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tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

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ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be.

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right.

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had.

however, that’s when you came along.

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either.

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.”

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal. “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?”

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap.

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.”

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t.

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him.

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo.

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs.

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters.

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs.

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin.

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?”

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?”

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.”

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment.

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust.

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers.

again, neither of you care.

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under.

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm.

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?”

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.”

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.”

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?”

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess.

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.”

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby. “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height.

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.”

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you.

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him.

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.”

“are you sure, baby?”

“please—“

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…”

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips.

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt.

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter.

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.”

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall.

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you.

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.”

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.”

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much.

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds.

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…”

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well.

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct.

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on.

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them.

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.”

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub.

“o-oh! seishiro!”

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.”

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.”

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound.

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you.

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer.

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?”

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.”

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.”

“do you think I can do it?”

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.”

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it.

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

3K notes · View notes

7ndipity · 9 months ago

Text

BTS As Girl Dads

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would each handle being girl dads

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! This got me soo in my feels, they’d all be such great dads(I may have gone a lil self indulgent but who cares lol). Obviously, some/most of these could also apply to any kid, regardless of gender, but for the sake of the Hc, we’re focusing on daughters

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He’s honestly such a girl dad, argue with the wall

I totally see him wholly embracing the title and all the things that are typically considered ‘girly’, like pink and sparkles and all that

He would indulge every single one of her interests. She likes animals? They’re going to the zoo every weekend. She likes music? He’s signing her up for lessons for whatever instrument she’s into

I have this mental picture of them sitting on her bed together while he’s reading her bedtime stories, using all these silly voices and wearing one of her princess hats or something bc she insisted he needed for the character and just-😭

Yoongi:

Yoongi would be the softest girl dad ever, like she had him wrapped around her finger from day one. He took one look at her tiny little scrunched up face, that reminded him waay too much of his own expression when he’s annoyed, and he was a goner

I see him just sitting soo patiently while she gives him makeovers, wearing like three different pairs of clip-on earrings at the same time

He would really focus on teaching her to stand up for herself and makes sure she never takes any shit from anyone

He might come off a little stern sometimes, but it’s just because he worries and wants the best for her

Hobi:

Okay, Hobi as a girl dad might be one of my favorite headcanons, bc he’d be soo fucking sweet with them!

The tea party King. Like he shows up dressed in the most ridiculous outfits to make her giggle, and ready to talk imaginary gossip with her and any plushies that are joining them🤭

He would love shopping with/for her, constantly trying to find the coolest outfits or pieces for her, and they would definitely wear matching outfits when she was little(she would be the best dressed toddler ever, lol)

I also see him being quite protective of her at times, being super nervous/worried about her doing things like riding a bike for the first time or on her first days of school

Namjoon:

Omg Namjoon as a girl dad would be soo fucking protective. Like if someone does anything to hurt or upset her, they’re fucked

I see him loving daddy-daughter days out together, taking her to the park or museums or bookstores, really just wanting to indulge her curiosity and interests

Like Yoongi, he would really work to make sure she knows how to stand up for herself, as well as others

For all of his sternness tho, he would have the biggest soft spot for her, he’s 100% the type to let her have dessert before dinner or something bc she gave him puppy eyes

Jimin:

Omg he’s soo girl dad coded, like it’s not even funny(he literally confirmed that on that ep of “are you sure?” like 🥺)

He would treat her like a little princess, doting on her at every possible opportunity, buying her toys/clothes/treats, taking her on special outings, etc. If she wants something, he will do whatever he can do give it to her

He would not be able to stand seeing her in any sort of pain. Like even her just having a scraped knee would make him slightly misty-eyed, even tho she’s not upset/crying about it

I see them having lots of long talks about whatever’s on her mind. He would really strive to be her safe place to ask questions about anything, from school and friends to life and the future

Taehyung:

I see him being an amazing girl dad! He has this amazing, comforting dynamic with the girls that he’s worked with/is friends with, so I can only imagine how supportive he would be with his own daughter

He would be so indulgent in whatever she wanted. Ice cream before bed? Heck yeah, let him grab a spoon too. She wants a new plushie/toy even tho she just got one like yesterday? Well, the new one needs a friend, soo-

But he would still have his more stern/protective moments with her, just moreso in little ways like making sure she’s always wearing her helmet and elbow/knee pads, brushes her teeth, does her homework, etc

He would play along with all/any of their imaginary games, fully committing to the role(and adding waay too many silly death/fainting scenes bc they make her laugh)

Jungkook:

Junkook would absolutely adore a daughter. Like she would be his little princess and anyone/anything that upsets her will have to answer to him.

On the flip side of that protectiveness tho, he is so unbelievably gentle with her. As an infant, he handled her like she was made of glass, and as she grows up, he would always speak to her in a softer tone than he uses for anyone else

(Also dodon’t think about him singing her to sleep every night as an infant. Getting up with her in the middle of the night and walking her around the house, singing to her softly till she drifts back off to sleep in his arms)

He would love teaching her things and playing games with her(I totally picture him teaching her boxing in tiny and falling over all dramatic when she lands a hit, lol)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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somuchforahobby · 1 month ago

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interrupted (pt. 4)

Summary: Obi-wan asks you out but it doesn’t go as planned

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers / they really are good friends / found family i guess ?

Warnings: its so fluffy im gonna dieeeee

Word count: 1.5 k

Read on AO3

Writer’s note: I am DERANGED by this. For reference this is what’s in my head when I write this story.

Master Windu had given you a task: to study the history of the jedi until you could recite it. And up until now, you had studied it until you’d gotten hungry, wanted to pee, remembered other pending work and fallen asleep, so that morning you decided to wrap it up. You grabbed a big mug of caf, tied your hair up and headed to the library in complete solitude. Maybe if you had no distractions you would be able to get through it.

You had gone through 3 books so far, and nearly all day, when someone sat opposite from you on the desk.

“Hello there”

Obi-wan greets you with a teasing smirk. His blue eyes embedded in yours.

“Hello.” You return your sight to the book, but if the smile that threads on your lips accuses you of anything, is that you will not be paying any attention to the words below. You still hope he doesn’t notice it.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to read”

“So I see” his fingers tap anxiously on the desk. “Want to refill that mug?”

Without raising your eyes, you give him your mug, “if you’d be so kind, thank you”

“I—I meant-“

“I know what you meant” your eyes still locked on the book, “but I am busy. Master Windu gave me an assignment.”

“You are not his padawan anymore”

That made you raise your sight, clearing your throat. “You would do the same if Qui-Gon asked you.”

With a grimace, he grabbed your mug and left to the caf station.

Minutes later he returned with your beverage prepared just how you drank it. He handed it to you, your fingers touched as you took it.

“Qui-Gon asked me something far more… absorbing”

“I know” You gave him an apologetic smile “how is he doing lately?” You closed the book in your hands, turning your attention to your friend.

“He worries me” Obi-wan leaned his chin on his palm, his elbow resting on the table. “He is too angry, too afraid. Almost every night he wakes up screaming and shaking from the nightmares that poison his mind.”

You extended one hand across the table, your palm up and fingers flexing in a quiet demand that was quickly complied.

Your fingers wrapped around his hand.

“I haven’t met a kinder soul than yours, Obi-wan. If there’s anyone who can heal your padawan’s tainted heart it is you. You know what it is like to have a…” you paused, looking for the right word, “rather absent master. I am certain you will do your best with Anakin.”

He guided your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “You trust me more than myself.”

“I’ve seen you grow into a powerful and wise jedi, much to my dismay.”

“Please elaborate” he teased.

You hid your grin turning back to your book. “Like I said, I am busy”

Your hand remained in his.

With his thumb, he drew figures on your skin until you felt his signature calm down.

“So I heard about this new place” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Obi-wan Kenobi” you interrupted him, lifting your gaze to him “are you going to ask me out?”

“so what if I was?”

You leaned closer, looking up to him, “It’s against your precious code”

His eyes drafted from your eyes to your lips, “so what if it was? If the order didn’t want it to happen then they shouldn’t have made us spend so much time together.” The warm breath of his words made you flush.

“Don’t give them any more ideas to push women out of here”

Your entire life had argued the lack of female jedis in the council and teaching, and instead of getting the regular eye-roll, in Obi-wan you always found a respectful ally.

A smile crossed his face, “I’d never”

“I know” your eyes fell to your jointed hands with a sweet smile on your lips. “So, this new place?”

His eyes glinted. “Let’s have dinner and I’ll take you to the stars after” he offered with a smirk that gave away what kind of stars he had in mind.

“Oh” you blushed, “like today?”

“Like right now”

“Uuhhh” you blushed, suddenly your heart was beating way too loud, “yeah, alright.”

You two are out in the hallway when you hear it.

“Master!” A child’s voice calls from behind your backs.

Your companion is already groaning and grimacing, but he turns towards the voice nonetheless. “Yes?”

You look over your shoulder and spot Anakin with a book in his hands.

“You said we’d continue with our lessons today” Anakin pouted.

“That I did, young padawan.” Obi-wan takes a step towards him. “But I’ve made plans with my friend, why don’t you rest today, eh?”

Anakin looks over at you, anger in his bright blue eyes as he walks closer to his master. “Everyone makes fun of me” the boy muttered.

Obi-wan bends to Anakin’s height, “who does? And why?”

“Because-“ the kid looks over at you and bites his tongue. “You know why” he says, shaking the book in his little hands.

Obi-wan returns to you with an apologetic smile, “Can I see you tomorrow?”

You crossed your arms on your chest, “you should not be helping with his homework, Kenobi” your tone is serious, solemn.

“I am n—“ with a hand on your bicep, he pushes you away from Anakin, then leans to your ear. “He is learning to read”

“WHAT?” You search for his eyes in shock. “He is ten years old”

“And he was also a slave. I don’t think his owner prioritized his education.” His voice sharp, protective.

Something within you broke as you looked at him and the child. You had been quick to judge them without knowing the full story. Your heart sank on your chest.

“Obi” the nickname dropped off your tongue as naturally as when you were children; all those times Obi-wan had cried with you for the lack of Qui-Gon’s interest, when he felt worthless or not enough.

“Don’t pity him” He ordered, “he hates that”

You looked back at the little kid behind you; his eyes glinted with curiosity, you could feel the Force beaming in him. A tender smile escaped your lips.

“I don’t, but I still wish he hadn’t.” You turned to the kid, then walked to him and leaned down to his height. “Would you like one more teacher?”

He did not answer. Instead, his eyes moved to Obi-wan’s searching for any sort of approval. Your attention stayed on the child until he nodded.

“Aright, I’ll take you to my favorite place to do homework.”

“Don’t guess” your finger is pointing to a word he is struggling to understand. “See letter by letter, what’s the first one?” You grab a fry from Obi-wan’s plate.

Anakin is sitting in front of you, his text book on the table surrounded by leftovers and milkshakes.

“K, A, S, H, Y” His brows furrow “why are there three y’s?”

“Das the way it was written” Obi-wan muttered next to you.

You turned to him with a disapproving look. “Terrible teacher. Maker.” With a sigh, you explained to Anakin, “Every Y stands for a different type of native and religious tree for the Planet’s inhabitants, the wookies. The Yaupon Holly, the Yew Pine and the Yulan.”

“How is it pronounced?”

“Kashi-yhk”

Anakin repeated the sound.

“Now read the whole sentence.”

His bright blue eyes returned to the reading.

Your hand extended to grab another fry but was quickly slapped. “Ouch”

“Don’t steal from the terrible teacher” Obi-wan feigned offence.

“Kashyyyk is a forest planet in the southwestern quadrant of the Republic.” Anakin read.

“Excellent, Ani!” You cheered with a smile. The child blushed as he continued his homework.

“This is not what I had in mind for tonight” Obi-wan whispered in your ear. His chin resting on your shoulder.

“Disappointed?” You turned to him.

“Not in the slightest. You’re good at this”

“Really makes ya wonder why you are the master, uh?” You teased.

“Any chance you want to be my associate?”

“Associate? You could use those big fat master checks to pay me for tutoring.”

He smirks, “or I could take you for a ride every once in a while”

“You must offer something I don’t already have”

“You don’t have a jedi master driving you around”

“I don’t need a master when I can get a bounty hunter”

You see his jaw tighten, “a bounty hunter? you deserve better”

“And what’s better?”

His eyes are on your lips and as he leans to kiss you, you grab your milkshake, taking a teasing sip.

He smirks and backs away.

“Oh, look at that”

You turn to find Anakin asleep on top of the book. His cheek plastered on his left hand, his right extended over the table with an abandoned fry on his fingers. You try not to laugh as you take your datapad out of your pocket and snap a picture.

“Time to go”

Obi-wan stands and takes Anakin in his arms, carrying him. You grab his book and head out together.

Before you reach the door Obi-wan calls your name. When you turned to him his lips were already on yours. It’s a soft, steady kiss.

“That’s better” He whispers against your lips. Part 5

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan star wars #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #star wars prequels #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars

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captainmalewriter · 6 months ago

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Punishment

Peter’s cousin Miles was a well-known hypnotist. While many dismissed him as another scam artist looking to make a quick buck, he was the real deal. With just 10 minutes and the sound of his gentle voice, Miles could even convince a fish it was actually a bird if he wanted to!

Peter knew how powerful his cousin’s hypnosis skills were. He saw what he could do and wanted to try it for himself. Luckily for Peter, his cousin readily agreed to teach him a thing or two about hypnosis. Miles warned him to never misuse his skills, but of course, Peter merely shrugged off his warnings.

The basics of hypnosis were fairly straightforward. First, the subject needed to be in a relaxed state of mind. Second, the hypnotist must guide the subject into the inner depths of their mind until they enter into a true hypnotic state. Sort of like giving directions to someone with a blindfold on. Third, the hypnotist offers suggestions to the entranced subject. If the subject accepts the suggestion, then the hypnotist must create a code word that will allow the subject to switch in and out of their altered state of being. Easy to learn, but difficult to master.

Once Peter got the hang of it, he wasted no time in showing his best friend Luis his new skills. Naturally, once Luis saw just how powerful hypnosis was, he wanted in on the fun too. He asked how to hypnotize someone and Peter happily taught him the ropes. Together, Peter and Luis decided to use hypnosis to get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. They quickly became a selfish, power-hungry duo with their newfound abilities. Money, women, and alcohol. All it took was one conversation with a naive target and suddenly everything they could ever want was right at their fingertips. Peter and Luis believed they had become unstoppable!

But surely enough, Peter’s cousin soon caught wind of their reckless antics. He was disgusted by their misuse of such a sacred art and, more importantly, he felt betrayed by someone who shared his bloodline. He was outraged! And so, Miles decided to deal out a punishment to the two misbehaving hypnotists. He invited them both over to his house for a night of video games and beer. They accepted the invitation and quickly made themselves at home without any hesitation. While Peter and Luis were busy enjoying themselves with free alcohol, Miles got straight to work performing his mental magic.

“How are you guys doing? Are you comfortable? I wanna make sure I’m being a good host.”

“You’re doing great, primo! I feel right at home here,” Peter answered.

“Yeah man! Thanks for having us over,” Luis chimed in. He stretched and let out a yawn. “I feel like I could just fall asleep right here on this couch.”

“That’s good! I’m glad to hear it. Please gentlemen, my house is your house. Feel free to kick your feet up. Take a deep breath too, let the stress roll off your shoulders.”

They did exactly as Miles suggested without question. They put their feet up on the nearby table and took a deep breath. In… Out… Relax. It was such an ordinary command, and Miles delivered it so subtly, that both Peter and Luis failed to realize they had already fallen into his trap.

With every word Peter’s cousin spoke, they became entranced in a deep state of relaxation. Any and all thoughts they had were silenced, leaving behind only a fuzzy, gray feeling. Their eyes had a glazed over look to them. The lights were on, but clearly nobody was home anymore. All they could focus on was the sound of Miles’ voice. Their minds were wiped clean. A blank canvas, and with Miles holding the only paintbrush.

“You are such good friends,” Miles started. “I think it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you two are best friends for life! Am I wrong?”

“No, sir…” Peter and Luis answered in a low, sluggish voice.

“Wow! That’s amazing, but you know, I can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s something even deeper between you two than just being good friends. Perhaps… something sexual?”

“Nrghh…”

“Ughhh…”

Peter and Luis moaned as they began moving restlessly in their seats. Miles grinned at the sight of them squirming from his words.

“That’s right… You both very clearly like each other. Personally, I think it’s time you both give in to your true feelings for one another. Does that sound like a good idea?” Miles asked with a smirk.

“Yes, sir…” they answered in unison. Their hands moved to the other man’s crotch and grabbed it. They massaged each other until they both had tall tents forming in their pants.

“I think you two are going to be very good boyfriends from now on. In fact, you two should leave the hypnosis world behind. You won’t need hypnosis when you have each other!”

“Ohhh fuckk… That feels sooo good…!” Luis groaned.

“I fucking love you man… I wanna feel you deep inside of me…!!” Peter moaned. He was panting and salivating like a hungry dog.

“Okay, my friends, whenever you hear the word ‘hypnosis,’ I want you two to remember just how much you love each other. You’re both insanely attracted to each other’s bodies, so don’t be afraid to express it!”

Miles clapped his hands as loud as he could until both Peter and Luis woke up from their shared trance. They woke up groggy and unsure of what just happened. Yet, despite their severe confusion, all they could focus on was how handsome the man sitting next to them was. They leaned in and shared a deep kiss. Miles let them make out for a few seconds before throwing a couple of game controllers at them.

“Hey man!! Are we gonna play or are y’all just gonna fuck on my couch!?”

Peter grinned, then grabbed the controller to join the game. Luis followed suit. As they played, Miles dropped a quick test question.

“Hey Peter, how’s it going with your hypnosis skills? You getting any better yet?”

“Argh!”

“Unnnhh!!”

Both Peter and Luis let out an obscenely loud moan as they felt a sudden warmth growing in their bodies.

“Uhh… To be honest, I gave up practicing hypnosis. I don’t really need it.” Peter answered. Miles merely nodded.

They tried to ignore their mutual lust for each other and just continue playing the game, but the growing members in their pants gave them away. All Peter could think about was Luis’ thick, hairy cock dripping with precum. It drove him mad and Luis knew it! He smirked as he watched his boyfriend gyrate his hips into the couch cushions. He was itching for his dick as much as he was hungry for his sweet, tight hole!

Peter eventually threw the game just to end it quickly.

“Damn, I lost!! Oh well. Hey, Miles, could I ask you to grab us a pizza? I’ll pay of course.”

Miles turned to his cousin. He saw the hungry lust burning in his eyes and internally smiled.

“Sure Pete, I’ll be right back.”

As soon Miles stepped out of his house, he heard loud kissing and groaning coming from his house. No doubt it was Peter and Luis ripping their clothes off of each other’s bodies. Miles grinned. His little plan had worked. There were two less selfish hypnotists in the world. And now he had a free pizza to celebrate his success.

#male hypnosis #male mind control #straight to gay #permanent change

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beefboyandbabygirl · 2 years ago

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I ❤️ DILFS / GOOD GIRL (18+)

pairing: student!brother's bff!seokmin x student!good girl!reader

genre: college au, brother's best friend au, smut (MDNI), bit of crack, a small bit of angst but not nearly as much as most of my fics

description: when you head out for college, you incidentally end up at the one your bother's best friend has disappeared to 2 years prior. now, seokmin has promised your brother, vernon, to teach you and take care of you while you're away from home. unfortunately, it seems vernon should have been a bit more specific about what exactly seokmin was supposed to be teaching you.

warnings: vernon is ur overprotective brother, seokmin is not a dilf unfortunately, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), fingering, slight restraint?, praise (f. receiving), pet names (good girl is so overused), teaching, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (m. receiving), tiddie play, alcohol consumption, a bit of pining, shame on the readers part, she feels a bit like a slut for a moment, kinda brief mention of miscarriage? for like a metaphor lol, jeonghan is hot in this, giselle is ur bff and i almost gave up my mission and made this whole fic ab her shes so hot, ok i think thats it

quotes my creative director (@joshibambi): "just admit u wanna bang son", "o is for orgasm", "the urge to be the younger sibling for once"

wordcount: 15.9k

a/n: the way this fic took me years to write. i hav been busy :( thank u 2 every1 who liked girl code uve made my whole year :D hope u like this one 2!!

You preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. He wasn’t your best friend, he was Vernon’s, and yet he made it so easy to feel comfortable, so easy to feel like you were the one he came over for.

You crushed on him back then, wrote countless diary entries about him and his stupid, beautiful smile. But it had been so forbidden, you remembered feeling that, because of how Vernon had groaned at you to leave every time you peaked your head through the living room door, masking your insistent eyes on Seokmin with simply wanting to “watch a grown up movie”. Sighing, you’d turn back to your princess pink room, and the boundary - the Vernon shaped boundary - that stood between you and Seokmin grew farther.

It had almost been a relief when Seokmin left for college. That was the most terrible thing, the relief you felt while your brother was grieving the sudden separation with his best friend. But your heart simply couldn’t help but let out a long sigh - years of yearning for him when he was so close by. You felt that cool wash of repose when that border between you and him had disappeared from your view. Years of watching it, wondering whether to pad closer or turn away from it, became a distant memory. For two years you were almost a normal girl and a good baby sister.

Then it was your turn to head off for college. The nearest, big college to you accepted your application and you still distinctly remember dinner with your parents and your brother, how’d they’d cheered and clinked glasses and looked at you adoringly, because you were growing up right before their eyes. Then under the faint light of the restaurant chandelier, your mom had said something that immediately sent you hurdling back to that old, distant boundary: “Maybe you’ll see Seokmin there!”

How had you forgotten? You supposed in that time you’d let yourself be more taken with the relief. It was the thought that he would be gone that had distracted you from exactly where to. And there you were with all your moving plans and your packed backs, and your glass raised and frozen in the air and your eyes wide.

Then came the reasoning: surely, you could avoid him? It was a big college, there were plenty of people. There was no logical reason you’d really have to see him. Except for Vernon, of course. Ever so oblivious, your brother had called up Seokmin to tell him the good news, and to tell him to take care of you and protect you. And Seokmin was so sweet, of course, he’d take care of his best friend’s baby sister.

And there you were at college. All grown up.

In your defense, you had avoided him skillfully. You’d turned down his request to help you with unpacking, turned down his tour of the school (that you’d actually desperately needed - why is room 240 not with all the other 40’s?!), and most of all, you’d turned down every single message inviting you to a party.

I guess to him that was a perk; partying with the older kids. He knew you after all. He knew that you were a quiet girl and you stayed within your neatly laid brick walls, and he knew you were shy, and he knew you needed help letting loose. He knew you were a good girl.

Which is why it wasn’t surprising at all that you turned down his offers - wanting to stay focused on school. At least, that’s what you told him. Truth was even being in his vicinity had put you much closer to that boundary you’d never dared cross. You were afraid even just seeing him would send you hurdling back, like a leaf in the wind. So you didn’t go.

For a while, at least.

“This is, like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!” Giselle whined and you shook your head adamantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, maybe not for you, but for me!” she argued. “I can’t believe you’re consistently being invited to parties with hot, sexy men, and you’re turning it down because of one guy!”

You were currently sitting in the library with your roommate, Giselle, and you’d made the unfortunate mistake of telling her about your predicament after receiving yet another invitation to a party tomorrow. Giselle was throwing a temper tantrum because she had never ever had anything as ridiculous.

You liked Giselle a lot. She was very different from you - she was hot. You weren’t - you were cute. Giselle held boys on leashes and made them do homework for her. She liked partying and sexy, black dresses. You were a fucking nerd, and cute was the highest compliment you had ever received for your looks. Even though you were different, Giselle had immediately taken a liking to you. You had initially feared she would think you were lame, but she was so nice - except for right now.

“Come on, Y/n, there are, like, no cute guys in our year!” she said pleadingly, clasping her hands together and pouting, but you shook your head.

“You don’t understand, Giselle,” you murmured solemnly, trying to regain your focus on the science textbook in front of you.

“I understand perfectly well,” she said and you eyed her suspiciously. “I understand that you’re a bitch!”

“Alright, that’s unnecessary,” you said, closing your book. You pinched the bridge of your nose, when she went on. “No, honestly, Y/n. You’re a virgin, right?”

You snapped your head towards her in shock. Your eyes darted around frantically, before you leaned over the table to whisper to her: “How do you know that?”

“Don’t embarrass yourself, honey,” she grinned, holding back laughter and you rolled your eyes, sighing. “And what about it, Giselle?”

“How are you ever gonna get yourself out there if you’re constantly caught up on this guy and trying to keep away your feelings for him? You’ll stay a virgin forever, girl. You need to look him in the eyes and realize you’re above that childish crush!”

You stayed quiet, slumped in on yourself with your book in your lap. Why was she making sense?

You’d never thought about it that way. That your infatuation with your brother’s best friend was somehow holding you back from exploring and evolving as a woman. That maybe having him in the back of your mind every time you’d shyly made out with guys in high school, had been the thing that stopped you in your tracks.

“I can see it on your face, you know I’m right,” Giselle smiled smugly from behind the screen of her laptop. “Unless you’re asexual. In that case, fierce, but if you’re not, like, get out there, queen. Sometimes you need to realize that you have to leave one dick for another dick because the other dick is so good.”

You furrowed your brows. “Is.. Is this still about me?”

“No,” Giselle shook her head.

“Okay, yeah, ‘cause- ‘cause that didn’t..”

“Yeah, I know. I was more so, uh, angling-”

“Right-”

“Angling the story to- to my current situation.”

“I get it, yep.”

There was a moment of silence. You pursed your lips and looked at the message on your phone. Then you started typing.

“Are you telling him you’re coming with your super sexy, hot friend?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N, I LOVE YOU.” _____________________________

Regret was a nasty, old demon on your back and it had twisted and tugged at your guts, while you let Giselle get you party-ready. You’d sat on her bed, in her dress, and having her put her makeup on you, you’d sulked and tried to shrug off your back.

“You look so hot when you actually try,” she’d giggled, using a fluffy brush to spread the bake underneath your eyes.

“Thanks,” you’d mumbled, and she’d paused her movements, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, sitting back on her knees. You had sighed, reaching a hand up to run it through your hair, but pausing midway when you realized you would ruin the styling Giselle had worked so hard on. You lowered your hand again.

“I’m not sure about this,” you’d murmured and she frowned genuinely. “Y/n, I meant what I said. I know I talk a lot about boys and stuff, but you really shouldn’t let yourself be held back by him!”

Before you could speak again, Giselle had tugged you off the floor to stand in front of her mirror.

“Look at you,” she’d cooed, clapping your shoulders. “You look so pretty!”

You’d smiled a little shyly, looking at your form in the mirror abashedly. You were pretty. Not cute, not nerdy; pretty. Curves hugged tight by a sleek, black dress from Giselle’s closet, this was a version of you that could actually see having sex - seducing men, gaining from her looks.

“I guess you’re right,” you’d said sheepishly, and Giselle had smiled sincerely and you’d let her take you to the party down the streets in a nearby frat house, and you’d almost not wavered when you stood right in front of it, music blasting out of every crevice.

But then you were inside and he was right there. For the first time in two years, he was there, and he was so hot. He was wearing a white tee and a fucking silver chain, and, God, when did he start working out, because his arms were so big and so toned. And his hair was fluffy and dark brown, and his face was slim, and the tops of his cheekbones were shining under the kitchen lamp, where he was talking to some other guy, arm flexed, as he leaned against it on the counter.

If there was one thing about Seokmin that had stayed the same it was that smile. He wore it now, laughing, as he talked to some blonde guy about something, and you wanted to scream because, there it was. The boundary, the ledge, the line, whatever, it was right before you again, right there with him. And all the feelings that came with it, your heart, wet and red in your throat, a brew of anxiety in your stomach.

Without sparing even a second, you’d clasped onto Giselle’s wrist, tugging her into a herd of anonymous people, and just walking. Walking, walking, pulling her along (she countered only with a “hey!”) only for you to hit a wall or something, just as long as you were far, far away from him.

“What the hell?” she said, when you finally stopped walking because you’d entered the living room, which was apparently more exclusive, as only a few people populated it, including a couple that was making out on the far end of the couch.

“He was there,” you gasped dramatically, as if you’d seen a ghost. “I-I can’t do this, Giselle.”

“Relax, babe, it’ll be fine. You’re away from him now, aren’t you?” Although she was trying to be supportive, you could tell she was growing a little tired of your theatrics. You couldn’t care less though, you were panting, and peering over her shoulder to see if he was somehow coming towards; and, God forbid, smile at you with that angel grin.

Giselle followed your gaze and sighed, brows furrowing. “How about I get us some drinks? Then you can let loose a little.”

You nodded absently, following her lead when she pulled you to sit down on the couch. You clambered to the couch rest, when she walked away, swaying her hips to the music.

You might’ve looked different, but you were still you. The entire scene had you uncomfortable, and you were still the shy, unconfident and nerdy girl. You cursed yourself for letting Giselle’s reassurances fool you - you would never be this type of person, and you would surely never get over Seokmin. She’d been wrong about everything.

“You okay, darling?”

You jumped at the voice, eyes darting up to see who it was.

You didn’t know him. He was handsome, though, but you’re not even sure you’d call it that. He was pretty, and he had long, black hair and big eyes and he was giving you this teasing smile, that was doing nothing to ease your nerves.

“I’m good,” you squeaked, gaze moving to a nearby pair of shoes in the corner of the room. You heard him chuckle, before he dropped into a squat before you. One lean hand came up to your knee, giving it a squeeze. “You just look so nervous, pretty,” he sat down an anonymous cup of liquor. “I don’t think I know you. Can you tell me your name?”

The hand on your knee burned into you, thumb brushing back and forth over the skin and he was looking at you so intently, it had you sputtering. “Uhm, uh, Y/n.”

His thumb froze. You looked over at him curiously to find this dumbfounded expression on his face, devious grin spreading on his pretty features. He chuckled and cleared his throat, face dropping down before he moved it back to look at you again.

“You’re the girl Seokmin’s always inviting over here?”

You nodded shyly and he smiled at you. “I’m Jeonghan.”

“Hi.”

A pause. Jeonghan squeezed your thigh, watching in delight at the way you screwed your eyes shut.

“You know, I just didn’t expect you to look like this,” he said finally and, sensing your confusion, he teasingly added: “The girl who’s always turning down parties to study.”

You blush deepened, cheeks furiously rosy, as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “I borrowed my friend's clothes,” you breathed, pursing your lips. “Ah!” Jeonghan gently patted the top of your thigh, nodding along exaggeratedly, “You borrowed your friend’s clothes! I see!”

He studied you while you giggled at his antics, still refusing to look him in the eye, really. He was almost suffocating, his hand on your thigh and his eyes boring into your face, and his cologne in a constant stream in and out of your nostrils. But suffocation, you decided, was almost better than being around Seokmin and having him parade his kind heart and his thick arms and his sweet smile, and just how off-limits he was.

Ripping you from your thoughts, Jeonghan stood up, placing both hands on the tops of your thighs and bending down to your face, so his nose was buried in your cheek.

“Look at me, darling,” he whispered, then pulled his face away from yours, just enough so you could gaze into his brown eyes. His hands were much higher now, squeezing hard at the plush of your thighs, dangerously close to your center and only separated by the thin fabric of Giselle’s dress.

“There she is,” Jeonghan smiled, voice a whisper. His lashes came over his eyes, when they flitted down to your lips. “Don’t you wanna come with me upstairs, and I can make you feel really, really goo-”

“JEONGHAN! GET OFF OF HER, THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND’S BABY SISTER!”

There’s a voice you know.

From across the room, Seokmin had burst through the mass of people, now power-posing with an extended finger in the direction of where Jeonghan was tilting over you, rubbing your thighs, as you sat innocently before him.

Jeonghan stood up, taking all of his heat and his suffocation and cologne with him, groaning and throwing his head back. “Seokmin!” he whined and he was suddenly no longer so suave and seductive.

“No, I won’t hear it, Jeonghan,” Seokmin said and, as much as you knew Seokmin to be sweet and tender and lovely, there was this crystal-clear anger in his voice. He walked over, one large hand pushing at Jeonghan. “Go get any other girl and sleep with her, just not her. Get your sorry ass out of here.”

Apparently Jeonghan sensed the same thing you did - a rare anger in Seokmin - because he didn’t put up much of a fight at all, only smiled at you apologetically (and then, when he was behind Seokmin, gave you a small, devious wink - he just couldn’t help himself).

You couldn’t focus much on Jeonghan at all though. Because Seokmin was standing in front of you, all muscle and huge fucking thighs by your head, and when you dared to tilt your gaze up to him, you saw how all that anger simply melted away.

“Hey,” he breathed, smiling softly.

“Hey.”

Then his eyes darkened, if only for a moment, as they traveled over your figure, gift-wrapped in that tight, black dress. His jaw clenched and he looked around for a moment. When he looked at you once more, he was giving you that smile - the one you’d fallen in love with - and the chocolate in his eyes was melting.

“Come on,” he ushered gently, one hand carefully guiding you off the couch. “Let’s go to my room where there aren’t any scary, evil, mean men.”

Despite being so on edge, so jittery, as you followed him up some distant staircase, you couldn’t help but laugh at those words. He was talking exactly like he had when you were kids. That was how you preferred to remember him; all small and young and with a swanky bowl cut, and he’s the exact same way with you, hand warm in yours, as he guides you through the house.

“Why’re you laughing?” he smiled, and you suppressed your own, trying not to dwell too much on how fast your heart was beating. “It’s just like before,” you quipped and Seokmin’s hand squeezed yours in understanding.

He lumbered down the hallway and at its very end, preceded by rows of white oak doors, he opened his own with a twist and a turn of the brass-blend knob. When he closed it, the party became muffled around you, as if his room was filled with water, and now the rest of the world was a garbled mess, and you were drowning.

His room was clean. You supposed Seokmin had never been the messy type - not even when infected by the influence of Vernon. He had a half-open closet, where you spotted folded clothes, and a circle rug and purple and green lava-lamp plugged in on his nightstand.

Seokmin apparently did not think it was clean enough, because he swooped down gallantly to grab a tossed sweater, smiling at you sheepishly when he held in between his fingers. You stared at him.

You felt like a kid again. Felt like just a young girl, creeping through the crack in the living room door, and looking at his silhouette, outlined by some grotesque horror movie playing on the TV. His sharp nose, when he turned to Vernon and laughed, his hair, all poofed and tousled and scruffy, and his smile.

And you’d let yourself fall into this trap, maybe to some extent you’d even wanted it. Because now he was right in front of you, and so was that damned barrier, right by your outstretched fingertips, and you could almost envision yourself climbing over it - climbing into his lap and-

“I didn’t think you’d ever come,” Seokmin said gently, a permanent, small smile frozen on his lips. You coughed, unready. “Uh, yeah, my friend- my friend thought I should try and.. You know, get myself out there.”

Seokmin studied you, bemused and fond, fiddling with the baby blue sweater in his hands. You were looking back cautiously, as if assessing a threat, but the threat was the sweetest, kindest boy in the whole wide world.

“Yeah, well,” he cleared his throat suddenly, ripping his gaze from you to fold the sweater onto his desk chair. “I’m sorry about Jeonghan, he’s.. You shouldn’t, uh..” Now neatly folded, you saw him rubbing the sweater between his fingers. “You should stay away from him.”

“Why?” you asked, and it was genuine enough that Seokmin let out a sigh.

“You’re too much of a good girl to be with him. He’s no good.”

A whimper clawed its way up your throat, bubbled from the depths of your belly, but you tamed it and settled on a light hum. You felt your underwear becoming a little sticky, and you wanted to die, because God, this was your brother’s best friend. They still facetimed every Tuesday and still played Fortnite together over Discord every Saturday.

“College going good?” Seokmin asked, retreating from the sweater to sit down on his bed. He looked up at you brightly and patted the spot next to him. It felt like another trap, where the folds in the blanket curved down under his weight, and would eventually lead you into him. You sat down hesitantly.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, folding your hands and in your lap and tensing your shoulders. Seokmin, fully relaxed and slumped, noted your posture and slid his hand over the exposed skin of your back. “Hey,” he whispered, so intimate it hurt your heart, “hey, hey, relax, Y/n. It’s just me.”

His eyes were soft and full of concern when he spoke quietly again, his voice almost a backdrop to the muffled sounds of dancing college students: “You know, Vernon was really concerned about how you would do away from home.”

“I’m not doing bad!” you said quickly, dismissing it immediately. Seokmin stared at you. “I just- this isn’t really my scene.”

His hand felt searing hot on your back, where it slid up and down, almost coaxing you further into him. He hummed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Then: “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come. Just figured you might want that street cred of being friends with the upperclassmen.”

You snorted and, cheeks rosy as ever, started giggling, eyes still cemented to the floor. Your hair was falling gently over your face, wisps of baby hair tickling your forehead.

“It’s okay,” you sighed away the laughter, “You were just trying to get me out of my shell. I appreciate it.”

Seokmin smiled at that. His hand dropped from your back and you both stared into the expanse of his room. A small window to let in the rain, the moonlight separated by the grid, and the curtain blowing in a solemn breeze. You and Seokmin sat, both very small suddenly, like kids, on the edge of the bed and became speckled in starlight, in diamond-dust.

Then Seokmin was doing it. He was letting you be comfortable, letting you slip into a dazed joy, intoxicated from his presence. He was asking about your teachers, exams, friends, experiences, and you were both laughing together, and once again you were forgetting that Seokmin was your brother’s best friend, and he was not with you for you, but he was simply talking to you out of courtesy to your brother. He let you forget.

“You going home for the break?” he asked then, room quieted down from all the laughter. The fall break, starting tomorrow, you remembered. You’d thought about going home, but had opted to text your parents that you were staying, wanting honestly to stay in your dorm room and work on assignments and organization and just lull in bed, instead of being taken up, down and everywhere in your hometown. You shook your head.

“Really? Me neither,” he said, brows raised. “Won’t you get lonely?”

You giggled shyly. “Maybe a little.”

“We could hang out,” he breathed, and at that you tasted the boundary between you, felt it firm under your fingertips, because you couldn’t discern whether he was protecting his friend’s baby sister or if he actually liked talking to you, and your heart beat and yearned and hoped for the latter.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, melting when you saw his smile reach his eyes.

“Didn’t you always like, uh, Mario Kart? You always wanted to play with me and Vern,” Seokmin said, but he was looking distantly into the window. You almost wanted to cry because he remembered you, remembered things that you liked. “I got it on my Playstation, we can play tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

Then Seokmin was loaning you his hoodie, and, bathed in his warm, tender smell, he followed you home under the moon, glaring at Jeonghan on his way out.

“Keep the hoodie,” he’d said, smiling sheepishly when you stood in front of your dorm door. “It’s cute.”

He patted your head and left, thankfully before he could see how red your face was, and how you were absolutely about to blow up from unfiltered joy. You shuffled into your dorm room and tried to soothe the basking butterflies in your stomach and your burning heart.

Was he standing right across from you on that line, waiting to cross? _____________________________

Giselle woke up just early enough to catch you switching between different button-up dresses, throwing one on, looking in the mirror, and deciding to try another. She was groggy and tired and somewhat hungover, and needed to catch a train, so she could get back home.

“What are you doing?” she cried, rubbing her eyes. You scurried back and forth trying on another dress, considering white tights, then white socks, then adjusting the tone and volume of your blush.

“I’m-” you gasped in between your hard labor, “I’m seeing a boy!”

This caught Giselle’s attention. She shot straight up in her bed and looked at you with huge eyes. “No way!”

“Yeah way!” you giggled deviously. You turned around to face her. “What do you think of this outfit?”

“You look cute!” Giselle praised, nodding to your red strawberry dress and your knee-highs. You slumped. There it was again - cute. Not hot, not pretty, but cute. That was what you were; like a child, like the kid Seokmin knew years ago, like his best friend’s baby sister. Nothing more.

“Who is this mystery guy?” Apparently Giselle was too busy rubbing sleep out of her eyes to see how her compliment had deflated you.

“It’s Seokmin. My-”

“Your brother’s best friend?!” She gasped. It was one shock after another from you that morning. “I wanna say I’m disappointed in you, but.. If you pull this off you’re way freakier than me.”

“We’re not gonna have sex!” you groaned, pouting as you hastily shoved on your shoes. “We’re gonna play Mario Kart.”

“Right, this cute guy just invited you over for Mario Kart and nothing else, I get it,” Giselle said sarcastically.

“You don’t know him,” you mumbled defensively, shoes on and now staring at yourself in the mirror once more. “Cute,” the mirror spat at you.

“All men are the same,” Giselle rolled her eyes and threw herself back on the bed. You snorted and began to walk out the door.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Hm?”

Halfway out the door, a tote bag slung over your shoulder and ready to step into the sunlight, you peered back into the room. Giselle, in her sweats and hair fussed, stumbled blindly towards the door. She reached into her pocket and produced a-

“A condom?!” you shrieked, outraged. And not just any condom: a condom in white packaging with the lettering “I ❤️ DILFS”. You truly did not understand how Giselle managed to be a caricature of herself time after time.

“You need to wear protection, he’s in a frat, right?” she shrugged. You glared at her. “I’m not bringing a condom.”

“Alright, I guess,-” Giselle pretended to think, “I guess, you’ll just have to get chlamydia.”

You stared at her for a moment, bristling. Then you snatched it out of her outstretched hand.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re a prude.”

“Goodbye, Giselle!”

The condom slipped into your tote with ease to lay snug with all your other items and then you were out the door and heading towards Seokmin’s frat house. The sun was dulled by a few clouds, but it was still shining. Leaves were turning brown and red and yellow and were falling from trees to crunch underfoot - everything was lovely.

But the expanse, in your head, was much different. In your head you were traveling the soft dunes of a desert, spotting in the brown and red and yellow horizon a cleft in the sand. When you reached it, wide and long, seemingly endless to each side of you, you were standing right in front of Seokmin’s house.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, knuckles white where you grasped your tote, and eyes big and heart pounding. What if Giselle was right? Did you want her to be right? Would you even be able to please him if she was? Half-heartedly you tried to push away the images of Seokmin pushing into you, arms flexing on either side of your head, that spawned alongside the thought. Maybe you straddling him, his hands on your ass, his head buried in your chest, or-

“Y/N!”

You jumped, clutching your bag tight, when you snapped your head up to the voice. It was Seokmin and he was waving at you from his upstairs-window, smiling so brightly you swore the sun reflected off of his teeth.

“What are you standing there for, come inside! Door’s unlocked!” he yelled, body disappearing in the window. You stared at the window for a moment, his presence now absent, before you nodded to yourself in reassurance. You could do this, right? Just Mario Kart and small talk.

Truth was, you couldn’t do this. Not even in the slightest. You and Seokmin sat cross-legged on his bed, TV on the wall before it, drinking soda and crunching on chips. Seokmin was drenched in a green, fuzzy sweater, collarbones peeking over the rounded neck, and fingers peeking through the sleeves, where he held his controller, and God forbid, his hair was all soft and fluffy, and he was wearing fucking puppy socks.

And he was competitive, too. He was leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he sped through the course. You huffed when he blue-shelled you, and you tried to refocus.

“I thought you said you were good?” he teased, eyes leaving the screen for only a second to look at you - you, dress bunched up to your thighs and tongue peeking through your pretty, subtly red lips. A second was all that was necessary.

Suddenly, his character (baby Daisy) swerved off-course, falling into the pit below and he screeched, seemingly genuinely sad, as your character (Toadette) overtook him, the little gold badge popping up in the corner to tell you that you were number one.

“What were you saying?” you giggled cockily when you finished the last round, Seokmin unable to quite catch up to you in the last stretch. He threw himself back on the bed in defeat, groaning into his hand.

“I can’t believe I let you win,” he cried.

“Let me?” you repeated in disbelief. You scoffed and put down the controller, pretending that Seokmin lying all angelic on his bed sheets wasn’t making your stomach pinch with static. “Pretty sure that was just pure skill on my part. Don’t blame me because you’re bad at Mario Kart.”

A blow to his talents in Mario Kart was a blow to him. He snapped his head up to look at you, playfully angry. “Oh, oh wow, really? I’m bad at Mario Kart now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling cheekily at him. Seokmin studied you for a moment, before he shuffled into a sitting position. His gaze almost made you shy. Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

Seokmin shuffled closer to you and you almost stopped breathing: “Don’t I remember you being ticklish?”

You were almost so caught up in your fantasy to realize what he said. Your eyes widened in realization and you most immediately tried to twist your body away: a punishment was upon you.

“No- NO!-” You cried out but it was too late. Seokmin wrestled his body into yours, fingers dancing and prodding into your sides. Drowning in laughter, your face twisted into tortured pleasure, as you tried to bat his hands away. Your attempts were futile - each time you shuffled away, he followed right with you, fingers unrelenting as your torso twisted and turned.

"Hehehehehehe- NO, PLEASE!- hehehehehehe!”

Your knees pushed with all their might and you were almost able to drag yourself to the edge of the bed. There, you could gain distance and talk him down from beyond his desk. But Seokmin was smart. He sensed your escape plan when you squirmed away, and without much thought, he pulled his body on top of yours, weight pinning you down.

You were still giggling and squirming, when his fingers finally let up. You were both panting from the excitement, Seokmin smiling down at you adoringly. Then, both of your smiles dropped.

It was like it took a few moments to realize; he was straddling you. Hips pushed into yours, all his weight rested on your crotch - your crotch, which was now pulsating. To make matters worse, the skirt of your dress had ridden up and most of your plush thighs were now visible to him, and your chest was halfway out of your dress, and your cheeks were flushed and your hair was spread out on the sheets beneath you. Seokmin seemed unsure of where to put his hands, while you both stared at each other, breathing in the thick, heavy silence.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I-”

“I really- I don’t know what-”

“Don’t worry-”

You were pulling down your dress again, cheeks literally flaming red and bottom lip caught between your teeth. Silence swallowed you both whole.

You wanted him back on your hips so bad. It hurt. You were aching in quick pulses, but you couldn’t even look at him. Surely, you thought, surely, he’d seen that look on your face, how your eyes clouded over with lust. Maybe he felt disgusted.

“I better-” you hiccupped, voice small, “I better go.”

Seokmin, eyes peeking at you through his lashes, feared he made you uncomfortable.

“Yeah, of course,” he mumbled.

You gathered your things and ran out of there, wetness gushing out of you. You tried to run, tried to create distance, but this time, in your mind’s eye, you ran in place, staying completely still by the cleft separating you and Seokmin. You fiddled with the edge, sand cascading into the empty, endless dark.

There was no way you could make that jump.

That night you wished Giselle was by your side. You wrote an assignment, trying to ward off the embarrassment that stormed in your brain, when you got a message, that plunged you into rock bottom:

Lee Seokmin: hey you forgot smth at my house lol

Lee Seokmin: *Image Attached*

This was it. You were going to jump off a bridge (or a cleft in a dry, sandy wasteland).

As if your life couldn’t get anymore embarrassing: it was the condom. The white condom with “I ❤️ DILFS” on it. You damned that woman for ever making you bring it. What must he have thought of you? His best friend’s little sister trying to get in his pants? Your cheeks were burning and you threw your head into your pillow and screeched. Your life was over. It had simply ended now. There was no coming back from this. You huffed and removed yourself from its plushness.

Maybe you could salvage it? Thinking on your feet, you replied:

You: OMG i’m so sorry!!!! i think that’s my roommate’s, she must’ve put it in my bag… :/

You: I’ll come pick it up ASAP :((((

You stared at your phone at the blatant. It was not a far stretch from the truth, but being caught with your hand in the cookie jar - or maybe more so the I ❤️ DILFS condom in your tote bag - it seemed like an irrationally shitty cover up.

You gnawed at your lip when the three dots popped up next to his picture, and bit it to pieces waiting for his reply. You almost jumped when your phone buzzed:

Lee Seokmin: hahahahaha

Lee Seokmin: you can come pick it up tomorrow if u want? theres no rush

You glared at the message. Laughter? Surely he hadn’t bought it. He was just trying to be nice, just trying to avoid you any embarrassment. The thought made you wanna throw up, how he felt this obligation to be nice to you when you had permanently scarred him (were you being dramatic?).

You: ok. im rlly sorry again!! i’ll pick it up tomorrow _____________________________

Tomorrow came much faster than you had hoped. No amount of tossing and turning could slow down the passage of time, and by the time you received Seokmin’s promised “I’m awake”-message, the embarrassment hadn’t faded one bit.

Every discouraged moment of getting ready was haunted by your current situation, and you stopped to cringe every five seconds, causing an honest and diligent self-hatred to bubble within you. When you knocked on Seokmin’s door, you’d honestly never felt less confident in your life.

“Y/n!” he said enthusiastically.

“Seokmin,” you said, less enthusiastic.

He smiled at you sweetly, almost as sympathetically, before stepping aside. You furrowed your brow, not really understanding why he couldn’t just hand it to you at the door, but stepping inside nonetheless. “It’s in my room,” he offered, but could he not just have brought it with him? Did he have to prolong the shame even further? You followed him to his room.

In that moment you hated Seokmin for being who he was; for being sweet, gentle, caring, and gentlemanly. You would feel less pathetic if he yelled at you, if he was genuinely disgusted and wanted nothing to do with you. But there he was all smiling and supportive, and he wasn’t touching you at all, but he still felt like pillars on your back, soothing you and holding you up.

“It was your roommate’s?” he asked absently as you traversed the halls. “Uh, yeah,” you answered sheepishly.

“I can tell,” he threw his head back to you, and there was a huge grin on his face. A little bit of hope blossomed in your chest. “Yeah, I saw her at that party, you know? I think she slept with, uh, my friend, Minghao.”

“That’ll be her,” you were smiling now too, and a huge wave of relief washed over you, as he at least let you believe that he thought it wasn’t your perversion bringing along that condom.

Finally stumbling into his room, he did indeed pick it up from his desk, handing it back to you. You looked at it in his outstretched hand and blushed sheepishly. “Thanks,” you squeaked.

Seokmin nodded in response. For a moment the two of you stood, uncertain of what to do and caught in the web of a terribly awkward silence. Seokmin’s eyes darted to the window and yours to the floor.

“Hey, uh,” he giggled a little, scratching the back of his head. “I feel really bad for losing that Mario Kart game-”

You scoffed in response, but the facade of being peeved was falling apart, as you beamed up at him.

“Maybe we could do, like, a quick rematch?”

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant with an ever-heavy flush in your cheeks: “I don’t back away from a challenge.”

Seokmin won the rematch. This only spurred on another rematch, and suddenly there was no end to the madness. This time there was no awkwardness, no lingering silences. You were just giggling and strategizing, and throwing heat in the direction of your opponents.

That uncomfortable, clamoring feeling left you, slowly. It became easy to forget it. That feeling that he was only there with you because of Vernon, that there was always some sort of demand, a twisting hand, forcing him upon you, and that you became a sort of burden on him. That was the thing about Seokmin, though, his ability to make you feel like his best friend; his ability to make him feel like he was there for you, even when he wasn’t.

It was only after an hour and a half or so, when Seokmin paused the game.

“What the hell, Lee? I was just about to beat you!” you whined, crossing your arms. He nodded along, pushing himself off the bed. “Yes, I agree, which is why I’ve assessed that I need a refreshment.”

“Oh, you’ve assessed?”

“Yeah, I’ve assessed that I need a fresh, cooling drink in my gullet.”

You both laughed a little and slumped back, dropping the controller. Seokmin smiled at you, eyes twinkling. “You want one?”

“What are you getting?”

“A beer,” Seokmin said. Rationally, you knew you shouldn’t accept. You were bad with alcohol, and everytime you drank just a little, a little easily became a lot. That was why you took yourself by surprise when your voice left your mouth, chipper and grand: “Sure!”

One beer turned into another, and Mario Kart turned into talking on his bed, slumped into his fortress of pillows and giggling at his stories. You were a little tipsy, halfway into your second beer and your face was flushed and Seokmin was lying on his side, hand propped up under his head, as he made you laugh again.

“Your kind of partying sounds… Extreme,” you murmured, rim of the bottle pushed against your lips where your words slightly slurred. Mario Kart and alcohol had gotten you a little out of your shell, and now you and Seomin were talking like friends - as if your brother didn’t even exist. You basked in the alcoholic buzz and in this reality, this hideout, where your lovely brother didn’t exist and the faint ache in your legs at Seokmin’s godly face in the bedside lamp wasn’t so utterly misplaced.

“I think anything’s more extreme than your partying,” Seokmin mused teasingly. You huffed, putting down your beer and smoothing over your skirt. Everything was so lovely and artificially yellow and his body beside yours radiated pleasant heat. He was beautiful, you thought, looking at how the sweaters pooled on his torso and how his brown hair looked so soft and messy. You almost felt the absence of ground beneath you, when you imagined yourself at the cleft again.

“You don’t know about my kind of partying,” you joked and he chuckled softly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

You looked at him and he was suddenly serious. The smiley, gooey Seokmin was gone and his eyes, although not threatening at all, were prodding at you. Your smile fell. The alcohol at this time felt misplaced and wrong, the lightness felt wrong.

“Were you gonna, you know, go with Jeonghan at the party?” he whispered. The world was suddenly very quiet, as if it were following Seokmin’s tact. You grimaced a little. “No. No, not really.”

He studied you. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, opting to look at your hands in your lap. “Why not?”

A pause.

You began to pick at your own fingertips, nails digging into the cuticles. Seokmin’s eyes dragged from your face to your hands, and he scooted closer to you, only to cover your hand with his, stopping your movements immediately. Suddenly so close, his voice was whispered right in your ear, so soft and so gentle, it felt like a kiss: “Don’t do that.”

You sucked in a breath, hands ripping to your sides to lay stiff. “I’m, uh, I’m not that experienced, so I..”

Your eyes flicked up to gauge his reaction. In your worst nightmares, you imagined a laugh breaking onto his face, maybe disgust, but you felt yourself melting. He looked at you so softly, like you were the most precious, fragile thing and his hand had stilled in the air after you pushed it off, as if, like the most enchanting artwork at a museum, he fought desperately not to reach out and touch you.

It was unbearable - how still the air had become, how heavy you felt, how your chest struggled to expand. You talked again, if only to fill the air with your babbling: “I’ve not had.. I mean, I can hardly get myself off… So. I probably. Couldn’t. Get him off.”

You realized about halfway through your sentence that you should not have said that. That last half of your sentence was a breathy mess, as your voice became shaky with humiliation. His gaze, a delicate constant, was not helping either. You felt tears welling up in your eyes suddenly and maybe that was the worst part.

“You have trouble getting yourself off?” he repeated, as if to make sure. “Like masturba-”

“Yeah, that,” you squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t tell if you wanted him to shut up forever, so you’d never have to know his reaction, or if you wanted him to talk and be able to sense how this information changed his perception of you. His voice came, in spite of whatever you had hoped.

“I figured you were a virgin,” he mumbled, voice half muted by the palm of his hand, “but I thought you at least masturbated-”

“I do!” you defended yourself, voice much louder than his and brows furrowing and tears threatening to spill over your eyes. “I’m just- I’m not that good at it.”

“Hey,” he said softly, hand landing on your arm. You immediately shut up, lip trembling when you struggled to meet his eyes. “Relax, Y/n. It’s okay. I’m not judging you.”

You nodded half-heartedly, still incredibly uneasy.

“If you want…” Seokmin’s voice trailed off. His eyes ventured over your form briefly, licking his lips. “You know, if you want, I could teach you.”

You looked at him silently. He seemed to snap out of whatever loopy trance he had been sucked into, because he was suddenly very jittery and scrambling through the bedsheets. “Uh, I mean- you don’t- God, I’m sorry- it was only if-”

“Yes,” you said. His scrambling stilled immediately. His eyes were teacups.

“You sure?”

You nodded, not trusting your own voice.

Seokmin squeezed his eyes shut, gulping as he sat back against the bed. His legs spread apart. “Come here,” he patted his thighs.

You felt terribly sober. All that buzz and butterflies and blaze and blossom was gone and you felt like a doll, moving each limb individually, as you climbed into his lap, back to him. You were unable to think, unable to truly process what was happening, what it meant, as you felt his form engulf yours.

His hands found purchase on your hips and his breath was warm on your neck, as you felt every ridge of his abdomen on your back. His thumbs rubbed against your hip bone.

“Okay, now show me how you usually do it,” his voice was a warm hum, a twinge of nervousness laced in it. Your face was lit ablaze and you squirmed in his hold, when one hand left your hip to gently push your legs apart. You sat, all open and held against him, dress keeping you covered.

“It’s embarrassing,” you huffed, being very serious, but Seokmin smiled and nosed your hair gently.

“We can stop whenever you want, seriously, if you get uncomfortable, we stop” he reassured.

“It’s just me.”

It was. It was just Seokmin, your brothers best friend, the sweetest boy in the world, who used to have a swanky bowl cut and dorky school uniform and who was always Vernon’s most respectful friend, but he was hot and whispering into your ear and one hand was massaging the outside of your thigh.

“Should I take my dress off?” you breathed, face turned halfway back to him. His hands squeezed at you in response and you could faintly make out his tongue sliding over his lips.

“Only if you want, angel,” he whispered back, rubbing your sides tenderly. “We’re not doing anything you don’t want. Whatever makes you feel good. ‘M just here to help.”

You nodded, and although the answer was maybe made to make you keep your dress on - a reassurance that there was no need to discard it - you removed yourself from his grasp, hands coming to tug your dress off. You felt a small boost of confidence when you heard Seokmin breathe out: “Shit.”

Only in your bra and panties (terribly mismatched, your bra was black and your panties were pink), you leaned back into his hold, and you noted how Seokmin’s warm hands were much more careful now, splaying out on your bare skin.

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly. You nodded. He propped his head up on your shoulder, eyes cast down your almost-nude body, chest rising and falling. Your legs were closed again, he noticed, and his veiny hand reached down to open them again. “Show me how you do it, baby, so I can help you improve.”

You gummed your lip, breathing in one last time, before your nervous fingers began dancing their way to your panties. They disappeared under the fabric for only a moment, before Seokmin spoke again.

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, hand wrapping around your wrist to stop its track. “Don’t just dive right in, you need to get yourself all hot first.”

Your brows furrowed and some of the embarrassment you felt from being this exposed and pressed into Seokmin evaporated into genuine confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” you said, somewhat outraged, and Seokmin couldn’t help the laughter blooming in his chest at that. He vibrated against your back, hands smoothing down your arm. You pouted: “Don’t laugh at me, Minnie.”

He stopped, still smiling as he nosed your temple. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, that had your heart beating out of your chest. “You’re just so cute.”

Cute. You remembered your disdain for that word, but somehow, when it came from his lips, it made you beam. Everywhere he touched left behind a hot, burning ghost on your skin.

“You just have to touch your body, sweetheart,” he said sweetly. You thrashed in defiance, crying out quietly with red cheeks. Wiggling your body angrily, you felt his dick half-hard in his pants against your lower back.

“Can’t you do it?” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to take over and make you feel good. He sucked in a harsh breath behind you, fingers wrapping around your hands to soothe you still. He seemed to debate your proposal, but eventually he kissed your shoulder and spoke: “Okay, baby, but you have to show me you understand, alright?” you nodded feverishly. “We’re trying to get you to learn.”

The whole thing had you dizzy, warm and gooey in his hands, and grounding yourself on his solid torso. You had tunnel vision, unable to focus on anything but his warm hands and sweet voice, and how fucking hard he was. You leaned your head up to look at him pleadingly. Even upside-down he was pretty. He giggled at your starstruck expression.

“Look at my hands, pretty,” he tapped your nose and you scrunched it, turning down to your own body, where he sat his hands on your waist. “You do it like this.”

His hands started dragging over your skin, creating constellations of ghosts on your skin. One dragged across your stomach and down your leg, squeezing it along the way, and the other brushed over your bra-covered chest, landing on your shoulder and collarbones. Then they moved oppositely, then diverged from their chosen paths, and you started breathing heavily. Pressure built up in your stomach and your panties, and you felt how slick started leaking out of you.

“Feel good?” Seokmin grinned against your neck, listening to the melody of your panted gasps. You nodded earnestly, moaning softly. Seokmin furrowed his brows at that noise, pressing kisses to your neck appreciatively. “Good girl. Such pretty sounds.”

Both of Seokmin’s hands dragged up to your ribs. There, they paused. “Can I touch your chest, baby?”

“Please,” you whimpered, and earned another sloppy kiss to the cheek. His hands immediately grabbed ahold of your chest, softly rubbing it over your bra.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered. You hesitated for a moment. “Um, I don’t feel much, honestly.”

You’d expect him to be a little angry or defensive, but Seokmin only hummed and nustled himself into your hair. “Good girl. Good girl, being so honest with me. So pretty.”

You whined at his praise and Seokmin smiled smugly, taking notice of how heated you got from his words.

“The- the fabric is in the way..” you whimpered meekly, and Seokmin nodded in understanding, stroking your sides soothingly.

“You want to take off your bra?” he hummed, truly as if it would not expose you to him, as if it weren’t a lewd and depraved scenario, but something as simple as the weather. You nodded, removing yourself from the harbor of his arms once more to remove it. You unclipped it and threw it God knows where, before settling back into him. Seokmin peeked over your shoulder at your now bare breasts, groaning a little and covering it up with a cough. This was about you.

Seokmin placed his hands on your tits again, massaging and rubbing the soft skin, before he brushed his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

You moaned - for the first time it was a clear moan, seething from your throat and puffing into the air. “Sound so pretty,” he muttered in your ear. “You really like that, hm?”

He pinched your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his warm hands. Then, as soon as the pleasure had begun, it stopped, when his hands came to rest on the bed. You whined, twisting your head towards his, only to be stopped by fingers on your chin, turning you back forward. “Show me you can do it now, baby. You’re learning,” he reminded you.

“But, Minnie, I want your hands,” you whined and he tutted softly in your ear. “I know, baby, but I need to know that you’re understanding this in that pretty little head of yours. Need to know you’re focusing. Come on, show me now.”

Huffing, you placed your own hands (they somehow felt more foreign than his now) on your stomach and began to mimic his movements. You smoothed them up and down on your body, squeezing, then placed them on your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples.

“There you go,” he praised, and his hands had traveled to your shoulders, massaging them gently. You whimpered and turned your head to him again.

“Can you teach me how to touch my…” you trailed off.

“Your pussy?” he offered, as if it was nothing, as if it wasn’t vulgar or lewd. You nodded vigorously. Feeling him gulp a little, his hands became a little unsteady as they came to hold your waist again. “Can I hear you say it? Baby?” he asked and suddenly his voice was a little shaky, a little breathless.

“Can you touch my pussy now, Minnie?” you asked, and any shame had been clouded over with lust. You’d never been this burningly bothered in your life, you needed him to touch you. He groaned, and this time he was unable to cover it up. You felt how his hard cock strained against his sweatpants, how it pressed into your back, and you wanted to touch it so bad.

“Alright, baby, want your panties off?” His sharp nose was pressed into your hair. You shook your head. “Want them on.”

He nodded. “Alright, jus’ tell me if you wanna stop, okay? I’m gonna touch you now.”

His hand slipped under the waistband of your panties, disappearing under the pink fabric. As if they were always meant to be there, his fingers slipped through your folds, coming down to circle your slit in impossibly light figurations.

“Shit,” he panted, grip on your waist suddenly bruising, as he tried to steady himself. “You’re so wet, baby, you like Seokminnie that much?”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded blindly, your own hands coming to grip onto his thighs. His middle finger danced upwards and pressed against your clit, and you immediately squeaked and shut your legs around his hand.

“No, no, baby, don’t do that,” he frowned, hand that wasn’t buried in your pussy spreading your legs again. You felt how his legs, pressed against you, came to hook onto yours, forcing your legs apart with his own strength. He hummed in content.

His finger pressed onto your clit again, and he felt how your legs tensed, straining against his to close. Your back arched and you moaned, eyes squeezed shut. He began rubbing it, and it was so intimate, how close you were to him, how his hand navigated your sopping wet pussy, fingers just rubbing you gently, and how bare you were, his eyes training over your bouncing tits when you thrashed.

His fingers moved downwards again, gathering the wetness that was gushing out of you. Then, one long middle finger pushed into you. Canting into his hand, you moaned loudly and turned your head into his neck. Nosing the tan skin and inhaling his faint cologne, you began mindlessly kitten-licking the skin. His Adam's apple bopped under your tongue.

“You’re so tight,” he rasped, beginning to slowly push his finger in and out of you. His other hand had come to wrap around your waist in an attempt to calm the sudden bucking of your hips against his hand.

His hand moved faster, obscene, wet sounds coming from your ruined underwear, where he worked diligently into your pussy. He slipped another finger in, and you cried from the stretch. It was becoming hard to contain you, thrashing and writhing against his hold, stuck between wanting to move closer and to move away entirely. His fingers tied a knot in your stomach.

“That’s right, pretty, tell me how good Minnie’s fingers feel,” he whispered hoarsely above your ear. You could almost only whine and moan, nipping at his neck a little. “Tell me or I’ll stop,” he warned.

“Feels so good!” you whined immediately, because if he stopped now, you figured you might start crying. “Feel so, so, so good, fuck, Seokmin, I’m-”

“I know, baby, I know, but I’m teaching you, right?”

Though your mind was fuzzy, you sensed what these words meant and panicked, hand coming down to grip his wrist in an attempt to hold him in place. “Please, please, please, Seokmin, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

“Don’t talk back to me, sweetheart. I won’t stop, just talk to me. Tell me what you feel me doing,” pushing your head up again, Seokmin pressed his face against your cheek, so hard, you felt his humid pants against it.

Your mind was so hazy, so transfixed on the feeling in your stomach and his finger in your pussy, you could hardly respond.

“Tell me or I’ll stop, baby,” he reminded you again, and you scrambled frantically to focus.

“Nngh! You’re- pushing in and out-” your voice broke, hips stuttering against his hand, that was continuing its remorseless pace.

“Yeah, and?”

You furrowed your brows, lips trembling. “You’re- you’re curling them- A-ah!”

“That’s right. Such a good girl. So smart and clever for me,” Seokmin whispered happily, his other hand slipping down your stomach to circle your clit. Both his hands working pleasure into your pussy, you cried out loudly, head pushed back into his chest.

“Just let go, baby, I can feel you clenching on me so hard. Wan’ me to stay in your pussy forever, hm? Just let go, cum whenever you want, wanna see your pretty face so bad,” somehow Seokmin was just as intoxicated off of lust as you, despite staying, hard and untouched, in his pants. But he babbled mindless praise to you, and you came to his sweet voice whispering in your ear.

Your orgasm sent you hurdling over the edge - the edge, the one you’d been standing at hopelessly for years. You flew across it and landed on Seokmin’s territory; in his arms.

“Seokmin, a-ah!” you cried, releasing all over his fingers, coating them in your cum. Your entire body arched upwards, as you moaned into the night. Seokmin rode you through your high, pressing sweet kisses into your hair.

You fell limp against his body, worn out, when he finally retracted his fingers from your pussy. You snuggled into his sweater with a content hum.

Seokmin smiled down at you, eyes brimming with fondness, as his cum-slicked hands wrapped around your torso in a hug, holding you into him. “You did so well,” he whispered genuinely.

You looked up at him with a tired smile. “Thank you, Seokmin.”

He held himself back from saying he would do that a thousand times over, in fact, he wouldn’t mind never pulling out - he could live with only one hand. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered: “Of course, darling.”

Your brows furrowed and you pulled yourself away from him a little, eyeing the tent in his pants worriedly. “Do you want me to-”

“No,” he shook his head decidedly. “No, I’ll take care of it.”

You looked at him with big, innocent eyes, that only furthered the throbbing of his cock. Partially, he wanted to give in so badly. The thought of your hand around his cock, all pouty and innocent and confused, and how heavy it would be in your small hand, had made him cum more times than he’d like to admit. But, he reminded himself, this was about you. This was a favor. “Are you sure?” you asked softly.

“Yes, baby, go to bed. I’m gonna go get you some fresh clothes.”

You snuggled into bed while Seokmin scurried away to fetch a shirt and some boxers, and when he came back you cooperated limply in taking off your panties, and putting on what he’d given you. You fell asleep in his bed, cuddling his duvet, and surrounded by his scent.

Seokmin watched you in adoration. How peaceful you looked, chest rising and falling, and a little pout on your lips.

He wandered through the house, trying simultaneously to get as far from you as possible, and also trying to decide which of his housemates he currently hated the most. He landed on Jeonghan, slipping into his empty room and settling himself on the bed.

There, he fisted his solid fucking cock and bucked into his own hand, eyes squeezed shut to remember how you looked under his hands, how you begged for him, how well you listened, what a good girl you were for him. His moans were trembling and muffled by his own hand, and when he came, he felt momentarily smug, looking at how it dripped over Jeonghan’s sheets (served him right). Then, post-nut clarity sank in, as he reentered his own room and cuddled into you on the bed.

He felt almost despicable. He felt gross and evil and perverted and lewd, not because of you, but because, as if it were his first time realizing it, he remembered that you were Vernon’s sister. He remembered that he had promised to protect you from manipulative guys and always watch over you, and help you if you needed help, and report to Vernon if you were acting weird. Yet here he was, letting you cum on his hand and groping your tits, as if he was still that teenage boy with that swanky bowl cut.

After an hour of chewing on his lips and frowning, Seokmin let your sweet perfume lull him to sleep. He dreamt of you. _____________________________

There’s a blissful instant that morning when you wake up, curled into Seokmin’s arms, head nuzzled in his chest. There’s a blissful instant when you tilt your head, staring at his sleeping face, and he’s so beautiful, features all soft and breathing rhythmically. There’s a blissful instant where you see him, and your heart weeps in your chest because he’s so gorgeous.

Then it’s gone.

A panic button is pressed in your head, and your nerve-endings, each one resting on him, begin burning. What had you done? Yesterday feels like a faraway dream, but he’s still wearing that sweater and it grounds you in the reality of what had happened.

You’re lost. What did this mean for the two of you? Was Seokmin just lusting after you? But that couldn’t be right, you thought, because he’d insisted on only helping you, refused your offers to help him, which now was making you rot in his arms with guilt. Was this genuinely an attempt to help you? To be diligently by your side at the request of your brother? But surely this had been outside of the realm of what was acceptable to help your best friend’s baby sister with? Did that mean he liked you?

Seokmin awakened from your sudden squirming, as if, with enough shaking and turning, that feelings and thoughts would just fall out of you. They didn’t, they stayed right where they were, and all you were given in return was Seokmin’s eyes fluttering open.

You watched him go through that same process; the bliss came first and then the panic. Seokmin’s eyes went from adoring to wide and grave and suddenly he was shuffling away from you on the bed, creating a cool distance between you on the landscape of his mattress. You didn’t miss the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Uh- good morning,” he mumbled, and he could only look at his hands. Your throat was unbelievably dry. “Morning.”

You’re not sure how you both managed, but you went through that morning without mentioning the previous night even once. The air was thick with tension, fleeting glances, and shaky hands, while Seokmin made you both bowls of oatmeal. You stood on the other side of the counter in his shirt and his boxers.

You ate in his bed. It was silent and heavy and each clink of spoons against the bowl-rims had you both wincing. He put on a TV-show and you sat across from one another, chewing wordlessly to some drama in the background. Your belly was pooling with tension and light cascaded onto you, revealing your pores and flaws. Were you a bad person?

Finally, finally, Seokmin put down his spoon with yet another clink, fingers catching the bridge of his nose and eyes squeezing shut. He huffed into the palm of his hand, swallowing the oatmeal hard.

“Uh-” he began and his voice cracked, “Y/n. About last night-”

But you cut him off, and he couldn’t ever, even in his wildest dreams, have imagined that these words would come out of your mouth:

“I want to return the favor.”

The words were almost spat and discarded, as if they’d been sitting on the tip of your tongue all morning with a foul taste, and you’d only now been able to rid yourself of it. Seokmin snapped his head towards you, a genuine surprise on his face, but he soon wished he hadn’t looked at all.

You were so pretty, sitting cross legged in his shirt and a blush creeping up your neck and cheeks all shiny in the morning sun. And there was this innocence to your eyes, big lashes shadowing it only a little; this earnestness that told him you really, really wanted to do this for him.

“I-” he chuckled a little, heart clenching at your sweetness, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good that I’m asking you then,” you said, and though the comment was witty, when Seokmin looked at you again, he saw how careful you looked, and how unsure you were of yourself.

“Listen, N/n,” he reached out to grab your hand, and it was burning into yours, each area of adjoined skin screaming at you with reminders of last night. “You don’t have to do that. I just wanted to make you feel good, I was happy to just be of service to you-”

“But I want to make you feel good,” you pouted, almost brattily. Seokmin’s gentle expression and tone faded into something darker, as his eyes flitted down to your exposed legs and your heaving chest. He swallowed, putting away his bowl of oatmeal and collecting himself.

“Are you sure? You need to be absolutely 100% sure-”

“I’m sure, Minnie. I want to-” you broke off your own words with a squeak, face becoming bright red. You leaned in self-consciously, as if to tell him a secret: “I want to suck your dick.”

Your whispered admittance had him groaning, groaning at how sweet and innocent your voice was, how you couldn’t even say it loudly, you had to whisper the dirty word to him. He wanted you so badly, wanted to be the one to take away your innocence, to make you all dirty and beg for him, to make you thrash and whine and to teach you how to really feel good. He wanted you.

It’s like a switch had flipped, when Seokmin put his hand on the back of your head, and suddenly you were kissing again. The tension from before was replaced with something wholly different, something hot, something laced in the eye contact he gave you, before he leaned it again.

And Seokmin was kissing you with a fervor that you recognized from yourself - you both wanted to forget. Wanted to forget Vernon, who, although a great brother and friend, had become a heavy strain on your relationship with Seokmin. So you kissed him and let his tongue in your mouth when it swiped over your bottom lip, and you sucked on it, and you let him and yourself get lost in each other.

The sound of smacking lips and saliva was so lewd too, especially when Seokmin’s hand pulled you from your spot on the bed and into his lap, hands roaming your body, while you tangled into his hair. He was half-moaning into your mouth by the time he pulled away, face flushed and eyes darker and lower and lips swollen red.

“You gonna let me use that pretty mouth, baby?” he whispered against your lips, one hand palming over his cock through his boxers. You nodded, almost desperately, one hand reaching out to his in his lap. “Can I touch it?”

Seokmin smiled fondly, looking down at where your small hand was outstretched towards his cock. “Yeah, baby, go ahead.”

You were a bit clumsy at first, but soon enough you found its outline in his black boxers and you squeezed it a little. Seokmin crooked over, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him get harder and harder against your palm, a small smile at the desperate noises he was making.

Seokmin had laid his cheek on your shoulder, neck twisting to stare up at you, while you focused solely on touching him, and he hated himself for getting even harder because it was you - you, who he had wanted for so long, who he was hugged into and lying on, while you touched his warm cock.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breathing heavily, and then smiling brightly when you became all sheepish, smiling and looking away, so that you had to pause your actions. He nosed into your neck, regaining some semblance of control over the situation, now that you weren’t touching him, and his breath was warm and humid on your skin. He pressed small kisses up to your jawline, nose flattening against you.

“So, so pretty. Fuck, imagining you with my cock in your mouth, all drooling and shit. Fuck, baby, you gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he rambled, hands finding home on your tits again. You whined and nodded, trying to pry him off of you. Immediately (forever struggling with a little concern that you might’ve changed your mind) he pulls away, looking up at you worriedly.

“Don’t- don’t touch me, I don’t wanna get.. All hot,” you whispered those words that he had said last night, biting your lip in worry. “I want to do it now.”

Seokmin melted completely, and in a complete inability to contain his adoration, brushed hair out of your face and pressed a million kisses to your cheeks and your nose. “Okay,” he said in between kisses, and you felt his smile on your skin, “okay, baby. But if it gets too much, tap my thigh three times, okay? If you need anything, if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Yes, yes,” you huffed, pushing yourself away from him and hopping onto the floor, sinking to your knees before the bed.

It felt completely unreal - to both of you. How you were suddenly on your knees and how he settled in front of you, bare, thick thighs on either side of your head. Everything was all light and all the places he’d kissed and touched had become holy and glowing on your body. He shimmed his boxers off and you gaped at the sudden exposure of his dick.

He was hard. Apparently the kissing and groping had been enough, because it slapped against his sweater, leaking silky white liquid from the tip. And he was big - you didn’t exactly have a good point of reference, but you vaguely sensed from Giselle’s words that this was quite a feat.

And actually seeing it brought a wave of uncertainty on you, not as to whether or not you wanted to do it, but how. So, you blinked up at him with a small frown, voice small when you spoke: “Seokmin.. How- how do I do it?”

Seokmin practically glowed with adoration, when he petted your head and rubbed your cheek, seemingly so comfortable despite being totally bare. “You just put your lips around it and suck, baby, it’s easy,” he said softly, then added, a little panicked: “And be mindful of your teeth.”

“But it’s so big,” you marveled, eyes trained on it, and he almost groaned at it, because you sounded so genuinely amazed, so disbelieving.

“Just put your hands around the parts you can’t reach. I’ll be gentle, baby, don’t worry,” he said. You nodded hesitantly, leaning forward towards it, but his hand in your hair suddenly clenched and pulled you back. You looked up at him and saw his eyes brimming with worry. “You do want this, right?”

“Yes, please, stop being so- so gentle with me and let me suck your dick!” You whined, fed up with being treated like glass, and tugged his hand out of your hair. Seokmin visibly relaxed at your insistence, nodding.

Finally, fingers grabbing the base of it, you wrapped your mouth around the tip. You were met immediately with the taste of his pre-cum, licking over where it leaked curiously. Seokmin’s hand found your hair again, gripping it tight to steady himself, as he groaned loudly. You slowly sank down, basking in the whimpers you ripped from his mouth.

“Fuck- you’re- you’re doing so good, baby,” he cried, face twisted in pleasure and head thrown back. You looked up at him and he was so pretty and glowing, panting into the air.

You sank down as far as you could, feeling the tip sit snug against the back of your mouth, and your hands wrapped around the base of his dick. You looked up at him, experimentally squeezing, and pursing your lips around his dick to suck it carefully.

“A-ah! Fuck!” Seokmin cried, hand that wasn’t in your hair squeezing the edge of his mattress. His thighs were flexing on either side of your head. “You’re- you’re so good at this, sweetheart. Good girl, fuck, such a pretty girl for me, letting me use you like this.”

You whined at his words, squeezing your thighs together. Seokmin’s hips bucked upwards at the vibrations, hitting the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion was unexpected and you let out a garbled moan around his cock. He panted regretfully: “S-Sorry, baby, d-didn’t mean to do that, you just feel so good. Can- can you bob your head up and down it for me?”

You did, started moving your head up and down his shaft, and breathing hard through your nose, while your hands squeezed the base of his cock. Looking up at Seokmin, you felt confidence that you were doing something right. He was in heaven, face all scrunched up and breathing as if he’d just ran a marathon.

And when he peeked his down to you, he could’ve cum immediately. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, head bopping with tears in your eyes from the pressure in your throat, and how curious and sparkling they were, gauging his reaction. The groan that clawed its way up from his heart, through his throat and out into his room quickly turned to a whimper.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum, sweet pea, can I-” he swallowed hard, because even the thought had him close to release. “Can I cum down your throat, pretty?”

You nodded, a little too preoccupied to answer, but Seokmin got it, and with just a couple more bobs, and the feeling of your wet tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, he spurted into your mouth in long ropes of white, whining at the top of his lungs, and pulling hair from the roots.

It was, admittedly, a little gross and sticky in your mouth, but it was also hot and you felt proud you’d made him feel good. He was panting, trying to recover, when you pulled off his dick, a satisfied smile on your face. His hand wandered to your face, caressing your cheekbone, before moving down to your puffy lips.

“Can I-” he was almost embarrassed, “Can I see baby? Can you open your mouth for me?”

A little confused, you did as told and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue that was still covered in his sticky release.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself not to get hard again. “C-Can you swallow it for me, beautiful?”

Still confused, you nodded and gulped it down, trying not to look like it felt as gross as it did. If Seokmin noticed, he didn’t remark it, because he only groaned again, and pulled you by your face into a sloppy, heated kiss.

“So, so, so good for me,” he whispered, not letting you out of the kiss, even when saliva dripped down your chin. “Such a good girl, letting me use her mouth, such an obedient, good girl.”

You whined into his mouth at those words, bothered by the aching in your core that his moans and his blissed out face had caused, and now those words repeated over and over: Good girl.

He grinned into your mouth. “Yeah? You like being my good girl, right? Like doing your best for Seokminnie?”

“Yes,” you murmured breathlessly, too lost in the feeling of his mouth and his hands rubbing your waist to come up with anything better.

Seokmin pulled away with a warm smile, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “You did well,” was all he said, and you could genuinely cry, because that was it - you just wanted to know you did well.

“I’m gonna go clean up, okay?” he said, waiting for you to nod in response before he pushed himself off the bed, snatching a new pair of boxers from a drawer on his way out of the door.

You threw yourself on the bed, closing your eyes contentedly.

He liked you. You were sure of it now, when you thought back to how his eyes had balked at you so wonderfully, how careful and attentive he’d been. You were certain, and your heart smiled and you smiled and your hair was sprawled out on his sheets and for the first time, that desert wasteland in your head welcomed you and took you in, and you were right where you were supposed to be.

Until your phone started buzzing.

It was dancing across the sheets violently at someone's call and you peeked open one eye tiredly to pick it up. And when you did, the desert turned on you. Caught in a sandstorm, you held your phone between your fingers and felt your heart drop, lowered into the acid bath of your stomach.

It was Vernon.

Vernon, who was Seokmin’s best friend. Vernon, who was your brother. Vernon, who had always yelled at you to leave his room whenever he had Seokmin over. Vernon, who didn’t like when you talked to any guys at all, who had recruited his best friend to watch over you and take care of you. Vernon, whose best friend had just had his dick in your mouth.

You heard the shower running distantly when you clicked accept, hoping to God that you didn’t look too disheveled.

“Hi, N/n!” Vernon cheered immediately on the other end. His face popped up on your screen, a bright smile on his face. You smiled too - you missed your brother - but it was half faded, and Vernon noticed immediately.

“Hi, Vern,” you said softly. His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Of course, he could read you like a book. Of course, he knew that you were distant and nervous. You sighed heavily, trying desperately to collect yourself, to remember how you usually behaved, but for some reason, that you was far gone, and you had to be splayed on his screen, like a person replaced by something peregrine.

“I’m a little stressed out,” you mumbled. “Got a lot of papers and stuff, that’s why I’m not home.”

“Come home next break, okay? We miss you and you need to get out of that place every once in a while.”

You nodded.

Vernon’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and you saw him lean closer to the screen (which would have been funny, were you not suddenly wondering if there was leftover cum on your face). “Hey, where are you right now?”

“My friend,” you said quickly - too quickly. “Her name’s Yunjin, we’re working together in chem.”

Vernon hummed, seemingly content with your answer. “Your friend has the same bed sheets as Seokmin.”

Shit, yeah, they facetimed every week, you remembered, cringing at yourself for not thinking of it earlier. You tried to play it cool, shrugging: “Weird.”

“Yeah, anyway-”

Vernon rambled on and on about something or other, but you were unable to focus, watching the door to Seokmin’s room with a worried frown.

Moreover, you felt like a whore. Realistically, you hadn’t even lost your virginity. But sleeping with your brother’s best friend suddenly felt way more real now that you were talking to said brother, now that you were lying to his face, and you felt dirty and gross and you wished you could stand before Vernon, as the same baby sister that you had been before. But you weren’t. You were disgusting.

“Vernon, I gotta go,” you cut him off, and you hadn’t heard a word. Vernon’s excited expression dropped and he furrowed his brows.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you thanked the pixels for concealing at least a bit of the worry on his face.

“Yeah, I just- I really need to get going,” you said. “Bye, Vernon!”

“By-”

You disconnected the call and gathered your things, put your own clothes back on. Throwing Seokmin’s clothes onto his floor felt like shedding a second skin - a skin that had made you ugly and greedy and lustful. You only kept his boxers on, lumping the dress over your shoulders to drape over you in an unsightly and unorganized way.

You spared a glance at the wrapped condom on his bedside table, long lost and forgotten by now. You could leave it. You could leave it and have a reason to come back, a reason to slip across that ledge again and fall into his arms and his mouth and his warmth. You almost did. Almost left it right there, where it begged to belong. But you snatched it off the counter, ignoring the way your heart clenched when you did, and slipped it into your tote bag. And you left, jumping across the border that separated you and back into your own wasteland. And it was so cold and so empty. You were alone again.

Seokmin came out of the shower, expecting to see you cuddled up in his bed, all soft and beautiful. But you weren’t there. Seokmin understood immediately. The condom was gone and so were you, only the perfume in his sheets remained, willing him to remember. And he cried. He sobbed into his own hands, because what had he done?

You did not see each other the rest of that day. Or the next day. _____________________________

Seokmin wanted to let you disappear. He wanted you to slip away and he wanted to forget it had even happened - like a burning star dies out and leaves only a faint warmth behind, lasting years. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go, couldn’t bear knowing he’d never hold you in his arms again, never see you laugh again, never see you cum again. And he couldn’t bear knowing that maybe he’d read it wrong; maybe he’d made you uncomfortable, maybe you’d felt obligated.

So he texted you. For two days his texts came in sporadically and unsuccessfully. Questioning and pleading, he wanted to know it wasn’t true.

Lee Seokmin: why’d you leave?

Lee Seokmin: can we talk??

Lee Seokmin: i miss u

Lee Seokmin: i need to know i didnt hurt you

Lee Seokmin: can you please answer?

Each text came more painful than the last. Each text came more pleading. You sat alone in your room, in the dark, having only his one sided chats to light up your tear-streaked face.

Eventually they stopped coming. You thought they would. You thought, you knew, eventually he’d give up. But what hurt the most was knowing he wanted you too; knowing he liked you as much as you liked him. You’d seen it in his eyes, when his hand slipped between your legs, and you’d seen it when he came staring down at you.

But you preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. You preferred to remember when he didn’t love you back.

The pain that had been tethered to your youth and to him, back when he was unreachable, just a figure you could marvel at, was so much duller compared to this pain, the one pulsed in your heart now: the pain of him loving you back, but still being off-limits. Something that could be, but was destined to die out. And it did, when he stopped texting you, you felt that unborn child’s soul leave your own. Alone again.

And then suddenly, you weren’t.

A stern knock on your door. You flinched at the sound, fearing the worst. You were in your bed, in your sweatpants and your sweater and that condom was on the bedside table, watching the door with you.

Another knock.

“Y/n, I know you’re in there!”

Seokmin. Of course, it was Seokmin. No one else would come for you. But it was all too painful. You feared the worst - feared that seeing him, you would collapse into him again, and that this time you wouldn’t be able to find your way back.

“Open the door, Y/n,” his voice was serious.

“Go away, Seokmin!” you yelled, voice breaking halfway.

A pause. When Seokmin spoke again, he was not angry anymore; he was vulnerable.

“Y/n. I-I know you don’t want to talk to me, but-” he paused, wincing at himself and you knew there was tears in his eyes. “But I need to know that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

You thought that you could handle the self-blame Seokmin omitted - maybe that’s just because it was words on a screen. But hearing him crying outside your door, and how real he was when his hand knocked vigorously, it tore down each and every one of your last defenses.

“I need- I need to hear that you’re okay and that I-”

“I’m opening the door,” you interrupted him, and sure enough you padded to the door and swiftly unlocked it.

And then you were standing before one another. It was like time stopped, how the air stilled around you, and how the world quieted down. He was all crumpled paper hearts, all deflated and broken, and his hair was messy and his eyes were dark, but they sparkled again, just at the sight of you, and yours at him.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, breaking the enchantment cast upon you. The real world came crashing down, the people in the streets and birds in the trees and wind coursing through the leaves. The light that you’d shut out with a firm tug to the curtains was dancing on your linoleum floor. “It’s my fault. It’s- I talked to Vernon and I- I feel like shit, Seokmin. I feel like a slut.”

“You’re a virgin!” Seokmin scoffed, but it did nothing to calm you.

“It felt wrong! Because I- because you’re Vernon’s friend. Because Vernon never likes when I date guys, and because now I’ve been fooling around with his best friend,” you defended yourself, biting your lip when tears stung your eyes. Seokmin softened. “I just felt guilty. And gross.”

“You’re not gross, you’re in love,” he said softly, and your eyes locked. Everything about him was pleading - he was just short of literally falling to his knees, begging for you to hear him out. “And- and with me, of all people!”

“Seokmin-”

“And I’m in love with you too,” his voice was an urgent whisper, not daring to let you speak again, to let you try and steer him away.

“Of all people,” you mumbled, a small smile finding your lips. Seokmin smiled too.

“So.. I’m tired of hearing you talk about yourself like this. I’m tired of Vernon being the one keeping us apart. I want- I want you to know that Vernon would understand.”

You shook your head dismissively. He wouldn’t.

“I know him too! You know? Maybe better than you,” he pouted a little, and it made you laugh, and everything was becoming lighter, and for better or worse you really did want to jump into his arms again. “He shouldn’t be the thing stopping you from dating me- or- or anyone, really. But especially me.”

You giggled again, and Seokmin’s heart palpitated in his chest at that sound - and at being the source of it. Then the laughter trailed off and your smile tightened and your heart tightened: “I just don’t want to sneak around-”

“Okay! Say no more!” Seokmin interrupted, hand held out as if to calm a mighty beast. He casually pulled out his phone, tongue in his cheek, as he called your brother. Vernon.

It rang for a few seconds, put on speaker. You couldn’t help the nervousness. Couldn’t help the pinch in your nerves, building up from your stomach and into your heart. Then he answered.

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Vernon’s voice glitched on the other end of the line, utterly oblivious (as always). Seokmin spoke, hand on his hip: “Hey, just curious, how would you feel if me and your sister started dating?”

There was a moment of silence. On Vernon’s end, you imagined it was simply puzzled, but on your end, you stood with your heart all big and floaty, like a balloon in your hand, waiting for him to say that he’d hate it, that he’d kill him, and pop your heart with a simple word to prick. That wasn’t what he said though. Vernon said:

“I mean, yeah, man, I’d prefer you over any of those other college douchebags. I at least know you’d take care of her for real, man, not like that Jeonghan guy you were going on about.”

Your heart balloon took off, and the boundary between you and Seokmin filled itself with sand. Had it been imaginary? This whole time? You couldn’t help the wheeze you left you, overwhelmed with relief and joy.

“I know, man, Jeonghan’s the worst,” Seokmin said casually, but he was grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. You’d buckled over in silent laughter, unable to contain the glee. It seemed to dramatic now

“The worst,” Vernon repeated. Then he pursed his lips and spoke again: “So you’re dating my sister?”

“Uh, you know, I think we’re making it official in a second, yeah,” Seokmin said and even Vernon could hear the smile in his voice.

“Cool, man, yeah, I kind of figured, she facetimed me with your ugly ass bed sheets in the background, and I thought, no way, a girl would buy those bed sheets.”

“Lay off my sheets, man.”

Both of the men laughed and you did too, crying laughing and covering your mouth to contain. Your chest was fluttering with butterflies and light and love.

“Hey, man, for real, if you hurt her, I know where you live, bro,” Vernon was suddenly serious.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, man,” Seokmin responded, equally as serious now. He eyed you, then spoke into the phone again: “Hey, I gotta go make sweet love to your sister.”

“Ew, dude, don’t say tha-”

And the phone was hung up and Seokmin was laughing with you, eyes crescent and smile wide and toothy, and cheeks all red and shiny, he doubled over and took your hands in his. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Shut up, Lee,” you said, pulling him by the hand and letting him kiss you. Letting yourself kiss him. Letting yourself back into his arms, and this time Seokmin had crossed the border, and had fallen into you, and you stood there together and you were in love.

So, so in love, your lips entangled and danced together, and your hands dragged up the back of his neck and his up your waist.

And you realized, his tongue in your mouth, this was how you preferred to remember Seokmin; completely and utterly in love with you, and dancing with you in your room, and smiling into the kiss, and hands running up your body. You preferred to remember him as yours, and yourself as his.

Seokmin guided you to your bed, pulling your body into his lap. Then he pulled away, completely out of breath, and smiling at you like a twinkling star.

“Think we can finally break open that condom now?”

“Fuck yes,” you said.

And then you did.

#dk x reader #svt dk x reader #lee dokyeom x reader #lee seokmin x reader #seokmin x reader #dk smut #seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #lee seokmin smut #lee dokyeom smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt angst #seventeen angst

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standamianwayne · 6 months ago

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yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

stepmom selina anyone?? anyone interested in some stepmom selina?? (me, i am)

i feel like selina would be such a girl mom but also i have this image of damian’s twin being like his opposite. sooo i think the dynamic between her and selina would be fun cause it’s like black sheep & white sheep.

selina would try and teach her the art of stealth and reader would teach her the art of idk friendship?? no but fr i feel like reader and selina would be such a fun duo. bruce’s girls tbh like they team up and they’re unstoppable. also can you imagine the boy advice selina would give? “yeah just steal one of his prized possessions and he’ll come after you. works every time 😏” like okay thanks queen! in terms of like yandere behavior, i feel like she’s one to plant the little seeds of doubt in reader’s mind about others. like “aw sweetie it’s okay, you’re way too good for them! you never do anything wrong 🥹.” meanwhile the person in question is filing for bankruptcy cause their valuables are gone.

barbara is so ‘cool older sister’ coded it’s actually insane. she’s incredibly smart and good with tech, plus she’s really pretty and cool as hell??? reader is like “hiii hello hiii ” and she INSTANTLY becomes her newest role model.

her like ‘yandereness’ would probably be similar to tim’s but instead of trying to keep reader home, she more so just watches her. like if reader wants to go to a party and it’s on a bad corner of town, barbs will give her directions to go to avoid the most trouble. probably the least likely to kill someone tbh i just can’t see her doing it.

reader and cassandra they were both raised by assassins so they probably bond over that and then how life is after leaving. it’s canon that cass can speak (which we’ve seen her do) but she uses body language instead of words. with this, i like to think that she can teach reader how to read people easier. you know, as a little bonding activity! also damian is canonically good with music (the violin specifically i believe), so reader is likely the same. so now just imagine reader playing an instrument while cass dances 🙏.

cass’s type of yandere is mostly just watching from the shadows. like reader brings a boyfriend home and cass is in the corner standing like mothman. if anyone does reader wrong TRUST cass will be kicking the hell out of them 🙏🙏.

stephanie, like duke, is the closest to the normal sibling experience one can get 😭 but tbh i see her as being more as a best friend that’s a ‘sister figure.’ plus i like stephcass so screw you that’s canon now. having improvised fashion shows at 4am, gossiping about everything and everyone (which she then tells cass but shhhh), having self care days like that’s her bff! with steph i feel like she’s not the type to actually attack anyone directly, but instead just telling cass and/or tim about whatever (or whoever) it is reader is having problems with. now if they’re patrolling together and reader gets attacked? yeah she’ll beat the other person up! (or at least get a couple hits in if reader already took care of it)

now that the fam is written for, please please please send any requests y’all wanna see! romantic (outside the batfam ONLY!!! no sweet home alabama here) or platonic, feel free to send an ask or leave a comment!

heyyyy… heyyyy…. how yall doing….? 😔😔 sorry for disappearing buuuut thanks so much for sticking around! sorry if this part doesn’t quite live up to the other two but somehow the girls are harder to write for?? i hope i got them but honestly any criticism would be appreciated. also i kinda skimped over the yandere part for helena so sorry abt that😭. might go back in and change it but who knows.

also i’ve been fixated on conner kent for some reason???? that’s my pookie guys yall dont get it.

anyways love love LOVE yall so much bye byeeee ❤️

#batfam #batfam x reader #dc comics #dcu #platonic yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batgirls #yandere catwoman #yandere selina kyle #yandere barbara gordon #yandere #yandere oracle #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown

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afterglowsainz · 10 months ago

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so american | alex albon

pairing: alex albon x american!bsf!reader

summary: you don’t understand why it bothers you so much that alex met a new girl if he’s just your best friend

fc: claudia tihan

a/n: i love the fact that we all accepted as a community that so american is alex’s song

—

liked by carmenmmundt, landonorris and others

yourusername guess who won 🏁

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username obsessed with her

alexandrasaintmleux that’s because you literally behaved like a terrorist on track, hope this helps!

flavy.barla agreed!

carmenmmundt i second that

yourusername you’re just jealous i lapped you 🙄

username my favorite wag who’s not a wag

username okay but this looks like such a fun thing to do

francisca.cgomes guess who ended up p2 🥳

yourusername top 2 fastest girlies confirmed!

iamrebeccad you forgot to mention that you almost burst the throttle and the owners wanted to ban you from going back

yourusername if you ain’t first you’re last 😝

username omg all the wags and y/n went karting together that is so cute 🥹

username the clarification of y/n not being a wag 😭

username she’s an honorary wag at this point fr

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alex_albon fun triple header! onto the next 🔜

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username alex i hadn't seen you well👀

yourusername always eating

alex_albon you’re jealous!

yourusername my photo credits

alex_albon no

username i don’t understand them but i love them

username he ate! (literally)

username so babygirl coded 😘

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: post-race] [caption 2: alex_albon]

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f1gossip several drivers seen partying last night due to the end of the triple header, including alex albon who was seen very close with a mysterious girl

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username 🧍🏽‍♀️

username i was not expecting that at all

username “seen very close” babes they’re making out

username this gave me whiplash bc in my head him and y/n are fully dating

username sometimes i forget they’re just friends 😭

username is he being serious right now 😀

username well! down the drain goes my ynalex ship

liked by alex_albon, francisca.cgomes and others

yourusername slow week🫀

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username oh my 😶‍🌫️

username i could treat you sooo good

username alex fumbled

username agree

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username alex and y/n are just friends you need to relax

carmenmmundt just one chance please

yourusername i’m giving you a million chances 🤭

georgerussell63 🤨🤨🤨 back of??? yourusername

yourusername cry about it

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alex_albon beach time 🌊

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username that better be who i hope it is

username y/n???

username it’s not her 😭😭

username y/n is in the states not in bali :(

username SIR? wdym you met a woman for a week and took her to BALI?

username and he’s soft launching her too 😭

username no y/n like or comment … i see how it is

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yourusername home sweet home ☀️

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username this is criminal

username the woman was too stunned to speak

username the woman: alex

alexandrasaintmleux y/n!!! you can’t just post these and then leave‼️

yourusername 🤭

username i think i choked actually

username ugh y/n the woman that you are 😩

francisca.cgomes I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE (liked by yourusername)

pierregasly stop

username alex really is speechless

alex_albon nice hat

username omg someone teach this man some rizz

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alex_albon mood 😊

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username pls he doesn’t know what to do with himself 😭

username the face of a man who knows he fucked up

username alex is stronger than me frrrr bc if my best friend was as hot as y/n i would fold

yourusername is this because you’re coming to la? 😁

alex_albon are you gonna give me a tour?

yourusername i’ll take you to the best restaurant! (in-n-out)

alex_albon so american of you 🙄

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername whatever we roll (in los angeles)

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username never beating the hottest wag-non-wag allegations

username oh to be that cigarette

alexandrasaintmleux tag yourself i’m the ice cream

yourusername always the romantic 🥹

charles_leclerc 😡

username in love with her

flavy.barla my gorgeous girlfriend🥰

yourusername always you!

estebanocon not you too

username damn she’s collecting these wags like pokemons

albon_pets so pretty y/n🐭!

username even the pets came out 😭

alex_albon’s instagram stories

[caption 1: yourusername] [caption 2: 🐱]

liked by alex_albon, iamrebeccad and others

yourusername he laughs at all my jokes (he really does) and he says i’m so american (at least ten times a day)

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username OMG ITS HAPPENING ITS HAPPENING

username i know she’s trying to soft launch but unless she posts a picture of his face saying their dating i’m not gonna get my hopes up i don’t trust these two anymore

username so american is soooo ynalex coded

username queen of soft launching! (even tho we already know who he is)

alexandrasaintmleux the most perfect beautiful women ever 🥰

yourusername you areeee 💗

username omg you don’t know how long i waited for them to date 😩

username manifesting for that to be alex 🕯🕯🕯

alex_albon 💜

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and others

alex_albon i think i’m in love

tagged yourusername

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username OMG AHAKDIWJSANDJ

username my reaction exactly

username you gotta love a man who pulls a baddie like y/n by being oblivious

francisca.cgomes she’s everything 🥰💘🥹 and he’s there ….

yourusername you know i’m yours forever 🫶🏽

alex_albon rude

username fuck 🫵🏽 the soft launch, all my homies hate soft launching

username no i’m so obsessed with them you don’t understand 😔

username LOVE IS REAL

albon_pets so happy for you alex🐼 and y/n🐭! (liked by alex_albon and yourusername)

yourusername ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

alex_albon forgot to mention you’re also a poem i wish i wrote

yourusername OMGGG

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spirit-meets-the-b0ne · 10 months ago

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God I love Dustin Henderson so much man, I know Will is in love with Mike because only a deeply down bad homosexual would be able to say Mike “is the heart” when Dustin is alive and in the party. Dustin is the one constantly mediating in S1 between Mike and Lucas, he’s even insecure of his own newness to the group when he conciliates. Because even though the party are all HIS best friends he is able to rationalize why they might have a hierarchy based on seniority. Mike makes it clear that isn’t the case. It’s partly why Dustin is quicker to accept Eleven and partly why he’s so open to including Max “as the new kid” because that was him once. Dustin’s iconic “she’s our friend and she’s crazy!” Dustin and Lucas having parallel deviations from their code of honor in ST2 and Dustin being (so dramatic ik) literally ready to fall on the sword for his misdoings. Dustin basically involving Steve out of necessity but then cultivating that relationship to make Steve a good friend, Steve who had the shittiest friends in high school and attention for all the wrong reasons. Steve never had a true friend in his life and then some 12 year old basically gave him a crash course. In ST3 when Dustin earnestly challenges Steve’s socially conditioned need to be seen as cool only for Steve to become bffs with a band geek. A band geek who is also a lesbian that Steve would rather be seen as a rizzless hack of a womanizer than out her to anybody, even Dustin. All of Dustin and Steve. Dustin going from calling Steve a douchebag, to Eddie saying the kid worships him and thinks he’s a total badass. Dustin who in ST4 is once again demolishing social norms of high school vs middle school because FUCK, his friend is in middle school! His friend Erica, his comrade Lady Applejack, is a black girl in junior high and he dgaf what anyone thinks about it. ALL OF DUSTIN AND ERICA. Dustin teaching Erica to embrace her inner nerd, to Erica staunchly declaring “I’ve bled with him!” When asked if she knows Dustin. Dustin who is the FIRST person that Max goes to when shit hits the fan in ST4 because god damn dude Dustin is the heart. Dustin’s unwavering support of Eddie even when the evidence is stacked against him, Dustin always believed in Eddie Munson. Dustin is the only one who truly offers Wayne condolences. He is the friend of all friends. Dustin is constantly carrying the party through crisis and discomfort, he’s dedicated, he’s unabashedly caring, and he’s the character that is able to socially move across the board in every direction. I fuckin love this little curly haired drama king because these geeks would be LOST without him!!! If Dustin isn’t the heart; he’s the Central Nervous System, he’s the nucleus, he’s fucking vital to not only the party but every other tertiary character of importance. He’s constantly inspiring and providing direction. He’s a goofball, he’s wise beyond his years, he’s a lover and he’s a fighter, he always has a plan and he always has a bad idea, he’s the voice of reason and the resounding falsetto alarm of things gone wrong, he’s never done anything wrong ever in his life, one time something ate his cat but besides that. He’s my heart of the show damn it!

#he’s my pookie and no one will ever do it like him #dustin henderson #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #Mike wheeler #eddie munson #yes I’m rewatching ST again #Dustin is incontestably the nucleus of the entire party and extensions of the Hopper-Byers family #dustin stranger things #scoops troop #this is a Dustin Henderson appreciation post because yall are not doing enough for my boy #honorary mentions him shitting on Keith for thinking he has a shot with Nancy #to him literally being ready to die with Steve in ST3 in the elevator and Steve being like ugh ok??#just a little NIGHT SWIM #no disrespect to Bylers but Mike’s ass is only the heart to Will!!! Max Mayfield approved this message

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hcneymooners · 5 months ago

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⋆ heart on a sleeve.

(lowkey toxic!)bsf!vi x bsf!reader. men & minors dni.

pt. i ( you are here. ) / pt. ii.

synopsis: vi is handling her breakup badly, but you refuse to give up on her. it's part of the deal when you're irrevocably in love with your best friend.

cw: vi exhibits toxic behavior but is more complex than toxic, this part is sfw but part ii is going to be explicit, pit fighter!vi, implied alcoholism, emotional hurt/comfort, second chances, implied friend breakups, not actually unrequited love, vi is trying her best and so are you, blk-coded reader but all are welcome to read.

notes: inspired by the beautiful @avonnimimi. adore her. also the raccoon thing actually happened to me, lol. love you.

you've always loved winter in the city. winter is your season. the world grows unnaturally quiet underneath the suffocation of snowfall; you can finally hear yourself think. the heat is cranked up as high as it can go without bothering you and you sit on the floor, hips groaning as you stretch them out.

tonight, the snow falls soft and quiet, less fervent than the day before, catching in the glow of streetlights. you’re in a navy blue sleep set, your silk shorts clinging to your cocoa-buttered thighs. the fabric is covered with detailed illustrations of eopards, their mouths open and demanding. despite it not being your preference, you have your best friend on the phone as you contort yourself into different shapes. she keeps shooting you looks as your joints pop, your bones waking up from their slumber.

“baby, i don’t think you’re supposed to be sounding like this at twenty-one.”

“don’t worry about it, lia. that’s why we stretch.”

dalia rolls her eyes from where she looms across the screen, her skin dark and gleaming post-shower.

eventually, you settle, loose and limber, and begin scrolling through old photos on your phone. your gold rings catch the light as you swipe past memories – vi teaching you to throw a proper punch, both of you sprawled on the quad during finals week, the night she got that bartending job. you’d celebrated with cheap champagne and a close call (read: climbed right into her lap and almost kissed her.)

your shared apartment feels hollow tonight. vi's combat boots aren’t kicked off by the door, her jacket isn’t thrown over the kitchen chair. her location is turned off and it eats at your stomach, but you try to self-soothe.

traces of her are everywhere – the worn boxing gloves hanging by the entry, the pile of mechanics textbooks on the coffee table, the polaroids magnetted to the fridge. your favorite was from last summer: vi half-asleep on the couch, head in your lap, while you read your sociology textbook.

dalia took that one, said something about capturing moments that matter.

you remember the night vi moved in, both of you drunk on cheap wine and possibility, sprawled on the empty living room floor.

"mama," she'd said, grinning up at the ceiling, "we're gonna make this place ours." and you did – vi's fight posters next to your framed family photos, her protein shakes beside your san pellegrino, your shared vinyl collection taking over the windowsill.

it was your most desired dream: to have a beautiful life. with her, if you could have everything you truly wanted.

your mom's daily check-in text slides gently over your screen: how's my baby doing? vi still being stubborn?

before you can reply, your phone buzzes with another call.

( three months ago )

vi's sitting on your bathroom floor, knuckles bloody from another underground fight. she's been taking more of those since caitlyn left, each one more reckless than the last. you don't say anything, just kneel beside her with the first aid kit you've kept stocked since freshman year.

"you don't have to keep doing this," she mumbles as you clean her wounds.

"i know." you focus on wrapping her hand, trying not to let your fingers shake. "i want to."

she watches you work, something unreadable on her face. "why?"

you don't answer at first. just keep wrapping, gentle as you can. some questions are too dangerous to answer honestly. still, you try.

“you’re never going to stop doing this to yourself,” you say finally. “this ache, this punishment—it’s going to live inside you for a while.”

you can feel her looking at you, blue eyes following the bend of your neck as you slick the splits of her skin with paste. her gaze is heavy. you refuse to look up.

“when i was younger, i found a racoon in my backyard. it was so sick, but i was so little and tried to save it. i called animal control, because i didn’t understand how they “handled” situations.” you flip her hand over, thumb grazing her palm. “i asked them to come pick it up, to rehabilitate it. he told me to look away, but i still held out hope. he shot it right in front of me. i cried, i think. still think about it.”

you’re still holding her hand, and she takes over the grip. she exerts pressure and tilts your chin up, bringing you back to her. your eyes are wide and luminous, two planets.

“when i see you, it’s like that,” you tell her. “except i know better now. i take care of it, of you, myself. it makes me feel like there’s a better chance at survival.”

you shuffle onto your knees, body tensing as you push yourself up. vi catches you by the ankle, tugs until you stumble against her bandaged chest. she presses a weak kiss to your calf.

“thank you.”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, thumbing at her brow before leaving.

(one month ago)

the party's too loud, too crowded. bass thrums through the floor like a second heartbeat. you're watching vi across the room, watching her drink too much, watching her laugh too sharp when someone mentions caitlyn's name.

when she starts another fight – with who? does it even matter anymore? – and ends it with kissing someone else, something in you breaks. you slip away to the bathroom, sink to the floor in your party dress, press your hands against cool tile. you hate crying. hates how it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. but the tears come anyway.

the door opens. dalia's there, sinking down beside you. she doesn't say anything, just pulls you close, lets you hide your face in her shoulder.

"baby girl," she whispers, but you cut her off.

“lia, later. please,” you rasp.

the bass keeps thumping outside. you can’t hear your heart, but you can feel it. you’re always fucking feeling it. you keep crying.

( now )

for years to come, you will always remember this moment. how you paused before hanging up on dalia and picking up for vi.

“violet?” your voice is low, tired.

across the line, somewhere cold and devoid of you, vi shivers. she loves when you say her full name, wants to eat you whole when you let it rasp across your tongue and teeth until it falls free.

“hey, angel. look, i swear m'fine to drive," she slurs before you can continue asking after her. your heart drops. “i just wanted to tell you ‘m on my way home.”

"violet, where are you?" you're already grabbing your keys, oversized park half-falling off of you.

"just... just leaving jinx's. cait was there with her new fucking—“ her voice cracks. "doesn't matter. i got this."

"stay put. i'm coming to get you."

“what? no—“ there’s a sound suspiciously like her dropping her keys. “fuck, ‘m dizzy.”

“violet,” you’re beginning to panic, your voice rising. “vi, listen to me. are you in the car?”

the door slams across the line. you have your answer.

“vi, please listen to me. i’m coming, okay? i’ll be right there. please don’t start the fucking car.” nothing. “violet! i know you can fucking hear me.”

it’s about five minutes of silence, before she speaks again. you’re borderline hyperventilating, hands shaking as you try to locate jinx’s number to get her to go outside and stop her sister.

"nah, you don't gotta—"

the sound of screeching metal cuts her off. then it’s dead air. you're running to your car before the call ends.

ᥫ᭡.

the accident scene is a nightmare made real. you find her car wrapped around a lamppost, driver's side crumpled like paper. your heart nearly stops until you see her stumbling away from the wreck, that familiar shock of pink hair catching the streetlight. she's swaying dangerously on the icy sidewalk. your hands shake as you guide her into your passenger seat, trying not to think about how close—

she reeks of whiskey and wears that same leather jacket she's had since her fighting days. The one with the worn elbows and faded patches. the one you helped pick out years ago, before university, before caitlyn, before everything got so complicated.

"you should've minded your own business," vi mutters, breaking the tense silence. her words have edges, sharp ones meant to cut.

you grip the wheel tighter. "you could have died tonight."

"yeah? maybe that would've been better than—" she cuts herself off, but you both know what she means. better than feeling like this. better than watching caitlyn walk away.

"don't." your voice cracks. "don't you dare. what the actual fuck is wrong with you, violet? why do you say shit like that? you have to stop.”

vi turns to you, eyes blazing with that familiar fight-night fury. "or what? you'll lecture me again? tell me how i'm throwing my life away? save it. i don't need another person telling me how to live my life."

the car comes to a stop at a red light. your layered necklaces catch the glow, throwing golden shadows across the dashboard.

"you think this is about lectures?" the words come out quieter than you meant them to. "vi, i found you in a crashed car. do you have any idea what that felt like?"

"oh, here we go. make it all about you, why don't—"

"yes! for once, let me make it about how i feel!" your voice rises, surprising both of you. you never yell. never let the mask slip. but tonight is different. tonight you almost lost her. "because i love you too much to watch you destroy yourself!"

“you don’t even fucking know me, [name].”

you can feel the heat rising. your throat is growing tight, and you know how this will end.

“we’re best friends, vi.”

her eyes flicker over the side of your face, and you’re just such an easy target and her mouth is opening and—

“i’m only yours.”

the light turns green. neither of you moves. no one’s behind you, both on the road and in real life.

“you,” you whisper, “are so fucking mean to me sometimes.”

embarrassment rushes through you. your face feels hot, and the ball in your throat is so large you’re struggling to breathe. you’re going to cry. maybe she can tell, because she lurches upward and jerks toward you. you jerk back, staring a hole through your windshield.

“[name]—“

you run the red light.

ᥫ᭡.

a week later, dalia corners vi outside the campus coffee shop. you're not there to see it, but the story spreads fast. the city feeds on scandal and t thrives on the misguided.

"you know what?" dalia gets right in vi's face, fury radiating off her small frame. she looks like a wind-up doll, braids freshly done and her hands balled into fists. “i’m sick of watching you treat her like this. she's been there for every fight, every breakdown, every time you needed someone. and what does she get? you taking her for granted, acting like she's disposable."

vi's jaw tightens. "you don't know what you're talking about."

dalia is yelling now, drawing attention. vi’s pretty sure jinx is observing, bright blue teetering in her peripheral vision. her sister had ripped her a new one after receiving your belated messages.

"don't i? because while you're out here playing self-destruct, she's at home crying over you. she'll never say anything because that's just who she is – she loves too damn much and asks for too damn little. she ain’t one of those weak-ass little bitches you keep messing with, but she was never good at establishing boundaries with you. i don’t know what the fuck she's on, but i'm off it. i'll say it."

something in vi's expression shifts, breaks open.

"she... she cries over me?"

"god, you're dense," dalia spits. "she's been in love with you since sophomore year."

vi stumbles into your empty apartment at 1 am—early for her—, still reeling from dalia's words.

“hey, angel?” she calls out, more habit than hope. only ghosts answer.

she finds your room too neat, closet half-empty. your parka's gone. your heavy jewelry box has left a perfect dust-free silhouette on the top of your vanity. she rummages through your desk and finds your monogrammed passport holder gone. she sinks onto your bed, head in her hands.

her phone's in her hand before she realizes, your number dialing. voicemail. again.

“[name], i... i fucked up. i know i fucked up. i’m sorry. please... please pick up. please." her voice breaks. “please, mama.”

seventeen calls. seventeen voicemails. silence.

finally, desperate, she calls dalia.

“look,” she begs, voice raw. "i need to fix this."

dalia's quiet for a long moment. "you're lucky i love that girl so much," she says finally. “she’s going to see her parents. her flight leaves at 4. terminal c. don't fuck this up again."

ᥫ᭡.

vi misses the flight.

ᥫ᭡.

your parents' house hasn't changed. same bright warm kitchen, same family photos lining the walls, same smell of your mom's cooking. it’s been two weeks post-fight. you’re recentering, need space to breathe, to remember who you are without vi's gravity pulling at you.

your dad keeps giving you those knowing looks over breakfast. you’re his daughter emotionally, your mom’s physically. they always joke that your mama said copy-paste, that you stole her entire face.

"sometimes," your dad says one night, his voice carefully light, "loving someone means letting them figure things out on their own."

you re-adjust one of your rings, a nervous habit. it was a gift from vi—two angel wings set on a thin diamond-speckled bar spread across two of your fingers. she’d fought for it. you were pissed. you never took it off, even though you rarely mixed metals.

“mmm. yeah, i know, daddy."

your dad finds you again in the kitchen at midnight, making tea you won't drink. you look so small in your grief, eyes blinking owlishly at the draft of your introduction to ethics paper. you’re wearing your glasses, the frames thick, and he smiles at the sight. you only used them when your eyes became too dry for contacts.

"you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head, then nod, then laugh wetly. your screen blurs into a smear of white and blue.

“i don't know how to stop loving her, daddy." your head drops. “why is this shit always happening to me?”

he pulls you close, kisses your forehead like when you were small. he chooses to let the language slide this one time.

"maybe you're not supposed to, baby. maybe it's not about stopping."

“i know,” you sniff, wiping your face. “i just wish i could pause it when things get bad, take a minute.”

“and that’s fair, baby. nothing wrong with that.”

“love is hard, baby girl.” your head whips up, finds your mother sitting in front of your computer. “you don’t have to pretend otherwise. no one here is going to shame you.”

your heart quakes with so much love that you start blubbering again. your parents only smile, pressing twin kisses to your oil-wet scalp.

“i’ll finish the draft for you, honey. get some sleep,” your mom says and you try to protest, only to get served with her “keep talking” look.

“‘kay,” you tell her. “thank you.”“mmhmm,” she tugs you into another hug. “finish your tea, baby.”

ᥫ᭡.

at the airport, you're going through security when your phone buzzes again. this time it's dalia.

d. <3: girl, you're not gonna believe this.

you hear her before you see her. vi's voice cuts through the airport chaos: "[name!] wait!"

you turn, lower the volume on your playlist. she's there, pink hair wild, still wearing her leather jacket despite the cold. she's holding a ticket.

“i missed the first flight, so i was gonna go to your parents. i couldn’t get a plane out ’til yesterday but then,” she says, breathless. "dalia told me when you were leaving. i... i couldn't let you go without—" she runs a hand through her hair, frustrated.

"i'm shit at this. but mama, please listen to me. i need you to know i'm sorry. not just for that night. for everything. for not seeing what was right in front of me."

you hold yourself very still, careful. hope is a dangerous thing, and she’s starting to rumble within you.

"violet…”

her eyes light up at the sound of her full name, and she rocks onto the balls of her feet.

"i miss you," she says simply. "and not just as my best friend.”

your eyes widen, and vi steps closer. her face is soft and open. somehow, you know she’s aware of your biggest secret. you’re gonna whip dalia’s ass.

“ i think... i think maybe i've been missing you for a long time without knowing it."

the airport bustles around you, but all you can hear is your heart beating too fast. vi takes another step, careful, like you might spook.

you look so beautiful to her, face bare and glazed with what she knows is a mixture of skincare and vaseline to combat the dry air of the plane. you’re being swallowed by your oversized sweatsuit, the hoodie absolutely massive and bubblegum pink. she focuses on your hands, finds the ring she gifted you. you flex your fingers, and her eyes fall on the small “vi” inked between your thumb and pointer. it’s stylized to look like roman numerals but it’s her name.

yours is tatted on her too, just behind her ear.

“look, vi. i—“ your top teeth worry at your bottom lip, plush and pink like a tulip.

"i know i don't deserve another chance," she says softly. "but if you're willing to give me one i swear to god, i’ll take what i can fucking get.”

you look at her – really look at her. she's a mess, clearly hasn't slept, probably bought the first ticket she could find which meant the airlines had robbed her blind. but her eyes are clear. present. seeing you maybe for the first time.

“i think you still have some things to deal with. like cait.”

“who?” she says, and you know she’s posturing, but it makes you laugh. vi grins, pleased with herself.

“don’t piss me off, violet,” you tell her and she closes the distance, threads her hands along your hips.

your body conforms to the comfort, to the familiarity. you close your eyes, lean your forehead against her chest. she’s so thick, so broad, that she shelters you. the world is so quiet here.

"slow," you say finally. "we’re taking this slow."

her smile breaks like sunrise. "slow," she agrees. "i can do slow."

above, your gate is called over the speaker. vi adjusts your necklace, takes your suitcase and bag. her fingers linger as you transfer them to her hands, sending a pulse down to your stomach. it’ll be hard to be careful. gentle. new.

“c’mon, mama,” she murmurs.

her hand is held out. you take a minute, maybe two, but you still hold it.

bonus:

d <3: so y’all kiss yet, or what?

you: you got one more time.

#vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi fluff #vi arcane #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #female!reader #fem!reader #black!reader #blktumblr #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #vi x fem reader #vi league of legends #mine ; 🐎.

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mountttmase · 1 year ago

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What I Need

Note - the longest fic I’ve ever written 😭 I’ve added a little ‘break’ halfway through so if you did want to stop and come back to read the rest later it’s easier to see where you’ve left off but if you want to read it all in one go feel free 🩷 thank you @carlottawllms for the initial request and I’m sorry it took so long to get to 😭 and thank you to all my besties for your help with this, I couldn’t do it without you 🩷 I know it’s long but feedback would be appreciated immensely and I promise to never write a fic this long again 😌

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 20.5k

Warnings - angst and fluff

Just once you thought you might be treated to a well deserved lie in this Saturday but unfortunately the universe had other plans for you, just like always.

Your phone had been vibrating for a few minutes on the nightstand and you knew it was someone trying to call you before a barrage of texts were sent your way. Letting them fly in before you picked your phone up to see who it was and what they wanted even though you knew exactly who it was and why they were pestering you at this ungodly hour.

You already make it feel like it’s not worth living you thought, but before you could think about anything else his photo flashed up on your screen as he tried to call you again and you begrudgingly hit accept before you were permanently etched into his bad books.

‘Hello?’

‘About bloody time y/n, what the hell have you been doing?’ He scolded you. His voice hushed but you could tell he wanted to shout at you for not picking up and you rolled your eyes at his stupid attitude that you didn’t need this time of the morning.

‘Sleeping, Mason. You know what probably most of the uk population is doing right now since it’s stupid o’clock on a bloody Saturday’

‘Well I don’t give a shit, I need you. How fast do you think you can get here?’

‘I don’t know, Mase-‘ you started, not ready to leave the comfort of your bed just yet but he was cutting you off as soon as he realised what you were about to say.

‘No, y/n don’t do this. Did you not see my message? Code red yeah, that means I need you here now’

‘I’m sure it’s not that bad, you big girls blouse’

‘She’s offering to make me breakfast. Pancakes if you please’ he told you, his voice an octave higher as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying to you and you had to hold in a giggle at how ridiculous he sounded.

‘You love pancakes’

‘No I love your pancakes, there's a difference. I don’t know what she puts in hers she could drug me for all I know. Or make the whole wheat ones like a maniac’

‘I mean it’s hard to fuck up pancakes im sure they’re-‘

‘Can we forget about the bloody pancakes, how long till you’re here?’ He demanded, but you were already up and pulling a hoodie on before stuffing yourself into your shoes.

‘I’ll be five minutes’ you sighed, grabbing your keys and walking out the door as Mason repeatedly told you to hurry up until you had to hang up as you began to drive.

How it became the routine of you bailing him out of these situations was a long story.

Mason had been your best friend since you were little. Your dad being one of his first football coaches and even though you went to separate primary schools you still saw him most weekends when you helped out and sometimes joined in with the games. Mason teaching you how to kick the ball properly and you knew when you scored your first goal he let you win.

You eventually stopped going to practice, not seeing Mason at all for a year or so until you both wound up going to the same secondary school and it’s like you picked up where you left off.

You watched each other grow from awkward little teenagers to full grown adults and as much as you tried to keep your friendship the same you knew it would never be normal.

You went the usual route; college, uni, big office job in a fancy company while Mason lived his dreams and changed right before your eyes. Subtle changes that came over time meaning you never really caught onto them but the shy polite boy you once knew was gone.

He was cocky and sure of himself. Cheeky in a way that all the girls loved and he used it to his advantage to get exactly what he wanted. You weren’t blind, you know he was handsome but the way he threw his money and looks about just to get into some poor girls knickers made you sick sometimes but you stuck by him through it all. Feeling like you were the only person who had his best interest at heart most of the time.

Mason didn’t have friends, he had yes men. People to tell him he looked good and that it didn’t matter what he did or what he said to people because they’d clear it up for him afterwards. Leaving his picture perfect image intact so the world still thought he was a good boy even though he was anything but.

You didn’t know when, but you too had fallen into that category. Running around after him like he was a toddler that had just learned to walk, trying to protect him from crashing into things he shouldn’t be and picking up all of his mess after him for little to no thanks. You didn’t even know why you did it at this point. A sense of loyalty maybe? Or wanting to keep him away from certain people that you knew only used him. You knew he was a grown man at the end of the day and he was old enough to look after himself but still you carried on.

Even the routine of helping him kick girls out of his house was a mystery to you. The first time was a mistake when you’d turned up heartbroken on his doorstep after a failed exam and the girl he’d managed to score that night made a swift exit much to his satisfaction. Telling you he’d been trying to get rid of her for an hour but she wouldn’t budge and you were the perfect solution.

When he called you up and asked if you could do something similar for him the next week you refused at first. Thinking it was weird and you were worried about the girls feelings but he wore you down like he always did until the next thing you knew you were fake crying on his door mat as he ushered a pretty blonde girl out the door with the fake promise of calling her back later that day.

You must have helped him throw at least 30 girls out now. A catalogue of excuses at your disposal and even though you knew it was weird, it had merged itself in as just another part of your friendship and soon enough you were pulling onto his drive and housing yourself out of your car.

You rang the doorbell to make it look more realistic, the door opening a few moments later to Mason who looked more than relieved to see you and you quickly made your way inside to start the act.

‘What do you want? Dead relative, dog or something worse?’ You asked him, pinching your cheeks so they looked pinker before squirming yourself in the eyes with your water bottle. You’d tried and tested the lot but the sports cap you found was the best at making it look like actual tears.

‘Dogs fine, she’s been yapping on about hers all morning and showing me pictures so-‘

‘You’re so cruel, Mason’ you remarked, hoping to make him feel a little bit bad about what he was doing but you knew it was all in vain. He never did.

‘Just start crying before I make you, yeah?’ He laughed so you took the opportunity to get him back and wailed out the loudest fake cry you could muster right in his ear. The sound making him jump before he bounded you into his arms so you could cry into his neck and before you knew it, the sound of a very concerned but sweet sounding woman could be heard in the hallway.

‘Mason? Is everything okay?’

‘No really no’ he told her, the fake worry in his voice making you roll your eyes but you carried on sniffling to help him out. ‘This is my best friend and she’s had some awful news this morning’ he told her, walking you towards the living room so he could sit you on the sofa. ‘I’m really sorry to do this, her dogs just died and she needs me’

‘Oh my god’

‘Yeah she’s really not in a good way’ he confirmed, pulling you in closer and your cries went up in volume and you felt him pinch your side gently as if to tell you to tone it down.

‘Well can I help at all?’ She offered and you actually felt a little sorry for her. She seemed too sweet and you wondered how Mason had got his grubby little claws into her but you’d seen him on nights out and knew how he trapped women under his spell. You were just thankful that you were immune to his powers as if someone treated you like this you’d swing for them.

‘I think it’s best I just stay with her for now, but I’ll text you yeah? I’ve got your number saved?’

‘Oh, yeah okay then’ she uttered before the pair of them fled upstairs to get her things and within a few minutes he was with her at the door. Hearing the talk in hushed tones before he shut the door behind her but you let your cries continue.

‘Alright you can stop that now, sound makes my brain ache’ he groaned as she flopped down onto the sofa next to you and you laughed as you unhid your face from the cushion.

‘You’re welcome, by the way’ you told him. Bumping your shoulder into his as you sat up but he just rolled his eyes. You knew he was thankful even if he didn’t say it exactly but it would be nice to hear it sometime.

‘You fancy some breakfast? I’m in the mood for pancakes’ he winked but you just rolled your eyes at him. Pancakes sounded good to you too but you knew you’d be stuck making them.

‘Where’s Ace? He’s the only reason I’m here’ you asked, deflecting his question as you knew what he was asking and by the look he was giving you he wasn’t too happy about it.

‘Charming’ he scoffed before whistling and the sound of bounding paws made you smile until Ace was running in and jumping into your lap.

‘Hi baby’ you cooed, scratching over his head and trying to avoid the face licks he was sending your way but Mason was just looking at you like he was waiting for something.

‘So… what’s happening with the pancakes?’

‘Ace, your daddy is a very silly man, did you know that?’ You babbled but you could tell Mason was offended with what you’d said.

‘Don’t turn my son against me’

‘Do you want some pancakes, acey? Mumma will make you some’ you babbled too him, knowing there was no way for him to answer but from the look on his face you could that’s what he wanted.

‘Since when are you his mum’ Mason commented, trying to reach over to pet him but you wouldn’t let him. Jumping up so Ace could follow you and he just sighed and rolled his eyes.

‘Since I’m one of the only stable females in his life, okay? Don’t confuse him now’

You left Mason in the living room so you could make some pancakes. Your own belly rubbing as you hadn’t had a chance to think about breakfast this morning but thankfully he had everything in and as soon as he smelt them you heard him walking in to grab some.

‘Why are you making little ones?’ He questioned, grabbing some juice from the fridge and a couple of glasses.

‘They’re for ace’ you shrugged. Plating them up in his little doggy bowl and letting him tuck in before sorting yours and Masons out.

‘So he gets preferential treatment’

‘Do you ever have a day off?’ You muttered, wanting him to just give things a rest for five minutes but you could tell by his laugh he wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon.

‘Shut up, you love me’ he teased, poking you in the sides as he grabbed his plate and the feel of it angered you. He knew you hated being poked and prodded but he just carried on as he loved getting under your skin.

‘Not when you’re like this I don’t’ you sighed and even though you were half joking you had realised over the last few times you’d hung out that being around him was a chore sometimes. His usual playful comments had more venum behind them and now you couldn’t actually work out if he still liked you or not. Being around him never felt as good as it used to but whenever you got upset about it he’d tell you he was playing so you tried to think nothing more of it. Wondering if you were just hormonal or had forgotten how to take a joke.

Halfway through breakfast your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. His eyes looking at you pleadingly as if he wanted you to go and get it but you remained firm and stared back at him.

‘Please, y/n. If it’s her she’ll have me talking for another half an hour. Just make her go away please’

‘Fine’ you huffed, getting up and storming to the door and you knew he was smiling from where he sat behind you. ‘I’m not doing the washing up though’

‘Hey, you make the mess you tidy it away’

‘Oh get lost’ you muttered under your breath, opening the door to what you expected to me the girl from earlier but thankfully it was just an Amazon delivery guy and you took the parcel with a smile before bidding him goodbye. ‘Mase? Its just an Amazon parcel you’re safe’

‘Ah amazing, can you open it for me? Should be just a charging cable’ he nodded as he stacked your plates and took them to the dishwasher, leaving you on your own to tear the box open but once you were in you wanted to vanish into thin air.

What you weren’t expecting was the red box that was sitting under the packing paper. The words thin feel jumping out at you first and you groaned loudly as he walked back over to you with a confused expression.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘You’re gross, I swear to god. Why did you make me open this?’ You huffed as you threw the box of condoms his way and he caught it with one hand before looking down with a smile.

‘Ah i forgot about these, got the ribbed ones this time to see if they make a difference’ he winked but you just made fake gagging noises as you walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room where he followed you in shortly after. Thankfully hiding the box out of sight from you.

‘What you doing next Friday? It’s Woody’s birthday so we’re going out and he asked me to ask if you wanna come’ he suddenly piped up with as you turned the tv on and the question took you by surprise.

‘Why didn’t he ask me himself?’

‘Cause he thinks you’re scary’ he winked ‘I’m kidding, he was pretty out of it last night when we made plans and he knew I’d probably see this morning’

‘So now it’s just standard that I kick the girls out your house for you? And all your friends know about it’

‘Pretty much. I’ve given you excellent reviews so if you get calls for similar from the others you can thank me later’ he teased but you weren’t in the mood to argue with him anymore. Huffing as you relaxed back into the sofa but he was soon poking your leg with his finger. ‘You coming next week or what? We’ve got a section booked so there won’t hundreds of people and you don’t know I’ll pay for you’

‘I’m not worried about paying, Mase’ you told him even though in the back of your mind you were a little bit. Mason like to go to the most expensive places and drink the most expensive things and you couldnt keep up with him half the time so the offer of him playing always settled your nerves when it was nights out like this. ‘Can I bring Olivia?’

‘Who’s Olivia?’

‘That new girl from work I was telling you about the other day? The one that’s just moved here and doesn't know anyone’ you told him before realising he probably hadn’t been listening the whole time you were talking about her before.

‘Is she hot?’

‘Mason-‘

‘Im kidding, I’m kidding, You can bring the pope for all I care’ he shrugged but you knew even if you asked him not to go near her he still would.

‘Mason I'm serious, I don’t want you anywhere near her okay? you’ll make things awkward at work and she wouldn’t touch you with with a barge pole anyway’

‘Wow y/n, I’m bruised’ he told you, hand on his heart to make it look like he was hurt but you could tell from the tone of his voice he didn’t care.

‘She’s got something going on with someone at work and if you ruin it I’ll kill you’ you threatened but he just held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Who else is gonna be there?’

‘Oh the usual’ he told you. Reeling off some names you knew plus a few guys you don’t know and you knew what that meant. Mason wanted to try and set you up with someone he knew and even though you appreciate the sentiment you couldn’t think of anything worse.

At this point you thought he just felt sorry for you and was trying his hardest to find you anyone. You’d never had a boyfriend, never been in a real relationship or even been on that many dates. Any you did happen to go on always ended in the same way with that same awful message. I see you more as a friend than a girlfriend but I’d love to stay in touch and you didn’t know what was wrong with you. Even though Mason sometimes tried to help, you didn’t want to attract boys like him and his friends so any new boy he was suggesting you almost always never gave a proper chance.

‘I was thinking maybe I could put some feelers out? You know put a good word in with a few of the lads and see if any are interested-‘

‘I’d rather eat my own eyeballs than date one of your friends’ you told him, looking up to his horrified face and just like usual you kept poking the bear. ‘I only hang out with you cause you’re practically my brother, but the ones that choose to be your friends? I have serious questions for them’

‘And yet here you are, spending your morning with me. The main culprit’

‘Not for much longer, I’m meeting the guys at level up for lunch’ you smiled and he rolled his eyes in annoyance at you.

‘So you used me for my flour and eggs, that’s what I’m getting from this’

‘I wouldn’t even be here if you could just keep it in your pants for five seconds’ you reminded him, giving Ace a quick scratch between the ears before you stood up so you could get going but Mason being Mason had to get a few more digs in.

‘Oh whatever you big dork. Go play with your silly little puzzles then while I fend for myself’

Level Up was a gaming cafe in town and you met up with some friends from uni once a month to catch up and play some games but you mostly went there for the puzzles. There was something you loved about starting with a big pile of nothing and ending with something beautiful. It calmed you but almost made your brain feel alive at the same time so it was worth the teasing from Mason's end even if he did think it made you really uncool.

‘Whatever, Mase’ you mumbled, gathering your stuff up and making your way to the door before he could say anything else to upset you but you already felt like he’d ruined your day.

You managed to forget about him by the time you’d made it to Level Up. Catching up with your friends from uni, forgetting all that had happened that morning and getting lost in what you loved before making your way back home in the early afternoon. Feeling a lot better about yourself than you had that morning.

Your week at work flew by and soon enough it was Friday and you were at your flat with Olivia getting ready for your night out. Thankfully she’s said yes to coming and it had given you something to bond over that week. She too had moved to Manchester from down south after uni and was finding the transition a bit strange so you’d taken her under your wing in hopes you could make some more friends around here besides Mason. As much as you loved him you couldn’t stand to be around him for long periods of time anymore and wanted someone else to hang out with who didn’t make you feel so awful about yourself.

Once the pair of you were ready you set out for a cocktail bar first. Getting a few fancy pre drinks in whilst you chatted over some office gossip and just as you were leaving you posted a few stories to instagram. Seeing straight away that Mason had viewed them and almost as if by magic he was calling you.

‘Is that really what you’re wearing?’ He asked, the question making your heart drop as you looked down at your out outfit. Admittedly it was your usual but you wanted to be a bit comfortable and it was an outfit you’d always felt good in. His comments deflating you immediately and you felt like turning around and going home.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ You asked in a small voice. Wrapping your jacket around you a little bit further and Olivia looked at you with curious eyes but you just gave her a reassuring smile and carried on listening to Mason.

‘I mean it’s fine but like… well that’s it. It’s fine’ he admitted causing you to gulp back the frog in your throat so you didn’t burst into tears. ‘Look I’m trying my hardest here to help you get some but you need to start showing a bit of skin. Like if I’m interested in a girl I wanna see a bit more yeah? You need to advertise what you’ve got on offer or you’ll never get any business.’

‘I’m not looking for business and I certainly don’t want to look like someone you’re interested in’ you hit back, trying to make him hurt a little bit but you knew it was useless. Your comments were like water off a ducks back to him. ‘When I find the right guy he’ll love how I dress’

‘I’m a guy, y/n. We’re all the same’

‘Yeah well I’ve just about had enough of you tonight. I think I’d rather join a nunnery at this point’ you huffed, feeling Olivia tug on your arm as you made it to the door of the club. ‘Were just outside I’ll see you in a sec’

‘Your names on the door, they should just let you through’ he confirmed and once you’d said goodbye you were let in by the doorman who led you over to your section. meeting Mason's eyes almost immediately but his were soon on Olivia and you knew it was about to be a long night. ‘You gonna introduce me then?’

‘Hi to you too’ you quipped, watching him roll his eyes as he pulled you into his side for a quick hug but it was over before you knew it as his eyes settled on Olivia’s legs. ‘Mason this is Olivia, Olivia this is Mason’

‘Hi Olivia, y/n’s told me a lot about you’ he smiled and you knew that smile anywhere. He was about to flirt his little bum off even after you’d told him not too. ‘It's nice to finally meet you’

‘You too, thanks for letting me come’ she smiled sweetly, trying to be polite but you’d already warned her about Mason and his antics and you were hoping she could see right through him.

‘Oh you’re invited anytime’ he winked. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘Oh um… yeah sure, y/n-‘

‘’It’s alright I know her order off by heart’ he winked before nodding her over to the bar where she followed him after giving you a quick wave.

You took this time to go and say happy birthday to Woody, one of Mason's friends you actually liked as he’d been around almost as long as you had but just like you had fallen into the trap of letting him get away with things he probably shouldn’t.

‘What’s wrong?’ He asked, noticing your disgruntled expression fairly quickly but you just sighed before rubbing your head.

‘I explicitly told Mason not to flirt with her but he’s all over her, I can't stand that boy sometimes’ you huffed, motioning over to where he was standing with Olivia. His hand on her back and his eyes on her chest and you heard Woody sigh next to you.

‘You know what he’s like, sees a pair of boobs and forgets all logic’ he tried to joke but you weren’t in the mood.

You could see Olivia looking for you, your eyes meeting after a few seconds where she gave you the ‘help me’ look and you made your way straight over to get her. Gripping Mason's shoulder as you popped yourself in between them and even though you weren’t looking at him you could feel the annoyance radiating off of him.

‘Thanks for the drink Mase, we’re gonna go have a dance’ you interrupted, not missing the way he rolled his eyes at you as he tried to speak again but you’d already pulled Olivia away and onto the dance floor where you were both giggling as you got lost in the crowd.

‘Corr he’s a right flirt, you weren’t joking we’re you’

‘Honestly he should come with a warning label’ you groaned. ‘I’m really sorry, I did tell him to keep it in his pants’

‘Don’t worry about it, it’s quite flattering’ she giggled before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. ‘Let’s just keep it between us, by the looks of things he’s already moved on’ she told you and once you looked around you could see him chatting up some other girl and you decided to leave him to it. Rolling your eyes before you and Olivia got lost in the crowd and danced your little socks off.

When Olivia needed the loo, you let her know you’d go and get the pair of you some more drinks and once at the bar you were ambushed by the man you’d been trying to avoid for the last hour.

‘Thanks for that earlier, you jumped in at the wrong time just as usual’ Mason exclaimed but you just turned to smile at him sweetly and the action caught him off guard.

‘No thank you, for completely ignoring me when I asked you not to flirt with her as she’s seeing someone and I didn’t want to make things awkward at work’ you reminded him but you noticed how he shut his eyes before looking back at you with a smirk and you knew he was about to get nasty.

‘So let me get this straight, Olivia’s been working with you for what, three weeks?’ He commented and his comment surprised you as you didn’t think he’d been listening to you that well whenever you spoke about her but clearly he had.

‘Just about, yeah’

‘And she’s already seeing someone?’

‘I mean it’s not official but-‘

‘So she can find someone… but you’ve been there years and-‘

‘Oh get fucked Mase’ you spat, your blood boiling at what he was trying to say and you had to restrain yourself from throwing the drinks that had just been placed infront of you in his face. Mason had just put them on his tab though and you didn’t want to have to pay for your own so you just balled your fists up and tried to let it wash over you. ‘Are you getting a kick out of being an arsehole to me tonight or something?’

‘I’m just pointing out-‘

‘Well don’t, keep your big nose out of my business’ you told him, cutting him off mid sentence but you knew your comments hadn’t hurt him. Nothing ever did.

‘Low blow, y/n. Low blow. You’re lucky I’m not self conscious about it as I know it comes in handy’ he teased. Licking his lips to insinuate something sexual and you felt the disgust roll through you. ‘Come on, let’s go sit. We’ve barely spoken all night’

‘No, I don’t want to’

‘Hey, don’t be like that’ he frowned, but you were done talking to him tonight and you’d have been quite happy to have a few days' break from him after tonight’s interactions.

‘I’m not being like anything’ you huffed, seeing Olivia coming back out from the loo and you used this as your opportunity to get away from him. ‘Olivia’s back, I need to go’ you told him but you didn’t wait for a reaction. Picking up your drinks and making your way over to her but you weren’t in the mood to be happy anymore.

You found a quiet corner with Olivia so you could sit and bitch for a bit, mostly about Mason but you moved onto the topic of people you didn’t like at work until she opened up about Joe from the IT department who she’d got the eyes for. Apparently they’d hit it off from the first day when he handed her her laptop and she’d been falling for him ever since. Sometimes making up issues and submitting tickets for non-existent problems so they could talk and even though you thought it was cute and you were happy for her, Mason's words from before were playing in your mind.

Why did things like this never happen to you? Why could everyone else find someone but you were forever stuck on the sidelines waiting to be picked. You were used to it now and you told yourself you were over it but there were moments like now when it stung and you didn’t want to think about anything anymore.

If truth be told you didn’t want to even be in this club anymore and when Olivia had to make a call you used the time to your advantage to try and find Mason to let him know you were going. Not that it would have made much difference to him as you’d barely spoken all night but when you made your way back to your section you knew something was off.

‘What’s everyone laughing at?’ You asked as you approached Woody and a few of the other boys. Woody's appearing awkward but you could see all the other boys were loving whatever was happening. ‘Where’s Mason?’

‘Trust me, you don’t wanna know’ one of the guys laughed but you were just confused as to what was happening.

‘What?’ You asked, turning towards Woody in hopes he’d give you a bit more of an answer but you could tell he didn’t want to. An embarrassed and guilty look on his face as you raised your brows at him until he eventually spoke.

‘He’s um, he’s in the loo’ Woody gulped but you didn’t understand what the issue was.

‘Okay?’

‘He’s not alone in there’ he whispered and the realisation hit you like a truck.

‘You’re joking? Please tell me you’re joking’ you whispered back, eyes flying around the room to see if anyone else had caught on but thankfully it was just his little gaggle of yes men that were in on it.

‘Well he didn’t exactly hide it’ Woody told you but before you could say anything else there was movement from the corner of your eye and you could see he was emerging from the disabled loo with a stupid smirk on his face and you felt sick to your stomach.

The boys were laughing louder immediately but all you felt was embarrassment. Embarrassed that he was your friend and he thought this was okay, embarrassed for whatever poor girl he’d taken in there and embarrassed that clearly everyone knew what was going on and he was just fine with it.

You watched him talk to security before coming back over to your section. The boys slapping his back before he tried to wrap an arm around your shoulder but you just shrugged him off as soon as he touched you. Not even bothering to look up at his disgruntled face as your eyes were trained on the where he’d just come from and before long the girl emerged.

You watched her walk over to the man Mason had just spoken to, Mason clearly telling her he’d put her name in the list for your section but you doubt he even knew her name in the first place and you felt awful as she looked around for Mason to let her in. You were on the edge of marching over there yourself and telling them to let her through but you didn’t want to cause more of a scene so you just turned to Mason who was looking at you with an amused grin.

‘Seriously, Mason? I know you clearly don’t give a shit but that’s such an awful thing to do’

‘Oh stop getting your knickers in a twist, it’s not like I fucked her’ he told you matter of factly an you gasped at the way he’d just spoken to you.

‘What?’

‘I mean I’ll spare you the details but let’s just say she took very good care of me’

‘Oh fuck off, I don’t wanna know that’ you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you were trying to block him out but he kept laughing at you like he found the whole thing hilarious.

‘Oh y/n don’t be such a grump’ he laughed. ‘Maybe you should think about getting yourself a bit, hopefully they might be able to pull that stick out your arse’

Mason words cut you deep, and you knew he’d only said it as he was playing on your biggest insecurity but that made it worse somehow. You’d opened up to Mason a few times about how unlucky in love you felt you were, how you never seemed to grab anyone’s attention. You knew he tried to help on nights out sometimes but nothing ever worked and you weren’t as on board with one night stands as Mason so clearly was. You were the definition of a wallflower and as much as you knew you had a lot of love to give the right person you grew more worried day by day that it would never be a reality for you.

You knew your face had dropped, Mason’s too once he’d realised what he’d said and that he’d taken it too far but you refused to show how upset you were, not just by what he’d said but everything that had happened tonight.

‘You’re a right dick sometimes’ you told him quietly, picking your bag up and storming out. You could hear the faint sound of him scoffing behind you but you didn’t have the energy to turn around and berate him anymore. Your eyes already stinging and the sadness rippled over you but you held it together so you could get out the door and sort yourself an Uber out.

You wondered if he might have followed you outside to come and apologise right away but you knew that would never happen. As long as Mason was happy in Mason land he didn’t care what he did or said to anyone else and even though you thought you might have been the exception, that clearly wasn’t the case anymore.

‘Y/n? What are you doing out here?’ You heard, Turing to see Olivia walking over to you with a concerned expression but you just blinked the tears away and gave her a half hearted smile.

‘Just getting some air’ you smiled. ‘Listen, I’m so sorry about tonight. I didn’t realise he was gonna be such an arse’ you apologised but you could see from her face it was all fine and she didn't care.

‘It’s not your fault, yeah? You’re not responsible for him’ she told you and you felt lighter at her words until she gave you a look you couldn't quite place. ‘But please don’t hate me, I’ve just been on the phone to Joe and he’s invited me over. You don’t mind if I go, do you?’ She asked and even though it stung slightly you couldn't blame her. Not when you were on your way home too now.

‘Of course not, don't be silly’ you reassured her, thinking that might be the end of it but the sympathetic smile she gave you made you feel worse somehow.

‘Are you going back in?’

‘I think I might just head home, I’ve had enough of him tonight’ you joked but she knew she could tell there was an air of truth behind it.

‘Don’t let him ruin your night, why don’t you come with me?’ She offered but you just looked back at her in confusion.

‘What? To hang out with you and Joe? I don’t think he’ll be too happy with that’

‘Oh no he’s at a party at his friends house not too far from here, there’s a load of people there and a few from work so you’ll know a load of them’ she explained and the idea of it being more than just the two of them sweetened the deal a bit.

‘I don’t know’

‘Pleeeeeeease. Don’t let that horrible boy upset you, plus I’m not done hanging out with you yet. Mason aside I’ve had fun tonight’ she pouted and you felt your resolve slipping. ‘Come on, I’ll pay for the Uber and everything’

‘Okay fine’ you laughed. Jumping into the car with her when it turned up and you were only ten minutes into being there once you realised what a good choice you’d made. You never hung out with your colleagues outside of work but you had a lot of fun and even made some new friends. The whole experience teaching you that there was more to life than Mason and you made a promise to yourself to take a step back from him for your own sake.

You made it home at around 3am in a taxi with a friend of Joes who’d promised to get you home safely. You’d been talking for most of the night and it was a complete 180 from being with Mason. He made you feel important and heard and when he kissed you cheek at your front door you felt your knees wobble. You blamed it on the drink and being so touch starved but once your were inside you realised how much of a good time you’d had without Mason once more.

The constant fear of what he was going to say or do next, the need to clean up his mess that inevitably always came and the growing embarrassment that came from being around him was getting you down. All you could think about was a break from him and If truth be told you needed a break from everything at this point so made a mental note to book some time off of work for a little break now the weather was getting nicer to go and see your auntie in Spain as a little something to look forward too.

You’d seen Mason had text you a few hours ago. Wondering where you’d gone and to text him back but you left it. Not wanting to talk to him right now so you got undressed and got into bed so you could wait for the inevitable hangover in the morning.

It was 8am when you woke up and knew your phone was going off every few minutes but you ignored it, not in the mood for whoever it was and when you hadn’t received a text for a while you had a quick Look I see they were all from Mason.

You didn’t believe his empty threats, ignoring everything he’d written and rolling over onto your other side so you could get back to sleep and thankfully it came easily as you were still so exhausted. He could work things out for himself for one morning surely?

You were expecting your head to be pounding when you next woke up, but you’d never felt it like this before. Never heard it in your ears so intensely or heard your name being called over and over until you realised it wasn’t what you thought and when you recognised Mason's voice you groaned into your pillow.

‘Y/n! Are you in there?’ You heard him call. Hoping you could just ignore him and he’d go away but Mason being Mason didn’t let up. ‘Right I’ve not heard or seen you since last night, I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing so I’m calling the police’

‘Oh fuck off’ you huffed, storming out of bed in just your underwear and a tiny T-shirt so you could tell him off, watching Masons head snap up when you opened the door and you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed all over you.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ You spat, pulling him inside and slamming the door shut before turning to face him with a furious glare. He was looking straight back at you the same way though and you’d never seen him so mad in all the years you’d known him.

‘Are you kidding me? What the fuck are you doing? Why are you ignoring me?’

‘Are you being serious right now?

‘Completely. And can you go and get dressed you freaking me out’ he remarked but you just placed your hands on your hips and made him look at you.

‘No I can’t’ you told him and you knew he wasn't comfortable with you standing there in next to nothing so you used it to your advantage. ‘You were awful to me last night Mason, I mean you’ve not been nice for a while but last night tipped me over the edge’

‘What did I do?’

‘What didn’t you do!’ You exploded, seeing him visibly jump as he wasn’t expecting it but you just kept going, releasing all the pent up aggression and anger he’d made you feel lately and you could feel the tears stinging behind your eyes. ‘You’re so rude about me, about the way I dress and just how I am. I told you specifically not to go near Olivia and you did. Not to mention that poor girl you used in the toilet, I take it she wasn’t the same girl you took home last?’

‘Well no but-‘

‘I just, I don’t like what you’re turning into and I’m not gonna sit by and watch it happen anymore so if you still want me around you need to fix up and fix up fast’

‘You can’t tell me what to do’ he scoffed, the playfulness he usually spoke at you with now completely vanished and you had a feeling deep in your tummy that this wasn’t going to end well yet you carried on.

‘Well if you carry on like this then I’m out Mason. I don’t wanna surround myself with you and the people you hang out with anymore’

‘Oh you thought… oh that’s hilarious’ he laughed, clutching his tummy like you’d just told him the funniest joke in the world. ‘You actually think I care if you don't wanna talk to me anymore? That I’d care if I upset you? You really think telling me that is gonna make me change? Get real y/n, we’re not 13 anymore’

‘What?’ you breathed, his words feeling like a punch in the gut as he stared down at you and as much as you were trying to be the bigger person in this and make him see how awful he was being, you felt awfully small.

‘Well let’s face it, it’s not like we’re even from the same universe at this point and everything I do you take the wrong way’ he told you and you could feel yourself shrinking as he turned the tables. Bracing yourself to feel his full wrath as you knew he didn’t like being told off ‘You’re so uptight, y/n and is it any wonder why?’

‘You don’t have to get so personal all the time’

‘But you’re allowed to? You’re allowed to have a go at me cause I fuck around a bit and actually enjoy my life rather than play kids games and and make out I’m holier than thou? Just cause no one’s ever found you attractive doesn’t mean anyone else isn’t allowed any fun’

You never thought he could be this mean. His words from last night paled into comparison from what he was saying now and you unconsciously wrapped your arms around yourself as he tore you to shreds.

‘You know I tried to be a good friend, I tried my hardest to find you someone but you throw it back in my face everytime. Not that I think it would have mattered anyway cause they all tell me you’re too stuck up for your own good. No ones ever gonna want you y/n, cause you make it fucking impossible’

‘I've never been good enough for you have I?’ You whispered, watching the muscle in his jaw flex as a single tear rolled down your cheek, but his face remained hard as you tried to let him know how you felt no matter how heartbroken you were. ‘You know I always thought it was a bit of fun and teasing, you calling me a nerd or whatever but actually don’t like me, do you? But I’m good enough when you need me, I’m good enough to come over and kick out whatever girl you need kicking out. Good enough to cook for you and get you everything you need’ ’

‘Oh fuck off, y/n’ he spat, looking away from you and trying to make his way to the door. ‘You think I need you that much? Have a laugh, I only kept you around cause you came in handy sometimes’ he laughed, trying his hardest to hurt you and even though it was working you could see in his eyes he didn’t mean it. ‘People leave me all the time, why should I give a shit if you do too?’

‘Mase-‘

‘Nah it’s fine, I’ll go. Sorry for giving a shit about you, I know not to do that again. Don’t worry I won’t be back’

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was being defensive because you were upset with him and he wanted to make you feel bad too. You knew he could be mean but never like this and when he slammed your door in your face you stood there for a few moments just taking it all in. Replaying all the awful things he’d said to you before walking like a zombie back to bed and hiding under the covers so you could let a few tears out but not many came. Too in shock at hurt about what he’d said to form any real emotions but as the days went on you felt worse and worse about yourself.

Three weeks went by and you didn’t hear a peep from him. Wondering if maybe you should message him first but after a day you realised he was the one that messed up and you didn’t want to be running after him. He’d completely disappeared from online and you’d even had a cheeky look on some of his update accounts to see if he’d been spotted anywhere but it was just the usual training pictures and nothing more.

It was difficult, getting angrier as the days went by before sadness took its place. He was your best friend and had been for years but you hated everything he’d become and you weren't about to push your boundaries to accommodate him anymore. Not after all the awful things he’d said to you either that wouldn’t stop plaguing your mind.

You’d never felt as ugly as you did right now. His words had hit home as it was things you’d always thought about yourself but to hear them actually vocalised from the person who you thought you meant a lot to stung in a way nothing else ever had. Realising maybe you would be on your own for a long time as there clearly was something wrong with you and as the days passed the harder you cried.

Cried for the friendship you once had, cried for the words he’d spat in your face and cried for how awful you felt about yourself and how lonely you were night after night as you rarely spoke to anyone in fear of your emotions taking over now.

You tried to let it go, carrying on as normal but you could tell Olivia knew something was up. Letting you know she was there for you when you needed but for now you just wanted to wallow a little.

You were sat at home getting lost in a new true crime documentary when you felt your phone ring. Glancing down to see Mason's picture filling up your screen and you instantly froze. Too panicked to answer as you didn’t know what you’d say to him right now so you just stared down at the screen until the call ended. Anxious to see if he would call you back at all but he didn’t and you presumed it was a mistake until the next day when a text came through from him on your lunch break.

What did he want?

You presumed it was to apologise but at this point you didn’t want to hear it. He’d done and said enough and you were still getting over most of it so to have him back in your life seemed counter intuitive.

So you left him on read and forgot about him. Spending your lunch break with Olivia and Joe but by the time you were back at your desk he was all you could think about. His text had left a weird feeling in your tummy and you felt a little bad about knowing he wanted to presumably apologise but you wouldn't let him but what you’d said was true. You really weren’t ready just yet.

Sandra was a person you considered your work mum. A slightly older woman who worked on reception and was the smiling face that always greeted you every morning but she was also the woman you went to for advice and to have a moan to. She’s never judged you or told you what to do but it was nice getting an opinion from someone so wise so knowing you were going to see her filled you with a calmness you hadn’t felt in a while.

‘They’ve not got your favourite left, but I got you a kitkat’ you smiled as you approached the reception desk, noticing Sandra was looking back at you with an awkward smile that confused you until you looked to your left and were met with the brown eyed boy you’d been avoiding. ‘Mason? How did you even get in here?’

‘I let him in’ Sandra smiled, looking over at Mason with a wink and you could see him send her an appreciative smile as he made his way closer to you. Only then clicking the giant bunch of pink and white tulips in his arms and your chest felt tight at the sight of them.

‘You shouldn’t have done that’ you told her lowly, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear but Sandra had other ideas and brought him into the conversation.

‘Oh come on y/n, how can you say no to that face’ she pouted, tilting her head over to him and once you looked back at Mason his usual cheeky smile adorned his lips as he playfully batted his eyelashes at you. ‘You need to talk to him anyway’

‘No I don’t, what’s he told you?’ you argued back. You purposefully hadn't told Sandra anything about what was going on with Mason as you were embarrassed and wanted to deal with it on your own but you should have known she’d find out eventually. Mothers always do.

‘That you won’t talk to him and that he wants to tell you how sorry he is’

‘Well he can tell me that himself’ you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest before you heard him not so subtly coughing. Looking up to find him glancing between the pair of you like he was reminding you he was still there.

‘I would if you gave me a chance’ he laughed before shyly nodding over to the sofa where guests usually waited. Silently asking you to come with him so you could talk a bit more privately and you reluctantly walked over after a beat. Watching Mason pluck a flower from the bouquet in his arms to give to Sandra as a thank you and you almost cracked a smile at how she blushed when she took it. The pair of them whispering a little before he turned to face you and he walked over like a naughty school boy.

‘Do we have to do this now?’ You asked. Not wanting to have this conversation with him here and now but since you’d been avoiding him you hadn’t given him many other options and you could tell from the way he was looking at you he was determined to speak with you.

‘Yes, we do. You’re ignoring me and left me no choice’

‘Can you just be quick?’ You asked, not wanting to air your dirty laundry in the reception where Sandra could quite easily hear everything and even though you felt bad he’d put the effort in to come and see you, you were practically turning him away.

‘Y/n-

‘Please, Mase. I’m at work’

‘Fine, I’ll go’ he huffed and the heartbroken look on his face made your tummy churn. ‘Only if you agree I can come over later and apologise properly’ he told you but you didn’t agree straight away and you could see he was getting desperate. ‘Y/n please’

‘Okay fine’ you sighed, nodding your head as you knew it would have to be done sooner or later and since he was making the effort you thought you should cut him some slack. His face softened immediately before his eyes fell to the flowers in his hands that he passed to you in with a shy smile

‘These are for you, your favourite’

‘Thank you’ you whispered, taking them carefully and you knew your face was turning red as you held them to your chest. This was the first bunch of flowers anyone had ever bought you and you could feel your eyes welling up at the fact he’d remembered your favourite ones.

‘Well it’s the least you deserve’ he nodded but you didn’t know what to say to him, standing there awkwardly until he coughed. ‘What time will you be home?’

‘Around six’

‘Okay well, maybe I could bring us some food over and we’ll talk’

‘Okay’ you whispered, nodding gently before looking down as you were so overwhelmed with emotions.

He didn’t say anything after that, just touched your arm and planted a quick kiss on your forehead before walking back over to Sandra so he could sign out of the visors book. His action confused you as he never showed you signs of affection aside from the occasional hug so the kiss only made you blush even more. Giving yourself a few seconds to calm down before eventually joining them at the desk.

‘Leaving so soon? Sandra pouted as Mason approached her and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way she was so clearly wrapped around his finger already.

‘Yeah, this one wants me gone’ he teased, signing his name in the box but Sandra just threw you a disappointed look and you felt awful instantly.

‘Oh y/n’ she tutted before looking back at Mason with doe eyes. ‘If it were up to me I’d let you stay’

‘And that’s why you're my number one girl’ he told her. Flashing her his killer smile and sending her wink before turning back to you. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’

You didn’t answer, just nodded before he left with a sad smile and as soon as he was out the door you felt Sandra’s eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

‘I tell you what, if I was 30 years younger that boy would be in serious trouble’ she told you, fanning herself with a sheet of paper from her notebook and you felt your resolve crack instantly.

‘God sake Sandra’ you laughed. It was clear that Mason was a hit with the ladies but you didn’t know he’d have this hold over someone like Sandra.

‘What’s he done? Is it really that bad or are you just making him sweat?’ She asked casually, the need to spill your guts to her was as overwhelming as ever but something was telling you to keep it under wraps until things with him were sorted so you didn’t say anything you might regret.

‘He’s not been the best for a while but we had a massive argument a few weeks back after he pushed everything a bit too far so we’ve not spoken in a while’

‘I’d just kiss and make up if I were you, he’s too pretty to be mad at’ she teased and you knew you were blushing again. This time out of sheer awkwardness.

‘It’s not like that, Sandra. He’s my best friend, nothing more, okay? No kissing or whatever else you think might be going on’

‘I’m not sure about that’ she mused ‘He doesn’t look at you like a friend’

‘That’s cause he’s trying to get on my good side probably’

‘Hmmm, we’ll see’ she winked but you didn’t want to listen anymore. Quickly making your way back to your desk so she couldn’t try and marry you off to your best friend but you could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walked through with your flowers. Even Olivia sent you a curious look but you motioned that you’d text her later to explain.

You couldn’t focus for the rest of the afternoon. Mason's flowers that were sitting on your desk were a constant reminder that you’d have to see him later and you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him yet, if ever. Everything he’d said to you and the way he’d made you feel was still fresh in your mind and you knew they would take a while to recover from.

You were sick and tired of forgiving him for the cycle to start over again but you couldn’t deny you missed him. Yes things had gotten way out of control but you missed your movie nights and catch ups. You even missed making breakfast together after you’d kicked another girl out for him but you knew it all had to stop. He was a man now and able to look after himself and that’s what you wanted to tell him.

You weren’t expecting him to be on time, he never usually was, but at quarter past six there was a knock on your door. He was earlier than you thought he’d be and when you answered he stood there looking as guilty as ever with a few pizza boxes in his hands and you sent him a small smile before nodding him in.

‘Come in, you whispered, walking him into your living room so he could set the pizza down on the coffee table and take a seat but the only choice you had was to sit next to him as you could only fit a small sofa in here. Your flat wasn’t the biggest in the world and Mason always told you he’d pay for you to live somewhere nicer but it was time like these you were glad he didn’t. Not knowing what might happen if things went up in smoke.

‘Can I talk first? I’ve just been thinking about what I wanna say for days and I don’t wanna mess it up’ he asked you but you just nodded. Not sure what you wanted to say yourself yet so you figured you’d sit and listen to what he wanted to say first.

‘That’s fine’ you whispered, watching him get settled in his seat before launching into his monologue.

‘Okay well, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for everything’ he gulped ‘I know I’ve been the biggest dick and I’ve hurt you but I really am sorry and I’m gonna prove it to you if you’ll let me’ he confirmed and you felt his words swimming through your veins. Never once had you heard him like before let alone hear the words I’m sorry come out of his mouth and look like he meant it.

‘Last time I saw you, when I went off on one, I was just hurt that you’d called me out and I wanted to get you back for it. I know that’s childish and stupid but you hit home with everything you said and I couldn’t take it’ he told you. Clasping his hands together as some form of distraction as he spoke and you knew he was trying his best to hold it together.

‘You’ve always been there for me, you know? You’ve always done things for me that you shouldn’t have and you’ve stuck up for me when you didn’t need to but I’ve surrounded myself with the complete wrong people who don’t care about me. They’re looking for a good time and never tell me no so I thought it was great, but not having you around has just made me realise they’re not the sort of people I need in my life, yeah? You’re what I need’

His strangled voice was pulling at your heartstrings but no matter what he was saying you didn’t want to jump right in and accept his apology. There was so much you wanted to say and that you needed him to know about how he’d treated you. You could see he was sorry and it was evident that he was hurt but if you didn’t want to let him off easy, you wanted him to understand exactly how you were feeling and leave nothing unsaid so you could move away from it and hopefully move on.

‘Please say something’ he gulped, wanting to hear something from you straight away but you knew as soon as you started you wouldn't be able to stop.

‘Thank you for apologising, it really does mean a lot to me that you came here but i'm really hurt Mase and I’m not really sure what to say’ you told him. Your voice sounding thick no matter how hard you tried to hold the tears in and you watched the heartbreak on his face as he saw you get upset.

‘It just sucked, I guess. To feel like you only ever called me when you needed me, like to get rid of someone or if I fit into your plans. Just felt like you didn’t give a damn about me ever. I’ve never said anything or judged you about the way you acted, not until recently at least, cause we’re friends but maybe I should have. Like just told you no a couple of times but I just felt so small to you and that it wouldn’t make a difference’

You could tell he wanted to speak, to let you know that it was all untrue and that he cared about you more than anything but he didn’t butt in. He let you speak and gave you your time to get everything out you needed to and it was more therapeutic than you thought it would be.

‘You know I remember the last time I knew I couldn’t count on you anymore. It was my last year at uni and I had an evening class so I could present my final project but all the trains were messed up and I had to walk there in the end through the rain’ you sniffed and when you looked at him you knew he knew what night you were talking about. ‘It took me just under an hour and I was late in the end so I got docked points and had to make it up with some extra credit but I called you. I called you and you said you were sorry but you were stuck in an important meeting and you couldn’t get out of it’ you hiccuped and it’s like he didn’t want to hear any more. His hands covering his eyes as he shook his head from side to side but you kept going. ‘But then when I got home and I just wanted someone to talk to and rant to there were pictures of you plastered online with some random girl in your lap and I knew you’d lied to me’

‘I’m sorry’ he blubbed, looking up at you with red eyes and a wobbly bottom lip but even that didn’t stop you from carrying on. The words pouring out from your mouth like a waterfall as years of hurt made their way to the surface.

‘You made me feel so worthless when I’ve stuck around since day dot. You always spout about his family is everything to you but I thought that included me? And I felt like I never meant a thing’

‘You did- you do. You mean everything to me I swear. Please please don’t say that it kills me’ he sobbed before finally reaching for you. Pulling you into his body and you let yourself hide in his neck as the tears fell from your eyes. ‘I was a dick for no reason and you’re the last person I should have taken anything out on. You’re right, I was disgusting and I didn’t care about anyone else and you were the first person I actually cared about who told me no and I couldn't take it’

‘You really hurt me’

‘I know I did and I can't tell you how sorry I am’ he cried. ‘I know I’m not easy to be around or easy to keep up with but you’ve always been there and I took you for granted. I honestly didn’t see what I was doing wrong cause no one ever told me, like everyone just let me do what I wanted but I get it now, I really do. I was just so caught up in having a good time and not thinking about the consequences so I took things too far. I know I’m probably out of second chances but I need to ask again cause I can’t lose you’

Your silence was deafening for him and you knew he wanted some sort of answer from you. Eventually sitting up and making you look at him and even though he looked panicked his voice was calm as he carried on speaking.

‘I’m a fuck up okay? I know I am and I know the last thing you probably want or need is me coming back into your life to cause you more stress again but this massive fuck up has misssd you so so much’

You couldn’t stop the little chuckle that fell from your lips. The sound making him smile too before he took your hands in his.

‘I’m sorry for embarrassing you, I’m sorry for all the lies I’ve told and all the horrible shit I’ve said about you and I’m sorry for the constant 8am wakeup calls on a Saturday cause I can’t control myself. I know how to behave and I know what I need to do so I’ll just do it yeah? No more calling you up to kick girls out for me cause they won’t be there in the first place. You need me and I’ll do whatever I can to get there for you and do exactly what you do for me everyday. These few weeks without you have been awful and I’m sorry it took us getting to this point to make me see but I’d rather get rid of everyone in my circle if it meant I got to keep you’ he confirmed as he squeezed your hands a bit tighter. ‘What do you say, huh? Do you think we could work something out?’

‘I mean, you’re right. It probably is the last thing I need’ you started, watching his head sink as his eyes fell to his lap but you just considered it a tiny bit of payback for now. ‘But I can’t lie and say that I haven’t missed you too,’ you told him. Voice wobbling at the end as your emotions took over and you could see he was also finding it hard to take. ‘But I miss the old Mason, I miss my friend’

‘I’m still here I promise. Just give me a chance and I’ll show you I’m still in here’

‘Please don’t make me regret it’ you whispered but you didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Mason bundling you into his arms and the feeling of his arms around you settled you more than anything else had and when he pulled back to smile at you, you felt your heart flutter in your chest. ‘Just because you’ve apologised doesn’t mean things can go back to the way they were. I might need some time’

‘I know, I don’t want that either. I’m gonna prove to you how much I’ve changed and we’ll go at your pace. I just needed to apologise and that’s whether you accepted it or not, but I really would love it if you did’

‘I do’ you told him, your face crumpling once again but he was quick to wrap you up and comfort you once again.

Over the next few weeks he was an angel, giving you the space you needed but also checking in when he could. Things felt normal but so different at the same time and the relief of having your friend back was overwhelming. It was two weeks later when you next saw him in person though, Mason messaging you early Friday evening to see what you were up to the next day but you weren’t expecting his response.

The fact he was offering to drive was tempting. You hated lugging heavy bags on the train and the fact the prospect of food was involved was even more appealing but you hadn’t hung out like this in a long time even before your big fight. Mostly because he was always busy but also because you’d just silently grown apart in that way. Mason liked getting his own way and him doing things for other people didn’t fall into that category.

You had a lot to do and the last thing you needed was him getting bored and rushing you round before spending an afternoon with him trying to annoy you. You knew it was mean but you wanted to put him off a little bit so you could shop in peace but you didn’t want him to think you were still mad at him and didn’t want to hang out.

His message made your heart sink. He really was trying and you knew he wanted more opportunities to prove himself but before you could think about it anymore he was messaging you again to try and convince you even more and you couldn’t deny him this time.

When 9 rolled around the next morning he was there. Standing by his car as he opened the door for you after a quick hug and you promised yourself you’d try and be positive about today and give him a chance to prove himself if that’s what he really wanted.

‘You eaten?’ He asked as you got bucked in, knowing how hungry you got in the mornings but you always prioritised sleep over eating. You had a little bit of extra time today though so you nodded your head at him but didn’t miss how his face dropped slightly.

‘I had some toast’

‘Oh okay, I um… I picked you up one of those juices you like and a pastry but if you don’t want it that’s fine’ he mumbled, looking slightly embarrassed and you felt your heart race at how thoughtful he’d been.

‘Oh… oh no I’ll have it. You know what I’m like, always starving’ you laughed, accepting the little bag and juice he’d picked you up with a smile and you could see how shy he looked. An expression he didn’t usually wear and his soft smile made your heart flutter in your chest. ‘Thank you, Mase’

‘It’s okay’ he whispered, starting the car so he could look away from you and even though the drive was fairly silent with just the low sound of his music playing, you didn’t feel awkward.

‘You coming then?’ You asked as he finished parking, watching his smile light up his face knowing you weren’t going to leave him to sit in the car on his own before he nodded enthusiastically at you.

‘So this trip, is it the usual?’ He asked as you made your way into the main shopping centre and you knew he was referring to where you were going as you visited your auntie in Spain every year.

‘Yeah, it’s just for a few days this time but I really need the break’ you explained and he nodded at you knowingly.

You went to Boots first, Mason holding the basket for you as he followed behind and you filled it with everything you needed. You were about halfway round the shop when you realised something was different, Mason not questioning why you needed everything you put in the basket or making stupid jokes. If anything he was more than helpful, reaching the higher shelves for you and manoeuvring you around the busy aisles by your waist as he knew you hated the crowds.

When it came time to pay, he scanned everything for you while you packed the bag and when you were done he picked it up without any questions so you didn’t have to carry it.

Next on your list was clothes. Wanting to try a few different things on to your usual so you could mix it up a bit and when you had an armful of things to try you turned to Mason with a smile.

‘Will you come into the changing room with me?’

‘What?’ He choked, his eyes going wide immediately as the question sunk in but you just rolled your eyes as you tugged on his wrist.

‘Yeah I need your opinion and I can’t be bothered to keep walking out here every time. I’ll go to one of the family ones so my arse isn’t shoved in your face, don't worry’ you laughed, pushing him inside with you so he didn’t have a choice but you could see the awkwardness on his face. Eventually shifting his eyes to the floor until you bundled him into a cubicle and made him sit on the seat in the corner.

‘I um… what do I-i um’ he mumbled as he set the bags down and you couldn’t help but giggle at his awkwardness. A side of him you hadn’t seen in a while.

‘Oh come on, it’s not like you’ve never seen me in my underwear before’ you laughed thinking back to when you were growing up and to even more recent times like when he showed up at your door and on nights out when he had to put you to bed after one too many but you could see he wasn’t feeling a bit strange so you hung the dresses up on the rail and smiled at him reassuringly. ‘Shut your eyes until I tell you to open them, yeah?’

‘Okay’ he whispered. Shutting his eyes and covering them with his hands as you turned away and picked up the first dress.

It was nothing like you usually wore. Tight and short with a fully cut out back meaning you had to quickly take your bra off to try it on and the thought of wearing it outside these four walls terrified you but you were determined to push yourself out of your comfort zone.

‘You can open them now, what do you think?’ You asked him, watching his eyes adjust to the light for a second before an unreadable emotion took over his face.

‘Oh it’s um… it’s different’ he told you and you couldn't tell if he liked it or not.

‘Well I’ve been thinking about what you said and even though I was pissed at the time and you could have probably worded it nicer I think you were right’ you told him, hands brushing over the short skirt and even though you felt different in it you didn’t feel too uncomfortable. ‘I need to show a bit more skin, you know?’

‘Wait-‘

‘What do boys like more? Bum or boobs? Like what do I need to-‘

‘Wait, stop’ he interrupted, the tone of his voice making you stop in your tracks and turn to him and when he held his hand out to you, you took it carefully. Letting him pull you in between your legs slowly so he could talk to you better but when you felt his fingertips on the backs of your bare thighs your legs turned to jelly.

You didn’t know what it was, that weird feeling pulsating through you at just a simple touch from Mason of all people and the sensation made it feel like you couldn’t get your breath out properly. In the end you had to rest your hands on his chest so you didn’t crumple to the floor and it was like the atmosphere changed within a heartbeat.

His big brown eyes looked dark as he peered up at you through his lashes, the bridge of his nose a deep red and his pouty lips had parted slightly as he tried to control his breathing but it’s like you blinked and the moment was gone. His eyes moving to look at your shoulder now and you moved your hands away from his chest to cross them over your body.

‘Sit down, yeah?’ He whispered, nodding his head to his leg and you sat on his thigh as he caged you in his arms. His face serious as you wondered what he might be about to say to you and you could feel your cheeks getting warm as he looked at you in a way he never had before. ‘You don’t… you don’t need to change the way you look or dress, okay? I was a dick and I shouldn’t have said all that before. It was crap of me and it wasn’t true anyway’

‘But-‘

‘But nothing’ he whispered, cutting you off and you felt your eyes sting as he smiled sweetly at you. ‘You deserve the world, you know that? And you deserve a man who doesn’t care about how much skin you’ve got on show or what your body looks like in what you’ve got on. You want a man who cares about what’s going on in here’ he whispered, tapping your temple lightly before doing the same to the top of your chest. ‘And in here. And yeah it might be a wait but you’ll get there. You don’t have to sell yourself short to dickheads like me who don’t have what you need, okay?’

‘It just gets hard sometimes’ you sniffed, his words hitting you deep in your tummy and you couldn’t stop the tears spilling from your eyes before you felt him pulling you into his body for a cuddle. Your head nestled into his neck as you held onto him for dear life but the feel of his hand stroking up and down your back bare soothed you ever so slightly.

‘I know it does’

‘What’s wrong with me?’ You hiccuped, barely able to hold yourself together at this point but his gentle touches really were helping. You felt safe with him for the first time in a long time and you knew you could tell him anything and it wouldn’t matter. He’d listen and reassure you like best friends are supposed to.

‘Nothing, I promise. Absolutely nothing, you’re perfect okay’ he told you. Speaking the words directly into ear and he sounded so determined and sure of himself that the sound made you shiver. ‘You’re too perfect, maybe that’s the problem. It's dicks like me that have got something wrong with us yeah’ he laughed and you let out a little chuckle before pulling back so you could wipe your eyes. ‘Does everything you picked out look like that?’

‘Yeah’ you laughed, smiling as he caught the tears you missed.

‘Okay well let me go and look for you, I saw a few bits that are more you but just a bit different. You can try those on and see what you think, yeah?’

‘Okay’ you sniffed, not sure about this idea but you were willing to entertain him at this point and when he came back with a few bits you were actually surprised at how much you loved them. Still your style but just a little different and you couldn’t help but give Mason a massive hug at the end.

Once you’d paid, Mason offered to take all the bags back to the car whilst you popped into Primark for underwear and socks and once you were done you met him outside. Your tummy grumbling as it approached lunchtime and he let you pick wherever you wanted to go but you settled on Nando’s as you knew that’s secretly what he wanted and since he’d been good to you that morning you figured you’d be good to him.

You were back at his just after one, leaving your bags in the car but you noticed he’d taken in a white paper bag that you hadn’t seen him with all day and after the pair of you got yourselves a drink and settled on the sofa, he turned to you with a shy smile.

‘Hey, so I got you something’ he told you nervously, producing the white paper bag from earlier from the side of the sofa and you took it from him with a confused grin.

You didn’t ask what it was, just reached in to grab hold of the box and when you finally pulled it out you almost lost your breath. The brightly coloured picture of the northern lights making you smile immediately before you looked up to his nervous face.

‘I wanted to get you one we could maybe do together? I know it’s probably not as big or complicated as you’re used to but I thought we could start me off easy’ he laughed but you were too overcome with emotion to think of anything to say. Never in a million years did you think he’d want to do a puzzle with you let alone buy you one with a picture of the place you’d always wanted to visit the most on it.

‘Can we do it now?’ You asked excitedly. Knowing you had the whole afternoon together to finish it and when his face mirrored yours you felt like jumping up and down.

‘Of course’ he grinned. ‘I’ll clear the coffee table and we can do it there if that’s alright?’

‘That's perfect’ you nodded, hugging the box to your chest as you stood up before touching his arm gently so he’d look at you. ‘Do you mind if I borrow something to wear? I like to be comfy when I’m getting my puzzle on’ you laughed but he just smiled before motioning to follow you to his room. Picking you out a few things to choose from and you settled on a pair of his grey shorts and an oversized T-shirt of his before taking a hoodie down with you just in case you got cold.

Mason got changed too just after you before running into the kitchen to get you both some snacks and drinks whilst you cleared the table and soon enough you were tipping the contense of the box onto the table so you could get started.

‘Right what do we do?’ Mason questioned, the large pile of tiny pieces daunting him quite clearly but you just giggled as you took a seat opposite him.

‘Well I’ll tell you how I do it, so we need to find the corner pieces first, then the edges then we’ll sort the leftovers out by colour and go from there. That sound good?’

‘Okay’ he nodded and you gave him the task of the corners and edges whilst you organised the rest. Only realising then how much of a difficult one this one might be. He was right in saying it was less pieces than you were used to but the picture was complicated and once he’d got all his pieces sorted he looked at you with a confused smile.

‘You realise this is gonna be difficult? And we could be here for a while’ You told him, watching him gulp nervously before looking back at all the pieces.

‘Really? But it’s only 500 pieces. The ones you do are thousands’

‘Yeah but the picture here is complicated, it's just all random colours like there’s no buildings or anything to work from’

‘Oh, shit sorry’ he laughed before shrugging at you. ‘I just know you’ve always wanted to go so I thought you’d like it’

‘No don’t be sorry, I do like it. Love it, in fact. I just don’t want you to get bored or frustrated with it if it takes a while’

‘No it’s okay, I can do it’ he told you. The same determined look you’d seen in his eyes countless times before important games and finals and it made you smile that he was applying the same fight for this.

You let him put some background music on as you worked away. Talking lightly about some plans you both had coming up but it was difficult for Mason to multitask. You could see he was trying his best and had done a lot of work in one of the corners but he couldn’t puzzle and talk like you could and you thought his concentrated face was cute. Often finding yourself just watching him for a few moments until he caught you and sent you a lopsided smile as he blushed.

You ordered food in when the time came. Taking a small break so you could reevaluate how much you’d done before jumping back in and it was approaching 9pm when you finally finished. Mason giving you the last piece to place in as he knew it was your favourite bit before you cheered and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

‘Not bad for something dorks do, huh?’ You giggled but it was like he was frozen. His gaze all over your face before a look of guilt washed over his.

‘You know I never thought you were a dork’ he gulped, wrapping his arms around you tighter and pulling you further into his lap.

‘Mase it’s fine-‘

‘No, cause it’s not’ he shrugged. ‘I never meant it in a malicious way but even playing it’s still not nice so I’m sorry’

‘Thank you’ whispered and after he gave you a quick smile he was looking down at his lap shly again.

‘It’s kinda late, do you maybe wanna stay over? We can have a sleepover like we used to’ he winked and while the idea sounded fun you were also a little unsure.

‘I don’t wanna sleep in your sex bed’ you laughed and the shocked expression on his face made you giggle.

‘Hey, you think I let just anyone go in there? He laughed. ‘I don’t take random girls in there, I take them to the loft room. Well I did at least, I haven’t done that in a while’

‘Why not?’

‘Dunno, just not in the mood? Been too busy begging for your forgiveness’ he teased before his eyes were boring into yours. ‘Please stay’

‘Okay’ you whispered, slightly thankful he’d asked as you didn’t fancy the drive home this late. You were already sleepy and when he tucked you in next to him after he’d put a movie on it didn’t take you long to fall asleep.

The pair of you joked the next morning about who he would call to come and kick you out and you hadn’t felt this normal with him in years. Your Mason was back and you couldn’t be more thankful but again over the next few weeks his behaviour began to change.

It seemed to be going the opposite way though, Mason swapping his devil horns for angel wings and it was like he was getting sweeter by the second.

Every morning you woke up to a good morning text, and every evening he’d text you goodnight. Messaging you throughout the day when he could and even though it was always silly conversations it was like he’d made it his mission to make you smile whenever he could. He was being the best friend he could be and so much more but it was like he was changing his whole life for the better. No more random nights out so he could trap a girl and take her home, no more mean jokes at your expense and you hadn’t heard about his gaggle of yes men in weeks.

You spent all of your free time together. No matter what you were doing or how boring you thought he might have found it he wanted to be there doing it with you.

You knew Mason was always touchy with everyone but he’d never been the same with you. A hand on your shoulder maybe but that was it, however now he couldn’t seem to keep his hands away from you now. Always standing next to you when he could, his hands on your waist or you back or his fingers threaded through yours as you sat and watched tv.

You could feel things changing but you weren’t sure what it was. Wondering if he was just happy you were back but you needed an explanation for the puppy eyes he was sending your way every five seconds that you didn’t understand.

You waited until you’d been to his for dinner one night, letting him load the dishwasher as you got comfortable on the sofa and once he was done he flopped down with his head in your lap as a content hum fell from his lips.

‘What’s gotten into you lately?’ You laughed, massaging his head slightly as he nestled into your lap even further but the action just made you laugh until he was rolling onto his back and looking up at you with a smile that made his eyes crease.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well I know I said I wanted the old Mason back but this is something else’ you winked and you could see his cheeks flush as you called him out for his actions.

‘Well I want you to like me’ he shrugged, sitting up and taking your hand in his and even though he was shy you kept pressing him in hope of some answers.

‘You’re my best friend Mason, of course I like you’

‘What if I more than like you?’ He whispered, so quietly you thought you hadn’t heard it but when your eyes met his you knew he’d said what you thought he had.

‘I don’t understand’

‘I don’t either really’ he laughed, sitting up taller so he could face you and you felt your heart race at what he might be saying. ‘All I know is that things have changed for me and I feel like I need you to know how I feel. It’s fine if you don’t feel it too but I’ve just been feeling these things for you for a few weeks and you’re the person I tell everything to so I feel like I’ve got to tell you now’

‘What things are you feeling?’ You asked. Wondering if you’d maybe got the wrong end of the stick but his next sentence took the breath out of your lungs.

‘Im feeling like I wanna kiss you’ he whispered, barely able to hear him but you knew what he’d said.

What?

You couldn’t speak, and by the looks of it Mason knew he had to keep speaking so you let him squeeze you hand as he word vomited everything he’d been holding in.

‘I just keep having these moments with you, like time stops and I’m in this trance and all I can focus on you and wanting you in a way I’ve never done before. Remember when we did that puzzle? You put that last piece in and you were just so happy like I swear to god all I wanted to was kiss your face off’ he laughed but you couldn’t believe what he was saying. Not sure how to react as no one had ever said anything like this to you let alone your best friend.

‘Mase I- I don’t think I-‘

‘It’s okay’ he smiled. ‘I said it’s fine if you don’t’ he smiled and even though him saying it made you feel better, you could tell he was a little embarrassed. Wondering if you should make a joke to ease the tension and as he looked away you began to speak without even thinking.

‘I know you said you weren’t in the mood for girls but you must be really desperate if you’re thinking about kissing me’ you laughed, trying to ease the tension slightly but he just smiled at you and shrugged.

‘I wouldn't go that far. But it’s honestly fine, we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I’ve probably got all mixed up. I’m sure it’s just a phase and it’ll pass’ he laughed. ‘Just forget it, it’s fine and I don’t want things to be weird’

But how could you forget?

No one in your entire existence had ever admitted having feelings for you. It was something you never thought would happen yet here was your best friend telling you he felt like he wanted to kiss you.

It was like a switch had suddenly gone off in your brain, over the coming weeks finding yourself daydreaming about kissing him too and what it might be like to be his girl. Thinking about how his hand would feel clasped in your own, his fingers linked in between yours or just how his touch would feel anywhere and everywhere on your body.

You shook yourself out of it at first, like you were waking yourself up from a nightmare and you couldn’t comprehend how your brain had conjured up such a strange image but as the days went on you basked in it. Giggling as you dreamed about all the things you could do together and how happy you could be.

The pair of you had always been platonic, and whilst lately the lines maybe had become a bit blurred as he became touchier with you with the added time you spent together, your thoughts about him lately were anything but platonic.

Everytime you shut your eyes all you could see was his soft smile and the way his eyes creased at the sides so adorably. The dimple on his cheek made your heart race and all you could think about was taking him up on his offer and planting your lips on his. It wasn’t just his smile though, it was everything. His chocolate chip eyes you wanted to drown in, his smell that made you feel like home and his arms that made you feel safer than anything else.

Everything seemed to be hitting you like a truck and you felt ridiculous. Waiting for his name to pop up on your phone constantly and the butterflies only intensified with each new message. Finding yourself sat giggling in anticipation of what he was going to say next and going to bed with a huge smile on your face every night.

You never meant to fall for him, much like he probably never meant to fall for you, but it had happened and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Feeling like a schoolgirl with your first crush and the fact you knew it was reciprocated somewhat excited you and filled you with dread at the same time.

The more you thought about him, the sillier you started to feel. He never offered to be your boyfriend, never said anything about dates or anything extra. He’d said he wanted to kiss you, and that was it.

The words just a phase rang through your ears constantly and as the days went by you realised you didn’t want to be just a phase to him. Disappointment flooding you at him trying his best to curb his feelings whilst yours only grew for him.

You’d noticed he’d pulled back from you a little bit, trying his hardest not to talk to you every minute of the day but you didn’t let him ignore you for too long. Now you were in your feels all you could think about was him and when you might next get to see him. Not wanting to look too eager and alert him to the fact anything had changed but when he text you one evening you felt your excitement levels rise.

You decided to wear one of the dresses he’d picked out for you for your holiday and gave yourself enough time to do your makeup nicely and straighten your hair. You didn't know why you wanted to, or maybe you did, but it was the first night out where he wasn’t trying to set you up with one of his friends and you felt more relaxed about it. That was until he text you that he was on his way and you felt like throwing up.

It's like the words were stuck in his throat as soon as he saw you, frozen to the spot as you locked your door behind you and you could see him visibly gulp as he tried to shake it off and say hello to you properly.

It was one of the weirdest nights out you’d ever been on, the pair of you turning up together and he led you to your section by your hand. Once he’d found you both seats next to each other he was off to the bar to get you a drink with his eyes not leaving you for me more a few moments before he was back with you.

Things only got weirder though as he paid no attention to any of the girls looking his way, not even engaging in conversation with most of the girls the boys would introduce to him and when you tried to question him about it he just shrugged and said he wasn’t in the mood.

‘Hey y/n, have you met Ethan?’ Woody asked as he nodded someone over. A tall guy with dark hair and bright blue eyes making his way over to you and you rolled your eyes at his clear attempt to set you up with another one of his friends after you’d told him to stop but the feeling of Mason dropping your hand from under the table that made you turn away to look back at him.

He didn’t say anything, just gave you what looked like a sad smile before you had to turn back to say hello to Ethan. Woody banging on about how he came from Portsmouth just like you and Mason and how they’d gone to primary school together but now Ethan was in the Navy hence why you’d never seen him but he was back for a little while to visit.

You didn’t know what possessed you to do it, but you felt weird now Mason's hand wasn’t in yours. Looking down to see it was resting on his thigh so as carefully and as sneakily as you could you laced your fingers back through his and squeezed it gently. Not acknowledging him in any way but you could see his head snap up to look at you from the corner of your eye before his other hand fell over your clasped ones. Fiddling with your rings as the others spoke and you tried not to smile at how adorable he was being.

All the thoughts you’d had about having more with Mason that week, he was making a reality tonight. Giving you glimpses of what it might be like to to be his and how he might treat you but you were still so unsure as to what he wanted as he told you he was just a phase he was getting over so you played dumb for little.

‘You wanna dance?’ You asked him, tugging on his hand gently but he just scrunched his face up slightly.

‘I’m good, you go I’ll watch you’ he smiled and whilst the thought of him watching you dance thrilled you a little bit, you also could tell he wasn’t on his a game and looked like he didn’t even want to be there at all anymore.

‘Are you okay? You don’t seem as into it as usual’

‘I’m fine’ he shrugged ‘Dunno just not in the mood to be around loads of people i guess’

‘We can leave if you want? I mean it’s way past my bedtime anyway’

‘We can, but I’ve got one condition’ he told you with a smile, leaning closer so he could talk right in your ear and you felt every hair in your body stand to attention.

‘What’s that?’

‘Come stay at mine?’ He whispered and his offer made you freeze. ‘I’ll make you breakfast in the morning’

‘Okay’ you whispered, letting him take your hand and lead you out but you were surprised he didn’t want to say goodbye to anyone first. Only giving Woody a quick wave who gave the pair of you a look you couldn't quite make out before you were jumping in a cab back to his.

Part of you was happy he wanted to get home earlier than usual, it had been a long week and once you were changed into an oversized T-shirt of his you got settled on your side of his bed. Hazily watching him slip under the covers in just a pair of boxers as you tried to hide a smile and thankfully he didn’t catch it.

‘Go to sleep love, you look exhausted’ he laughed, tucking the duvet around you a little more tightly. ‘I’ve just got a few emails to look through okay but I’ll be quite’

‘That’s fine, Night Mase’

‘Night love’ he whispered and you turned onto your side away from him so you could get comfy and hopefully drift off soon.

Your whole body felt like a dead weight, your eyes feeling like they’d been stuck together with glue but your mind wouldn’t shut off and you knew you would be thinking about Mason and replaying most of the night you’d just spent together. Remembering the way he held your hand, held your waist and spoke directly into your ear like you were his made your spine tingle. But the memories were soon becoming warped and disfigured as your brain became tired and you eventually let the sleep take you.

You hadn't been asleep long, but the feeling of Mason's arm sliding around your waist as he cuddled up to you woke you slightly. Not enough to wake you up fully and the warmth of his body pressed against yours was already sending you back to sleep so you just went with it and let him hold you. Revelling in the soft kisses he was pressing to your shoulder as you tried not to smile but you definitely weren't ready for what was about to happen next.

‘What am I gonna do with you, eh?’ He whispered, only just loud enough for you to hear but you knew you shouldn’t be. He obviously thought you were still asleep and couldn’t hear him so you stayed as still as you could and kept your breathing steady in hopes he’d carry on. ‘I’d do absolutely anything for you, you know that? And I’m really trying to get over you but you make it so difficult’

I don’t want you to get over me was the first thought in your head but you didn’t vocalise it. You wanted him to keep talking, to see what else he could admit to your semi unconscious state and luckily enough for you he kept going.

‘I know I said it was just a phase but I’m not so sure it is now. You’re the only person who knows the real me and wants what’s best for me. I can’t get you out of my head’

You waited for more, but it never came. Soon enough his soft snores filled the room and you knew he was asleep but his admissions were enough for you. You knew how he felt, and you were pretty sure you felt the same now but you weren’t sure if you had the balls to do anything about it right now so you followed his lead and shut your eyes so you could let the sleep take you again.

Mason was still asleep when you awoke. The pair of you facing each other as you’d turned in your sleep and you used the time he was asleep just to look at him. His pouty lips and pink cheeks made your tummy flutter and after what you’d heard last night all you could think about is what to say to him this morning.

He didn’t give you too much longer to think about it though and you felt your heart thump as he stirred awake. His eyes opening softly as they latched onto yours but his expression remained unchanged asides from a small smile. Just looking back at you as you did the same to him and a sense of peace washed over you.

The pair of you were both on the edge of your own respective pillows, as close as you could be without touching one another but the moment felt intimate and you could see the love in his eyes for you as you watched each other bathed in the early morning sun. The light bringing out the golden tones in his hair and the honey hues in his eyes, it hitting you right there that your best friend was probably the most gorgeous boy you’d ever laid eyes on.

You both didn’t move for a while. Content with just looking at the person in front of you and thinking how thankful you were that you got a chance to wake up next to them and you knew this was only ending one way. You were nervous to say the least, but after everything you’d heard last night you were pretty sure you were on the same page and he’d welcome what you were about to give him.

It was you that made the first move. Not even sure as to why you did it but you lent forward slowly, watching how his body mirrored your own as you kept going and both your eyes snapped away from one another. Focusing on the others lips now and just as your hand reached out to touch his chest for a bit of support, your lips finally locked and his hand cupped your jaw immediately.

It wasn’t a soft kiss like you thought it might be, Mason stole the breath from your lungs as soon as it hit him what was happening. Pushing himself forward so he could hover over you and control the kiss a bit more but you moved your hand to the back of his head so he wouldn’t part from you.

Your tummy was erupting with butterflies, your chest heaving as he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you couldn’t help but press yourself into him further. Letting him grip your thigh as he hitched it up his body and you were quite happy to get lost in him but it was Mason that pulled back. Kissing over your cheeks until you were giggling and when he eventually pulled back his smile made your heart melt.

He was quick to settle back down next to you. Pulling your body right up against his and keeping your thigh wrapped around his waist before you felt his hand on your lower back so he could tickle your skin lightly.

‘Sorry’ you whispered, suddenly feeling embarrassed about what you’d done but his gentle smile relaxed you.

‘Don’t be, I don’t mind’ he smiled. Pecking your lips again softly and you knew you were blushing. ‘You know I’ve been wanting to kiss for a while but I didn’t wanna push things too far’ he smiled ‘and it’s not that I don’t want to ever, but I don’t want you to regret anything right now’

‘I wouldn’t have’ you whispered, watching his face soften slightly but deep down you knew it was for the best. You still didn’t know what any of this meant and it was clearly obvious to Mason you were worried as he brushed some strands of hair out of your face and gave you a sympathetic smile.

‘What is it, love? What’s on your mind’

‘I just… I’m not sure, like what does all of this mean?’ You breathed. Watching his eyes light up as you finally spoke your mind. ‘Your my best friend Mason, I don’t want to lose you’

‘You won’t’

‘But I need to know what you want. Is it just a kiss? Like are we done now?’ You laughed, trying to keep it light as it was a pretty serious conversation but the smile on his face relaxed you.

‘No, I’m definitely not done with you’ he told you sincerely. ‘I get us being friends complicates things a little bit but I’m not the guy you think I am, not anymore at least anyway and definitely not when it comes to you’

‘I feel like I’m not enough for you’ you whispered, finally addressing the elephant in the room and you could tell your words had upset him a little bit. The frown on his face was adorable but you wanted him to know how you felt no matter how awful it sounded.

‘Don’t say that’ he huffed, kissing your jaw gently. ‘Tell me why so I can tell you it’s rubbish’

‘No because what if I can’t give you everything those other girls have?’ You laughed even though you were trying to be serious. ‘Like I don't wanna be a dick but you’ve always said you’d never be a one woman guy so what’s changed. What if your eyes wander somewhere else? What do I do then?’

You didn’t mean for it to come out so abruptly but Mason knew you never minced your words and didn’t take it too badly. He knew his past and he owned it but he also knew it was his feelings for you that had changed him and he was willing to say whatever he could to get you on board.

‘Remember the day we did the puzzle together, and I said I hadn’t slept with anyone in a while cause I wasn’t in the mood? Well that wasn’t the reason. I didn't know it then fully but I hadn’t because all I wanted was you and the thought of being with anyone else made me feel weird’ he told you. His fingers delicately tracing patterns on your back as he spoke and you knew you were hanging off his every word. ‘At first I thought it was because I missed us being together and I wanted to spend more time with you, but then I wanted to spend all my time with you. My eyes aren’t gonna wander okay? They haven’t in months and why would they when you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen’

‘You’re just saying that’ you whispered, not used to compliments like that coming from him and your instincts were to think he was lying but you could see in his eyes something had changed.

‘Don’t tell me what I think’ he teased, squeezing your sides gently. ‘I’ve always thought you were pretty, why do you think I could never understand that you were single?’

‘Mase I’ve never… I’ve never done any of this. You’re the first boy who’s ever admitted to feeling anything more than friendship with me. I don’t know what to do’

‘You don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to do anything okay? Nothing has to change. I just wanna hold you more, kiss you more maybe if that’s something you’d want’

‘I’ve never had sex’ you blurted and the confession made him chuckle. Clearly he knew this already but you just wanted him to be certain of what he was getting himself into.

‘That’s fine’ he whispered, pulling you in a little closer. ‘I know you’re scared, okay? This is different for me too. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend before, I mean I’ve dated girls and been exclusive with a couple but never got to the official stage. I’ve never wanted that from anyone but I want it from you. If that’s what you want’

‘I think I do, I’m just…’

‘What?’ He whispered, a look of love and reassurance on his face and you felt your eyes sting at how safe you felt with him.

‘I’m fucking terrified’ you laughed. ‘I know I’ve been trying to find someone but I never thought it would be you’

‘Well I didn’t think I’d fall for you either’ he winked before placing a soft kiss to your lips that made you melt into the sheets. ‘We don’t have to stick a big label on it or anything, we can just hang out like we have been and see what comes natural to us okay? And if it’s sex your worried about then I don’t care about waiting’

‘I don’t wanna be bad for you’

‘You won’t be, not when you’ve got me for a teacher anyway’ he joked and you rolled your eyes before his face got serious. ‘I know you’re scared but you know you can trust me don't you? I wanna be the one to show you, to make you feel good. I wanna be the one you trust to show you how good it can be’ he whispered and you felt your skin tingle all over at his words. ‘But we’ll wait until you’re ready cause there’s a million things we need to do before we get there’

‘So I’m not just a phase then?’

‘Not at all’ he laughed, ‘and I never thought you were. I could just tell you didn’t feel the same when I told you how I felt and I was trying to make you feel better’ He’d explained. ‘I couldn't go three weeks without you, gorgeous. And I knew I’d fucked up the next day but I was too much of a dick to do anything about it until I couldn’t cope without you anymore’

‘So.. you’re looking for a relationship then?’ You asked, wanting everything out on the table so you could both be certain about what was going on and you watched his face soften at you as he bit his lip nervously.

‘I wasn’t, you know I’ve never cared about that stuff but you’ve made me care. I want to do all that stuff with you. I’m done messing people around okay I just want you’

‘I want you too’ you whispered, finally admitting it out loud and you felt the weight of the world lift off of you.

‘Yeah? I thought you didn’t’

‘So did I, but ever since you told me how you felt I haven’t been able to stop thinking about us. Its like you tapped into this weird part of my brain that thinks about you in ways I never have before’

‘You’ve finally fallen victim to my mind control’ he teased and you only had a second to smile before his lips were on yours again. Hot and heavy as you wrapped yourselves around each other and you realised kissing Mason was better than you ever imagined. You just hoped you could somehow make him feel the same one day but when Mason pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes told you all you needed to know.

‘So if you’ve never had sex and never had a boyfriend, was that your first kiss?’ He asked quizzically, a spark of hope in his eyes that he could kiss you like no one else had but unfortunately you had to burst his bubble just a tiny bit.

‘You’d think it would be but no it wasn’t’ you giggled and he looked at you in deep confusion. ‘You remember Scott from school? Scott Grey?’ You asked and he nodded his head in confusion. ‘Well technically he was my first kiss’

‘You what?’

‘Oh yeah’ you laughed, laying on your back as he pushed you back slightly and you could see the jealousy written all over his face. 'He took me round the back of the science building after school once to show me his new tamagotchi. Asked if I’d liked to be its mum before planting one on me and then never spoke to me again’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have kicked his dick off’ he told you, brows pinched as you could tell how annoyed he was with him but you were quick to hold his face and kiss his nose.

‘First of all, no you wouldn’t have. He was twice your size and his dad was on the school board so you could have been kicked out. And secondly I never told you cause you’ve never asked’

‘I’ve been pretty rubbish haven’t I’ he huffed, it suddenly hitting him that he simultaneously knew everything about you but also nothing at all but the way you stroked his cheek let him know everything was okay.

‘If it makes you feel any better, you were my first proper kiss. I’ve never kissed anyone like that before’

‘That does make me feel better’ he chuckled. Getting himself settled next to you again before he pulled you into his chest. ‘What about dates?’

‘I’ve been on a couple’

‘When was the last one?’

‘Like two months ago? A few days after we had our big argument’

‘What?’ He laughed, tickling your sides until you giggled but you fought him off eventually.

‘After I called you a dick and left the club that night, Olivia took me to a party at some guys from works house. I got talking to one of his friends and we went out on a date a few days after but it was actually me that wasn’t feeling it and I told him I didn't see things going anywhere’

‘What was wrong with him?’ He asked quietly but that was the issue. There was nothing wrong with him at all.

‘Just didn’t feel what I thought I should have felt you know?’ You whispered and you saw Mason nod gently with a smile on his lips. ‘I know I’ve never been in that situation or felt those things before but I told myself when I did eventually find someone I wouldn’t settle for just anyone. I want fireworks and warmth and all those things you read about’

‘Do you feel it now?’ He whispered, his eyes searching your face erratically almost as if he was scared of your answer but little did he know he had no reason to be.

‘I do, yeah’

The relieved breath that fell from Mason's lips made you smile wider than you had in a while. His own face mirroring yours just as he planted another heavy kiss on your lips before trailing his kissed down your jaw and neck and you knew you had to try and distract him before you both ended up in a compromised position.

‘Mason?’ You gasped, hearing him chuckle against your skin and even though he stopped his attack with his lips you felt him nestle into you with a content hum that made you pull him in closer.

‘Yes love?’ He spoke against your neck, the vibrations travelling over every inch of your skin and you had to hold in your gasp at the feel of it.

‘You promised me breakfast’ you whispered and that was all it took for him to pull up and look at you with his usual cheeky smile.

‘I did, didn't I’ he laughed. Gently brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. ‘How do pancakes sound?’

‘It sounds like you want me to make breakfast’ you pouted, watching him nod at you enthusiastically before he was trying his hardest to pull you away from the warmth and safety of the duvet.

‘I love how you get me. Come on, I’ll assist you’ he confirmed and you didn’t have it in you to argue. Letting him pull you up so you could stand in front of him and when you felt his hands dangerously low on your back you smiled up at him cheekily. ‘Thank you for giving me a shot, I know I don’t deserve one’

‘You better make it worth my while then, Mount’ you teased but no more words needed to be said. You could see it in his eyes he was ready to make things as good for the pair of you as he could so you let him lead you downstairs by the hand to start the next part of your journey together.

Well done if you made it 🤭 thank you so so much for reading and I’d love some feedback if you fancy it 😘 xxx

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anpanman95 · 4 months ago

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AND FINALLY, my best friend, a non BL watcher gay man, on Love Mechanics EP 1:

“damn is Mark’s ass made of magic cause he really made him go from ‘stop bothering my friend’ to ‘I think you were too harsh on him’ so fast it’s pathetic”

“same Mark I too wanted to kms when I got rejected by the boy I liked when I was fifteen”

“Am I watching my own life story? Why is this giving me flashbacks”

“Mark is so me-coded”

“I am Mark. Mark is me. We are the same person”

“one episode in and he already flipped him over like a goddamn pancake please teach me your ways Mark”

[He’s promised to watch J&J after we finish Love Mechanics. His life is about to change and all of you will be the unwilling witnesses]

#yes I have amazing friends #doing god’s work here #jack and joker #love mechanics #jack and joker the series #jack and joker: u steal my heart #yinwar #veemark #yin anan #war wanarat #thai bl #thailand #bl series #bl drama #thai bl drama #thai drama

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cryoculus · 10 days ago

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the art of war (and other distractions) ⟢

as a mandatory part of your post-grad program, you're required to log 200 hours as a teaching aide—which would’ve been fine, if you had any say in who you were working with. instead, you're assigned under professor jing yuan: esteemed war historian, charming bane of the faculty lounge, and the one man who makes grading ancient battle essays feel like a tactical skirmish of your own.

★ featuring; jing yuan x f!reader

★ word count; 11.1k words

★ notes; hiiii part two is finally here! quick note that there's a brief timeskip between this and part one, so you might want to read that first although imo it's not necessary. just puts more depth and context into jing yuan and the reader's relationship :3c i was supposed to have this up yesterday but #i forgot lol

MASTERLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

II. A (SLIGHTLY) FUTILE RESISTANCE

You’ve been living in Yaoqing for over three years, and the city still surprises you.

It’s quieter than the Luofu, more grounded—there are no sky bridges between buildings here, no gilded corridors echoing with history. What Yaoqing has instead are sun-drenched lecture halls with cracked windows, noodle stalls that open at sunrise, and students who never take office hours for granted.

You like it. You’ve even grown fond of the bus ride from the apartment you share with Jiaoqiu downtown. It’s a little far from campus, but the rent is reasonable, and it’s walking distance from the hospital he works at. Your best friend is rarely home, always working rotations or crashing face-first into textbooks. But the place feels lived in and more importantly, shared.

That morning, like most mornings lately, you’d left before Jiaoqiu even stirred. Your coat still smells faintly of the congee stall you passed by on your way to the university gate.

Now, eight hours and three departmental fires later, you’re standing in the symposium planning room. You stare at a whiteboard, or what’s left of it. Beneath the mess of color-coded arrows, neon post-its, and someone’s increasingly unhinged handwriting, there might be a white surface. You haven’t seen it in three days.

But then again, this is the chaos that typically accompanies inter-campus symposiums at Xianzhou University. They don’t happen very often for a reason.

“Yingyue,” you say slowly, “why does the keynote slot just say ‘??? + pray’?”

Across the room, Yingyue doesn’t look up from her laptop. “Because we’re still waiting for confirmation from the Luofu guests. And also,” she adds, tapping something out furiously, “because prayer is the only action item I can complete on time.”

You squint. “I gave you three backup names.”

“Two are out of town. One said he’ll only accept if we introduce him as a ‘transcendent thought architect.’”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Agreed,” Lihua chimes in from the corner, crouched over her laptop and what looks like a seating chart for a diplomatic summit. “You let one person change their job title, next thing you know Zichen will demand we call him an intellectual athlete.”

“I would never,” Zichen says, stepping through the door like he’s been summoned. He’s holding two cups of coffee—he hands one to you before continuing, “Though I do think ‘scholarly gladiator’ has a nice ring to it.”

You take the coffee. “You’re late.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies. “The line was twelve people deep and someone ahead of me ordered six oat milk lattes with the emotional weight of a thesis defense.”

The door slams open. You all flinch.

Feixiao storms in with a folder under one arm, a thermos the size of a fire extinguisher, and the kind of expression that makes grown men reconsider their careers. You instinctively straighten up, like all people do in the presence of the Dean of your department.

“If the Facilities Manager tells me one more time that our lighting request is ‘aspirational,’” she announces, “I will replace every fixture in Lecture Hall Two with interrogation lamps from my uncle’s militia days.”

Silence.

Yingyue lowers her glasses. “Is… is that a real option?”

“No,” you say automatically. Then, because it’s Feixiao, you add, “…Probably.”

Feixiao tosses the folder on the nearest table and points at you. “Update?”

You resist the urge to salute. “We’re still locking in the final keynote, but everything else is on track. Zichen’s confirming the catering, Lihua finalized the panel schedule, and Yingyue—”

“Is praying,” Zichen offers helpfully.

Feixiao exhales. “Good. Because I just got the finalized guest list from the Luofu. And you,” she pauses before pointing another finger, “are going to love this one.”

She slides a printed page across the table toward you. One glance—and your stomach drops.

Professor Jing Yuan Department of History Luofu Campus

Guest speaker. Confirmed.

And just like that, the air shifts. You hear Zichen humming “Taps” under his breath. Lihua raises an eyebrow. Yingyue silently writes oh no on the whiteboard, underlining it twice.

Feixiao’s eyes narrow. “That bad, huh?”

You press your lips together and manage a steady, “It’s fine.”

She nods once. “Good. Because he’s giving a talk in the same time block as your keynote.” Then your superior smiles, just a little too sharply. “Think of it as healthy competition.”

“Healthy competition,” Zichen deadpans. “Sure. Like a knife fight with footnotes.”

You barely hear him. You’re still staring at the name on the page. The printed letters don’t blink, but they may as well. Professor Jing Yuan. You know the cadence of that name too well. Know the quiet weight he always carried into a room. The way he used to lean against the edge of your desk like he had all the time in the world—

“Right,” Feixiao says, breaking the silence with a snap of her folder. “Glad that’s settled.”

You blink. “What?”

“Oh, I mean I settled it,” she says, casually flipping to the next page. “He requested the keynote slot opposite yours. Said it would be a nice mirror—your work on literature and emotion, his on emotion in wartime. Complementary perspectives. Lovely, right?”

You open your mouth, close it again.

Yingyue is now pretending to type something on her laptop with the kind of focus that means she’s listening very hard.

Zichen stirs his coffee and doesn’t look at you. “So. Old mentor of yours?”

“Something like that,” you mutters, shifting your weight. “We worked together. Years ago.”

“And now,” Lihua says, “you’re crossing academic swords on your home turf. Classic.”

You shoot him a look, but Feixiao cuts in before you can respond.

“He mentioned you,” she says. Calm. Too calm. “Back when we were coordinating speakers. He asked how you were adjusting to Yaoqing, and maybe mentioned it’d be good to see you again.”

You glance at her. She’s not smiling, but there’s a glint in her eye like she’s waiting to see whether you’ll retreat or dig in. Classic Feixiao—direct, but never cruel.

“I’m sure he meant that professionally,” you say evenly.

“Mhm,” she replies.

The silence stretches. Everyone is trying their best to look productive.

But Zichen ruins the illusion by coughing into his cup. “So, any chance he’s hot?”

You nearly drop your coffee. “Zichen.”

“What? I like to be prepared for these things. If I’m watching an academic rivalry unfold in real time, I need to know if I’m rooting for drama or emotional devastation.”

“Academic ri—? I used to TA for him in grad school, not try to score higher than the guy in every exam. You think I’m that old?”

Lihua giggles to herself. “Oh, he’s an older gentleman, then? I totally understand.”

Sometimes, you think handpicking these idiots for the symposium task-force committee is a grave mistake. But you don’t have the energy to argue anymore.

Just when you thought you can get away with your non-rebuttal, Feixiao decides it’s time to give her own input.

“He’s six-foot-something, speaks like a poem, and has the kind of hair that makes old generals weep.” She smirks. “So yes, Zichen. He’s hot.”

Yingyue nods solemnly. “It’s true. I looked him up. It’s upsetting.”

“Great,” Zichen says. “So we’re definitely in emotional devastation territory.”

You groan and shove the folder back toward Feixiao. “Can we get back to the actual symposium planning?”

“You’re the one who got flustered,” Lihua points out.

You were not flustered. Probably. Maybe. You take a long sip of coffee and start listing panelist names under your breath like a warding spell.

Somewhere deep down, you already know the rest of this week won’t be easy. You’ve worked hard to build something new here—quiet mornings with students, long evenings working beside the hum of city traffic, lectures given with your own voice instead of someone else’s echoing behind it.

You’re not the same person who left the Luofu. And he’s not the same professor you walked away from.

But still.

You feel the shift in the air already. The pull of something unspoken, just ahead. You square your shoulders and reach for your notebook.

Let him come.

You get home just past ten.

The hallway light flickers twice before it steadies—just enough to remind you to finally submit that maintenance request. You kick off your shoes and lock the door behind you, shrugging off your coat with a sigh that seems to come from somewhere deeper than your lungs.

Your apartment is dim, save for the warm glow spilling from the kitchen. You catch the faint sound of a rice cooker ticking, something soft playing from Jiaoqiu’s old tablet speaker.

He’s leaning against the counter, dressed in hospital scrubs, one socked foot tapping gently against the cabinet. His hair is a mess and there’s a pen tucked behind one ear like he forgot it was there—which, knowing him, he absolutely did.

Jiaoqiu looks up when he hears you. “You’re late.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, dropping your bag onto the chair by the door. “I thought you had a night shift.”

“Shift ended early,” he says, holding up a bowl. “I made enough rice for two. The stew’s reheating.”

You pause. “Did you actually make the stew or did you just add ginger to something frozen and call it a day?”

He doesn’t answer. Which means you’re right.

You smile a little despite yourself, dropping into the seat across from him. “Thanks, Jiao.”

He slides the bowl across the table, then leans on his elbows, watching you like he’s measuring your posture the way he does vitals.

“So,” Jiaoqiu starts. “You want to talk about it, or should I guess?”

You freeze for half a second. “Talk about what?”

He raises both eyebrows and flashes you a look that would've made a lesser person shy away from his gaze. Jiaoqiu is much too perceptive for his own good.

You stir your rice. “It’s nothing.”

He waits.

“…Feixiao confirmed the Luofu guest list today.”

“Ah. For that symposium you mentioned.” He nods slowly. “And?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to.

Jiaoqiu exhales and leans back, resting his head against the cabinet behind him. “He’s one of the guests in question, isn’t he?”

You glance at him, startled. “How did you—?”

“I’d have bet money,” he says simply. “You’ve had the same expression since you graduated whenever his name comes up. Like you’re thinking too much and trying not to show it.”

You focus on your bowl. “It’s fine. It was years ago.”

“You left the Luofu literally a month after you last spoke to the guy,” he says, not unkindly. “And you didn’t tell me until after you got the Yaoqing offer. That was years ago.”

“I didn’t leave because of him.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

Silence stretches between you. The rice cooker clicks off.

He turns down the speaker volume and says, a little more gently, “You okay?”

You nod. Then hesitate. “I think I will be.”

Jiaoqiu watches you for another moment, then reaches for the ginger-stew and starts dishing out a second portion. “If he says anything dumb, or makes you cry again, I’m filing a patient complaint.”

“He doesn’t even live here, Jiao.”

“Details.”

You laugh—quiet, but real.

And for a moment, the weight in your chest eases.

Despite the looming symposium that’s got your attention pulled in ten directions at once, you’re unfortunately still a professor at Yaoqing.

Throughout the week, you had to manage your time between meeting student volunteers, making sure all the necessary permits are in order, as well as showing up to your own lectures with at least a thirty-minute power nap squeezed somewhere in your schedule.

But come Thursday, things have started to mellow down and you can at least afford to grade assignments in your office without having to think about the Luofu delegation’s lodging. Yingyue told you she had it covered—something you were somewhat skeptical about, but were too exhausted to insist otherwise.

Just as you’re filing away this batch of papers, you hear a soft knock on your door. You glance at the clock—technically after hours, but you’re not the kind of professor who locks her door the moment class ends.

“Come in,” you call.

The door creaks open, and a student steps halfway inside.

You recognize her immediately—Yinyan, from one of the general lit seminars. Smart. Soft-spoken. Always takes notes like she’s transcribing scripture.

“Sorry to bother you,” she says, already fiddling with the corner of a printed essay. “It’s not for your class—I just... I didn’t know who else to ask.”

You motion her in, already reaching for a pen. “If you’re asking whether I’ll take a look, I will. But you might regret it.”

That earns a nervous laugh. “You’re just easier to talk to than—well. The others.”

You raise a brow but don’t push. Instead, you take the essay when she offers it, skimming the title.

‘The Evolution of Strategic Positioning During the Warring Alliance Era.’

Something tightens behind your ribs, but you flip to the first page without thinking.

The dates are off. One of the campaign names is misattributed. There’s a common myth included as fact about the Fall of Feilin Pass. You catch all of it, circling details and jotting a few quick notes in the margin before you realize what you’re doing.

It’s muscle memory. From another life.

From long nights in a military history seminar where the man at the front of the room spoke about tactical retreats like they were poetry. Where you learned to fact-check casualty records like you were tracing footsteps in the snow.

You blink, pen paused above the page.

You don’t touch this stuff. Not anymore.

“I—I didn’t expect it to be perfect,” Yinyan says, misreading your silence.

You look up, startled out of the haze. “No, it’s not that. You’re asking really good questions here. I just...” You set the essay down gently. “I don’t want to make learning harder than it already is. You’ve got strong instincts. This? This can be fixed. But I can’t go over everything right away. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Yinyan’s shoulders relax, and you think yours do too. She nods, looking genuinely relieved.

“I’ll make sure to revise once you’re done,” she says. “Thank you, Professor.”

You smile as she leaves, but your fingers linger on the edge of the paper a second longer.

It’s been over three years since you last held a red pen over a passage about the Warring Alliance. But even now, part of you still knows the terrain.

You sit still long after Yinyan leaves, the door clicking shut behind her like a question mark you haven’t figured out how to answer.

The essay rests on your desk, marked in your neat red scrawl. You meant what you said—her instincts are good. But the familiarity of the content wraps around your thoughts like an old scarf, warm and unwelcome.

The Fall of Feilin Pass.

You remember the first time you heard that name spoken aloud.

Jing Yuan’s voice had filled the lecture hall—measured, deliberate, always just a little amused. He’d paced the front of the room with his hands behind his back, white hair catching the light like a lion in a sunbeam. You’d been his TA for almost a month by then, already accustomed to the way he made military maneuvers sound like the rise and fall of poetry.

He called it a masterstroke of misdirection, that battle. Pulled up diagrams, quoted journal fragments from commanding officers, invited students to challenge his interpretation like they were strategists themselves.

Not wanting to dwell, you get up and cross to the window like you can outpace the memory.

Outside, the Yaoqing campus is quiet. Students crossing the quad below, jackets pulled tight against the early autumn breeze. There’s a flicker of movement near the gardens—someone tending to the bonsai by the administration building.

You press your palm to the window’s cold glass.

You’ve worked so hard to leave all of that behind. And yet the facts still live in your hands. The timelines, the tactics, the battles—they never really left.

Just like he never really did.

That night, an unwelcome stranger infiltrates your dreams for the first time in months.

The city hum fades. The streetlight outside your window flickers once, and then you’re no longer in Yaoqing.

You’re somewhere else.

The light is too gold. The air smells of tea and spring dust. The walls are lined with old maps, books worn soft at the edges, a potted dracaena bending toward a narrow beam of sunlight. The desk is familiar. So is the man leaning against it, arms folded, eyes like liquid amber tracking your every move.

“You’re early,” Jing Yuan says, like he always did when you arrived exactly on time.

You open your mouth to answer, but your voice doesn’t come. You look down at your hands. They’re full of papers, disheveled in a way that reminds you of old habits. The syllabus, a half-graded quiz—fragments of a life you left behind, scattered at your fingertips.

When you look up again, the room is dimmer.

“You haven’t changed,” he says, his voice softer now, like it’s almost a confession.

You almost laugh. Almost. "I’ve changed a lot."

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes linger on you with that same unflinching focus, the kind that has always seen you too clearly. His gaze is unreadable, but his silence speaks louder than words.

“But not where it counts."

Your throat tightens, a visceral reaction, like there’s something he’s seen in you that you don’t want to face. You don’t want to ask what he means. You don’t want to know.

The documents in your hands flutter, and suddenly you’re outside—same campus, different time. The greenhouse near the old west gate. You recognize the planter box you tended to for a while, filled to the brim with daffodils that seem to mock you.

You don’t turn around when you hear footsteps. But he speaks anyway.

“Would it have been easier,” Jing Yuan asks, “if I hadn’t acted like I cared so much?”

The question burns in your chest, but you push it down, far down. Instead, you clench your fists, fingers digging into the soil as if you can anchor yourself to this moment, to anything other than the weight of his words. You can almost feel the sharpness of the past, the ache that never really went away.

You say, without turning, “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

The next moment, you’re in the lecture hall. His lecture hall.

It’s empty, save for the two of you. The rows of seats are abandoned, the air still, save for the faint echo of past voices.

He’s standing at the podium, his posture poised, authoritative, like he belongs there. Like this is still his domain. And you? You’re sitting halfway up the stairs, knees drawn to your chest, tucked into the corner of your old spot, as if you’re still his assistant. Still waiting for something from him.

He opens his mouth to speak—

—and then the scene fades, all of it washing to white like chalk under rain.

You wake to the sound of Jiaoqiu boiling water in the kitchen. The apartment smells faintly of ginger and morning mist. There’s sunlight on your curtains and a text from Feixiao already on your phone.

Feixiao: Your keynote segment for Day 2 has been moved an hour earlier.

Me: Is it worth asking if that person’s segment has also been moved?

Feixiao: That’s a pretty cold way to address your old mentor.

Me: You’re just reading into it too much.

Feixiao: But, yes. Jing Yuan’s segment was moved as well.

Feixiao: At least the two of you can serve back-to-back cunt right after lunch.

Me: …who on earth taught you how to use those words?

Feixiao: Zichen.

You lie still for a moment. One breath. Then another. Though Feixiao’s attempt at imitating newer speech steals a chuckle from you, the dream you had still clings like mildew in the back of your head. Because part of it is true—you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

You changed.

But not where it counts.

You arrive ten minutes early and still feel late.

The banners are already up—elegant cream and crimson, catching the wind just enough to look important. A student volunteer is fiddling with a welcome stand, and Zichen is already leaning against the pillar near the humanities building like he got there by accident and decided to stay out of curiosity.

“You look like,” he says, tilting his head, “you’re about to face a firing squad.”

“Worse. I’m facing a university welcome committee,” you reply.

He offers you a thermos. It smells like jasmine and guilt. “Feixiao told me to give you this.”

You take it with a sigh. “She thinks I’m going to choke, doesn’t she?”

“She thinks you’re going to be too composed and it’ll freak everyone out.” He shrugs. “Honestly, she might be right.”

Before you can reply, the last of the expected shuttles pulls up to the curb.

You see the rest of the Luofu delegation stepping out in stages: a couple of assistant professors, a senior archivist you vaguely recognize from an old conference, and—

Him.

He moves like he always did. Each step measured and easy, like gravity’s just a mere suggestion.

Jing Yuan steps out of the van last, adjusting the collar of his coat with that absent-minded elegance that fools people into forgetting how calculated he really is. His hair’s longer than you remember, gathered low at his nape, a few strands brushing his cheek like they belong there. His expression, as always, is unreadable.

And those eyes—golden, sharp, too steady for comfort—sweep across the campus like he’s surveying old battlegrounds. Taking stock. Mapping exits. You half expect him to start assigning formations.

Three years.

It’s been three years since you last saw him.

Then his gaze lands on you.

And for the briefest second, something flickers. Familiarity? Surprise? That strange, quiet relief that feels too much like longing?

You don’t know. Because just as quickly, it’s gone—smoothed away like it was never there, replaced by a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

He nods.

You nod back.

It’s all very professional. Very academic.

Zichen says nothing, but you can feel him staring like he’s watching fault lines splinter beneath centuries of pressure. Something in the stillness holds, but only barely.

Jing Yuan turns away first, speaking low to the assistant at his side. You can’t hear the words, but you know the cadence like an old song. That steady rhythm that always made his lectures feel like lullabies and warnings in equal measure.

The welcome committee descends on the group like a well-rehearsed ambush. Hands are shaken. Names exchanged. You feel someone clap your shoulder—it’s Feixiao, brisk and bright-eyed as always.

“Battlefield’s open,” she says under her breath. “You ready, soldier?”

You square your shoulders. “Always.”

Feixiao smirks and marches ahead, calling out greetings to the delegation with the booming energy of a woman who’s organized half a dozen international symposiums and never once let an itinerary slip by more than five minutes.

You fall into step beside her, thermos still warm in your hand, pulse ticking under your collar. Zichen stays behind, lingering near the edge like a cat who knows better than to step too close to a dogfight.

The introductions begin.

Names pass like ceremonial offerings—titles, departments, affiliations. You bow when it's appropriate, shake hands when offered, and smile just enough to seem gracious but not overly eager. It’s choreography you’ve mastered by now.

And still, you feel him.

Jing Yuan is silent at first, content to let the others go ahead of him. But when Feixiao gestures toward you with her customary flourish—“This is the stellar professor who’s been overseeing logistics from our side. She’s younger than she looks and deadlier than she sounds”—he steps forward.

You brace.

“Hello,” he says, voice as smooth as ever. “It’s an honor.”

There it is again. That pause. That moment where the rest of the world seems to blur just slightly out of focus, where the air seems to thin.

You extend your hand. “Professor Jing Yuan.”

His hand is warm. The handshake firm, but not too firm. His eyes hold yours, just long enough to make it feel like a conversation. Just long enough to remember.

Then the moment passes before he turns to speak to one of the archivists, asking about something on the schedule. Feixiao nudges you as she moves ahead, eyes gleaming with something suspiciously close to amusement.

You don’t look back at him again.

Instead, you fall into line with the rest of the Yaoqing faculty, escorting the Luofu delegation across the stone path that leads to the main conference hall. The banners flap gently in the breeze, just loud enough to remind you that this is happening. That it’s real.

As the group moves ahead, you find yourself walking beside Yingyue and Lihua. The former gives you a look.

“Well,” Yingyue murmurs, “if that was just ‘professional,’ I’m very curious to see what unprofessional looks like.”

“Yingyue,” you hiss.

“I’m just saying,” she singsongs under her breath. “The air around you two felt… loaded.”

Lihua nods solemnly. “Like a scene in a film right before someone gets emotionally wrecked.”

You say nothing. You sip from your thermos. The jasmine tea is scalding, but you don’t flinch.

“Should we be worried?” Yingyue asks, feigning innocence.

You keep your voice neutral. “There’s nothing to worry about. He’s a visiting scholar. That’s all.”

Zichen catches up from behind with a smirk that suggests he saw everything.

“Right,” he says. “And I suppose I’m just here for the coffee and not the front-row seat to whatever this is.”

You walk faster.

But you don’t deny it.

The panel room is packed.

Faculty from both campuses line the rows, notebooks open, styluses ready. The translator charm hums faintly over the room, a soft shimmer in the air for any non-native speakers.

You’re seated at the center table beside Lihua and one of the Luofu delegates. There's a placard in front of you with your name and mastery in literature and cultural theory embedded with a glossy print.

You catch Feixiao’s thumbs-up from the sidelines and roll your eyes just enough to make her grin.

“Let’s begin,” says the moderator. “Our first discussion will be on narrative authority and the reinterpretation of classical texts in post-crisis literature.”

He calls your name, saying the floor is yours, and you stand. The mic hums to life.

You start by thanking everyone who graced the room, and by extension, the symposium with their presence. How honored Yaoqing is to host such a convergence of sharp minds and generous spirits, and how rare it is to see so many brilliant scholars under one roof without a single turf war breaking out over footnotes.

A ripple of laughter follows when you glance toward the back and add, “And if all goes well, I might finally convince Zhuming's Department of Humanities to participate next year—willingly, I mean.”

Then, you ease the audience into your piece for today's panel. Softly, yet also deliberately.

“Don’t you think,” you say, letting the pause linger just long enough, “there’s something quietly liberating about rereading a nation’s pain through fiction?”

You catch yourself smiling when a few heads pop up to look at you. “Post-crisis literature doesn’t just record trauma. It reclaims it. It reframes grief into metaphor, and in doing so, it softens the blow. That’s not erasure—it’s survival. And survival, I’d argue, is the most honest form of storytelling we have.”

Your voice is steady. You speak like you belong here—because you do.

Gone is the girl who used to linger in the back of lecture halls, afraid her questions might sound too unsure. You know the shape of your own ideas now. You carry them without apology.

And when you speak, the room listens.

Until—

“Do you believe,” Jing Yuan begins from his seat near the back, “that fiction built on softened truths still holds moral weight?”

The room turns as one. And there it is—Jing Yuan’s unmistakable drawl, the one you used to hear more than you care to admit. It’s not challenging, exactly, but there’s something wry in his tone, a touch of that old teasing sharpness that used to curl around the edges of every conversation you had. A raised eyebrow, not a reprimand, but an invitation to push back.

You meet his gaze evenly. “I do. Fiction doesn’t owe us pain to be powerful.”

His eyes don’t leave yours, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture, a slight lean forward as if testing the ground. “But doesn’t the omission of pain risk distortion?”

The question hangs between you like a weight. You can feel the tension in the room, the way everyone has drawn closer, waiting for the next exchange.

A part of you almost wants to laugh, the absurdity of the situation rising in your chest. You’d thought this moment would come. You’d told yourself you were prepared. But facing him again—this way, in this context—feels like you’re falling right back into the rhythm of a dance you didn’t even realize you knew the steps to.

“It’s not omission,” you counter, before you can stop yourself. “It’s transformation. Rewriting the aftermath isn’t the same as denying the disaster.”

The room holds its breath. There’s a beat of silence, and then a quiet murmur ripples through the crowd. Someone behind you murmurs an appreciative “Mm,” as though savoring the taste of a well-crafted argument.

Jing Yuan leans back, fingers steepled. “And if a nation prefers the transformed version to the truth?”

You smile, and it’s not sweet. “Then the burden falls on the reader to know what they’re looking at.”

Another pause, this one heavier, stretched thin by the weight of your words. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. You could almost hear the collective breath being held in the room.

Then, from somewhere behind you, Zichen mutters, “...Hot.”

The moderator coughs, startled. “Err—thank you, Professors. Let’s open the floor for questions?”

There are questions. Thoughtful ones. Smart ones. You field them with practiced ease, each answer flowing naturally from the previous one. You’re in your element now, calm and controlled.

But part of your mind stays on him. On that deliberate little push. Those questions with too much timing to be innocent.

Jing Yuan remains quiet for the rest of the discussion, and you can’t quite tell if he’s satisfied or just waiting for another opportunity to test you. But every time your gaze flickers toward him, you feel that familiar spark, that old pull that neither of you has ever fully escaped.

After the panel, as the crowd disperses into murmurs and clinks of tea cups, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

It’s him, standing beside you now. Closer than the panel format allowed. You try not to dwell too much on how warm his hand is in the vastly air-conditioned space, but the sensation lingers in your chest, distracting you.

“You’re scarier than you used to be,” Jing Yuan says, his tone soft, a hint of something almost nostalgic in his words. His smile is small but real, like a shared secret between you both. “I didn’t expect that.”

Instead, you arch a brow. “And you’re exactly the same.”

“Am I?” His smile is quiet. “That’s disappointing.”

You don’t answer, feeling the weight of those words more than you should. Instead, you take a sip from your water, a small, nervous gesture to buy yourself time, before turning to walk toward the exit—where your team is waiting. Zichen’s face is aglow with the joy of watching chaos unfold, and Lihua gives you an approving nod.

But as you pass by them, you can still feel Jing Yuan's gaze on your back, trailing after you like the start of a new chapter you didn’t agree to write.

There’s a shaded bench under a plum tree that your team has unofficially claimed.

Zichen's sprawled across one end like he owns the place, Lihua’s nibbling on a red bean bun she definitely smuggled in, and Yingyue’s already pulling up the playback recording from the symposium like it’s a drama she can rewatch at leisure.

You sit with your back against the cool stone ledge and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“So,” Zichen says casually, “on a scale of one to scandalous, how inappropriate is it to ask if academic foreplay is a thing?”

Lihua nearly chokes on her bun.

“Zichen,” you groan, covering your face. “I’m begging you.”

“What? It was electric. That entire back-and-forth was like watching two swordsmen flirt via carefully cited historical examples.”

“I was defending a thesis,” you protest. “Not flirting.”

Yingyue taps her screen. “Okay, but the eye contact? The tone shift? The part where he said ‘that’s disappointing’ and you visibly inhaled like you were about to bite back something unholy—”

“You guys were eavesdropping?” You scowl. “And no! I was going to tell him he hasn’t changed since he assigned three chapters of military ethics over a long weekend.”

Zichen gasps. “Three chapters? Oh, no. You were in love.”

That gets them both going. Lihua’s laugh is high-pitched and unfiltered, and Yingyue is practically vibrating. “Wait, wait—so is that a yes? Was there, like, a thing?”

You hesitate.

Not long. Just enough to betray yourself.

“He was a professor. I was his TA. That was it.” You keep your tone light, looking down at your hands. “...But maybe I respected him more than I wanted to. Maybe I admired him a little too much. It wasn’t anything serious.”

There’s a pause, heavy with understanding.

Then Lihua asks gently, “Did he know?”

You smile. Not sad, exactly. “He didn’t act like it. And I didn’t want him to.”

There’s a quiet empathy in the air now. They all know that it’s not as simple as that, that it’s not something that can be neatly wrapped up in a few words.

Zichen, always the one to break the tension, swings an arm over the back of the bench, his gesture surprisingly soft. “You ever think he figured it out anyway?”

You look across the courtyard, past the rustling trees, where the symposium banners are fluttering gently in the breeze, and the familiar silhouette of Jing Yuan can be seen through the glass window of the atrium. He’s talking to someone, calm and composed, exactly as he always is.

It’s hard to ignore the way your heart catches in your chest for a split second, or how your breath hitches just a little when you see him.

You shrug. “It doesn’t matter now.”

But it does.

A little.

And they all know it.

Day Two sessions are always where the real academic showdowns begin.

The scholars who flew in just to be seen have already made their exits, leaving only the ones who care too much—the ones who take themselves and their work just a little too seriously. You arrive before most of the others, coffee in one hand and your tablet in the other, already reviewing the panel order for the day.

This morning was calm—enough time for polite discussions over coffee, for setting the tone. But now, with the afternoon panels, the real program begins to take shape. You can feel it in the air, in the way the faculty members file into their seats, the way the hush of conversation spreads across the room like a slow tide. There’s an edge to the anticipation. Today’s centerpiece? The keynote speeches.

One from the Luofu. One from Yaoqing.

You.

And him.

You move toward the large hall, where the cream-and-crimson banners hang tall behind a dignified podium. Rows of lacquer-backed seats stretch out beneath cool, carefully placed lighting. The hall feels both expansive and intimate, the kind of space where every word carries weight, where every gesture is scrutinized.

As you settle into your seat near the front, you can’t help but notice the faint hum of excitement that permeates the air. Most of the audience knows what’s coming. There’s a buzz of whispered names, of scholars shifting in their seats, adjusting their glasses, preparing for the intellectual clash they’ve been waiting for all day.

Then, the doors open, and Jing Yuan takes the stage.

His entrance is the same as always—unhurried, graceful, and deliberate. It’s as if he’s stepping into a rhythm only he can hear. The murmurs in the room settle almost immediately, like the air itself is being drawn into his orbit. Someone behind you whispers his name in reverence, the tone respectful but edged with a quiet awe.

You don’t turn.

His voice fills the room with the same calm authority it always has. “Thank you to the organizers, to the faculty members, to my colleagues, and to everyone who has come today.” He nods to Feixiao in the front row, offering a smile that’s both respectful and distant. Then, he begins, his words measured and steady, like a soldier reciting a well-practiced speech.

His topic: Strategic Retreats in Military History: Calculated Loss, Preserved Legacy.

You want to laugh.

Of course it’s that.

He speaks of war, of victory and loss, of the delicate dance between pride and pragmatism. But what stands out to you, as it always does, is his discussion of restraint. The power of stepping back. The clarity of knowing when to withdraw, not out of fear, but out of a clear-eyed understanding of what matters most.

It’s a subject he’s always been passionate about, and as he talks, you can hear the deep layers of memory in his voice, the weight of years spent navigating both war and peace.

You try not to dwell on the subtle way he emphasizes “timing,” “discipline,” and knowing when to act, when to hold back. You feel it, though. It’s there, tucked into the cadence of his words. Meant for you, even if it’s not obvious to anyone else.

Your hands are folded neatly in your lap. You’re aware of Zichen sitting beside you, his posture a little too eager. He leans in, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“He’s quoting your old seminar discussion notes,” he whispers.

You don’t answer. You don’t need to look at Zichen to know that he’s right.

Of course, Jing Yuan would bring up those discussions. The ones you had, years ago, when the subject of strategic retreats was just a theoretical exercise for you both, a way of dissecting history without fully acknowledging how personal it might feel.

It was one of those days when he got close to converting you into becoming a history major. Luckily, you didn't.

He finishes his speech with a bow, not too deep, nor too distant, the same kind of gesture that’s both professional and intimate in its simplicity. The applause that greets his exit is raucous, as expected of a seasoned scholar. But you don't let it deter you.

Because it’s your turn.

You rise from your seat with practiced grace, your body moving automatically, every step taken with a spine straight and sure. You can feel the gaze of the room settling on you. Every eye is fixed, waiting for your words.

The podium is yours now—not as a reply, not as a counterstrike to what he’s just said.

This is your space. Your voice. A place for you to carve your own place in the conversation.

Then, without missing a beat, you guide them into the heart of your keynote.

The Intersection of Literature and Human Emotion: Love and Loss as Universal Themes.

Your thesis.

The one that earned you the best dissertation award back in grad school. The one you bled into for months, and stayed with you even years after. Every line of it felt like a scar you chose to wear. You don’t need your notes for this. You know it the way you know your own name—intimately, instinctively.

Because it’s not just an argument you once defended. It’s a piece of you.

A truth you lived.

You speak of the silence between words, the unsaid things that carry just as much weight as the spoken ones. You discuss the way ancient texts often depict longing, exile, and loss—not as clear-cut emotions, but as complex tapestries woven through silence and space. You talk about the characters who would rather suffer in silence than confess their feelings. You talk about how those unspoken emotions still speak louder than any words ever could.

When you speak of unspoken affection in the epics—of missed chances and deliberate distance—you don’t look at him. Not once. But you feel it. The air tightens. The weight of his presence is undeniable. You know exactly what he’s hearing.

There’s a subtle power in the silence you speak of, and you feel it intensify when you near the end of your speech.

It’s not a grand flourish you’re after. No dramatic exclamation. Just one quiet line from a favorite text, a line you’ve always held close to your heart:

“Some wars are won not by holding the line, but by stepping away from it.”

The silence stretches after you finish.

It feels more like the world is catching its breath than anything else. The weight of what you just said settles, deeper than you anticipated, heavier than you thought it would feel. You stand there for a moment, just letting the words linger in the air, letting them settle.

Then the applause begins.

At first, it’s hesitant. Measured. But soon, it builds—slowly, steadily—until it becomes something real. Something you feel in your chest.

You bow—not to Jing Yuan, not to anyone in particular, but to the room, to the audience, to the words you just shared. To the fact that you’ve made it here, and you’re standing on this stage; that your voice, after everything, is still your own.

You step down from the podium, each movement graceful but touched by a quiet fatigue—the kind that settles in only after you've laid your heart bare beneath a roomful of lights and eyes.

The stage lights stretch your shadow long across the floor, following you as you make your way down the aisle. You don’t look at him—not at first. But you feel the depth of his gaze. Steady, unmistakable, like a thread pulling gently at something deep in your chest.

Against your better judgment, you glance his way.

Just once. Just long enough.

What you find isn’t surprise. Not pride or regret either. It’s something gentler. Something unguarded. A look that holds recognition, yes—but more than that, reverence. Like he’s seeing you not as you were, but as you are now. And somehow, that means everything.

Maybe, just maybe, he is seeing you for the first time.

And perhaps that’s the moment you’ve both been waiting for all along.

When night falls, so does the final curtain on the symposium.

The function hall glows in soft amber light, casting delicate shadows on ivory linens and polished glassware. It’s elegant by design—curated to impress, to invite conversation between brilliant minds across disciplines. But beneath the laughter and clinking glasses, something else simmers: rivalry dressed as camaraderie, nostalgia edged in ambition. A quiet current running just under the surface.

You find yourself by the refreshment table, fingers curled loosely around an untouched glass. The keynote glow has worn off, and what’s left is a strange sense of dislocation. You were just on that stage, commanding the room. And yet, now, surrounded by colleagues and strangers, you feel slightly out of place. Like you’ve slipped back into an old version of yourself, ill-fitting and over-aware.

You’re still replaying that moment—after your speech, when everything in the air felt thick with something unspoken—when someone steps into your orbit.

Zichen, drink in hand, angles in with that lazy, knowing grin. He doesn’t need to say anything—you already know that look. But of course, he says something anyway.

“So,” he says, his voice loud enough to cut through the quiet room, “was I right? Was it like watching a pair of sparring poets trying to outwit each other with footnotes?”

You don’t roll your eyes, but you definitely feel your chest tighten. “I think I’m going to need a second drink to survive this conversation, Zichen.”

“Can’t blame you.” He leans closer, still grinning. “If I were you, I’d need several. Honestly, though, I started wondering—were you two that in sync, or is there something else going on?”

You sigh, half-laughing, half-groaning. “You’re infuriating.”

Before he can needle you further, Lihua materializes, her presence like a breeze. She’s trailed by Yingyue, who offers you a small smile as she cradles her glass.

“Alright,” Lihua cuts in, no-nonsense and warm, “let’s not corner her before she’s even had dessert. We’ve pulled off something incredible, and that deserves more than your conspiracy theories.”

Yingyue’s laugh is softer, but no less amused. “Honestly, we’ve earned this. Two full days of chaos, zero disasters. Let’s just bask in that.”

You smile, genuinely this time. The four of you raise your glasses—an unspoken toast. To the symposium. To the effort. To being seen and recognized, even if only by each other.

But Zichen isn’t one to let the moment pass without his usual jab.

“So,” he drawls, swirling his drink, “now that we’ve toasted… is it safe to ask the real question? You said it wasn't anything serious, but why does it feel like you two were reading off the same script?”

Your stomach twists. The weight of his words lands, heavier than it should.

Your thoughts ricochet back—to that look from Jing Yuan, the stillness between you, the way his gaze lingered like he hadn’t meant to.

“I’m getting some air,” you say quickly, voice light but clipped, and step away before anyone can follow.

You step into the evening, where the air is crisp with the kind of quiet that only comes after too much noise. The campus is still now, wrapped in the soft hum of cicadas and far-off footfalls, the faint lights casting long shadows over stone and grass. Out here, the symposium feels a thousand miles away.

You lean against the railing, hands curled loosely around the cool edge of the stone. The stillness should be a relief, but your chest is too full—of adrenaline, of memories you’d meant to leave behind. You exhale slowly, letting the silence wrap around you.

And then, footsteps.

You don’t turn. You don’t need to.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Jing Yuan’s voice drifts through the quiet, low and unhurried, like it always is. But there’s something else there—hesitation, maybe. Or restraint. It ripples across your skin like a breeze you weren’t expecting.

You don’t answer. Just breathe in the night and hope that if you stay silent long enough, he’ll take the hint and go. That you won’t have to open the door to this—whatever this is.

But the footsteps don’t fade.

There’s a rustle, and then he’s there, beside you, not quite touching, but near enough that you can feel the heat of him. The railing holds both of you now, like a boundary you’re pretending not to lean across.

Neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, but it's not awkward. Just... thick with things unsaid.

When Jing Yuan finally does speak again, it’s softer. Not the voice of a professor or a speaker. Just a man beside you.

“Your friend’s right, you know,” he says, a touch of amusement coloring his words, though it’s tempered by something deeper. “You and I... we’ve always been in sync. Even if only for a short while.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh, but not quite. Yet another person has eavesdropped into your conversations.

“I think Zichen’s just trying to make something out of nothing.”

“No,” he says, and there’s a subtle warmth to his tone that catches you off guard. “It wasn’t nothing.”

You glance at him, finally, but don’t quite meet his eyes. The tension you’ve been carrying since his keynote, since the moment your speeches mirrored each other, is there. In the air between you. And it feels like a weight you can’t lift.

Jing Yuan doesn’t press. He simply waits.

And somehow, that’s worse.

The air hangs thick with unspoken words. You can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, as if the entire day has led to this. It’s not just the speeches, or the research, or the people inside—the real conversation has always been between you two. You just haven't been able to face it until now.

You finally look at him. It’s hard to miss the way his expression flickers when he sees you meet his gaze—golden eyes heavy with anticipation.

You exhale slowly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“You know, Zichen also said,” you begin, “that it was like we were reading from the same script today.”

He arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t interrupt.

“You and I… we’ve always had this thing, haven’t we?” you continue, your gaze not leaving his. “This back-and-forth. This... tension. You could say that some of your habits rubbed off on me while I was your assistant. That I carried them further down my career. But it's always been more than that, isn't it?

"And I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t exist.”

His jaw tightens. The calm façade he always wears is slipping, but you push on.

"Three years," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "Three years of silence and distance and professionalism, and still—this. Us. Whatever it is, it’s never gone away. And maybe that’s what’s so hard about this."

The quiet between you pulses with meaning, full and sharp.

Jing Yuan finally steps closer—not quite touching, but close enough that the night feels smaller now. His voice, when it comes, is rougher than before, stripped of its usual polish.

“I never meant to make you carry it alone,” he says. “I just... didn’t know how to be close without crossing a line.”

Your breath catches. “And now?”

His eyes search yours. “Now I'm certain we both crossed that line a long time ago. We just pretended we hadn’t.”

The words hit you like a tide—relief and fear, ache and recognition.

You don’t know how to answer that. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you feel the sting of old memories—those days spent working together in his office, when things were easier, but so much more complicated beneath the surface.

Instead of speaking, you just take a slow breath, willing yourself to steady your shaking hands.

“I’ve always been good at distance,” you say, your voice steady despite the tremor inside. “I made a whole life out of it. But standing here with you… I don’t think I want to be good at it anymore.”

And this time, when his eyes meet yours, you feel it. No more games. No more pretending. Just the quiet recognition that something has shifted between you two.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks.

Then, Jing Yuan leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your skin. A large hand cradles the side of your face, and you instinctively lean into his touch.

You can feel his lips almost brushing against yours, the tension so thick it’s almost unbearable. He smells like cedarwood and rain and everything you shouldn't even want.

But just as it feels like he’s about to close the distance completely...

“Ahem!”

You both startle, just slightly. And then she appears—Feixiao, with that all-too-familiar grin, already stepping between you and the moment like it’s nothing at all.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” she says, tone breezy as she links her arm through yours and casually steers you away from Jing Yuan. She gives him a polite nod, her eyes sharp with mischief before turning back to you.

“Dinner’s starting soon,” she adds, a playful lilt in her voice, followed by the faintest nudge. “And you’re not about to keep me waiting, are you?”

You blink, still caught somewhere between heat and hesitation. “Feixiao, I—”

You glance over your shoulder. Jing Yuan hasn’t moved far, but the look in his eyes says enough: the moment is slipping, and he’s letting it.

Feixiao keeps her arm linked with yours as she walks you a few paces away, lowering her voice just enough to keep it private—but not too serious. She never does serious unless she has to.

“Look,” she says, “you’ve always been the type to stay sharp, keep your eyes on the goal. Not a bad thing. But if you’re thinking about sorting things out with him... don’t rush it.”

You shoot her a look, still reeling. “What are you talking about?”

She hums, thoughtful. “Just saying—he’s not going anywhere. You don’t need to run headfirst into something before you’ve figured out what it means to you.”

You pause, the words landing somewhere heavy. Shame creeps up, uninvited and quiet.

“Yeah…”

Feixiao softens then, rubbing your shoulder in easy circles, a rare gentleness beneath all the bravado. “I don’t know what’s between you and Jing Yuan,” she says, “but whatever it is? It’s been cooking a while. So don’t serve it half-baked.”

Her words pull at something deeper—something buried. A memory: something Professor Fu Xuan said, years ago, over noodles and pork dumplings.

He’s not built for half-measures.

Neither are you.

Before you can speak, Feixiao’s already shifted gears. She pats your arm, a bright smile smoothing everything over.

“Anyway! You’re still coming to dinner, right? Or would you rather stay out here and stew in all that dramatic tension?”

You hesitate, heart not quite caught up with the rest of you. But she’s already tugging you gently toward the building, her cheer disguising something more careful beneath it.

You glance back, just once.

Jing Yuan is already gone.

The key clicks in the lock.

You step inside, letting the door fall shut behind you with a soft thud. The lights are low. Your heels echo dully against the floor, and your bag slips from your shoulder with a sigh that feels like it came from your chest.

Then you hear it: bright, canned laughter drifting from the living room.

Jiaoqiu is half-swallowed by a blanket on the sofa, legs tucked under him, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. His eyes are fixed on the TV and you don't have to glance to know he's watching his favorite sitcom.

He jumps a little when he sees you, fumbling for the remote. “Hey,” he says, voice too casual, as if you haven’t just walked in with the weight of a night trailing behind you. He pauses the episode mid-joke. The room goes still.

“You’re back.”

You nod faintly. But for a moment, you don’t move. You just stand there, the quiet thick between you. Your thoughts are a thousand miles away, still chasing the afterimage of something you almost said. Something he almost did.

Jiaoqiu watches you carefully. “Bad night?”

You shake your head. “Not bad,” you say, low. “Just… a lot.”

He doesn’t ask. Just shifts over and lifts the blanket in silent invitation. “Come sit.”

You cross the room and sink down beside him, shoulder brushing his. The couch cushions exhale. He presses play again without a word, as if the hum of dialogue and background laughter can buffer the ache you brought home.

The screen flickers.

A punchline. More laughter. Someone throws a pillow on-screen. Someone dodges it.

Then, softly, without looking at you, Jiaoqiu says, “You don’t have to talk about it. But if you want to…”

You let out a shaky breath, then press your face into your hands. “Jing Yuan.”

He nods impercetibly, like that name holds all the answers to life's curiosities. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say anything stupid? Make you cry?” he asks, reaching for the popcorn.

You manage a breath of laughter—thin, but real. “No. Worse. He didn’t.”

That gets a knowing hum out of him. Jiaoqiu holds out the bowl like it’s an offering. “Popcorn therapy. It’s not peer-reviewed, but I’ve had great results.”

You take a handful, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Thanks.”

Finally, he turns to look at you fully, expression careful. “You okay?”

You pause, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think so. Or I will be.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t say anything else. The sitcom carries on, voices flickering in and out, but neither of you is really watching.

And that’s okay. Some nights aren’t for talking.

Some nights are just for not being alone.

The final day of the symposium begins with brisk air and brisker goodbyes. Yaoqing runs like clockwork, and the send-off is no different—efficient, unceremonious, almost surgical in its precision.

Delegates file out one by one, boarding shuttles with handshakes and nods. You’re stationed nearby, clipboard in hand, checking names against lists, pretending you don’t feel the knot in your stomach.

You know he’ll be here.

You expect him to be cordial. Maybe even distant. You expect him to act like last night never happened.

But Jing Yuan isn’t predictable in the ways that matter.

When his turn comes, he’s not alone—his aides beside him, belongings packed. The lines of his coat are as neat as ever, but there’s something softer about his expression when his amber eyes find yours.

Jing Yuan steps forward, says something low to one of the attendants, then turns to you.

Before you can speak, he holds out a small pouch made of familiar linen. Twine wrapped neatly around it. You don’t take it right away, but your fingers brush his when you do.

I've seen this before...

He doesn’t explain. Doesn’t try to. Just watches you, gaze steady.

Then, just as he’s about to leave, Jing Yuan offers you one last look—a long one.

And says, quietly, “Be well.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

Because that’s what he said to you the day you graduated, three years ago. Beneath that shade tree in the Luofu courtyard. Your last conversation, before the silence settled between you like dust.

You don’t reply. Can’t trust your voice to hold.

He nods once and walks away.

You stand there long after the shuttle door hisses shut behind him, the pouch clutched in your hand and that old goodbye echoing through your ribs like a bell you’d forgotten how to hear.

Later in the day, you hole yourself up in your office—avoiding your colleagues (even Feixiao) to the best of your ability. You’d told yourself you’d get started on writing the midterm; outlined three prompts, even booted up the document

But the pouch sits in your drawer like a challenge, and your curiosity, traitorous thing that it is, wins out.

You untie the twine.

Inside, you find once-vibrant blossoms that have faded to a muted violet, their edges curled inward like they’ve been holding their breath for too long. You know these flowers.

Scutellaria lateriflora. Skullcap.

You inhale, and there it is again—that same earthy, herbal scent. He gave you this once before. Years ago, when you were still his teaching aide, and he’d just started that absurd little project at the Luofu campus greenhouse. He's still tending to it, from the looks of it.

Your hands are steadier than you expect as you unfold the linen further. Tucked beneath the sprigs is something else.

A calling card.

It’s plain. Cream cardstock, gold embossed lettering. You find it almost funny.

Jing Yuan used to scoff at these, said they were for pretentious academics and bored aristocrats. “Too performative,” he’d once told you, half-asleep in his office, tea cooling by his elbow.

You flip it over.

There, scrawled in that infuriatingly elegant handwriting of his:

I'd love to speak with you—about this, and whatever else you've been stockpiling behind that diplomatic smile. On your terms, of course. If you prefer the art of futile resistance, by all means. But if not... I'm just a correspondence away. — JY

You stare at the words for a long moment, unsure how he even squeezed all those words in such a tight space. Only then do you let the card fall flat on your desk.

The dried skullcap rests beside it, patient. Familiar.

And you—

You sit back in your chair, heart too full of memory to be still, and let the thought bloom quietly in your chest:

He remembered.

Subject: Follow-up on the Symposium From: Me To: Jing Yuan

Dear Professor Jing Yuan,

I hope this message finds you well. I wanted to extend my thanks again for your presence at the Yaoqing symposium. Your insight during the panel sessions was both illuminating and deeply appreciated by the faculty and students alike.

If you ever wish to collaborate on a joint lecture or discussion in the future, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Warm regards.

(You stare at the draft for a long time. Then delete “Professor.” You don't send it. Not yet.)

Subject: About the Gift From: Me To: Jing Yuan

Hi,

I wasn’t sure whether to write at all. But the pouch you left... I remember it. Of course I do.

I haven’t decided what I want to say, or how much. Only that I don’t want to pretend it meant nothing.

(…You get this far and stop. You never hit send.)

Subject: Your Dramatic Correspondence From: Me To: Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan,

Only you would make dried herbs feel like a grand confession. Should I be flattered, or concerned that you're now resorting to calling cards?

...I haven’t thrown it out, if that’s what you’re wondering.

(You read it back, scoff at yourself, but save it as a draft anyway.)

Subject: Fine. Let’s talk. From: Me To: Jing Yuan

You said you’d wait until it was on my terms.

Well... I’m writing, aren’t I?

Just tell me you meant what you said. That it wasn’t just leftover sentiment from too many missed chances.

If you do, then maybe we can talk. Really talk.

(You go over it twice, heart pounding. Then close the laptop before you can think too hard.)

It’s been a month.

The pouch still sits in the top drawer of your desk, tucked beneath a stack of grading rubrics and office supply receipts. You haven’t moved it since the day you opened it. Some part of you thinks if you don’t look at it too often, the weight of it will lessen. (It hasn’t.)

You never sent the emails. Not the formal one, not the funny one, not the almost-brave one. They’re still sitting in your drafts folder like ghosts.

And you—well. You haven’t changed as much as you wanted to believe.

You still choose silence when things get too complicated. Still fear the what-ifs more than the what-is. Still worry about what others might say, what the faculty might think, what it would look like to the world if you stepped just slightly out of line.

Maybe you're still that same graduate student—ambitious, yet scared. The one who looked at Jing Yuan like he was both everything she wanted and everything she couldn’t let herself want.

The one who left before it could become real.

A knock on your office door brings you back. You straighten, push the drawer closed, and return your attention to your laptop.

You half-expect a student with late homework, but when you glance up, it’s Feixiao, leaning in with a grin and a folder tucked under one arm.

“I come bearing gifts,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Or at least, a very polite summons.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Another invitation?”

She waggles the folder. “Guest lecturer. Luofu campus. Smaller-scale than the last one, but good turnout.”

You sigh. “Feixiao…”

“I know, I know.” She plants herself in the chair across from you before you can object. “You were going to say no. Again. But hear me out.”

Your silence is permission enough.

“It wasn’t Jing Yuan,” she says plainly. “Not the invitation, not the event, not the committee. It came from their Literature Department directly—someone named Ying, I think?”

Professor Ying.

The instructor that you were supposed to TA for, before all the administrative mishandlings. You want to laugh. The universe really does have a sense of humor sometimes.

“...He doesn’t know?”

Feixiao shakes her head. “Not a clue. And if you go, you’re under no obligation to see him. I’d bet he’d rather vanish into the stonework than bother you uninvited.”

You study her face. “You sound sure.”

“I am. Military kids don’t grow up without learning who respects a line in the sand.” She pauses, then adds, “Besides, my uncle served with his father. That family’s got a reputation—long memory, even longer patience.”

You let that settle for a moment.

Jing Yuan wouldn’t push. He never has.

Still, your mind flickers. You remember Yanqing, all sharp edges and earnest questions. Jing Yuan mentioned that he was close to that boy's family through their ties in the military as well. You wonder how old he is now. Then you recall the literature department where you once spent late evenings with your peers, poring over old poetry and marking drafts by hand.

Lastly, you think of Jing Yuan himself.

And how—despite everything—you miss the way he listened when you spoke, how he salutes the dracaena in his office like it's a real person, and the fact that he never once called you foolish for drawing back.

The silence stretches.

Feixiao quirks an eyebrow. “So? You going to keep saying no to opportunities just because they come from the same direction?”

You look down at the folder, then up at her. “Tell them I’ll do it.”

She smiles. Not triumphant, but satisfied. It feels like she knew you’d say yes eventually.

Your superior rises, flicking a casual salute. “Knew you were smarter than you looked. Not that it would've mattered—I already filed your leave request with HR this morning.”

You gape. “You what?”

Feixiao just grins. “Contingency planning. If you’d said no, I would’ve told you after the paperwork cleared.”

You want to be annoyed. You really do. But instead, you laugh—quiet, incredulous, warm.

She’s halfway out the door when she glances back. “Don’t overthink it, okay? Just go. See what happens.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

You look down at the folder again, fingertips brushing the corner.

Maybe it’s time to stop holding your breath.

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