his lamb. Pushing the ruddy head of his cock that bullied at her entrance into her, slowly, stretching herself open on him, her moan filling the space between them as her face contorted with pleasure.
Gripping her hips tightly, he thrust into her with the force of a man possessed. Each movement was proof of the passion that burned between them, an almost unbearable calefaction. His knees thumped against the vanity doors, the sound punctuating each forceful plunge. 
"Is this what you want?" His voice low and gravelly, the hint of danger in his words sending shivers down her spine.
Breath hot on her neck, his lips grazed her skin, each trailing mark from his mouth a promise of what was to come. Her hands clawed at his back, urging him on, leaving raw, red lines against the tanned canvas of his skin. “I want you to stop trying to turn me into you,” she breathed, a soft, shuddered whisper in his ear as he continued to fill her. His hips stuttered, freezing, halfway in and out of her. John’s piercing blue-eyed gaze bored into her as his jaw clenched – a nerve had been struck. “I’m not,” he growled. 
Eyes locked, captive in one another’s stare, she didn’t back down. “Don’t ever make me cross that line again, John.” It wasn’t a plea or a request, it was an order, a demand. She rarely asked much of Price, but after giving an inch and him taking a mile, putting her foot down was the only resolution. “Listen to me.” Gripping the back of her head, cradling it in the palm of his hand, his fingers coiled into her hair. “I have only ever done things with your best interests at heart,” he rasped, eyes boring into hers, willing her to remember the promise he had made to her in the hotel years ago. “It's never my plan to hurt you, I only ever want to keep you safe.”
“John, you asked me to use a child as bait…” Rory's eyes were glassy as she stared up at him, teeth clenched in a snarl as her words fell from her trembling lips, the guilt festering inside her. “And I did it,” she whispered harshly, “For you.”
His eyes fell for just a moment, an ounce of vulnerability shown by the man who normally remained steadfast and firm in his resolve. Price gave a heavy sigh before meeting her gaze once more. “In havin’ to deal with the Butcher, to find Hadir, I was forced to make a decision, love. But a decision – a hard decision – had to be made. Something I'm far too familiar with, eh?” He tried to force a little smirk, but it failed to reach his eyes, his fingers digging into the tender flesh at her nape as he clung to her, afraid to let her go.
“I'd never intend to put you in a position like that, not if I didn’t already know you were capable of it,” he said with a quick shake of his head, his brow furrowing, deepening the lines of his forehead. “I don't want to break you, darlin’. I know your limits, every one of ‘em, and I’d never push you any further than what I know you’re able to. It’s my job to know that, Ror. You're my best asset. My everything.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, his stare pleading for a forgiveness he didn't often seek. “You know that, my girl.”
NSFW taglist [opt in/out]:
@roofgeese @efingart @cloudofbutterflies92 @imogenkol @illmetbymoonlight
@inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @evvie-a @clicheantagonist @rc-dragons
@la-grosse-patate @direwombat @statichvm @cassietrn @lady-eudaemonia
@thedeadthree @voidika @mutantthedark @strangefable @simplegenius042
@writeforfandoms @heroofshield
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T_T
This is so touching!
I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this. But then I was like, I've already made them wait long enough, and what's the harm of posting two things in one day?
Felt it'd be nice to have Part 6 be a little less plot-driven. You'll see what I mean
-------
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
QPR, Part 6
“[Hero], come on!” the villain called, from where they laid sprawled on the couch. “You said it wouldn’t take that long!”
“Hold on just a sec.” The hero’s voice floated from the kitchen. “They’ll be done soon.”
The villain scowled and flopped back on the pillows. “You never see Do-yun making Ha-rin wait around forever.”
“That’s because tv shows have this magical trick called the jump cut.” There was the sound of an oven door closing. “We'll just let them bake, and then they’ll be so good you won’t even remember the wait.”
The villain groaned.
Then they heard the sound of running water, and burst up, rushing into the kitchen. “Are you doing my dishes?!”
The hero jerked their head up like they’d been caught vandalizing. “I was just going to do a few while we waited.”
“Okay, one, you do not need to do my chores on k-drama night. And two, how long is the baking going to take?!”
The hero glanced to their phone on the counter. “’Bout fifty more minutes.”
The villain gaped. “That’s most of an episode!”
“Well I didn’t want us to have to pause the show during a big scene. This way we can – Jesus your hands are freezing!”
The villain had come up behind the hero to hug them, pressing their hands on the hero’s stomach.
“Come watch tv dear,” they said into the hero’s shoulder. “I’m cold without you.”
The hero shook their head, but also cracked a small grin. “You’re evil.”
The villain matched their expression and pressed their hands more. “Of course I am. It’s the only way I can get you to cuddle me.”
In the end, the brownies were, in fact, good enough to make the villain forget why they were annoyed in the first place.
---
“Oh my god,” the hero said.
The villain fidgeted. “Do you like it?”
“Like it?” The hero looked up. “[Villain], it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The hero was holding a small fluffy teddy bear, its fur the black, grey, white, and purple of the asexual flag.
The villain beamed. “Really?”
The hero nodded gleefully. “He needs a name.”
“I think the tag says its name is ‘Fuzzy’ or something. You could – ”
“Ferdinand,” the hero decided, assessing the stuffed animal. “Ferdinand Bearnsby. The next Prince of Denmark.”
The villain wrapped the hero in a hug. “I’m so glad you like it.”
---
“So is [Villain], like, a law-abiding citizen now?” the hero’s friend asked.
“Uh, sort of?” The hero gazed around at the restaurant’s outdoor seating area. “They still break minor laws, but I think they’ve really toned it down to stress me out less.”
“Hey, that’s great.”
The hero swirled their iced tea with their straw. “Yeah, I guess.”
The friend quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t agree?”
The hero sighed. “Okay, so don’t ever tell [Villain] this, but I think their ‘devil may care’ attitude is maybe, kinda . . . a little bit cool?”
The friend grinned. “Oh really?”
In return, the hero’s smile was sheepish. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I secretly wish that they’d behave more like their old villainous self sometimes.”
“Hm, well I suppose that – ”
Something enormous crashed into the street, making all the dishes clatter. The hero and their friend both whipped their heads around to see the cause of the noise.
“[Villain]!”
“Oh hi [Hero]!” The fifty-foot tall mech waved at the two of them. “Fancy meeting you here. How did you know it was me?”
“[Villain], why are you in a giant robot?!”
“Isn’t it cool?” The villain spun around, their heavy feet cracking the pavement and the machine's hinges screeching with every movement. “I finally figured out how to get the power system working.”
“This is illegal.”
The villain laughed. “Ah okay, I see the issue. But, fear not my darling, for I have” – they pulled out a sheet of paper that looked miniscule in their enormous metal hands – “a permit!”
Soon after, the mech continued walking down the street, while the hero followed them, shouting at the top of their lungs.
The friend watched them go, and then chuckled. Those two maniacs were perfect for each other.
---
A-spec stories taglist:
@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer , @taramacgay
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hotluncheddie · 2 years
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stop being a goblin and let me kiss you
part 5
˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚
‘fucking steveeeee harrington. fucking i just like hearing you talk about it eddie. i like listening to you eddie. i’m actually amazing and perfect in every way eddie. no no don’t mind me i’ll just make your heart melt out of your ass with how sweet i am and then give you a boner like it’s nothing and then act like these are all none issues for you and you’ll live to see another day!’ eddie grumbles, kicking a rock into the dark recesses of the trailers underbelly.
he shoves his toe into the hole the rock left and glances back at steve’s idling car.
steve is looking somewhere distinctly below eddies eye-line, mouth a little slack. but when he notices eddie looking he perks up, waves like they haven't just spent the last four hours together, like eddie didn't just get out of his car.
fucking dork. you’ve fallen for a dork munson what is this? who are you?.. a fucking ex jock dork.. who listens… and is kind and hot.. and was just looking at your ass.
ugh. ugh!!
eddie stomps closer to the trailer.
the little angel version of himself appears on his shoulder. christ not this guy, always bad advice with this one. 'he likes you, you like him, what's the problem?' little angel eddies little white wings flutter, his little halo glints. eddie growls to himself, yeah what is the problem? maybe the problem is that it’s steve. it’s steve and we’re eddie and that just isn’t gonna fly!
thankfully the little devil version is on the other shoulder. now this is the guy he normally gets good advice from, stuff he can follow.
'the problem is that this is steve harrington'
exactly little devil eddie! 'exactly!'
'and he probably has a big dick and you do not know how to handle that.'
oh my god.
'oh my god' eddie mumbles, scrubbing and hand over his face, tugs at his hair. little devil eddie leans on his little pitchfork, making a very obscene hand and cheek gesture.
'better to big dick than not dick at all right?' angel eddie is not helping. not helping!! ‘plus it’s steve! we know steve! he’s nice!’
and eddie softens, arms slack at his side because yeah, steve is nice.
he thinks about how steve would come see him at the trailer all the time because he was always over at max’s helping. about how he really did mean it when eddie could rent on his employee account so they could watch together and save eddie the money. or how when eddie was in the hospital, all tubed up feeling like day old baloney, steve managed to pull a little smile out of wayne, asking him about eddie as a kid and who he’s rooting for in the series.
god, fucking, damn it!!
eddie takes a deep breath. rubs at his eyes so he sees the red goo of his brain.
…come on munson. we promised ourself. no more running.
whirling around eddie bounces on his toes, fist gripping the front of his tee. says a little too loud and a little strangled. ‘you don’t, uh, you don’t wanna come in for a bit do you?’
steve jumps, getting out the car and locking it quick, dipping to smooth his hair down in the side mirror before strolling over to eddie. he spins his keys around on one finger and follows eddie up the little stairs to the trailer door.
lifting one arm up to lean on the doorframe steve looks at eddie who is very interested in his shoes actually, could do with a clean soon.
‘this where the magic happens ed’s?’
that makes eddie look at him.
dumb, pretty boy.
eddie lifts his hand, flourishing it so it looks like he produced the door key from behind steve’s ear. ‘you were here two days ago steve.’
steve stands up straight, looking at the key in eddies hand. ‘how did u do that?’ he looks so serious eddie can’t help but snort.
‘cute.’ poking steve in the chest eddie opens the door, holding it open and sweeping his arm to let steve through first.
little angel eddie and devil eddie fly in front of his nose and high five. disappearing with a cartoon 'poof'.
eddie sighs. follows steve fucking Harrington inside.
˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚
part 1 (eddie) part 2 (steve) part 3 (eddie) part 4 (steve) part 6 (steve) part 7 (eddie)
(ty everyone who read this!! sorry that they won't be coming out consistently i am very much treating this as a fun thing to write when it comes to me so yeah. luv u mwah!)
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renee-writer · 4 days
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Love Comes First Chapter 9
AO3
She watches him struggle at his desk. Open Bible, and commentaries, and his notebook in front of him.
 
“I thought you had your sermon.” He looks up at her voice.
 
“I did it is just… I want to expose him,” a quick shake of her head, “not directly but those like him.”
 
“Will you be preaching out of rage?” She steps fully in, resting her hands on his tense shoulders and starting to massage them. He sighs and rests into her embrace.
 
“I am trying not. Rather out of love and maybe a bit of sadness. It is hard Claire. Real hard. I am so angry.”
 
Her head rests on top of his and her eyes drift shut. “Yes. Me too. For Tabby, Sarah, Jane, Nelly. And all the ones who we don’t know about. The thought of anyone…” she swallows hard, “God Jamie.” He stands and draws her into his arms. They hold each other.
 
“I know. We will see to those God puts before us. We will pray for those who we don’t know about.”
 
“And you will build your sermon on exposing the evil that is all around us.”
 
He nods against her neck. “Aye.”
 
“Mama, why is Tabby sad? Is it the coming baby?” To Leah, every bad thing in her life is due to the child that will displace her as the baby.
 
“No, that isn’t it,” they have discussed how to address this with the younger children, “her mate, Sarah, is having some problems in her family.”
 
“Is that why she doesn’t come over as much?” Leah is a bright and observant child.
 
“Yes it is.”
 
“I will pray that she will start coming by more so Tabby will feel better.”
 
“Thank you darling. You are a good sister and will make an excellent big sister.”
 
“Aye. Aye.” She rolls her eyes as she walks away but she is grinning.
 
“She will forgive you.” Faith tells her. Tabby lays across the bed head down.
 
“Her family is broken. Her mam had to go back to work. Jane is in child care after school.”
 
“All better than what was happening continuing.”
 
Faith and James were both furious at the news. He is buried under the jail, eh?” being James response. Faith wept, angry tears something she only does when she is fully irate.
 
“I know… it is just.”
 
“Give her time. She will need you.”
 
“It is better that a millstone be placed around your neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea then to harm one of these little ones.” It is a dramatic beginning to his sermon that has the congregation’s attention.
 
Usually he starts with a joke or a personal story. There is no smile on his face as he stands before them.
 
“We know all sin is equal in God’s eyes but, in our humanity I think we can agree that sin committed against a child ranks up there with murder. To exploit the innocence of a child…”
 
“That was an intense sermon Brother Jamie,” John says as they talk after, “all is right with your children, I pray.”
 
“Aye, a mate of theirs. It is being dealt with it is just…”
 
“Yes, evil is increasing it seems.”
 
“Do we need to discuss this issue with the youth?” Fergus asks the same day.
 
It is an excellent idea. “Aye, let’s get some ideas together.”
 
“We need to talk about it with Peter and Leah too.” Claire says when they discuss Fergus ‘ idea later that night.
 
She is right. He knows it. It is just… “ Aye. I hate that we have too but you’re right.”
 
“I loath it and the people that make it necessary. That we live in a world where grown men do horrible things to little children.” Her voice rises at the end before she bursts into tears.
 
He holds her against his chest as she weeps stroking her hair and saying Gaelic phrases of comfort.
 
“Righteous anger, eh. We are allowed it. Jesus isn’t just grace and mercy but justice and vengeance.”
 
She sniffles and wipes her eyes. “Vengeance to Him but justice that we can help with.”
 
“Aye and protection. Starting with talking to the weans.”
 
“Yes. After school tomorrow.”
 
They sit side by side on the couch. Both rest their hands on Rollo, who lays at their feet.
 
“We need to talk to you guys.” Jamie starts out.
 
“About the baby?” Leah asks.
 
Her mama shakes her head, hiding a smile behind her hand. Serious subject and she doesn’t want to confuse them but Leah’s obsession with the coming baby is amusing.
 
“No baby. You know that Tabby is upset about her mate?” Jamie asks them both.
 
“Aye da.”
 
“Well, her dad was mean to her and her sister. They had to take him out of their house.”
 
“Did he hit her?” Peter asks with a frown. He has always been taught that lasses are to be protected.
 
“No,” he looks to Claire who takes his hand and squeezes it. He takes a steading breath and continues to the hard part, “No, he touched them under their knickers.”
 
The children share a look. “But, that is a bad touch!” Leah calls out.
 
“Aye it is.”
 
“If anyone does that to you or asks you to keep secrets from your dad and I, you are to tell us immediately.”
 
“Respect is earned not expected. You understand? We have taught you to respect adults but adults that do this type of thing aren’t worthy of respect.”  
“Aye da.” They say. Both are frowning. The puppy whines and climbs up on the couch and lays his head on their laps.
 
“We hate to have to talk to you about this.”
 
“It is okay, mama. It’s important.”
 
“Aye important.” Leah echoes her brother.
 
“If you have any questions, we are always available.” Jamie reminds them.
 
“We know. I have homework.” Peter says.
 
“Me too.” Leah likes practicing her letters beside Peter each evening.
 
“Go on guys.” Claire releases them. Rollo follows them.
 
Claire sighs and rests against Jamie. “It is okay. I know this is awful but necessary.”
 
“I know I just hate it. All of it.”
 
“Me too.”
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phoenixexho · 4 months
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9-1-1 Fic WIP
Lena laughed, “Maybe you’re just gay.”
“Ha ha. But I’m being serious here. I don’t know what my issue is. I mean she’s the perfect woman for me.” He dodge out of the way of one of her incoming punches.
“I never met her but she’s fucking gorgeous. Like insanely so. You lost big time.”
“Gee thanks, you really know how to make a guy feel better.” He landed a particularly hard kick to her side knocking her balance for a moment. “Yeah, she’s pretty.” He said, stepping back out of her space. “Her and Chris got along so well, I feel bad for taking her away from him.”
“You feel bad about your son not being able to see your ex? Not about the breakup?”
“Ugh I don’t know Lena.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I do feel bad about the breakup. I miss her, but I was having panic attacks. Like every time I thought about a future with her I just…”
He shook his head, squaring back up. Lena hesitantly matched his stance, she probably wanted to stop and have this conversation. But that was one thing he loved about Lena, she wasn’t the touchy feely type, if he didn’t want to talk about feelings with her, he didn’t have to.
“Maybe I’m just not over Shannon. Being with Ana didn’t ever feel as comfortable as being with her. I don’t expect all my relationships to feel the same, I’m pretty sure it’s normal for them not to but that would sort of make sense.”
Lena scoffed, “What do you mean you're ‘pretty sure that’s normal’?” her tone lightheartedly mocking.
“Ana was only my second girlfriend” He admitted, suddenly a bit embarrassed.
“Shit, dude. You married your first girlfriend ever?” She sounded shocked.
He shrugged, “I got her pregnant. Not like I had much of a choice.”
“So you didn’t want to marry her?”
“I- I probably wouldn’t’ve married her if she didn’t get pregnant, no. But I loved her. I loved her a lot. And I think she might have been the only one I ever could marry. I don’t know that I’ll ever find someone I feel that comfortable around again.”
“Marriage isn’t about comfort, it’s about love.”
“Yeah, but you can’t marry someone you have panic attacks over a future with either. There’s gotta be comfort too.”
“Usually comfort comes with love.”
“Yeah. Well I don’t think I loved her either if I’m honest with myself.”
Lena didn’t say anything.
Eddie sighed, “Look, I don’t understand it so don’t expect an explanation. But I just kept waiting for the feelings to come and they never did. I mean, she’s everything I’ve been looking for, she’s so good with Chris and yet I never felt a thing for her.”
“Why’d you ask her out then?”
“I just said? She’s everything I’ve been looking for and she was interested in me. Why wouldn’t I have?”
He couldn't quite read Lena’s expression, something akin to pity in her eyes, “Why’d you ask Shannon out?”
He cocked his head at her, “Uhh I didn’t. She asked me out. We were best friends. I loved her before we even went on our first date. Not really something I can re-create. I know love takes time, it did with Shannon, that time just passed before we dated.”
“Sure, yeah. Why didn’t you ask her out then?”
He shrugged, “Never thought about it. I didn’t really put my feelings into context until she asked I guess.”
“You don’t have to question your feelings like that when you actually have a crush on someone.”
“Lena, what are you trying to say? I loved her. I have never doubted that for a second. I loved being married to her.”
“The marriage you spent running away because you didn’t want it?”
“I was a kid, I wasn’t ready, and I lost her by the time I finally was ready.”
“And I am sorry for that. But…god please don’t kill me for saying this. Are you sure your love for her was romantic?”
“Lena, she was my wife.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It should be!”
“Look, Eddie, I’m trying to help. So just like, hear me out a second. For a long time I thought I liked men, I came out as bi before I realized I’m a lesbian. Society has these expectations of us. Especially for women, but knowing the bit I do about the way you grew up, you can probably relate more than a majority of men. We’re expected to fit inside this box, we grow up hearing what our relationships are supposed to look like and it gets hard to separate what you’re ‘supposed’ to want from what you actually want. But when I really sat down to think about it, I just liked the idea of being with a man, the way it made me seem ‘normal’ to an outsider. It wasn’t an easy realization but I am so much happier now that I’m not trying to be something I’m not.”
“Lena...”
“I’m not saying I know better than you do. I just want you to consider it.”
“I’m not- I thought you were joking?”
“I was, but then you started talking and it sounded familiar.”
“Well you’re wrong.”
“Okay.” She didn’t look like she believed him but dropped it anyway.
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I am so excited about all of you fics and can’t wait to see the next chapters from each of them!!!
🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (Oh cranberry!!!)
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 (Oh OH and to think it was Eddie I was worried about I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!!!)
🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(Im not so patiently waiting for Eddie and Maddie and Chris to make it Sunport… Also I love how you had Bathena meet and I’m excited to see them develop)
🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮 (Intervening universe made me cry and I’m not ready for when Buck and Bobby actually talk)
HEY!!!!! Thank you so much!
So I posted Cranberry. Is there 30 of something else I can do for ya?
Here are the rest!
30 for 🩸 (YEAH SORRY I THOUGHT IT WASN'T GONNA BE SURPRISING BUT GLAD IT WAS):
---
After Eddie leaves Chris, he finds Maddie and Sophia wearing twin expressions of distress. Truly, the disappointed, peeved expressions of two sisters - one of whom isn’t even his - might just be too much for him to stomach. He’s kind of terrified. 
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. “Apart from the obvious.”
“He took all the keys,” Sophia says. “Every single set of car keys. What the hell did he do that for?”
Eddie thinks of May collapsing. 
“He doesn’t want me behind the wheel.” He presumes. “In case he kills her. My heart will stop.” 
“Oh my god,” Maddie sighs. 
“Can we take your car?” Eddie asks. 
Maddie nods. “We’ll have to.” 
He follows her and Sophia out into the driveway, locking the door behind him. He climbs into the front passenger seat of Maddie’s sedan. Sophia slides into the back. 
“So,” Maddie says. “Where am I going?”
“Long Beach,” Eddie says. 
“We have to search all of Long Beach for him?” Sophia replies. “Nothing more specific.”
“She works at the Promenade, she lives in MacArthur Park.” Eddie replies.
---
42 for 🧟 (hehehehe very soon!):
---
It is a big deal, though. It’s a big deal to Eddie. 
He gets this stupid idea in his brain. Really, he knows it’s stupid. Born more out of desperation than real logic. But here Maddie is, this chance encounter he made and had the opportunity to save. He did it, didn’t he? He saved her. And she likes his kid. She’s good with him. She has somewhere potentially safe to go. 
Maybe Maddie would do it. Maybe she’d take care of Chris for him, while he looks for Shannon. Maybe she’d keep him safe, her and her brother. Not forever. Just for a little while. 
Eddie needs to leave his son with someone he can trust. And he thinks he can trust Maddie. 
▪️▪️▪️
When they’re finally far enough away from the scene of their near devouring, Eddie pulls over off the side of the highway. He lifts Chris out of the backseat and holds him tight, wrapping him up as if Eddie is a weighted blanket, until his breathing and his heart rate are normal again. 
“I was so scared, Daddy,” Chris complains quietly. 
“I know, buddy. I’m sorry you were scared. You’re safe now.” 
But he’s not. Not really. Eddie can say it all he likes. He can be determined to make it true. But it isn’t. Not yet.
They take a long enough break to stretch their legs and collect themselves. They pee in a push. They drink and eat from what little Eddie has in the truck. Then it’s time to get going again. Based on the map, Eddie estimates they only have a little under two hours left. Nothing, really, in the quest for safety and reuniting Maddie with her brother. 
They check the radio again as they get closer. There’s still no signal. He sees the worry blossoming on Maddie’s face, though she tries to remain positive. There’s nothing more Eddie can say to comfort her. He feels badly about that. But they both know the only thing that will quell the anxiety is an answer. 
---
30 for 🔮(well we are getting right to the actual talking here):
---
He has his own issues with both of them, of course. Deep, painful ones that have left profound scars. But Bobby genuinely doesn’t know what it feels like to suspect that your parents don’t love you, and have their every action prove you right. He actually can’t imagine how that would have changed things for him. How much harder it would have all been. 
“It’s fine, Bobby,” Buck says, when he sees him struggling to articulate his thoughts. “It was a long time ago.”
No. No, it’s not fine at all. It’s the opposite of fine. 
Bobby shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Buck asks.
“Buck, just let me…” Bobby sighs. “If I have ever made you feel the way they made you feel, I’m sorry.”
Buck’s eyes bulge, face awash with anxiety. He doesn’t reply. 
“If I did, it wasn’t intentional. It didn’t come from the same place. And I hate that… God, I saw you, just a kid… I hate that I couldn’t…” 
Fix it for him? Whisk him away? He doesn’t really know. 
“It’s not your responsibility, Bobby,” Buck says quietly. “You can’t… It’s not your fault I let myself get carried away.”
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porchlightfairy · 1 year
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𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕
summary: Eddie gets jealous of your new friend from college.
New Life Fresh Start masterlist
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──
Midterms were taking a toll on you. You were spending more and more time studying at school and less and less time at home. The only time you were home was when you needed to change clothes and shower or eat something.
You’ve barely had time to spend with Eddie, only able to call him late at night saying you were at the library and would be sleeping at a friend’s on campus or something. Eddie felt bad like he couldn’t do anything to help you. Just watch as you zoom through the apartment barely giving a kiss goodbye before going back to school.
“I don’t know what I should do. I want to support her but she’s barely home enough.” Eddie says as he shuffles through the records in the store.
“She’s busy, man. College midterms are tough. You just need to be patient.” Joey claims, “Once they’re over I am sure she will be back in your arms in no time.”
“I sure hope so,” Eddie mutters still unsatisfied with the answer Joey gave.
After work, as Eddie is walking home he sees you outside of a coffee shop. He was about to approach you excitedly when he stopped. A man steps out in front of you with two coffees and then hands one to you. Who was that guy? And why did you smile like that when he gave you the cup? That smile Eddie knew all too well. His heart started to sink. He turns in another direction and decides to take a long way home.
Back at home, Eddie stays up waiting, hoping, you come home tonight. And as if god was listening to his prayers, you arrive a short while later. “Hey, Eddie baby.” You smile and drop all of your stuff at the door before jumping onto the couch and snuggling up to him. “I missed you.” You kiss his cheek.
He smiles “I missed you too. How was your day?”
“It was okay,” You mumble, “But, it’s better now that I am home with you.”
Eddie smiles then grabs your chin, kissing you, “You know, I saw you today.”
“You did? Why didn’t you come say hi?” You pout.
“Oh, I saw you with somebody. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You must have seen me with Dave, he’s my study friend.”
Study friend. Study friend? Study Friend?! Was this the same person you were spending the night with? Some guy? Not just some guy, a guy with sophisticated clothes, a clean haircut, and intellect. How could you not want to spend more time with Dave instead of Eddie.
He purses his lips, “I’m glad you’re making friends at school.”
“Yeah, he’s been a really big help with exams and stuff. I think you would like him if you met.” Probably not.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──
Eddie couldn’t help but get paranoid about you and your new friend Dave. How long would it be before you realize how much butter Dave was and dump Eddie? He sits on the rug in the living room, his head swimming with thoughts. You were off to school that day and he was all by himself riddled with anxiety.
Just then there’s a knock on the door, and he swings the door open to see Asya again. “My momma made cookies, want some?” She holds up a plate.
Eddie takes the plate, “Thanks kiddo.”
“You look worried.” She points out before skipping into the apartment.
Eddie takes a bite of a cookie, “Pretty lady has a new friend. A guy friend.”
“Okay? What’s the issue?” She cocks an eyebrow.
“He’s smart and sophisticated.” Eddie sighs, “He goes to school with her and takes her to coffee. Helps her with her homework and is all around better than me.”
“Sounds like it.” She mutters, “But she still comes home to you doesn’t she? Isn’t that what matters?”
“I guess you're right.” Eddie sighs, but one day maybe she won’t.
“Although I love to stay and make you feel better I’m gonna go back home. See ya.” She gets up and takes the plate before leaving.
Eddie chuckles, “See you around kid.”
You return home a few hours later and leap into Eddie’s arms, “I’m free!” You shout before peppering his face in kisses, “Midterms are over and we can spend more time together!”
Eddie smiles in relief, “No more late-night study groups?”
“No more late studying. I’m all yours.” You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss and lifts you off your feet and takes you to the bedroom.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──
The next morning, Eddie wakes up to the sight of you fast asleep next to him. He smiles at the sight and caresses your face. You begin to stir before pulling closer into him, “What time is it?” You mumble.
He checks the clock, “Just half past eight.”
“Oh shit,” You get up, “I told Dave, I would grab a coffee with him at ten.” You quickly stumble out of bed to get ready, Eddie’s heart sinks. He thought he had heard the last of Dave.
“Can’t you ditch? Stay in bed with me?”
“No, Eddie,” you laugh, “Dave got me through exams. I owe him big time.”
“Big time? What about me?”
“Would you like to come?” Not really, is what Eddie wanted to say but instead, he responds; “Yes”
“Perfect! I can’t wait for you to meet Dave. You’re going to like him.” You scurry to the bathroom to get ready.
Eddie grimaces when you are out of sight. While you were in the bathroom, he gets ready. Once you’re both finished you head to the local coffee shop. You hook your arm around Eddie’s as you sit and wait for Dave.
You look over to see Eddie’s deflated expression. “Hey, what’s the matter?” You nudge him.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He waves it off.
“No, but you look upset.” You tug at him, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I promise… I just—” Before Eddie could truly answer Dave arrived at your table.
“Sorry I’m late, study buddy.” Dave smiles at you.
You stand up and give him a hug. Eddie feels a twang in his stomach. Once you let go Dave looks at Eddie. Eddie doesn’t stand and just sticks out his hand for Dave to shake, “Eddie.”
Dave takes his hand, “Dave.”
You sit back down and glare at Eddie. Dave sits across from you and starts small talk. Eddie couldn’t help but feel left out as you talk about school. Eddie was taking night school for his GED so this college jargon was flying over his head. But he notices the way Dave looks at you. He started to feel uncomfortable and his knee started to bounce rapidly.
As you talk, you notice Eddie’s composure. He is digging his nails into the table and he doesn’t appear to be listening . You’re saddened but you don’t let it show on you face. After the coffee shop you, Dave leaves and you head home.
Back in the apartment you read on the couch as Eddie silently makes lunch. He still has that sullen look on his face. “Did you like Dave?” You ask.
“He’s alright.” He shrugs
“Just alright?”
“He helped you with your tests.” He says, “I’m grateful.”
“But is that all?”
“Yes? What else is there?”
“Well, I don’t think you actually like him.”
“What’s not to like? He’s smart, rich, and attractive. You spend all your time with him.” He looks at you like he’s in love. He’s the whole package.”
You look at him taken aback, “Are you… Are you jealous?”
Eddie grumbles, “Maybe I am.”
You stand up and walk over to him, “Oh baby, you don’t have to be jealous. Dave is nothing like you and —”
“That’s what I’m worried about. You’ll find someone who's not like me. Not a wanted fugitive, not a high school dropout struggling to get a GED, somebody who is smart, getting a college degree, dammit!” His voice cracks, “We can’t go out in public too long or else I might get recognized. I feel like deadweight here. I’m holding you back and I am afraid you’ll come to the same conclusion and leave.” Instantly, you grab Eddie and hug him tightly. You feel pricks of water trickle onto your shoulder. He mumbles, “I don’t know what I’d do if you left me.”
“I would never,” You pet his head, “I’m not leaving. Never leaving.”
“I love you so much.” He whimpers.
“I love you always and forever baby.” You move your hands to his cheeks so he can look at you, “I’m not going anywhere.”
You continue to soothe Eddie into the late night. You lay in bed rubbing his bare back. Your hands gently graze over the scars that decorated his body. He is completely relaxed in your lap, “I promised you to keep you safe. To stay with you through all of this. I love you too much to break that promise.” You kiss the top of his head before turning before turning off the light.
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