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undercoverpena · 2 months

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6. morning coffee

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter six of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.5k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it would be called 'the morning after'

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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s hard not to smile when you open your eyes.

More so when you feel his breath on your neck, the scent of body wash you quickly remember him rubbing into your skin—the arm currently draped over your waist. The one keeping you firmly close, as though you would ever wish to be anywhere but here.

Seen, wanted and appreciated—even when he’s not entirely conscious.

The only reason you even contemplate moving from this—and the only real reason you’re awake—is that you’re desperate for the bathroom. It worsens the longer you lie there, thinking of it, the pressure on it from his forearm.

A quick glance at the clock on his bedside table tells you it’s far too early to disturb him. To wake him with a kiss and a whisper that you’ll be right back—especially when you think back to how late it was before the two of you finally whispered that you should sleep.

Even if you hadn’t wanted to.

Wanting instead to keep feeling his knuckles drag up and down your outer thigh and knee. The husk of his voice saying he should really flick the light off, even if he didn’t, instead letting you ask his favourite colour and him answering with a handful of shades you’d never remember.

Pick one, Francisco.

Mmm, not sure I can do that, baby. Too hard of a question.

Too hard to pick one thing?

Not when it’s the right thing.

Glancing over at him, fingers close to his, you swim for a moment in the memories of last night—the ache between your thighs a souvenir you can keep with you until it fades. Admiring the length of his lashes against his cheek, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips that you wish to kiss forever, as a thought—one strong and beating inside of you like your own heart—comes to you:

You don’t wish to trade this. Any of it.

Not just last night, but all of it—all of him.

But, you have to move. Even if your heart pleads with you not—eventually only doing so when your bladder twinges again in protest.

You find, slipping out from under his arm (all cautiously and carefully) is easy, until you glance back at his sleeping frame.

A calmness to him, a peacefulness. Chest and shoulder rising, face tilted ever so slightly into the plump pillow. It makes a pang of want thrum through you, one that doesn’t fade when you tiptoe back to the room and find him in a similar position.

Leaning on the wall, the one between his bedroom and en-suite, you flick your eyes to the half-open door. Spotting his bathrobe, fluffy and dark grey—flecks of white stitched in. Your throat suddenly scratchy, dry. Your body desperate for what usually fuels it when you’re up and about.

And you know you have to decide. Choose between attempting to slide back into bed or searching cupboards for coffee—both for you and him.

But you can’t stand there. Able to bet money that if he opened his eyes and found you staring, he’d one hundred per cent find it creepy.

You move when he sighs—further rolling into the space you had been moments ago. Smirking, you move, the decision made as you unhook the rope. Slowly sliding your arms into it until it’s draped over you and you’re welcomed by it: his scent.

That familiar one. The one which smells like pine cones, cedar wood and so much more. The one which had seeped into your clothes that first kiss close to your car.

And, thankfully, it only gets more intense as you step out into the hallway.

Brushing your hand over shelves as you pass, eyes lingering over the titles of books—ones about woodwork, decor and home. Fingers tracing the spines of them as you take in the photographs littered around.

Some are adorned with Luca, varying ages spanned across shelves. A tooth missing here, a gummy smile there. Some you assume are his family, and then a group of men, shirts off and standing in the middle of a dune—grinning, Frankie’s hair far shorter than it is now.

But, as you stare across his living area, you spot all the things you missed last night. The record player and the vinyls tucked on a higher shelf, placed beside crayon artwork framed in dark wood. There are mini-Lego figures in prime places, with wicker baskets containing multicoloured blocks and toys.

Then, there’s the closet near the kitchen you can’t remember from your tour—making a note to question him on later—before finally arriving at his kitchen.

And, fuck is it beautiful.

It’s all dimly lit by the early morning light flitting through the windows. Quiet, peaceful—save for the humming of the refrigerator and the distant chirping of birds outside. Like much of the place, the cupboards are dark, starkly contrasted by white-wash walls and pinned drawings on the fridge.

Centre-stage, and the thing you’re seeking, is his coffee machine. A sleek silver contraption that looks more complicated than you're used to. Shiny, remarkably clean.

Yet, you're determined.

Remembering his mention about his love of coffee and his preference for Cafe Bustelo. Trying to remember the rest, whether it was black drip, milk or no milk. Stroking a finger down the milk frother as you begin to piece it all together from fragments, hints he had dropped unknowingly.

Up until this point, you had found it difficult to find one thing about Frankie you didn’t like. Then you saw his kitchen layout.

Cupboard, after cupboard opened until you found the bright yellow bag. The smoky, rich smell wafting out as you tugged it close, all strong and inviting—it hooked a finger under your chin and coaxed you to spend several minutes fumbling with the machine.

Then, you hear the satisfying gurgle of brewing coffee.

Resisting the urge to break into a spontaneous dance, you opt instead to steal a momentary glance out the window. The world is stirring, its early morning canvas painted in delicate strokes of pink and orange, a serene backdrop as your gaze falls upon the garden. the worn slide of the wooden climbing frame, its sides adorned in an array of mismatched hues and haphazard brushstrokes. Your eyes begin tracing the trail of tiny handprints ascending one side, the lowest the smallest, increasing in size until halfway up. Then, at the top, larger prints that, just hours ago, you imagine were pressed against your own skin.

As a breeze blows through it, it swings multi-colour bulbs hanging, draped and swinging above. Letting your eyes sweep over the plants—the planters likely made by him, like you imagine much of the furniture outside is—suddenly spotting little figures buried into random bits of soil.

And it makes you smile, grin—full on fucking beam.

Only letting it flicker when you’re stirred by the beep of the coffee machine, pulls you from your reverie. Fingers returning to opening cupboards, seeking mugs, almost grumbling to yourself when you feel hands on your waist.

Ones that feel right, purposeful.

“Morning.”

It’s gravelly, coated in the morning—slowly closing the door before moving back into him, your back flush to his chest.

“Good morning, Butterscotch.”

Feeling him sigh, chin resting on your shoulder, you raise your fingers to brush against his cheek.

“You trying to bring me coffee in bed?”

Turning, you rotate in his arms. Eyes briefly catching the sight of him half-naked. Before taking a full on glance to spot him in a pair of sweats, ones that sit low on his hips. One of his hands crosses over the expanse of his waist, fingers scratching at his soft stomach while you look up to see his hair all at odd angles—curls slightly frizzed from being over-toyed and ragged.

“Well, I was trying too, but...”

“Machine confuse you?”

Narrowing your eyes, his hands coming around you, you smirk. “I will not confirm or deny.”

Running his hand across his chin, he looks over you before his lips twitch. “It was a gift—the machine.”

“From you to you?”

You watch as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, poking you lightly in your side. “The coffee place near work—it was being refurbed, I offered some thoughts as I was in there all the time, so they gave it to me.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

“Do you use all of its features?”

Swallowing, he sighs. “No.”

Sliding your fingers along his jaw, nose practically touching his, you find yourself unable to break his eyes. To not want to remain pressed against the counter in his kitchen, stood barefoot in his bathrobe, coffee scents filling the air.

“I bet you know exactly how to take it apart and put it back together.”

“Baby…”

“Bet you descale it regularly, when you’re supposed to.”

Groaning at the feel of your fingers in his hair, he buries his face into your neck. “Is that making you hot for me?”

“Oddly, yes.”

Snorting against your skin, he slowly lets out a slow exhale. “I hate that I have to open the shop.”

“What would your plans be if you didn’t have to?”

Smirking, he groans—low, barely reaching the surface, but it vibrates through you all the same. “I would for one have convinced you the bedroom was far more comfortable.”

“Hmm, tempting.”

Laughing, he pecks your lips, not moving from his place in front of you, even if his head moves back. “I like that you smell like me.”

“Territorial, noted.”

Turning, he points to the mugs, as you begin pouring the coffee—handing him one as his fingers brush yours.

“I just… I liked that you stayed.”

“Stayed or showered with you and let you see where soap suds go?”

Tilting his chin down, his eyes burn into your soul—all wide, brown, desperate to swallow you whole. “If I remember right, you were also seeing where soap suds go.”

Shrugging, you smirk against the mug, noting his finger resting on the knot of the belt—the one protecting your modesty. “Well, it would be rude to not watch the show.”

“A show? Glad I put on my best moves then,” he replies, voice all low, a hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.

You find it hard not to let your mouth become slack, breath hitching at the act.

“Glad it persuaded you to stay?”

Raising an eyebrow, you try to find something smart to say. Ticking. Whirring away. But then you see it.

Ever-present, hanging there—that worry in his eye. A look which half-pleads for you to pinch him and let him know it’s real. A thing you do as you clutch your coffee in one hand, avoid melting at his words and cup his cheek with the other.

The fabric of his robe-sleeve slides down and his breath flutters warmth against your wrist.

“You didn’t need to persuade me. I wanted to wake up in your arms…”

It’s smooth, the way one of his fingers undo the belt, body coming close as you place the mug down and feel his hands, all rough and worn, sliding over your hips. He's cautious to ensure his chest covers yours, as though attempting to keep you warm, concealed.

“—Plus, I really wanted to try your coffee. But, now I want to steal your coffee and bathrobe.”

His laughter trickles out and draws out against you. Frankie’s head shaking, wearing a large smile on his lips, “Well, I think I can come to some arrangement to let you.”

Sucking in a breath, finding his eyes locked on yours, you lean forward and kiss him. Gentle. Delicate. An assurance delivered softly as the coffee aroma continues to seep into your nose.

“I need to make you breakfast,” he whispers, mouth open, breathing the same air.

“Need, want or should?”

With a soft scoff, he leans in to capture your lips once more, whispering all three against you as his hand finds its way to the curve of your neck. Delicately tracing his fingertips over your jawline with a tantalising caress, you find yourself deepening the kiss, hungry for more. His grip on you tightens as you pull him closer, until there is no space left between you both. None that you want to be there. Desperate to be close, to have, to—

“‘m gonna make your breakfast now,” he says, voice close, pecking against your lips before his hands slide from your skin.

The loss is evident. Immediately missed.

Part of you longs to reach out, to draw him back until you feel him clutching the fabric together for you—a slightly lifted brow as you fumble for the belt, and he begins to pull things onto the counter.

Then, you watch him—tying his robe closed—half-in-awe of the meticulous way he moves around his space, grabbing things like he’s been thinking of what to make while you were busy rendered useless.

Eyes fixed on him so much, you see him pause—briefly. His gaze lingers on the coffee pot, glancing back, forcing you to laugh—a shake of your head.

"Thinking about how you’re going to miss this brilliant coffee, you know, since it’s mine now?" You quip, taking another sip of your coffee.

He turns, a pretend wounded expression on his face.

“I should confess that I’m not a nice person without my coffee," he replies, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement.

With a smile gracing your lips, you ease back against his countertop, enjoying the comforting warmth of both the freshly brewed coffee and his presence.

The sunlight continues to filter in gently, casting a soft and golden glow across the room as you pause to drink in the sight before you. Him, cooking you breakfast.

A thing you thought you could have only thought up weeks ago. His curls tousled, a charming mess.

"Selfishly then, I'll let you keep the coffee," you finally concede.

Nodding, he closes his eyes in gratitude before there’s a twitch of his lips. “Because you like me?”

“Because I really like this bathrobe—the robe is a non-negotiable."

He laughs again, shaking his head in defeat. "Fair enough, it's a deal."

“Because I look so good in it?”

“Well," he says, scratching the back of his head. “I think you look good in everything.”

Harry okay?

Yeah, he rocked up ten minutes after you drove off, was able to pick Luca up at normal time.

That’s great! Did you boys have fun?

We did. He’s really into dinosaurs at the moment so I found this craft we could do where we make dinosaurs out of paper plates.

I like making things with him, plus it’s a nice gift for his mom when I drop him off tomorrow.

So handy and crafty?

Very crafty.

And very good with your hands.

You flirt.

You had a nice day?

I got some work done which I needed to get started, and I did some yoga.

Putting all sorts of images in my head.

Says you, talking about being crafty.

Bed feels weird without you here.

Imprinted on it that quickly?

Yeah. You’re the only one that’s been in it except me, and obviously Luca.

Shut up. I cannot be.

You are.

I don’t bring people back to my house.

Ever?

Never.

Never—

You don’t think.

Not of the time. That he could be tired. Or that his son is asleep in the next room.

Fingers sliding across the screen, finding his contact, and clicking. It's pressed to your ear before you consider whether this is a bad idea. Clutching it, holding it like a lifeline, knowing it's too late. Even if you end it, he'd know, see—

It barely rings.

Two at most, one and a half being a possibility.

And you sigh.

“Fancy hearing from you.”

Pulling your knees up, your bed groans at the sudden movement as you tug the duvet closer to your chin, cheeks rising with your lips. “You’ve really not had someone in your bed?”

It’s there, the sigh. Not full of annoyance, but more like he’s said too much.

“No… I’ve not had anyone else in it but you,” he admits quietly into the phone.

“Wow.”

“And Luca, of course. I always… you sure you want to hear this?”

There’s a softness in his voice that makes your heart flutter in your chest. An unexpected stroke of warmth through you at his question, at his consideration—prompting you to hug the duvet closer to yourself. A subtle smile dances across your lips as you let it wash over you.

“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”

Clearing his throat, you hear rustling, trying to half imagine if he’s turning over in bed, if he’s getting more comfortable—

“If I met someone, I didn’t… I only went to theirs.”

Biting your lip, you shift in your seated position, crossing your legs. “So, lunch and then theirs?”

“No lunch.”

“Coffee?”

Silence. Thick, ear-eroding silence. Before he breathes. “It would be a one-night thing and I wouldn’t stay.”

Oh. Your hand slides around your knee, trying not to grin too much. It's all far too easy to get ahead of yourself, to think too much. To run away and begin thinking this means more than it does. But, then—

“So, I’m…”

“Yeah.”

There’s more you want to ask, them sitting there, burning a hole in your tongue. Practically desperate to erode it, possibly poison it all—as questions sometimes do.

“And here I was thinking I was just another notch on your bedpost,” you tease, trying to keep your voice light, sweet.

He laughs then, a sound that makes you wish you were there with him, instead of miles apart in your own cold bed. “Not at all, baby.”

Toes twitching in your bed, you let out a breath. Sliding your legs out straight, slowly folding yourself down to the mattress, lying on one side as you hold the phone.

And you confess your own.

The reason you’re single, the reason you bought a house.

It rolls and falls, slipping with far too much ease into the air from your mouth. A burden-shifting, a weight from your shoulders lessening. The admission undoing the tightness around your chest as you continue to let the past be told in the present.

You don’t cry. Don’t even feel yourself well up. An improvement, a shift and change in you that you’re sure is brought on entirely by Frankie. On occasion, you hear movement from his side and the briefest whisper of your name. Not in pity—never in pity—just in understanding, in comfort.

“So, I’m the first—“

“Yes, Morales. You’re the first person to ask me out in a long time, big deal.”

“It feels like a big deal.”

Smirking, you twitch your toes. “In a few more dates I might confess that it is.”

“But not right now?”

Grinning, you bite your lip. “Feels like it would inflate your head, Francisco.”

More rustling comes down the phone before you hear a deep sigh. “Maybe. Are you in bed?”

“I am.”

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

“Is it weird to admit I miss you?”

“Not if it’s weird if I say I miss you too.”

You swear you hear him smile. That soft exhale he does dusts over your ear as he breathes your name, before adding, “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.”

A comfortable silence flows out, spreading as you listen to him breathe.

“Want me to tell you my favourite dinosaur?”

You don't fight the laughter that rings out around your bedroom

Sunday tiptoes in with the slightest spring in its step.

With a gentle stretch, you reach for the familiar weight of your phone, heart already skipping ahead of your groggy mind.

There's a flutter of excitement, it mixing with a hint of nerves as you wonder if he's reached out yet. Because it's silly to be excited at the idea that he has, to be giddy at the thought of him thinking of you in this quiet morning hour.

It feels almost teenage-like.

But when your screen lights up you don't care what it is, because there’s little point fighting the grin. The pure eclipsing smile that smothers tiredness and makes your cheeks hurt instantly.

Enjoying my morning coffee feels different without a robe-wearing thief.

Rolling onto your front, the duvet sliding down your back, you dig your elbows into the mattress and run your tongue across your teeth.

Good morning to you too. If there’s coffee left, expect me in half an hour. Unless you fancy getting some with me?

Even if it feels like minutes, his reply arrives in seconds.

Instantly illuminating your phone against the backdrop of your pillow, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips.

Always. But I’m thinking brunch might be better?

Grinning, you fight a giggle. Teeth biting down on your lip as your thumbs type at record speed.

Can’t wear the bathrobe there. No, not really. But, I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry. Promise? Pinky promise. Brunch it is. I'll pick you up.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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hollythius · 9 months

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of red cheeks like pomegranate halves

lyney x reader. multi-chapter. (hopefully)

holly’s notes: sorry guys. i just think he’s silly. now you have to deal with it. i haven’t played much of genshin lately, nor have i ever heard a voice line of this man, so please bear with me. 🙏

tldr: pining. so much pining. sort of friends with benefits, implied ‘relations’ if you know what i mean, bad attempts at poetry, kisses, angst + fluff, reader is technically a poet but isn’t expanded on much, hidden/secret relationship. I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 30 MINS HELP. does anyone want a part two. i will write it. i prommy.

“archons, lyney— let me go,” you huff. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, his long-sleeved pajamas brushing against your bare skin. your partner barely hums, his attention nowhere but in the pleasant dreams you’re certain he’s having.

his fingers trace gently along the dips and curvature of your body, wandering a path familiar to him only. lyney is ever the risk taker, having you here. in his room, his siblings not far off within the confines of the house. you groaned again at the thought of finding your clothes on the messy floor and trekking out the window to the chilly morning weather.

but it’s the agreement between you two. he is your magician, and you his poet. his lips kiss only yours. your fingers only pull and tug at his ash-blond tresses. you blow off a little steam, and then return to the cold, shocking morning.

lyney is always clingy. it’s how he is. you don’t dare fight it, lest it worsens for you. he’d almost blown your cover numerous times; his voice too loud, his gestures too grand, or the look in his eyes too longing.

“lyney, i need to leave,” you say again, this time almost begging. finally, your midnight lover relents, rolling over in bed to grant you room to exit. you huff, figuring that was far easier than normal. you spend no extra time gathering your clothes and slipping them on, only to climb down the window.

when lyney wakes, the bed is cold. he finds himself feeling impossibly empty, a feeling that has become more prominent as of late. he finds it ironic— your absence has left the magic dulled, and he longs to create prose adequate to describe his emotions. perhaps one day you’d teach him to rhyme in ways that didn’t make readers cringe.

his eyes drifting to the pillow, imagining your sleeping face still resting there. maybe, if he was lucky, you’d flash him a grin with just a little too much teeth. then, he’d laugh at you softly, place a hand on your cheek, and kiss your lips. that would remain a dream, however, until he’d gathered the courage to profess his undying love for you.

and now, as he dresses himself for the day’s magic show, he smiles. you’ll be there, like you always are. toting around a notebook, jotting down scenes to describe in future poems. lyney glances at the bookshelf in his room, at the few volumes of your poetry that reside there. he keeps them lined in order of publication. you’d never seen them, or you’d never made it known that you had.

but lyney was content. whatever you had, whatever situation yours was, he was perfectly fine with keeping it. he greets his siblings with a big smile, gleaming and ready to perform. lynette shrugs him off, and freminet gives a shaky grin back.

lyney can’t wait to see you again, eyes on him and engrossed in his show. gasps falling from your lips as you watch from the front row of seats. he smiles again, heart fluttering. he’d have to do something about these feelings.

#.hollies #lyney x reader #lyney x y/n #lyney x you #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 6 months

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Tell Me You Think About Me Too (teaser)

When Steven leaves you in the hotel room to tend to your wounds after a mission whilst he fetches food, the last thing he expects to hear when he returns is the sound of his name coming from the shower. [Steven Grant x F!Reader (hints of Marc Spector x F!Reader) - Friends to lovers, mutual pining, two idiots in love and Marc is so very tired of their shit.]

He was rambling. Stammering on his words like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, choking on the billows of steam he was breathing in as his face flushed with the sickening kind of heat that came with pure mortification and good fucking god, what the hell was he doing still standing there?

"I’m sorry,” he continued, rooted in place despite every fibre of his being telling him to bolt. It burst out of him almost, jumbled and tumbling, all frantic to make you understand.

“My name- I heard you say my name and I thought… it sounded like you were hurt and I know you like to handle your injuries alone but it sounded bad and I thought you could be bleeding out or dying and I just couldn’t–”

You were wrapping gentle fingers around his wrists before he could talk himself breathless, into an early grave with the way his pulse was hammering beneath flushed skin. Your voice fell even softer, barely rising over the sound of the water that was still pelting against the tiles, as you told him, “Steven, calm down. Look at me, it’s okay.”

He wanted to resist, unwilling to face the weight of your disappointment, the shame that would only double tenfold when that harsh glare of yours undoubtedly pinned him with it, but he found himself compelled by a featherlight touch at his jaw, the arc of cheek, sweeping the damp curls from his eyes just as they fluttered open.

Steven gulped as his stare settled on you.

You were closer than he'd expected you to be, now wrapped up in a thread-bare towel that hid only enough skin for you to be considered decent but had him sending a prayer of thanks for to any god that would listen anyway. He didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise, not with the way you were actually looking at him. Touching him.

He was already having trouble breathing properly, his stomach still flipping from the memory of you, your closeness to him now when your soft moans were still echoing around in his head.

Steven, Steven, Steven.

His heart had yet to return to its normal pace and as it stuttered and beat itself violently against the cage of his ribs, he wondered if it was possible to die from something like this. From the desire and longing trapped and blistering beneath his skin, a wicked hot thing that was trying to burn him from the inside out.

It certainly felt like he could.

Your expression grew anxious whilst you simply watched one another, gaze troubled and brow knit into a soft frown. Your lip drawn between your teeth in a way that made him have to swallow down the urge gently tug it free with his thumb, to soothe away the rawness with soft touches. An even softer kiss.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Even when he was expecting you to be angry at him, for that gentle calmness to drop any second to reveal disgust, he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching you, kissing you. Loving on you. He wanted to shake himself, to rub away the ache in his chest that worsened as your lips parted and he braced himself for you to tell him you couldn’t be around him after this.

“It’s not you who should be apologising, Steven.” You told him instead, voice tinged with guilt, a hint of embarrassment. Nervous in a way he’d never seen before. And when your eyes dropped briefly to where your hands were still cradling his own you missed the way he blinked at you in stunned confusion.

“I shouldn’t have been doing that - thinking about you like that - definitely not when you could hear…shit- I’m so fucking sorry you heard it and saw what you did. I get it if you don’t feel comfortable around me and you need a break or something, fuck - is that something you would want? Do you want me to go?”

Steven didn’t even know what to say. His expression had morphed into something utterly dumbfounded. His brain screeching to a halt at your apology - your confession?

It was spinning around inside his skull like a carousel, all bright flashing light and the swelling tinkling of fairytale music. Because surely it couldn’t be real right? He’d not really heard what he thought he had, he’d not heard you admitting that you think about him.

Maybe he’d been knocked out during the fight and this was a dream? He almost found it easier to believe.

Except for the fact that in his dreams he didn’t have Marc’s voice in his head - seething with frustration. He wasn’t being yelled at to say something. Say anything. He wasn’t getting stressed out by the irate stream of demands mixing with his own rapidly firing thoughts until they all muddled into something that felt an awful lot like the oncoming of a migraine.

He wanted to snap at Marc to be quiet for just five bloody seconds but then he was raising his voice again - more worried this time - and it cut crystal clear through the rest of the noise. Sharp enough for Steven to finally understand what the other man had been desperately trying to snap his attention to.

"Jesus fucking christ Steven, she’s going to leave! She thinks you don’t want her - SAY SOMETHING.”

And Marc was right. You had drawn away from him, dropped your hands from his cheeks and tucked them into your sides, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding the vulnerable parts of yourself you’d only just worked up the courage to expose. Curling into yourself in the face of what you perceived as rejection.

He watched in a throat-tight panic as you nodded solemnly and made to squeeze past him, reaching for the door that had swung back closed behind him from the force with which he had thrown it open.

It was the brush of you against him that startled him back to life - a smack of reality cracking across his bewildered face that told him you were about to walk out of that door, out of their shitty hotel room and straight out his life if he didn’t stop you.

Steven was whirling around before his mind could even register having told his legs to move. He caught at your wrist with a shaky hand , the touch of it feverish against your skin that had rapidly cooled once outside the heat of the shower - goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips despite the balmy air that swirled around them.

You turned, fingers still grazing the door handle, and looked at him, wide eyed and apprehensive, unwillingly hopeful, and it was enough to make the muscles in his throat unlock. Words bubbling up and past his lips before he could even consider if they were the right ones.

“Did you mean it?” He rasped. “ You think of me when you touch yourself?”

There was silence for a second, maybe two, and by the way you sucked in a breath - lips parting as you stared at him - he suspected the question had been the last thing you expected to be asked.

It was agony to stand there and wait and Steven tried his best not to let it show, tried not to breathe because every inhale was drenched in you.

The scent of your shampoo and your body wash and your breath fanning across his lips when he subconsciously leaned closer. The weight of his heart that wasn’t really his anymore, hadn’t been since he met you, sat on his tongue. Ready to topple along with the desperate plea he was fighting to keep clamped behind his teeth.

Please. Please tell me you think about me too - that you want me just as much as I want you.

And then, “I did,” you whispered, soft and hushed like you were worried if you spoke any louder it would ruin whatever was happening between you, “I do.”

#steven grant wip #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfic #steven grant smut #steven grant imagine #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #teaser

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nahoney22 · 1 year

Text

That Floral Dress***

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 3000

After a sour date, Echo has one thing on his mind: is he a bad kisser? Luckily, you were willing to tell him the truth.

Warnings: no smut but it is rather saucy so gonna rate it at 16+. Slight insecure echo, unknown mutual pining, reader is female and is wearing a floral dress. Intense make out.

Masterlist

“Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?”

The question catches you off guard completely, making you spin around in your seat in the cockpit of the Marauder to face Echo who had been pacing back and forth for the better half of ten minutes. You’re surprised he hasn’t worn the floor down.

You're not sure how to respond to such an unexpected question, so you ask him to repeat it. "Do I look like I would be a bad kisser?" he asks again, biting his lip anxiously.

Even hearing it the second time round confused you just as much and then it occurred to you that a few nights ago he had come back from a date that Wrecker had sprung upon him. He didn’t look too pleased to go in the first place and his mood only worsened upon his return.

“I… don’t know?” You reply nervously.

Echo had been your friend for years now, even since before his accident at the Citadel so for him to ask you this type of question was a little odd as you two were merely friends. You didn’t want to upset him and say no, which wasn’t the case either, but you didn’t want to say yes in case presumptions start.

Echo lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand before leaning against the wheel of the Marauder. You can tell that he's feeling frustrated, and you feel a twinge of guilt for not being more helpful. So, dropping what you were doing, you decide to ask him what's really going on.

“How come you're asking me this, Echo?" you inquire softly, hoping to get to the root of the problem.

Echo fidgets nervously, his sharp jaw clenching with anxiety. "Remember that date I went on the other day?" he grumbles, clearly still bitter about the experience. To which you nod for him to continue, leaning back on your seat as he begins to explain his predicament.

“Well, not only were they quite dull as a person, and I’m not saying I’m a barrel of laughs either, but they were insanely dull so the date was not off to a great start.” He emphasizes on the word dull, making you giggle softly which always made him smile but before he gets distracted, he continues,

“Anyway, I walked them back to their place and just being the courteous guy I am, I leaned in to give them a kiss goodnight. Only for them to recoil back as if I smelt terrible.”

"They even said 'ew no thanks,'" he recalls bitterly, his face contorting.

Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape. “How rude of them!” You exclaim with a shake of your head, feeling indignation on his behalf. “You were only being nice?” You stated, hoping to bring some ease to Echo but his furrowed brows and almost sad expression said otherwise.

“I only was going to go in for the cheek.” He grumbles. “Well, I just wanted to ask you if you think I looked like I’d be a bad person to kiss.” He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor as your heart lunges out to him.

“In that case,” you stand and take a step towards him, resting a comforting hand to his forearm, “no, I don’t think you would look like a bad kisser.”

His eyes search yours, a mix of emotions residing in them. “You don’t have to say that because you feel bad for me.”

You scoff and shake your head at him. “Echo, you know me well enough to know that I’ll always be honest with you. So no, I don’t think you look like a bad person to kiss.”

The words gave him brief comfort and a smile is fighting its way on his lips. “Thanks. Though, I don’t think I’d be that great at it anyway.” He shrugs and this only piques your curiosity more.

“Howcome?”

Again, he fidgets a little before letting out a small sigh at his confession. “I’ve never kissed anyone. A proper kiss that is.”

Echo's confession about his lack of experience in kissing catches you off guard. You had assumed that he had dated or been in some kind of romantic relationship before, given his charming personality and good looks. But as he stands before you, vulnerable and honest, you can't help but feel a sense of compassion towards him.

Echo shifts his weight from one foot to another, as if unsure of how you would react to his confession. You can see the slight furrow in his brow and the way his lips purse as he contemplates the words to say next. His vulnerability tugs at your heartstrings, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

"Wow, I didn't know that. But it's okay, Echo. You don't have to be a great kisser right off the bat. It takes practice, and I'm sure with the right person, you'll be amazing."

As Echo's gaze meets yours, you sense a palpable tension between the two of you. It's as if you share an unspoken understanding that transcends the bounds of your platonic friendship, one that leaves you questioning whether there might be something more between you. But before you can dwell on these thoughts for too long, you hear yourself utter the words, "I'd be happy to teach you."

Your words take Echo aback, and he seems surprised by your willingness to help him with something so intimate. “You would?”

Your own eyes begin to widen, the reality of your words hitting home. But you're not about to back down now. "S-sure," you squeak, quickly clearing your throat to hide the nerves that were now bubbling, "I mean, we're friends, right? I'm sure you'd do the same for me."

As Echo ponders your offer, he realises that you're right. You've always been there for him, and the thought of not returning the favor is unthinkable. Supposedly it makes things better too that he finds you were impossibly beautiful and wearing that pretty floral dress he really liked. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a shaky exhale, Echo stands up straight and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what's to come. He's grateful that he managed to brush his teeth earlier that morning, before any of the others hogged up the refresher. "How do you want to do this?" he asks, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Your mind races, considering your options. You hadn't expected Echo to be so agreeable to the idea, and now you find yourself at a loss for words. "Um, well," you stammer, "do you want to just go ahead and reenact how your date went? And kiss me on the cheek?"

Echo's expression darkens at the suggestion. He doesn't want to relive that somewhat painful memory, but if it means learning from his mistakes, he's willing to give it a shot. "Sure," he concedes with a slight frown, "why not?"

You approach Echo with a hesitant step, feeling a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a certain shyness, and you can sense the weight of his request hanging in the air between you. You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to speak with a slight mischievous grin dancing at the corners of your lips. Your voice tinged with a playful sweetness. "Well, Echo, I do appreciate you walking me back to my place," you tease, relishing the opportunity to poke fun at your friend's chivalry.

Echo looks momentarily confused, but he quickly catches on and chuckles at your literal interpretation of the situation. "I don't think they ever said it like that," he remarks, his amusement evident.

You roll your eyes, but your smile remains, and you lower your voice, adopting a more serious tone. "Say, Echo," you say, your eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter, "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for walking me back to my place."

Echo shakes his head, an adoring look in his eyes. You always knew how to effortlessly charm him with your humor. But, he knows there's something he needs to address. "Of course," he says softly but resolutely.

As Echo gathers his courage, you patiently wait, your hands tucked behind your back. You can tell he's nervous about kissing you, even on the cheek.

You watch as he tentatively reaches out to touch you, trying to remember how he kissed his date. But this time, he finds himself oddly wanting to impress you.

When he reaches out, his fingers trace over the fabric of your dress on your waist. A surge of warmth shoots through you, and you take a small step closer to him as if he was inviting you closer. His breath is heavy, and your heart races as you spot him staring at your lips… instead of your cheek.

"Echo," you say softly, hoping to bring him back to reality.

"Sorry, I, uh—" Echo stammers, his mind racing with uncertainty. For a moment, you worry that he might back away, but you take a deep breath and speak up.

"Just kiss me," you say, voice barely above a whisper as you lean in until your nose brushes against his.

Echo swallows nervously, stealing a quick glance at your lips once more before meeting your gaze. "Where?" his voice was almost silent. It was as if the obvious place you suggested to him had vanished and you find yourself not minding it at all.

You hold your nerve and ever so slightly, not quite sure what possessed or was possessing you, lean closer until your lips ghost over him and watch him with a steady gaze. “Wherever feels right for you.”

He couldn't resist any longer, the temptation too great as he leaned in to capture your lips in a quick embrace. The kiss was sweet, yet intense, sending shivers down your spine and causing your mind to go hazy with an unknown desire. The feel of his lips on yours was electric, igniting a spark deep within you that you never knew existed for him. His eyes were tightly knitted shut, afraid that you may turn around and sock him one but he was pretty certain you were kissing him back.

As he pulled back, breathless and eager for your response, you found yourself lost in the moment, unable to speak. Your face felt hot as you looked down at your shoes, struggling to find the right words to say. Everything about this moment felt different, as if something had shifted irrevocably between you both.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Echo finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "How was that?" he asked, his eyes still closed, as if he was afraid to see your reaction. He may have thought about kissing you once or twice, naturally. He just never knew it would happen quite like this.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you found yourself looking down at your shoes. “It was nice… your date was missing out.” You reply, almost stiff.

There was a certain type of emotion that hung on your words that you didn’t quite know yourself.

Echo licked his lips inconspicuously, savoring the taste of your fruity lip balm that lingered on his tongue. "At least I know I'm not a bad kisser," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, the sound ringing like music in the quiet cockpit. "Definitely not," you replied, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

As you looked up at him, you could feel his gaze burning into you, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You were everything perfect in the galaxy, and his grip on your waist tightened just a little bit more, as if he never wanted to let you go.

In a moment of boldness, Echo's scomp came up to cradle your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes locked, and you were lost in each other, the galaxy around you fading away until it was just the two of you. There were no words, no movement, just the intensity of your gazes. “How do I show that I want to do more then?”

As the heat between you and Echo intensifies, he challenges you with another kiss, pushing the boundaries to see how far he can take you. Your smile gives away your desire, and you whisper a command, "Maybe, bring them closer."

Echo doesn't hesitate, his arm wraps around your lower back, drawing you close in a swift motion. Chest to chest, his breath washes over your face, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "And then?" he prods, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes close as you succumb to the moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of Echo's low tone. "I-I suppose you just kiss them again, but a little longer."

So he does. Feverish and intense with a passion that ignites your senses. Your heart beats wildly, consumed by the sensation of his lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. Echo gently trails his hand up your body to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss, and you gasp, lost in the intoxicating sensation. When he pulls away to gauge your reaction, he almost chuckles when he spots you leaning into him, chasing his lips. To your glee, he kisses you swiftly and you let out the faintest of moans in his mouth.

Echo's lips against yours are soft, and you can feel the warmth of his breath as he murmurs a phrase that sends a shiver down your spine. "Oh cyare," he purrs, and you're suddenly jolted back to reality. Your heart races, and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you.

You pull away, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head. "We shouldn't be doing this," you tell him.

Echo looks shaken, his expression concerned as he fears he may have overstepped the mark. "Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

You shake your head, feeling a twinge of guilt as you pull away from Echo's embrace. "I'm sorry, Echo. We shouldn't be doing this. I'm supposed to be teaching you how to kiss for other dates," you explain.

Echo tilts his head, sensing your unease. But the thought of you possibly being jealous makes his heart skip a beat, and he realises this may be the right moment to lay everything on the line. "What if there are no other dates?" he asks softly.

You blink in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he approaches you again, his flesh hand cupping your cheek, thumb tracing over your delicate skin, "what if I just want to kiss you?” He lowers his voice, afraid to break the tension. “What if I want to date you?"

Shock is written all over your face, and you can't help melting into his touch once more. "But I thought we were just friends," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Echo chews on the inside of his cheek before admitting, "I don't think 'just friends' want to kiss each other, do they?" He uttered, voice almost vibrating against you.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and a heat pools in your lower stomach. "No," you shudder, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "I suppose they don't."

He smiles coyly, and his lips gently trace along your jawline, edging towards your ear. "Then let me kiss you. Let me give you anything you want."

As his lips touch your ear, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your body, and your mind is filled with conflicting emotions. But most of them were primarily focused on how he pushes you against the control panel.

You whimper under his touch, both of your hands coming up to clasp his cheeks as you guide his lips back onto yours. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, and your teeth clash, but neither of you seems to care.

In a moment of need, his lips assault yours as he presses you down so your back hits at the buttons and switches, sandwiched between your legs.

"Echo," you groan his name into his mouth before he playfully bites at your lower lip. Your legs press against his outer thighs and around his waist and you crumble into a mewling mess once you feel his hand slide up under your dress, caressing at your thigh.

He stands up straight for a moment, admiring how you’re displayed beautifully on the control panel just for him. His eyes roamed your body, growing warm at how your dress hugged your body wonderfully and how your chest heaved beneath it, highlighting your breasts.

“Did I ever tell you that I love this dress on you?”

You blush deeply as he massages your skin, feeling the heat building between your legs. "No," you rasp, eyelids heavy with lust.

“Shame,” he chuckles, moving his lips down to your neck now, starting to suck and bite that sweet spot that your body perfectly reacts to - arching up into him. “Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing it on the floor one day.”

You chew on your lower lip, whimpering and moaning in pleasure as he leaves marks all over your neck and collarbones. Surprisingly, you find yourself not even caring if the others saw it. The pleasure you are getting is far too great to tell Echo to stop.

When he pulls back, panting and trying so hard to ignore the tent in his pants, he gazes down at you, his eyes dance with adoration. “You’re so beautiful, cyare.”

You're panting a little, causing his eyes to flicker between your chest and your eyes with a smile. “As are you. And a very, very good kisser.”

You don’t know what was going to happen from then on but for now, you just savored the feeling of Echo leaning down to kiss you, tongue begging for entrance at your lips.

Masterlist

More Echo Works

#bad batch echo #tbb echo #the bad batch echo x reader #bad batch echo x reader #bad batch echo x you #tbb echo x reader #nahoney22 writes #the bad batch

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wanduhhh · 2 years

Note

"Don't go on that date." "Why?" "You know why." "Say it."

With college Wanda pretty please.

Congrats 😁

Thanks Angel! College Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫.

(Just know I’m not happy where this ended either x)

——————————————————————

Seconds away from finishing the perfect flick on your other eye, your room burst open. The scent of peaches infiltrating your senses told you it was your roommate; without even opening your eyes. “Ugh Wandaaaaaa look what you did” turning to the redhead to show off her masterpiece. A streak of black eyeliner touching your sideburns.

Her laughter bubbled up until it burst through, only worsening when you stared at her with a pout. “Wands come on, I’m going to be late now you have to help” she let her laughter die down just a little, wiping at the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Okay okay don’t worry buttercup, mommy will help” you focused on rubbing away the stray eyeliner not giving her the satisfaction of your blush. “Ew, stop calling yourself that”.

She may not believe you actually meant that but her ego did not need stroked even more.

“Okay lay down” she motioned her head towards your bed, waiting with arms followed for you to follow instructions. You did as she said whilst mumbling about her dramatics. All of this washed away when you lay flat on your back and Wanda straddled your waist. Legs on either side of you, leaning far too close for comfort.

“What uh- what are you doing Wands?” You croaked out, hands pathetically flat at your sides. “What’s it look like silly, I’m going to fix your eyeliner” she gave you a playful roll of her eyes that basically said ‘duhhh’. But all you could focus on was how warm she felt pressed against you, and how badly you wanted to let your hands rest on her thighs. God did she always have to wear such short shorts.

When she leaned down to concentrate on your eyeliner, her breath touched your lips and you knew you were a goner. You could practically taste the gum in her mouth; your only saving grace was that you could keep your eyes closed. She hummed along to a tune in her head as if this entire situation was just a normal Friday.

Sure you were closer than some roommates, but this was pushing it. “Y/n I can basically hear the gears turning. And why are your arms shaking?” Of course she would pick up on that. Vixen. “I just uh- I can’t get comfy” you should’ve ate those words. She grabbed your hands and placed them on her upper thighs, scorching skin under your clammy hands. “There, much better” and she continued on.

What felt like a lifetime later she leaned back enough for you to scoot up the bed, yet she stayed in your lap. Lifting her arms to loop around the back of your neck. “All fixed, you look beautiful” she smiled at you, her eyes almost cross eyed from how close she was staring at you. “Thanks Wands” you were both whispering, apparently too afraid to burst the tension filled bubble you now resided in.

When you were inspecting her work in the reflection of your phone, she whispered to you so quietly you almost missed it. “Don’t go on that date” her eyes that usually shone with confidence seemed to be drowning in insecurity. You didn’t think it suited them.

“Why not?” You had pined for this moment for months, since the first time you met. And you would be stupid to not tease her just a little. “You know why” she rolled her eyes at you, moving to leave your lap. You held her in place; increasing your grip on her thighs. “Say it Wanda” you whispered into her ear, moving her hair to place a light kiss on her jaw. Delighting in the hitch of her breath.

“I want you to stay here, with me” she met your eyes then, raising her eyebrow almost in a challenge. She was playing the game. “And what would we do if I stayed here instead hmm?” You could play it right back. “You could fuck me instead of whatever whore you were going to imagine was me later”. She won; of course. But you wouldn’t let her away with it so easily, so you slammed your lips against hers.

Biting her lip to make her moan into your mouth, only to claim her mouth as your own. “I think that’s a great idea” you panted against her mouth, giggling together as your hands trailed to her zipper.

#wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda smut #fanfiction #wanda x y/n #fanfics #wanda mcu #mcu fic #Drabble

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lily-in-thevalley · 5 months

Text

The Start of Something New Pt. 1

The start of a small story detailing your shared journey with Brian into starting your family (˶^ з^(〃‿〃♡)

TW’s: mild anxiety, mild insecurity

Important note: While writing this series, the reader/(y/n) was envisioned as AFAB/non-binary, so they’ll be referred to with primarily gender neutral pronouns and endearments as per their preference.

Blimey dears, it’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten myself to actually write anything due to a remarkably intense semester in uni. I hope to make this a small series I actually complete for myself and you all. Enjoy !!!

This wasn’t something new. In all honesty, the thought had first appeared to you many many years ago. Back when you and Brian were still children and growing up together. It was understood, between the two of you, that you longed to start a family together one day. Privately, it only truly hit you some random day in 1974.

It was before you and Brian had actually become an official couple, opting for “secret” kisses and obvious pining from not-so-afar. At the time, Queen were touring in Finland, and had been asked to attend a press conference for a few international papers and many local papers. Among the bustling writers and photographers was a young boy. You never learned his name, but he was truly sweet and had melted Brian and Freddie’s hearts particularly (John was getting ready to have his own child and thus was slightly nervous, and Roger seemed a tad impartial). This boy had asked several questions of Freddie, Roger, and John by the time he’d reached Brian and had seemed to run out of what might have been deemed professional questions. Much to Brian’s delight, that meant the more creative and unique questions were reserved for him.

From your spot somewhere to the left of the band, you listened and watched Brian participate in his interview with the young boy. You watched and admired the way that his voice softened, and he grinned politely as more questions were prepared for him. Your heart picked up pace as he took each question to heart, seriously considering his answer for each one (“Chocolate penguins” being his favourite candy in particular made you smile). As Brian answered more questions, a thought floated into your mind quite suddenly.

I want him to care for my children…

Had you not been mostly secluded from the majority of the crowd, it would have been quite obvious how your cheeks went bright red. While it caused you to blush, the realization itself truly wasn’t too severe a surprise. You had, somewhere in the back of your mind, always desired this.

Just moments after your mind had started to wander into the intricacies of your revelation, Brian was excused from the press conference for a break and found you sitting by yourself. He waved a soft wave and sat next to you, offering you a sip from his bottle of water that you gladly accepted.

“Are you alright back here love? It’s not become too overwhelming has it?” he spoke quietly, hoping to not worsen any sensory issue you may be having. In response, you shook your head slightly.

“Nothing like that no, I’m ok Bri. Was your interview ok?” At your question, Brian’s gentle smile returned.

“I’ve actually just had quite a lovely interview with a young lad. He had some of the best questions I’ve ever been asked, I'll tell you. Really getting into the important business.” His grin grew, radiantly expressing his fondness of the interview. Brian turned his head to look at you as you nudged his shoulder gently with your own.

“I saw…” you hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not you should speak the entirety of your mind, “It was really cute to see you interacting with that kid.”

Brian could tell you had more to say, and he gave you room to gather your thoughts and calm yourself if need be. Yet another two traits you loved and admired about your Brimi (a nickname he’d earned for his ever improving guitar skills and impressively curly mane). His unwavering support and patience through all of your little ticks and quirks, and his ability to read your subtle body language when it counted the most. After a few beats of silence, the words seemed to spill from you as they needed to.

“I want to have your babies Brian.” You could admit, rather readily in fact, that you hadn’t intended to confess such a thing so boldly. That was hardly the kind of communication pattern you and Brian had fallen into through recent years, making it a fight to bring yourself to look to Brian’s face.

It wasn’t a look of horror or embarrassment on his face, not even pity or of being disturbed. He almost seemed… amused and relieved? As though he were stuck between wanting to laugh at how cute and sudden your exclamation was, and wanting to hug you until you passed out. He could see your head starting to overthink however, and opted for a light hug and running a hand softly through your hair.

“Oh my angel,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he practically purred “I’m so glad you said that, I’m glad you feel the same way I do.” He quelled any possibility for your fickle mind to take what he said and twist it into something it wasn’t despite the minute waver in his own voice (stemming from nerves he sought to hide, not wanting to give your mind any chance to think he was bluffing). With a gentle kiss to your head, he looked down at you. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

“I…Brimi I’m really embarrassed that I just yelled that out suddenly and I’m slightly overwhelmed with the knowledge that you might want that too and-” A pair of the softest lips cut you off from continuing your anxious train of thought. Ever so skillfully, Brian soothed your worries with the consistent and tender press of his lips against yours, a pressure that simultaneously kept you grounded in reality and made you feel like you were flying. Low and sweet, a purr rumbled in Brian’s chest as he felt you begin to calm and relax into the kiss.

With your heart light (and full of a love you dare not fully express), you pulled away slightly from your shared kiss. You made eye contact with Bri and watched the full body shiver that ran through him bring a light blush to his cheeks and a sheepish chuckle from his lips. A chuckle that you shared with him, feeling slightly light-headed with relief from the knowledge that Brian, too, hoped to start a family with you one day.

•«•«•«•

More recently, after celebrating your tenth anniversary with Brian and months of planning your wedding after his proposal that night (Freddie will never stop teasing the two of you for taking ten years to finally get engaged), you found yourself reading through one of the astronomy magazines that could be found lying about your home in bed. You and Brian practically shared everything these days, so it was no far stretch for you to read bits of his literature and for him to read bits of your literature. Taking a sip of your rapidly cooling tea, you noticed Brian standing in the doorway of your bedroom with his eyes set on you. From his posture, it was evident that there was a topic on his mind that would keep him awake if it wasn’t discussed as soon as possible. You set aside your magazine and made eye contact with him, causing Brian to shift slightly on his feet.

“Is something wrong, my love? Come sit with me.” You pulled the comforter up from his side of the bed and settled into the pillows, a combination of movements that you both knew meant it was time for a cuddle. Instantly there was a noticeable change in Brian’s posture and his evident anxiety seeped away as he crawled into bed next to you, shedding his clothes eagerly on the way. He found his place curled up against your side, feeling quite safe and comfortable despite the lingering questions on the tip of his tongue.

“Now, what’s on your mind Bri? I can tell you need to talk,” you placed a little kiss to the top of his head and started working your fingers through his thick curls, an action that you knew he found comfort in “Whenever you’re ready sweetheart.”

“I think… I know…” he needed a moment, a feeling you truly understood “Now that we’re engaged and our wedding is next month…(y/n), I think it’s time we truly discussed having kids.”

#brian may x reader #brian may #brian harold may #self insert #brian may imagine #brianmayfanfic #eventual smut #slightly suggestive #canon x oc #I can write what I want so I will

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quidfree · 1 year

Note

Thoughts on the Charles x Francis relationship? Because I have so many

oh god it's so much.....there's so much to say but to me it's just so upsettingly doomed

francis being canonically in love with charles is so francis. like it's such in character masochism. charles is the handsome easy-breezy charming guy with not-so-hidden rage issues and a drinking problem everyone brushes under the rug. of course that's who francis pines after. like aghhh

now early in canon it's the whole exquisite suffering thing bc despite this whole little character drama they are also just friends who get along. francis is the twins' bestie. they have fun. they make jokes. they're kind of sensitive souls. they have a sort of joint debonair laissez-faire hedonist energy. it's very old boys club maurice vibes. for francis charles is his friend he is in love with. from charles POV they are friends yes but the whole sex thing is just kind of another mindless indulgence.

charles is always hard to pin down bc while he has consistent traits a lot of his personality shifts drastically from a to z. so i'm open to argument. but i personally think he's not especially into men. he lets the francis thing happen but it's like any of the kind of grimy things he does when he's drunk - he doesn't want to think about it the next day and he quietly kind of holds it against francis. as for francis' feelings he does not take them especially seriously bc he just doesn't take francis that seriously. poor francois! etc.

i respect the fix-it post-canon shippers but for me i think for how francis and charles end up their relationship is doomed from jump. when francis is fumbling desperately to fix charles' downward spiral and charles is aggressively shutting him out and decrying him as an untrustworthy nobody, you can see the imbalance very clearly- francis trying questionably but earnestly, charles refuting him cruelly but not insensibly. and i think that's kind of the set-up with them. bc francis sleeping with charles only when they're drunk and when charles denies interest otherwise is fucked on Both of their parts for different reasons.

i think you could tilt your head and read it differently- like maybe charles does reciprocate on some level and just drinks before sex for deniability, and the fall-out at the end is worsened by shattered illusions/bitter ex energy on his end- but for one thing i still don't see the relationship really bouncing back from that, and for another there's the camilla of it all (as in i think charles' primary focus of interest is unfortunately his sister). the inevitable collapse remains. i 1000% can see post-canon rehab reunions, with or without messy undefined relationship rebounds, but charles eventually fucking off to run a bar with a random woman rather than having a falsettos style on-and-off drama with francis in boston just feels in character.

also i always come back to francis drunkenly kissing camilla for a laugh and charles almost wrenching his arm out of his socket. like that's... yeah.

#qui parle #qui repond #tsh #the secret history #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #francis x charles #charles is hard for me bc in some ways he's v sympathetic but i think he is hands down the most abusive character in tsh

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roonyxx · 2 years

Text

Winter Cabin (Y/n Pov)

By Jay-and-dean and Roonyxx

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean is tired and grumpy lately, maybe the magic of a winter cabin and love can make him relax ?

Warnings: Fluff and Smut. A hint of angst and adult language.

Note: this is our third collaboration

This is how it works:

We wrote the same story, and we did it together. I wrote Y/n’s Pov and @jay-and-dean wrote Dean’s Pov

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Wordcount: 5089

READ DEAN’S POV HERE

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

Y/N’S POV

When you asked Dean to get in the car you could see the hesitation about leaving his home in his eyes. You knew all he wanted was to lay down in his bed and rest, but you wanted to take him away from here and from all of it. You wanted to make him let go of everything for a while, and in a bunker filled with lore and laptops ready to ping at a new hunt that is impossible. But he agreed and got in the car with a tired frown.

Since then, he is grumpy. He has every right to be. The last few hunts were hard on him. That’s exactly why you planned this surprise, he will love it. His mood won’t bring yours down.

In the few hours you have been driving north, you can’t help but notice his watery eyes from all the yawning.

“You know I could have driven, Dean, right ?” You say as you bent a little forward to see his face.

“And risking damages on baby ?” a groan accentuated his words “No thank you.”

You let the snarky remark wash over you, but it still stings a little. It’s not like you have never driven the impala before but when Dean is grumpy, he tends to push you away a little. It’s all worth it, you’re going to smother him with love once you reach your destination.

“I do have my driving license” you say with a little smile to break the tension.

“Yes but the road is frozen, and she only listens to me” he says with a small smile, his way of trying to say sorry for his earlier remark.

Dean can be hard at times but he loves you uncontrollably, and he’ll never hurt you on purpose.

“Turn left” you say as you point towards the road on the left.

“I know my right and left” he grunts again, pushing your hand away.

“Maybe, but you have the reflexes of a sloth today” you mock him, his grumpy mood starting to pull on yours a little, you just really don’t want to drive the wrong way and risk getting lost, that would only worsen his already dampened mood. “So I prefer making sure.”

You won’t let him be mean to you, you can get really impressive when you’re angry. But you know Dean, you know him better then himself, you know a few ways to untie his panties.

After he turns left you start getting excited.

“We’re almost there” you look around the snowy landscape, everything sounds so much softer, the snow functioning as an isolation for the screams of the world. “Look at those giant pine trees covered in snow !” when you were little you always thought it looked like the trees had put on their winter coat.

You turn your head to the other side as you hear his monotone “Mh”

“Look at this lake !” it is huge and completely frozen, it’s beautiful, so beautiful it almost asks to be touched. “It’s like a giant mirror.”

Another gloomy “Mh” leaves his lips.

You know it is just because he is tired. But you are getting so close now, not even his uninterested grunts can ruin your mood.

You sit up on your knees on the bench seat, sometimes taking his face in your hands to show him something or to just give him a kiss on his temple in a protective way. You try to pull him into your enthusiasm, and whether it works or not, you will keep trying. You will keep giving all you have in you to make him smile again.

“Yes ! It’s there. Look !” You nearly scream when the cabin appears in the middle of the Tongass National Forest. Some old friends of yours own it and you asked them if you could ‘borrow’ it for a while. You were so happy when they agreed.

“Finally !” he breaths out as he parks the Impala in front of it.

You both take your bags out of the trunk, make your way inside and switch on the light. The atmosphere in the cabin is a lot warmer than the outside.

The cabin isn’t that big, it exists out of a living room, a small kitchen to the right side, one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, but you don’t need much space anyway.

Because of its smaller size it holds a cozy vibe. The cabin is entirely made out of wood with an exception to the stone fireplace. There is a smooth carpet where three large sofas are placed around the fireplace, you can count at least three, no four fluffy blankets spread around the couches with numerous pillows. The lights cast a soft amber color on everything, a harsh contrast from the stark white snow outside.

“Oh wow, where did you find this place ?” Dean wonders out loud.

“I have connections” you grin as you take his hand to pull him upstairs to unpack.

The bedroom is fairly small, the big bed takes up most of the space. But it has the fluffiest blankets and a ton of pillows to cuddle in. A string of fairy lights is connected to the ceiling.

Dean half moans at the sight of the bed and let himself drop in it. Your boyfriend is a big guy but even he looks tiny in this king size bed ! You laugh and drop next to him, putting your hand on his chest as you turn on your side and lean up on your elbow to watch the man you love.

“Do you like it ?” you ask him, stroking his broad chest.

“Yes, it’s cute” he says as his hand grasps yours on his chest and lifts it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “Thank you, baby. I Think we both really needed a break” he says with a huffed breath.

“Yeah we did, we’re both tired, you more than me because you always insist on doing most of the work” you cup his cheek, your fingers enjoying the scratch from his scruff.

It has been a while since he shaved and you don’t mind it one bit, he looks even more handsome now.

“You go change into something comfier baby, I packed your robe and your hotdog pants, I’ll get the cocoa heated up downstairs, okay ?” You sit up and turn to him, his face lights up like a child on Christmas.

“You’re the best” he says with a smile “I’ll be right down to help you” he sits too and takes his bag to search for his clothes.

“No need, baby, I got it under control” you kiss his forehead and leave the room to go to the fridge.

Your friend told you to send a grocery list so she could fill up the fridge for you, she truly is an angel.

You are taking out the ingredients you need for your cocoa deluxe when you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist and a face nuzzle in your neck, giving you those sweet open mouth kisses only he has the secret.

“You didn’t have to do all of this baby, but still thank you. I already feel a little more relaxed” he whispers sweetly in your ear.

You arch one arm back to run your fingers through his soft hair.

“I know I didn’t have to but I wanted to do it” you say as you keep stirring the cocoa milk in the pot “Do you want marshmallows, cinnamon, whipped cream or sprinkles on yours ?” you turn your head to see a mischievous glint in his eyes that says exactly what he wants.

“Okay all of them it is” you chuckle as you stroke the arm around your waist “Get comfy on the sofa, I put a bag with Dr. Sexy MD DVD’s on the floor by the tv, you can choose which one you want to watch.”

He lets you go with one last kiss to your cheek.

“God I love you” he says making his way to the tv.

You pour the hot beverage in two enormous mugs, add the ingredients Dean wants and the same on yours. You put it on a tray with numerous snacks, walk towards the tv and put it on the little table.

Dean has just put in one of the disks as he sits down on one of the couches. You take a huge blanket and drape it over him, making sure you tuck the blanket under his feet and legs before handing him his hot cocoa. You take yours and carefully slip beneath the blanket and snuggle up to him.

“Are you comfy ?” you ask him.

“Very comfy baby” he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer into him, then takes a sip from his drink.

When he looks up at you in a hum, you can’t hold in your laugh.

“What ?” he asks with a frown.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose” you say with a giggle.

At that, he turns both his eyes to his nose which only makes you laugh harder.

“Wait, let me help” you sit up a little higher to kiss the cream of his nose. “Mhh delicious.”

He’s chuckling softly when his eyes fall on the snack tray.

“Oh you got twizzlers !” He gasps “When I was little Sam and I used to do a competition of who could push it the furthest in their nose” he laughs.

“Oh my God, and you ate it afterwards ?” you ask him, he nods while laughing “Oh that’s disgusting!” you chuckle.

“Hey! You try to keep a seven years old entertained 24/7, you come up with some weird stuff!” he says with a smile.

You know Dean never had an easy childhood, he never got to be a child. At age four he was robbed from his innocence. He had to be a mother and a father for his little brother because his dad was being too busy with everything except his kids, you would never forgive John for doing that to Dean.

That’s why you often take him to go do silly things, like mini golf, or laser shooting, you bake pies with him and always start a food fight. You wanted to give him little pieces of childhood he never had…

Now, you look out the window and a new childish idea struck your mind.

You stand up and take his mug from his hands, putting it down on the table as you pull him up from the couch.

“Come on !” you say as you tug him to the back door.

“What are we doing ?” he asks but you don’t answer him already putting on your jacket, gloves and shoes, motioning to Dean to do the same.

Once you are both dressed you push him out the door, he stands there in the middle of the snow, his long robe peeking from under his jacket, he looks so cute.

“Why are we outsi-“ his sentence is cut off when you hit him with a snowball on his chest.

His face is priceless, somewhere between surprised and a faint smile. And your laugh echoes through the trees.

“Oh you’re in for it now !” he yells as he makes a snowball of his own and throws it at you.

Of course the skilled hunter hit his target : your boob. Your hand covers it.

“Hey! No booby shots!” you yell at him as he can’t stop laughing.

You make a new snowball and aim for his crotch. His hands cover his precious jewels quickly as he sees you aiming for it.

“Oh no need to get nasty sweetheart, you’ll be needing this body part later on” he says with a cocky grin.

“Okay, you’re right” you say and throw the snowball right in his face.

The snow is still pretty soft so you know it wouldn’t hurt.

He blinks rapidly, his eyelashes long enough to catch the snow beautifully. He wipes his face and runs at high speed towards you, the dangerous warrior he also is suddenly showing. You start to run but you are no match for his long powerful legs…

He catches you and throws you over his shoulder, his hand spanking your butt. You’re laughing uncontrollably on his shoulder.

“Hahahaha ! And you always say I can’t throw !” you say in between laughs, now and then yelping when his hand connects with your ass cheek.

He walks toward a snow covered tree and turns with his back to it to rub you between the branches of the tree, making all the snow tumble down.

“Aaaahh Deaaaaan !” you shriek as the snow falls on you, you reach with your hands forward to catch some snow and rub it all over his head. “Karma !” you yell when he jumps away from the tree and puts you down.

“It got in my coat !” he chuckles loudly, shaking his body and arching his back to try avoid the cold from the snow.

You shake your own coat too and feel a lump snow slip in your collar.

“AH oh me too! Abort mission! Go inside !” you are laughing hard.

You run back with Dean inside the cabin, taking off your coats, gloves and shoes. You shiver and rub your own arms up and down.

“I’ll get the fire started baby, take off your wet clothes if you wanna speed up the process” He winks as he makes his way to the fireplace. You follow him and throw a blanket over his shoulders.

You check the mugs you left before on the little table, smiling when you find them still pretty hot.

“The mugs are still hot” you say as Dean gets the fire started.

Taking his mug, you hand it to him, watching as he downs the hot beverage almost completely in one go.

As he turns back to the fire you lose your wet shirt and replace it by a grey sweater you stole long ago from him, even from before you started dating. It was after a nasty hunt and you wanted him close to chase away the nightmares, you have slept with it every night back then.

“Underwear it is” he mumbles after noticing his pants are wet from the melted snow.

“Come here, Dean” you state, watching his big body shake.

You take several blankets while he takes off his robe.

“Let me burrito you” you say with a smile.

“Burrito me ?” he chuckles as he walks closer to you, accepting your offer despite his amused smirk.

You wrap the blankets completely around him, pushing his arms down next to his body, take several more to cover his giant body into a cute burrito, wrapping it so tight he can barely move.

“My arms are stuck” he says with a smile when you’re tugging at the last blankets on his back to create a hood to make sure his ears and wet head stay warm.

“Burritos have no arms, baby” you cup his face to kiss him. “Your nose is all red, my poor Deanie.”

His lips puck and aim for yours but you kiss his cute red little nose instead to warm it.

“I’m not a poor Deanie’ he says with a deep voice that’s anything but ‘poor’ “I’m a hunter. I’m a warrior!”

Any other day you would completely agree. But now ? He is like a huge soft sausage, you can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculously cute he looks.

“I need to take a pic, you’re incredibly cute like this” you state, reaching for your phone as you see him wiggle in protest, which only makes him look cuter.

“No no. don’t keep ridiculous photos of me” he whines.

You still take a picture, this is an opportunity you can’t miss. His grumpy face on the pic makes you laugh harder, this is one of the personal photos you will cherish forever. You put your phone on the little wooden table and snuggle next to him, trying to wrap your arms around your burrito boyfriend.

“My baby… You’re not ridiculous” you reassure him. “Seeing you like this makes me happy.”

You chuckle as you can see his wiggly toes peeking out from all the covers, you truly got your Winchester trapped.

You snuggle for a while in the comfortable silence.

After a few minutes he moves his head backward to push the hood back, you can feel the covers grow hot with his body heat, but that’s not the only thing you feel… he’s getting tense, his otherwise soft stomach gets harder, his breath seems to lose the slow rhythm and it comes out heavier.

“Dean you’re tensing again” you say as you move your hand to his stomach.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, his eyes on the ceiling,his Adam’s apple going up and down.

You stare at his worried form for a moment.

“You know you can talk to me right ?” you trace slow circles over his stomach, your head resting on his shoulder.

Dean has a habit of keeping everything in, now and then you try to softly coax him to let go. It’s hard for him, you know that, and that’s why you never push him to talk, but he always ends up coming to you thanks to that deep trust between the two of you. You however remind him that you are always there for him.

“I’m not over Mary’s death” he exhaled, his words carrying a heavy weight to them and you feel your heart tighten painfully.

You lift your head to look at him, pushing his covers down so you can put your hand over his heart. Letting him feel you’re here for him.

“I know, baby. No one asks you to be over your mother’s death so soon, or ever” you say.

“I’m just… so angry” his eyes fill with tears and hear him swallow hard to try hold them back.

It hurts you to see him try to stay strong in every circumstance, he really doesn’t always have to be.

“You have every right to be angry, Dean. Furious even. It is unfair. She was given back to just be taken again.”

“Why ?” he says as his dam starts to break, your own heart breaking a little at seeing the tear roll down his cheek. “F-first dad has to leave again after only one day and now…”

You close your eyes at the hurt and sorrow in his voice, your strong warrior is taking off his harness for you, and it is nothing but brave. You stroke his hair, needing to comfort him.

“I… I just have so much anger” he repeats “I feel responsible, I feel h-helpless and…and… abandoned.”

His voice breaks at the last word, and you know how vulnerable he is when it comes to his parents. He always takes too much on his own, blames himself. You’ll do anything to help him realize he’s not responsible and not abandoned…

“You’re not” You say as you wipe your own tears, you heart aching for him, but this isn’t about your tears.

You open the covers and slip in next to him, the heat surrounding you two. He nuzzles his face in your neck, your skin getting wet from his tears.

“It’s okay to be angry” you put your hand over his head, holding him close to you, trying to protect him from all the hurting. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s not your fault, Dean. It was cruel to make them come back only to take them again, but you’re not abandoned. I’m here, Sam is here, Cas too…”

“You’re here” he whispers, his arms tighten around you. “Yes, you’re always here.”

“Look outside” You say.

It is snowing heavily, just as planned. He looks toward the small window with his reddened eyes making the green if it seems lighter. You use your hand to wipe his tears.

“There is nowhere we can go for now. Sam is safe and Cas promised to stay in the bunker to keep an eye on everything. No hunt planned, just the snow and me.”

His head turns towards you, his bright eyes searching for something on your face.

“You had checked the weather, right ?” he asks, his eyes looking around our little cabin.

“I did…” you admit, you needed a plan B for in case he would want to leave, getting snowed in was an ideal option. “Just to be sure you would have no regret to be here, because now you can’t leave anyway. But you’re not locked forever !” you chuckle. “I’m not a psycho. The snow will only fall like that tonight, and if we really want to leave tomorrow, we can. But the place is ours for a week…” You said hopeful, you aren’t ready to leave this comfy cocoon yet, but if he wants to go, you’ll follow him.

Relief washes through you as he confirms he wants to stay.

“Now Dean” you peck his lips, happy to have more one-on-one time with him. “We have all this time to talk about anything, or binge Dr. Sexy MD, we have nothing else to do than relax. No one is waiting for you.”

He grabs your thigh to pull you over his lap, making you straddle him. He’s looking at you, his hand on your thighs and a soft smile on his lips. His eyes are still a little red from crying earlier, he’s so beautiful, his face is a work of art you could stare at forever. The feelings you have for this man are intense, sometimes you even have trouble breathing because it can be very overwhelming, but one touch from him and you immediately calm down.

He’s your everything.

“How do we do that ?” he asks, breaking the silence between you and you frown a little.” How do we enjoy winter ?”

You smile wide, winter is your specialty.

“It’s all about laziness” you say out of experience. “About being warm when it’s so cold outside, about doing silly things, eating like kids and never looking at your watch. Anything that makes us feel comfy actually.”

His features and body are relaxing a little already, he takes some candies from the tray when he asks :

“Can we watch an animated movie ?”

“Yup” you nod, reaching to the ground to take the bag with DVDs, looking at what you brought with you. “I have Big Hero 6, The Lion King, of course, Madagascar, Totoro, Hotel Transylvania and uhm… Kung Fu panda !”

“You packed all that ?” he smiles up at you.

“Of course, I took a little of everything.”

You like to have many options. He pecks your lips, his lips pulling a hum from you.

His fingers dive in the bag of gummy bears, the bag ripping a little at the size of his enormous hand compared to the little candies.

“Whoops” he says when a few bears escape his grasp and fall to the floor, he bends to catch them but your reflexes are faster and catch most of them.

“So” you say as you stuff the candy in your mouth. “Besides getting diabetes while watching animated movies ? Do you have plans ?”

“Yeah” he smiles, taking the bag from the tray to put it on his lap between you two and take another handful in his mouth. “Broiling marshmallows in the fireplace.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in the diabetes category, baby” you nod.

“Building a pillow fort definitely, and cuddling” he adds. You smile wide, two of your favorite things ever ! “Come up with a new mac and cheese recipe. Making love everywhere and sleeping, I obviously need sleep. But I’m struggling to rest lately…” he says with a frown.

You smile mischievously.

“Maybe if I tire you enough…” You lick your lips. “Then you will fall asleep more easily.”

“I like the way you think” he groans as he puts the candy bag to the side.

His hands move up your sides as you put your hands on his shoulders and lean down to capture his lips.

His warm hands wrap around your lower back to pull you into his body, your hips start rolling into his hips. You can feel his soft cock growing through your sweats and his underwear.

His body reacts so quickly to yours… You tug with your teeth at his bottom lip, your hands moving up to run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re perfect Dean” you sit up and reach for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. Once he is free, you start kissing down his chest, you worship this man.

When you circle your tongue around his nipple you can feel his cock twitch and his breath hitch, he had always loved that.

His hand tangles into your hair, moaning your name.

“Fuck Y/n baby… I need to see you” he sighs from deep in his chest.

You take off your big sweater, a smile on your face as you see his eyes darken at your bare chest, you like to wear it with nothing underneath.

His lips connect with your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, humming around it. Electricity roams your already burning body.

“F-fuck Dean” you let your head fall back, your hand fists in his hair.

Your hips roll harder into his now hard cock, heat pooling into the crotch of your sweatpants, no doubt soaking his underwear. He tugs at the little cord of your pants, untying and pushing it down.

“I need to come home baby… please” he licks up your neck, sucking his mark onto your skin.

“Y-yes Dean… t-take me” you beg him.

He growls and turns to push you back on the couch gently, he follows so that now you’re the one on your back and he is on top of you.

He takes your pants completely off, and licks his lips.

“Fuck… you soaked me through your pants baby” his fingers stroke your folds, making you gasp loudly. “So wet for me.”

“A-always” you pant, he pushes two fingers inside of you, looking deep into your eyes with a grin on his face.

He slowly starts pumping his fingers, a little too slow. You grab his wrist and whine.

“What baby ? You want something ?” he husks into your ear, his burning breath caressing your neck.

“M-more, p-please Dean” you moan, eyes rolling back as he pushes his fingers deeper into you, pumping faster.

“F-fuck yes…” you spread you legs more, giving him more room to work, letting his wrist go to grasp your own breast.

“I’m gonna come, Dean” you moan.

His fingers move faster only making you moan louder as the burning feeling spreads quickly all over your body, thighs shaking a little at the overwhelming waves coming from the spots he’s magically touching. You feel sweat break through your sensitive skin.

“Yes baby, come for me, clench my fingers” he pant against your lips, kissing you hard as you clench his fingers inside you, groaning into his mouth as you come hard.

“D-DEAN YES”

He sweetly kisses your face, humming he retracts his fingers, putting them in his mouth.

“You taste so good, baby.”

You grab his neck and pull him down to kiss him hard, your other hand pushing on his lower back.

“Take me Dean. Come home” you beg.

He takes off his underwear and sits between your thighs. You cup his face as you both look down how he guides his cock home, making your breath tremble in anticipation.

After the first inch his eyes connect with your, you tug him closer making him lean down on his elbows.

“I love you Dean” you say as he bottoms out, the stretch of his cock giving you endless pleasure.

“I love you too, Y/n” he grinds his hips into yours, making your eyes flutter before he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you.

You put your feet flat on the couch to be able to push your hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Feel so good, baby” he groans, burying his sweaty forehead in your neck to pant against your skin as his hips snap a little harder into you.

You moan loudly and wrap your arms around his back.

“Yes ! L-Let go Dean… Take me !”

He groans hard as his hips start to pound into you. His open mouth sucking another mark on your shoulder as you cling to his back. Your body moving up with every hard thrust, his pelvis slapping against your clit in a deliciously rough way. You wrap your legs around him to push him deeper into you with your calves.

Your walls clench around him as you grow closer to climax. You’re lost in his body, lost in your own feelings and sensations.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes !” you chant with every thrust, his head coming up from your head to look into your eyes.

“C-come Y/n. Come on my cock.”

Your nails scratch down his back as you fall over the edge, milking his cock for his cum, you need it… need it to feel complete and full. You gasp, arching your back into his chest, screaming his name.

“DEAN ! YES!”

His hips snap hard into you one last time as he fills you up with his cum, you watch as his eyes clench shut and feel his thighs tremble against you.

“FUCK Y/N ! GRAAH !” he buries his face in your neck, groaning against you.

Panting fills the room as he falls limp on you, your fingers run through his sweaty hair.

“I love you so much Y/n” he says as his powerful arms move under your back to hold you closer.

“I love you too Dean. So so much.”

He looks up at you, his sweaty skin gleaming with the flames of the fireplace.

“I want to stay the whole week” he says with a small smile.

“Then we stay a whole week, baby” you keep stroking his hair, loving the feel of his soft locks beneath your fingertips. He hums at your touch.

“Thank you baby, for everything” his lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

You smile against his lips.

“Everything for you, baby.”

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

#winter cabin #y/n pov #dean x reader #roonyxx #collab #jay and dean #dean smut #dean fluff #supernatural fanfic #spn #supernatural #smut

93 notes · View notes

taeyamayang · 2 years

Note

plot roulette!

ship: ranhoya (ran haitani and smiley kawata)

7, 42, and 4

thank you in advance and i hope you enjoy writing

a/n: thank you for joining the event! this is my first time writing for ranhoya so i hope i gave them both justice through this drabble 😩

• ran haitani x smiley kawata; slow burn enemies to lovers, eventual mutual pining, abrupt time skip to established relationship (if dont do it, this will end up in a full-length one shot lol), aged up

• "Their friends dare them to kiss a stranger at midnight and they are just tipsy enough to actually do it."

• major character death

warning: drinking, A LOT of cursing, barely edited 🤡

it's midnight.

druken-hazy vision, alcohol reeking breaths, and a cheering crowd. ran cannot tell time at his current state but the loud explosion of fireworks coloring the grey sky lets him know that another year has passed.

yet, he's drunk again.

fuck the auspicious aunties who advise people on welcoming a new year with a healthy state of mind as to attract luck and good health. his life can not get any better. he's stuck in an abyss, a loop he cannot get out of. he's meant to live a dull life.

"ran." the boy next to him elbows him. he sits with his body leaning forward, eyes searching for his. ran blinks to adjust his blurry vision and brows furrowing in the process. when he catches a familiar sight, a lazy smile tugs on his mouth.

"ah, rin." ran slaps his brother's back as a greeting as he lets out an airy breath.

their peers begin to settle back in their seats after watching the fireworks by the window at the old bar they arr staying at. customers come from different underprivileged communities and many of them are members of various gangs in Tokyo and nearby cities. hence, it's no surprise when they stumble upon enemies and associates.

"let's do another round." a female, whose name he cannot recall, from the group declares.

rin nudges his brother as a way to ask if he wants to be included in the next round. nonetheless, ran nonchalantly nods at his brother, waving a hand in the air as if saying, "whatever you want."

the stupid teenage game is the least of his problem. if he fails to do the dare, he doesn't mind taking a shot. he's taken countless shots tonight so what's another few before he knocks out?

the bottle spins at the center table where everyone sits around. ran tries to focus on the bottle but his own vision spins by the look of it. hence, he shakes his head off in an attempt to reset his eyes and before he could dart his focus back to the bottle everyone begins to cheer.

"ranny boooy it's your turn."

"can you do it? you look fucking wasted, bro."

"you'll die of liver failure before the year ends."

"truth or dare?"

he can't refute the comments thrown at him as the alcohol in his veins get the best of him. fuck this stupid game and fuck new year celebration, ran curses under his breath as he keeps his head low.

once lifts his heavy chin up, he spits. "dare."

a series of ooh's and remarks on how brave he is for choosing dare despite his unruly state clatters within the circle but ran did not pay attention any of it.

"kiss a stranger." someone from the circle says.

of course, it has to be this. it is a belief that the first person you kiss on new year's day is the person you will love for the rest of your life but ran does not believe in any of those as much as the others. he has given up on love ever since he was young. his parents were not a great example and his violent peers only worsen it. love is for everyone but him.

hence, without much thought ran jolts up. he balances on his two feet before approaching the first person he laid his eyes on. unfortunately for the boy sitting on a stool by the bar counter he is ran's apple of the eye for tonight.

ran taps the boy's shoulder and the latter whips his head at the gesture. to his surprise, the boy appears to have a young face but their age may not be too far from each other. he holds a smile that charms people in, an aura he could never have. it's enchanting in a way to see a person with no traces of a hard life is seen at this shabby place. he doesn't fit here so why is he here?

"excuse me?" he pulls him back to reality. ran pathetically blinks his eyes before him. the brief walk to the counter should have worn off at least a bit of alcohol in his system but it doesn't.

"can i kiss you?" ran says without a pause.

"what?" confused, the boy presses his brows together. he feels the warmth of his body travel to his cheeks, mortified if he had heard him right.

"i want to kiss you and i'm asking if i can." ran rolls his eyes as if annoyed that he has to repeat himself. he changes his mind, "you know what, i'll just do it."

as he was leaning in to steal a kiss from the boy, he latter's reflexes catches him off guard. a hand coils around the material covering his chest. his grip is tight and strong. ran could tell that he is not an oridinary folk. his fist might have landed a number of knockouts and this thought alone excites ran.

"i'll rip your limbs apart if you touch me." he threatens with a low voice, a tone different from when he first greeted him. albeit, the intensity between them sends sparks in ran's druken mind.

"smiley, is there something wrong?" someone asks from a distance. smiley's, as ran assumed to be the name of boy who has him on hold, face covers the intruder. all he can look at is the space between his cheek and his ear.

"nothing, mikey. i can handle it." his tone lightens but once the stranger is gone. smiley pulls ran towards him with a firm grip.

absurd as one calls it but ran finds it amusing to be threatened by a pretty-faced stranger. tempted to do what he was told not to just to witness his wrath. his tongue rolls and his teeth grits as he smiles.

no one dared to intimidate him. his reputation exceeds. he's infamous for beating people to a pulp but no one had the guts to cross his lines.

except for him.

ran chuckles to himself, tilting his head towards nahoya so that the tips of nose brushes against his skin. his breath warm from the alcohol sends shudders to the stranger.

"you're exactly my type." ran whispers in his ear before planting a chaste kiss on the side of his face.

nahoya pulls back once he felt a pair of wet lips on his skin. his arm pushes the druken man, eyes rounding and heaet pounding at the sight of a blush streak face. anger bubbles inside him as it mixes with a feeling he isn't accustomed to.

it's midnight.

hazy vision, alcohol reeking breaths, and a cheering crowd. ran cannot tell time at his current state but the loud explosion of fireworks coloring the grey sky lets him know that another year has passed.

yet, he's here again.

he should have believed the auspicious aunties who advise people on welcoming a new year with a healthy state of mind as to attract luck and good health. his life was getting better. he was pulled out from the loop he could not get out of. he was in love, human, and feeling. maybe if he welcomed the year prior in a proper way then maybe... maybe he might still be here.

if only he had listen to nahoya that one night in december then he would not have risked himself for him. everyone knew the dangers of that night, yet ran was stubborn enough to push through.

his carelessness caused him great loss.

as the crowd cheers and jumps as to welcome a new year, the trembles and wails in ran's chest reverberates in the loud room.

a year ago he was there, sitting at the bar stool by counter, a chaste kiss on his cheek and his heart on his shoulder.

he took him time for granted.

i know i could have done better but if i try to highlight the parts where they fall in love this won't be a drabble. as i mentioned earlier, this is a slow burn enemies to lovers au so a drabble won't suffice. it needs to be a full length one shot OR a chaptered fic. so, i'm sorry for cutting it short bUT HECKKKKK do i want to write more

masterlist | tr.list

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soujux · 2 years

Text

[ HYUN. ]

— i'll try not to miss you.

When Taehyun wakes up from an open-eyed dream, Yeonjun loses the power to sweep him off his feet. It causes them to part-ways, months after convincing themselves that they were in love. To not have someone chasing after him, Yeonjun should have taken the opportunity to start anew. But why does he keep searching for Taehyun now that he's gone?

forum. a place, meeting, or medium where ideas and views on a particular issue can be exchanged.

— pairings: kang taehyun x choi yeonjun

— genre: childhood friends to lovers (?), engagement arrangements, first love, unrequited love, one-sided pining, lots of yearning, aged-up, online forums, angst/fluff, retrospect

[📃 NOTE ! this is a fruit of my writer's block written with little to no effort, so excuse my metaphors, dialogues, and picked figurative language.]

HYUN Ask! PrettyBoy

This is my first time joining a forum and I honestly never imagined myself sharing anything on the internet about my love life, but desperate times call for desperate measures—here’s a kettle full of something you can fill your cup with:

Hello. You can call me Hyun. I am engaged to my first love that only sees me as a brother. What should I do?

☾

THE STORY GOES a little bit like this.

Firstly, Taehyun doesn’t remember not knowing Choi Yeonjun. He’s intelligent, endearingly close to his mother, everyone’s friend, handsome (so handsome), and popular since childhood—which only worsens as he grows older. Taehyun knows Yeonjun well, maybe even too well since the fox-boy’s family visits his household every Saturday from the day he was born.

You see, here’s the thing. Their parents had always been close—best friends forever, ‘my ride or die’, or call it whatever you want close, that close—and it strings along a whopping ten albums worth of his childhood pictures with a snotty Choi Yeonjun.

They were together most of their lives and Taehyun’s sister was so blatant about being tired of the Youngest Choi™’s face.

“I think she hates me,” Yeonjun jabbed Taehyun’s side gently when the girl rolled her eyes. Their mother just announced that he’ll be attending her wedding as the groom’s best man, because unfortunately for her, she ended up marrying Yeonjun’s cousin. “Seriously, why is she frowning like that?”

“She’s tired of your face.”

“So, she hates me,” Yeonjun concluded then and there.

“Erm, probably,” Taehyun doesn’t say that he’s feeling a bit tired of Yeonjun too.

Secondly, when Taehyun’s sister married a Choi, their families got closer… and closer. Worse than before. On every family trip, family celebration, and grand family meal; The Chois™ are there. Present and blending in with the family.

“I think at this point we should all just live together,” Taehyun made a joke with roasted garlic on his plate. He doesn’t miss the smile on his parents’ faces. “I’m… I’m joking! Don’t think about living together. This is enough.”

“We know, Hyun-ah. It’s just funny to see you all worked up,” He receives a kiss on the cheek. At least that was a good compensation for a fear that he just discovered.

Thirdly, Taehyun and Yeonjun are inseparable. It wasn’t even a choice anymore.

One day, Taehyun woke up and started his first day in high school, only to find Yeonjun waiting for him at the front door, because—surprise!—they go to the same campus. Years later, they’ll be going to the same college, same dorm building, same cafe, and even the same barber. God. It was a game that never ends.

Although, don’t get him wrong. Yeonjun wasn’t horrible. It’s quite the opposite.

Yeonjun is an absolute sweetheart. Almost like a daydream. He dresses like he’s for the runway and dyes his hair in different hues. People in the university fawn over him as they become friends; he’s easygoing like that. He’s an insider. A social butterfly with the prettiest wings. He dated people like a player, but remained everyone’s dream boy.

Oh, he seems unreal. Taehyun thinks he’s too good to be true. Sometimes he’ll receive a text from Yeonjun asking him to hangout and he’ll have a brief moment to pause and regain composure because he absolutely loses his crap every time ‘The Yeonjun’ comes knocking at his dorm room with fried chicken.

One of those starstruck moments was this one, when Yeonjun sat comfortably on his floor with food on the low table. His hair was pushed back and his jacket laid on the couch, leaving him in his plain white shirt. Taehyun hopes he can conceal the blush in his face.

“Your mother called and asked me to pick you up,” Yeonjun said, munching on a drumstick cutely.

As much as Taehyun would want to coo in adoration, he was more perplexed than flattered. “What for?"

“No idea,” Yeonjun shrugs. “She said it wasn’t urgent, but she needs to talk to us today.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go after this.”

“Got it, Tyunnie.”

At one point, Taehyun questioned everything about Choi Yeonjun. His words, his thoughts, his care, and his actions—but he seems to be as good as an open book. Yeonjun was genuine and honest. Anyone could see right through him just by looking at his face, yet Taehyun still felt the need to deny so much when he knows too much.

The last part of the story was delayed for several more years. They graduated from university, met new people, got busier, and spent more time apart.

Perhaps that’s what time does to relationships; it makes them harder to think about because there’s nothing more for one to wonder. Taehyun still saw Yeonjun every month and they still shared meals while they talked about work, but there’s an invisible wall that built itself between them through countless changes.

Since—lastly, Taehyun and Yeonjun got engaged on a haphazard day. Like a raging wave in a calm sea.

And he pretends not to read Yeonjun every time he wears his heart in his sleeve.

☾

HYUN Thread! PrettyBoy

I didn’t expect my first post to blow up like that, but to clarify, my fiance is a close family friend and I grew up with him. I started liking him in my second year of high school, when he was leaving for college, and I never really acted upon it until years later.

It took me such a long time because he’s improbably charming and attractive, so I was not the only one that liked him. I think he had a serious relationship in college, but it didn’t end well because of something I didn’t really find out. Even after that, he was always seeing someone, so I took it as a sign that confessing will be useless. But realizing that I need to get it off my chest, I still ended up confessing on his graduation day.

His reaction was fine. It was a bit awkward—sure—but he wasn’t a jerk about it. He gave me a hug and told me I was cute, but he made it clear that I was being rejected. That’s why I’m as lost as everyone about the ring on my finger.

He’s just… confusing.

☾

GRADUATION DAY.

Yeonjun was everywhere from being dragged left and right by his ocean number of friends—he’s probably in everybody’s celebratory post at this point. His smile beamed along with countless others, but Taehyun still saw it like the morning sun.

“Tyun! You’re late,” Soobin spotted him first. Just like Yeonjun, he was graduating today and he’s currently bouncing around with his medals and glorious flowers. “Take a picture with me!”

Soobin.

Yeonjun’s first boyfriend that met his family. He was tall, a lot taller than Taehyun, and he had cunning dimples that everyone was obsessed with. Soobin was kind. Probably the kindest person Taehyun knows; and if he wasn’t such a jealous bug, then maybe he would have rooted for their relationship. Either way, it didn’t work out, but they’re still great friends. On certain days, Taehyun accompanies Soobin to try every pastry in a newly opened bakery—talking about school, games, boys (er, Yeonjun), because Soobin figured him out way easier than he would have thought.

"So, you're finally confessing?" Soobin asked after studying the tense state of the younger boy. "You should do that. help yourself by doing that before it's too late."

"It's not like he feels the same way, hyung. I just want him to know and finally move on."

Soobin merely smiles before they part. Taehyun goes to garner courage once he faces Yeonjun with a rather nervous stutter.

Frankly, the confession was a mess, an accumulation of all the harboring feelings and all the fear that Taehyun has hidden in every corner of his heart. Even his mind was a blur when Yeonjun heard everything he had to say—it was one of those rare days when Taehyun couldn't read Yeonjun's face.

"Do you like me? like, actually like me?"

Taehyun succumbs in embarrassment. "Please, don't make me say it again."

After that comes an adorable laugh that wasn't anything relatively close to a mock. it was genuine, just Yeonjun. "You're so cute, Tyun. Calm down for me, hm? You're shaking so much."

Let me down slowly.

"I'm just saying. I'm not expecting anything in return—I mean it! You're... really important to me, hyung, and I need to get this off my chest before you leave," Taehyun doesn't look at Yeonjun's face, but feels the hands delicately holding his waist. "I also think you deserve to know. You need to know about how much people love you."

"That's very sweet," He failed to find better words to fill the gaps. "Thank you," Yeonjun ended it at that, and perhaps Taehyun was lying about being content.

Saying that he wasn't expecting anything at all was easier than actually not expecting. In the end, he hugged Yeonjun one last time and never saw him again.

It wasn't a new constant per se. Taehyun and Yeonjun do bump into each other sometimes and share a meal out of courtesy, but it wasn't the same as the old days with oily fingers and fast food. Now, meals are shared in a rather more professional setting, less carefree. The joke doesn't land even if Taehyun tries.

Yeonjun works for his own company, while Taehyun was out pursuing a fickle music job that his parents weren't exactly on board with. In just a couple of years, their worlds grew distant, moving farther and farther.

Taehyun convinces himself that life drove them away from each other because they were growing, but when Yeonjun abruptly called him up for a meeting, their worlds collided.

"Marry me."

It came without a warning, yet solemnly—the epitome of what it feels like to love yeonjun all this time. He's a surging wind on a summer day, rain on your favorite day; but Taehyun loved him still, as if he was the same high school boy that patiently waits for something that will never come.

"Are you drunk? I can't just marry you when we're not even…” Taehyun finds it hard to comprehend.

Yeonjun pushes relentlessly. "Then date me. I'll take you out every Friday and we'll spend time together until you deem it enough."

"Hyung, you're confusing me. I know that you don't like me, so what's this about?"

Taehyun shouldn't have asked.

If Taehyun was good at reading Yeonjun like an open book, Yeonjun was better at knowing the ways to Taehyun's heart.

"I want to try it, with you," Rigid breathes between the silent gaps. "Love."

How can Taehyun say no to that?

☾

Re: HYUN Thread! Endolphin Answer MolangLover

Mr. HYUN, your submission has been haunting my mind for nights! I had a similar experience with my last boyfriend, that’s why I broke up with him when I became more self-aware. He cared for me—I know he did—but I wanted to be loved, and he couldn’t give me that. So, I knew it was better to just move on with our lives and meet other people.

I want to ask about how you’re doing, because that kind of relationship is tiring (must be for you, especially). If you could tell me anything—what you feel, what you think—it would be lovely, but if you’re uncomfortable, then feel free to ignore my reply.

Have a nice day!

ㅤ

Re: Endolphin Answer HYUN Thread! PrettyBoy

Hello, Endolphin. I would add something before your name, but I wouldn’t want to misgender you.

Thank you for this reply. It makes me feel comforted that somebody is going through or has gone through something similar to me. If you could probably tell, I am more than fine to answer your question.

Surprisingly, I am feeling well. My fiance takes me out on a date every Friday and it gets cancelled so often because of his not-so-flexible schedule compared to mine. However, I try to be happy. He’s never rude to me, he’s always kind, but it’s nothing close to showing romantic interest.

As for what I think, I think about so many things. I always worry about being well-behaved and being pliant to not upset him. I also worry about my job and other things in my life.

Endolphin, if it’s not so rude of me, may I ask you about the breakup with your last boyfriend? How did he react? How did you do it? Now that you brought it up, I’m starting to think if it’s the best thing to do in situations like this.

☾

THERE ARE PROS AND CONS in being engaged with Choi Yeonjun.

Firstly, he’s Yeonjun. The man Taehyun has been in love with since he was a literal teenager.

He had dreamed about being with Yeonjun, going on dates, holding hands—anything lovers do. But it was not a dream that Taehyun thought would come true. Heck, meeting the famous gay celebrity icon, Beomgyu, sounds more attainable than getting his lips anywhere near Yeonjun’s pretty ones!

Deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Taehyun tries to stay grounded everyday.

Yeonjun would never kiss him.

Should that be a negative streak? It’s a personal agenda, so maybe Taehyun can forgive him for that.

At the end of the day, Yeonjun offered some sort of a course of learning. Love in particular. Which is absolute bull because when you’re learning how to love a person, that means you never loved that person at all.

Among the list of pros is this: Yeonjun was easy to read.

“It’s an emergency, Tyun. Will you wait for me?”

“Hm, okay,” Taehyun once looked at Yeonjun with a smile. It was on a Friday night, inside Yeonjun’s office. He had to put a song on hold just to meet Yeonjun for an expected date, but his fiance couldn’t do the same. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

Yeonjun takes his hand before he can go. “Just stay here. It won’t take too long.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Taehyun learns to be patient. Despite knowing each other for eternity, Yeonjun was a lesson to learn. How he acts and how he talks, how he works and how he thinks—Taehyun understands like the lover he is.

He grew not to bother about certain truths that he had no control of. Like how he will never be a priority, how Yeonjun merely had him on display in his life—or how in all the hours that passed since Taehyun sat on the couch, Yeonjun never checked up on him even once.

“Hyung,” Taehyun wants to go home. “Let’s just cancel today. I’m tired.”

Yeonjun hums, “I’ll let my secretary drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine. Good night, hyung,” Taehyun fixed his stuff before making his way to the door. Before he opens it, he stops. “I love you,” He said without looking back.

After all, seeing Yeonjun’s face drop was harder than not seeing his response at all.

Cons of being engaged with Choi Yeonjun: He will never say he loves you back

☾

HYUN Ask! PrettyBoy

Today’s TMI: I live with my fiance, but I barely see him home. Is this even a TMI? People are asking for updates, but I’m literally waiting for the same thing.

Our penthouse is approximately thirty minutes away from his workplace, so it’s only natural that he’ll be staying somewhere nearer on weekdays. On weekends he would stay over, but he often locked himself up in the office. He’s a workaholic. My workaholic. I think I’ve seen him pass out on his desk more than I’ve seen him sleeping in his bed, and he mumbles jargon in his sleep.

Anyway, tips to make your significant other fall in love with you? I don’t want studious relationships, I want mutual obsession.

☾

LIVING TOGETHER WAS Taehyun’s idea.

They got a place in a quieter part of Seoul and settled in quite well. Taehyun had always been a neat person, so Yeonjun never had an issue. Even so, they still have someone that does the cleaning for them once a week. Splitting chores was not an option since they’re both equally busy, so it was the greatest resort.

Much to Taehyun’s dismay, they don’t share a room. They room across from each other, Yeonjun’s being the most empty because he rarely occupies it, but Taehyun has his place filled with instruments and gadgets.

It shows in aspectects like that; one was more enthusiastic among the two. Taehyun doesn’t mind as long as Yeonjun comes home every week.

“Just move in with me. The kids need a babysitter anyway,” Years later, the Anti-Choi Yeonjun™ movement lives on inside of Taehyun’s sister. “Yeonjun is barely home. What are you supposed to do here all alone?”

“Sleep, eat. I bought a PS5,” Taehyun knows there’s no dancing around this, but he still tried.

“Hyun, dump his ass. You’re an idiot for getting yourself into this, but if you’re actually thinking of settling then you need professional help.”

“Noona, I’m not crazy.”

“Then get a hold of yourself. I know he’s the love of your life or something, but this is not good for anybody,” She dragged the boy on the couch. “Do you actually believe that he’ll fall in love with you?”

“You’re making it sound like I’m unlovable.”

Smack. “Dummy. I love you! You’re the most amazing person there is and it’s Yeonjun’s loss for not seeing that, but my point still stands. You can’t force yourself to be in love. It doesn’t work that way.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Taehyun finally unraveled the last card in his hand, drawing a desperate look on his sister’s exasperated state.

Taehyun sleeps over at his sister’s that night. He doesn’t let Yeonjun know—he probably won’t notice anyway—but he returns the next day before following a routine of washing up and preparing breakfast.

What he failed to notice was a sleeping figure on the couch, snoring soundly in deep sleep. Yeonjun was still in his suit, all wrinkled and altered in his rest. His tie was left on the table and his socks kept clinging around his laying feet. The position was rather uncomfortable with the head painfully placed on the headrest. For all he knows, the man’s gonna end up with a stiff neck once he wakes up.

It’s seven in the morning; he’ll wake up soon. Taehyun doesn’t have to bring him to his room or wake him up. All he could offer was a cup of coffee placed beside the discarded clothing on the table.

“Tyun?”

“Hm?”

“Where were you?” The words came out a bit slurred, throat dry and muscles weak. Taehyun felt bad after seeing Yeonjun wince as soon as he sat up.

“Out,” Taehyun answered vaguely. “It’s Friday. Why are you here?”

Yeonjun scoffed, albeit dryly from his slumber. “It’s my house too, you know?”

“I don’t mean it like that.”

“I know. I came home because I felt bad about last week. We… always cancel our dates,” Yeonjun’s voice was small. As if he was unsure of his words.

“It couldn’t be helped. You don’t have to feel bad.”

“No, I want to go out. With you, I mean. I don’t have anything scheduled today, so we can spend it together.”

“But I have work,” Taehyun wanted to say, but he ended up just nodding to Yeonjun’s smile as a silent agreement that he’ll go wherever Yeonjun goes.

This is enough, Taehyun thinks. It’s enough for Yeonjun to only come for him when it’s convenient.

They can start from there.

☾

Re: HYUN Ask! BEN Answer TeddyBear

Love is a mysterious thing. You see, HYUN, there is no step-by-step process to falling in love. It’s like tumbling down a flight of stairs, toppling and terrifying, but once you reach the last step, you strangely still find yourself in the place you wanted to be in. Then, you think you can never do that again.

My lover used to do the same thing as you; he’s like a restless storm. In several ways, he tried to romance me—heartfelt and genuine and I do miss dearly. I only realized how much I loved dancing in the rain when it stopped. Now, the sun doesn’t feel warm on my skin anymore.

Oh, I didn’t mean to stray, but I only mean one thing.

Trying to love someone tires the heart and soul, but most of the time, you are already in love even before you begin.

I hope this helps.

☾

SOMETIMES, HOPE IS A flower that Yeonjun brings home.

He would tell Taehyun good night with a smile on his face before retreating to his room while someone giddily sets the flower on a vase for the empty kitchen counter they barely use. It’s a rose, thornless by somebody else’s hands. Taehyun admires it every morning and every night, until the next Friday that arrives with a new replacement for a wilted plant.

“How did you know that I like flowers?” Taehyun had to ask as it seems like Yeonjun found a new habit of setting his heart in motion through a single gesture.

“I didn’t. You’re just pretty with flowers,” Yeonjun doesn’t look him in the eye, but the tint on his cheeks was enough for Taehyun to smile.

Sometimes, hope is a warm feeling in Taehyun’s heart.

It’s terrifying to realize that he’s committing to a possibility to only fall deeper, but with every smile and every word that Yeonjun seemingly pulls from something in the air, there was nothing else that Taehyun could see himself do.

Yeonjun knew all the ways to Taehyun’s heart, and it’s so cruel. He could lift Taehyun high and have him fall without caution—Taehyun will never, never have anything to hold on to.

Hope is a fickle thing.

Taehyun realized it on the day he visited his parents.

“I don’t remember inviting you,” Yeonjun merely laughs at the ‘greeting’ he received from Taehyun’s sister. “This is a ‘Kang Only’ zone.”

“Noona, stop embarrassing me,” Taehyun helps her forfeit and leave his fiance alone the entire night. After everything he’s told his sister, he wasn’t sure if the hate-esque approach was just a joke anymore. It all came with good intentions—he’s sure, but Yeonjun was still a guest and a close friend before the whole predicament. Basic respect was the bare minimum. “I’m sorry about her. She’s just protective.”

“I understand, Taehyun. You don’t need to explain,” Yeonjun reassured with a hand pressed against his back. “Let’s go meet your mom.”

“Okay.”

It started well. He started hopeful—when Yeonjun helped him with his chair and offered him side dishes, they blended in with the ideal figure of a happy relationship. Taehyun didn’t think about his failed attempt to hold Yeonjun’s hand under the table when the man swiftly pulled away without sparing him a glance. He didn’t think about the dismissive silence when his mother asked them about marriage.

It’s an ugly feeling, but maybe it has always been there. If Taehyun could burn every pain in his heart, he’d be in the fiery pits of hell. There was no adequate word to explain it.

“I’m still not there, aren’t I?” Taehyun showed vulnerability in the car. The only thing he hates the most, being breakable, he shares with Yeonjun too. “Hyung, you will never love me.”

“Let’s not talk about this now.”

“When will we?”

“You had a few drinks.”

Taehyun shakes his head in exasperation. “I’m not drunk. I know what I’m saying.”

“We’re tired,” Yeonjun breathes roughly, plausibly frustrated. “I don’t want to say something that will hurt you.”

What would change? “You’re hurting me now.” Taehyun shouldn’t have hoped in the first place.

“Good night, hyung. I’m really tired.”

☾

Re: HYUN Thread! Endolphin Answer MolangLover

Hello, Mr. HYUN. I am, in fact, a gay man! You can use any pronouns on me, I really don’t mind. However, I do mind my late response. I just read your reply, and so I only have answers to your questions today.

My then boyfriend was always calm. He’s always logical and handles everything maturely. That’s why I expected him to take it well when I told him I wanted out, but I guess I didn’t know him well enough.

Trying not to give specific details: our breakup happened through dinner. It’s incredibly anticlimactic because we didn’t even cry—he didn’t even say no. Or at least, that’s what I thought, because the very next day he was at my door telling me that he’ll drive me to work.

It pretty much started from there. Just. He’s suddenly everywhere. It’s a mess.

However, one piece of unsolicited advice: some people are not for you, and realizing it later is better than not realizing it at all.

Mr. HYUN, I hope you grant your heart solace. Please be happy. You owe yourself that the most.

From: Soobin binsoochoi

Hello, Kang Taehyun. How are you? I forgot to ask for your number on my graduation and you’ve deactivated all your social media accounts, but I heard that your email is active as ever.

You are one of my most treasured friends despite all the years that passed, and I want to tell you this myself even if you probably already know from the mail I sent last week.

I am getting married! *Break dances*

All the details are in the invitation, so please come or else I’ll cry.

Also, despite the given circumstance, I’m sure Yeonjun wants to see you again.

☾

IT ALL BEGAN WITH SPACE, A PERIOD before a crash. The silence that drove Taehyun deaf until he surrendered to the lonely call of his bedroom for a night's rest. Nobody told him that solitude takes form when it gets overwhelming—that it will hold him by the neck until he blanks and wakes up feeling disoriented for a plight to occur all over again.

His sister always called him crazy for sitting through the neglect. But if they were to toe the path that led them here, Taehyun still found his own hand tracing the very ring Yeonjun got him that night. It was the thread that he sewed to the plot, his contribution that now made him cynical.

If he said no, would he even see Yeonjun after that night again?

It only dawned on him then, when the door opened and he didn’t bother looking out to check who it was, because welcoming someone home would only apply if home whirled every particle in the area. But everything was foreign and cold.

Taehyun, despite his efforts to keep Yeonjun by his side, already lost him somewhere along the line. Yet, he’s still here. In this house like a madman devoured by lonesome.

His sister was right.

☾

“WHY DID YOU GIVE HIM my number?” Exasperation always, always found its way to Taehyun even after so long.

And yet, Soobin had the audacity to sigh from the other side of the line. “I’m sorry. He just looked so sad. I couldn’t say no.”

“Soobin hyung.. You can’t just give people my personal information just because you’re an empath.”

“I know, I know—I'll have them serve you your favorite wine at the reception next week. I promise,”

It’s a tempting offer, but Taehyun was some kind of a selfless soul. “It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”

But take that with a grain of salt.

For the past few days, he’s made regrettable decisions that may or may not require shutting doors, walking out, and avoiding someone like the plague. He, for a lack of better word, would skedaddle across the world if he didn’t have a job to keep and a point to give.

Going back a few pages, the story went a little bit like this.

Firstly, Taehyun and Yeonjun had a mutual agreement that the arrangement wasn’t working. Or at least, that’s what Taehyun thought.

You see, the conversation was brief—maybe shorter than Taehyun would have guessed, but most of it was one-sided. Yeonjun, the entire time, barely even spoke. He merely looked at Taehyun with wide eyes and steady breathing; a complete contrast to his then fiance’s stuttering state.

He only said one thing. “You’re leaving?”

Really? After a long monologue about feeling out of place, floating in the air, and feeling desperate—Yeonjun doesn’t even prove him wrong.

“It’s not working,” Taehyun told him. “Why are we even doing this?”

The story continues with boxes and empty cupboards. Packing used to be Taehyun’s most dreaded activity, but packing from the penthouse felt like severing invisible strings. It tickles his skin and his heart, leaving his soul yearning for Yeonjun to stand by the door and ask him to stay.

But even if he did, even when Yeonjun stood by the door, it was to send him off.

“Did you ever love me? Even just a speck..” It was his last resort, but the answer never came out loud. It’s in the air. “Oh, I see.”

He leaves for the door, not before Yeonjun holds his hand for a split second that gives him hope.

He looks back to see Yeonjun’s warm eyes. “Take care, Taehyun.”

Hope is a fickle thing.

The story should have ended there. They never see each other again, they go separate ways, they meet again years later when they’re both happy with all the broken pieces fixed. It was the probable situation that Taehyun pictured.

But Yeonjun had different plans.

☾

HYUN Ask! PrettyBoy

It’s been a few weeks since I last posted anything in the forum, and I still very much find the whole ordeal of letting strangers answer your question a bit skeptical and dumb. However, this is all I got for now, so bear with me.

Hello. I’m Hyun. I broke up with my fiance last week, and last night he came knocking at my door asking if we could be friends. What the fuck is happening?

☾

IT WAS MIDNIGHT WHEN Yeonjun knocked at his door relentlessly. Like who he is. Even when Taehyun pretended to be asleep, even when ten minutes passed—it kept going.

He stumbled to walk across the apartment he got himself close to where his sister lived, wanting to be closer to his family. Sleep got the best of him when he opened the door to a surprised Yeonjun. “Do you want me to call the police on you?”

“I-I..” Yeonjun toyed with the end of his sleeve.

“Did you come from work?” Yeonjun nods to the question. “Okay. Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you here?”

Yeonjun points at the sky, awkwardly looking back and forth to seemingly prove a point. “It’s night time. I was too sleepy to drive all the way home.”

It was a bad idea to let Yeonjun drive him to his address last week.

“Sounds like bull—don’t you stay somewhere near your office?”

“It’s boring. I want to stay with you,” Yeonjun said dryly. “Let me sleep over, like the old days.”

Taehyun had to snort. He was not in his best shape. “Hyung, are you drunk?”

Taehyun knew that Yeonjun was anything but ordinary™, especially with his hair tousled and clothes wrecked like he’s gone through hell driving all the way here, but he would have at least expected Yeonjun to reply like a normal person. Instead, the man leaned forward with playful eyes and nose barely missing Taehyun’s skin.

He blows. “What do you think?”

“Mint,” Taehyun babbled. “You. Move away!”

Who makes other people smell their breath like that?

“Let me stay over.”

“No. Hyung, go home. You look fine!”

Yeonjun finally, after what it felt like eternity, gifted Taehyun distance. “I’m tired. You know how fast I fall asleep when I’m tired—I don’t even notice it.”

He has a point. “Clothes. You don’t have clothes. You can’t sleep in that.”

“Then, let me borrow your clothes.”

“What?!”

Needless to say, in Taehyun’s calm sea, Yeonjun will always be the raging winds that start the surging waves.

☾

BEFORE SUNRISE, TAEHYUN got a man in his guest room and the same man wearing his clothes like they’re made for him.

Taehyun falls asleep with frustrated sighs.

☾

HYUN Thread PrettyBoy

Pardon me, but this is not a laughing matter. I think my heart is about to combust and my brain is going into overdrive. Here, let me paint you a picture: sometimes people are dumb enough to act on their instict that they refuse to acknowledge their effect on others. What does that sound like? Insensitivity. Indifference. They lack empathy and I am close enough to beg for sympathy at this point.

He was already everywhere when he was not. What do I do now that he’s actually close enough for me to touch? Sometimes I believe that between the two of us, he’s the one who needs more saving.

☾

WALKING AWAY WAS THE EASIEST thing to do, but if the slope was treacherous, Taehyun found no other way to move forward than just stop.

And with Yeonjun, nothing ever goes smoothly.

He wakes up to Yeonjun’s cooking. Something that teetered between familiar and foreign. His stomach refused to flip out of hunger, but rather of awe when he got a reminder of what Yeonjun looks like in the morning: messy hair, pale cheeks, and round eyes. He failed to take away the domesticated feeling in his system.

Stop. Pause. Breathe.

Sometimes, to get through a heartbreak is another, but Taehyun wasn’t ready for anything as close to what Yeonjun made him feel the first time.

Instead of a morning greeting, he settles with a blank stare. “Why are you still here?”

Yeonjun should have left—for work, for errands, or anything else that doesn’t require him imprinting his ghost on every corner of Taehyun’s home.

“I made breakfast. I wanted to take a shower, but I don’t have spare clothes,” Yeonjun replied normally. Nonchalantly. It’s almost frustrating to know that he could act indifferent when Taehyun stirs the turmoil in his chest.

He sighs in exasperation. “You didn’t have to. I’ll leave for work anyway.”

“Wait! Have breakfast,” Yeonjun pulls a chair out. “And let me borrow clothes again, please?”

“Hyung,” It’s a warning.

“Please?”

“Just go home,” Taehyun heads to the bathroom, but for Yeonjun to grab his shirt from behind. He groans.

“Taehyun, are you seriously kicking me out?”

He faced Yeonjun with his arms flying to his hips. “Are you seriously not leaving?”

“We’re friends!”

“Friends don’t always do sleepovers!”

“They do! I used to sleep over at Soobin’s a lot.”

Taehyun stepped back in disbelief. “You used to date each other.”

“And we didn’t?” Yeonjun shrugged. He does it with a simper. “We were engaged.”

“Fuck you.”

He gives up. In annoyance, he takes Yeonjun’s car keys and makes harsh stomps at the door. Without hesitating, he throws them out to earn a gasp on Yeonjun’s end. When he was certain that the other would take the keys back by stumbling across the room and outside, he smirks.

Here, by the door, he wasn’t sure if this was the last time, but he took his chances. “Take care, Yeonjun.”

Close.

☾

Re: HYUN Thread Endolphin MolangLover

Well.. that’s quite an interesting predicament, Mr. HYUN. However, I completely empathize with you since I was in your shoes a while back. I guess our exes were always meant to be our significant bother.

Perhaps, to leave you with a sentiment, I will say this: communication actually works. Instead of dancing around the growing conflict with your ex-fiance, you should face it head-on. If you want him out of your life, tell him that as it is; but if you actually plan on indulging his friendship offer, then that’s something you still have to talk to him about.

Although, I am one of those people that strongly believes that exes are exes. Never friends.

ㅤㅤ

Re: Endolphin BEN TeddyBear

Exes can be friends.

ㅤㅤ

Re: BEN Endolphin MolangLover

Who

ㅤㅤ

Re: Endolphin BEN TeddyBear

Your friend.

ㅤㅤ

Re: BEN Endolphin MolangLover

Who asked?

☾

TAEHYUN THOUGHT THAT WEDDINGS are odd.

Which is unexpected from someone who’s on the brink of getting married before.

If Yeonjun never offered, Taehyun thinks. I would have never thought of it at all. He finishes with a truth he never knew existed.

When Soobin leaned in to kiss his partner, Taehyun wondered if they were ever afraid. After all, it’s not easy to admit that marriage was threatening, especially by someone who is already in love. Marriage binds you, colliding two worlds to become one. If that’s not terrifying enough, think of the puppies you’ll share, think of children, home, land, memories, happiness, and an entire language only the two of you understand.

Taehyun smiles. This is why I can’t get beautiful things. He will never understand what comes after fear.

“You’re crying.”

“Stating the obvious,” He wiped his tears away. Soobin was evil for putting Yeonjun and him together in one table. “I’m happy.”

Yeonjun nods, more attentive of Taehyun’s every move rather than Soobin’s first dance. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He is not.

It was hell to sit through the entire celebration with Yeonjun by his side. “You’re lying,” Yeonjun said. “I know you better than you think I do.”

“Whether I am or not. I don’t think that’s your business,” Taehyun responded. The sweetness in Yeonjun’s voice is a contrast to the bitter feeling he left Taehyun before. This was a problem. Just when Taehyun finds the courage to leave, Yeonjun stays. “It’s not fair,” He added. It comes out of his mouth like a curse.

“Taehyun,” Yeonjun doesn’t continue. Whether he was lost for words or had a thousand things to say, Taehyun doesn’t know. It was one of those days when he found Yeonjun difficult to read. His eyes wide, anticipating, and his chest rising as if it’s holding onto composure.

Taehyun merely looks at him before paying Soobin all the attention he deserves. It’s not about him, it’s not about them. Nothing was ever about them after they failed—if there was even a chance to begin with. If the universe were to sew two people together, they were sown apart, and that’s how it should be.

But he loved him. He loves him. Taehyun always does. And that was the problem.

If Yeonjun looks at him again with hopeful eyes, he would just crumble from the very concrete he’s been building. Falling, falling… never ending. Love was cruel, but to love Yeonjun was the loveliest privilege he had earned.

He says this in the form of a plea, “Help me, hyung,” He had a drink or two, successfully sneaking out to the open parking space. But it was closing in. “Help me, will you?”

“Anything,” Yeonjun shouldn’t have.

“Looking at you only reminds me why you’re not mine, and it feels like shit,” He laughs, the humor absent despite it all. “You’re so selfish. You’re in my home, you’re in my clothes, you’re in my mind—hyung, what else do you want me to offer? How am I supposed to get over you?”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?”

Taehyun chokes a building cry. “Don’t make me ask for something you can’t give.”

Yeonjun had the audacity to chuckle. The same sound that memorized every corner in Taehyun’s love, triggering more and more until it became unbearable. It was fire in Taehyun’s heart to hear Yeonjun laugh; it was fire in Taehyun’s skin when Yeonjun touched him like a delicate figure.

And he was. Fragile. Scared. Vulnerable.

“You already have all of me,” Yeonjun whispered, not needing to be louder. His lips on Taehyun’s ears, hands on his waist, nose nuzzling the disheveled locks on Taehyun’s cloudy head. He was close, bearably close.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing.”

Yeonjun sighs, “Push me away. I’ll stop.”

He leans in, that’s not the last time he did.

☾

[06:13] Choi Soobin (University): Taehyun, did you get home safely last night?

[06:20] Taehyun: Hyung, I fucked up.

[06:23] Choi Soobin (University): Why, what happened?!

[06:23] Taehyun: Hyung..

[06:25] Taehyun: I slept with Yeonjun-hyung.

[06:25] Taehyun: He’s still sleeping and I’m freaking out in the bathroom.

[06:28] Taehyun: I need to go. I really need to leave.

[06:28] Choi Soobin (University): ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!

[06:30] Taehyun: I’ll cry. I swear. Why am I so dumb?!

[06:30] Choi Soobin (University): ... Was he good?

[06:31] Taehyun: SHUT UP!

☾

THERE WAS A RULE THAT TAEHYUN swore he would never cross, but life took a turn, and now he found himself untangling Yeonjun’s arms around him to collect every article of clothing he could find that was his. Never sleep with an ex, he said. No cuddling, he added. Apparently, besides Korean and English, he was great at speaking bullshit.

He left before Yeonjun woke up. He pretends like it was easy to walk away, but the stares he got from people passing by was a tattletale. He doesn’t fully understand the extent of Yeonjun’s imprint on him, failing like the way he tries to find a part of him that Yeonjun didn’t touch.

And goodness, losing like this felt so good.

But Taehyun knew that ecstasy doesn’t last long when foolish acts were easier when he was younger. Now, however, he has aged, a lot older than his escapades with exploration and discovery. To make it worse—it’s Yeonjun. The Yeonjun. The man he knew too much about, the man that his family treated like their own. He can’t just sweep this under the rug and pretend like he hasn’t seen all of him.

It was unfortunate, but luck always had a conflict with him from the beginning. He just wishes that Yeonjun would act indifferent enough for him not to turn red every time they meet.

☾

[08:27] Yeonjun: Tyun? You weren’t here when I woke up :(

[08:30] Taehyun: Sorry, hyung. I have work in the morning.

[08:30] Yeonjun: Should have woken me up :/

[08:30] Yeonjun: Did you have breakfast?

[08:35] Taehyun: Yes.

[08:35] Yeonjun: Good! Do you want to have lunch with me?

[08:36] Taehyun: No thank you. I already have plans.

[08:36] Taehyun: Meeting a client over lunch.

[08:37] Yeonjun: Dinner?

[08:40] Taehyun: Okay.

[08:40] Yeonjun: Great! See you later :D

☾

ABORT MISSION..

Something about Taehyun is that… he’s great at remembering. His memories often come to him vividly and it flows like a second chance to live the moment when he gets lost in his head.

So, maybe it wasn’t a very good idea for Yeonjun to invite him to his place for dinner. Why here? He hissed. Anywhere else would have been fine. He complained. Yeonjun was far too happy to just have him in his kitchen as he cooks to even notice Taehyun’s discomfort.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

“I’ll… turn the TV on,” Taehyun stutters. He used to complain about the television set in the kitchen, but now he’s grateful as anyone to be offered something useful. It was so unlike him to intently watch the news with Yeonjun around, especially in a set-up like this.

“Wine?” Yeonjun got a bottle from a cupboard.

Taehyun shakes his head, “No. I’m good,” He declined. He doesn’t trust himself with the smallest alcohol in his system. Not with the lingering reminder of what just took place in this very home.

He takes a deep breath, feeling his lungs relieved. “Hyung, you don’t have to cook. We could just eat out. It’s easier and faster that way.”

“I want to. Cook for you, I mean.”

“Hyung,” He groans.

The frustration finally reached Yeonjun with tense shoulders. “Did… Am I doing something that upsets you again?”

Yes. “No,” Taehyun shook his head. “I’ll wait.”

The thick atmosphere somehow melted when Yeonjun finally beamed. “Okay. I have to tell you something later, okay? Wait for me in the living room.”

It was inviting, yet Taehyun settled with plopping his things on the kitchen island. He was too tired to even question every little thing that confused him. “I want to stay. Can I watch you?”

Yeonjun’s smile only grew.

☾

HYUN Thread PrettyBoy

He's a fantasy. I can't believe that I could see him in a light that nobody else can.

And I love, love him. My life has been a constant cycle of me falling in love with him, and he will never know how much I feel.

What now? It never was a problem before when I learned how to be carefree, but I felt pain so great that I forgot how to love without being afraid. Yeonjun is a dream, I didn't think he would ever love me back beyond an alternate reality, but what's this now? Why is he sleeping in my bed? Why is he calling me beautiful? Why is he kissing me close?

It's sending me in a spiral, but I was sure of one thing.

If he tells me he loves me, I'll never find the strength to leave again.

[Saved as Draft]

☾

“HYUNG.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s be friends.”

☾

THERE WERE SO MANY THINGS that Taehyun is great at; acing his majors, correcting the uneven strands of his hair, preparing coffee that just suits Yeonjun’s taste, and apparently—driving Yeonjun insane. To the limit.

What Taehyun wasn’t great at, unfortunately, was losing. After playing mouse with Yeonjun who played as a predator chasing its prey for so long, there was only one way to end the fiasco Yeonjun had placed them in. But he starts with nothing.

“Hyung, are you okay?” He tipped his head to get a response from the other but to no avail.

Taehyun had nothing on his sleeve, he merely had it laid before them when they ate dinner. Homemade. It’s a little jarring to use that term when he once searched for home in Yeonjun’s presence and now he’s here.

“Friends,” Yeonjun stuttered. He stuttered. His eyes wavered and came washing were emotions he wasn’t planning on feeling tonight. “Oh,” He said. “You want us to be friends.”

“Like you said.”

You. Yeonjun didn’t miss the emphasis on that word. It was as if Taehyun got him figured out and knew how to press his buttons to the maximum. “Like I said... Us, friends,” He was trying to comprehend. He was, after all, the one who pulled the whole joke from the beginning. Now it was backfiring over his well-made pasta.

And Taehyun. Oh, Taehyun. He had the guts to smile ever so innocently. A menace. His menace. “Yeah, actual friends. Like how we used to in high school.”

“I don’t sleep with my friends,” Yeonjun declared, a little too confident.

That’s when Taehyun ever slightly faltered before coming back. “Was that necessary?”

“We can’t be friends after that, Taehyun. I don’t just sleep with anybody,” Yeonjun huffed. “I never wanted us to just be friends in the first place. Back then, it was the only option I had to see you, so I took it as it is. I didn’t care how dumb it was before, but hearing it now, I thing I’m going to puke my guts out.”

“You may.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say after all of that?”

Taehyun gulps down what he just chewed. The meal was irrelevant at this point. “I already told you everything, hyung. When I left. You never said anything to make me stay.”

It was still a blur, but Taehyun could never fully forget the way Yeonjun wished him goodbye. He was there. He could have done something to stop Taehyun from leaving but he didn’t. And now that Taehyun’s gone, Yeonjun thought it was a good chance to pull him back all over again.

Taehyun was, and is still, very much in love with him, but if Yeonjun won’t give him a reason to try again, then why should it even be in his mind? He’s been there, he’s done that. It’s not a pleasant feeling to love alone, and it’s not a feeling he would want to have again.

“Can I be honest?” It’s everything that Taehyun wanted.

“Please.”

“I think I love you from the very beginning.”

“Think?” Taehyun had to make sure.

And Yeonjun seemed hesitant. Or maybe he was nervous. His grip on his chopsticks was tight like he’s bracing for something to come. Taehyun, this time, didn’t have to read him to understand. It was the first time that Yeonjun finally found a voice to tell Taehyun something he wanted to know. “I know I love you.”

“You-”

“Let me,” Yeonjun cuts him off instantly, breath hitching. “Do you remember when we were in high school and we would watch crappy rom-coms in your dorm?”

Taehyun nods. “You would bring fried chicken.”

“I would bring fried chicken. I would. And you would let me eat on your floor even though you’re such a clean-freak.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” Yeonjun ends the argument with this. “Times like that never felt different. It didn’t excite me, it didn’t bore me either. I didn’t care if you fell asleep somewhere during the movie or if I fell asleep while we’re still talking, being there just felt so calm and normal and-” He paused. “Coming to you always felt peaceful, and I thought it was like that with everybody.”

“Was it?” Taehyun had to ask, wanting to know if Yeonjun had something to say.

Yeonjun shakes his head with a growing smile. “No. It was just you,” he said. “The moment I realized that nobody else was going to make me feel the way you do, was the moment I tried to convince myself that nobody would make me feel that way at all. Not even you. Especially you.”

“I don’t understand. If you weren’t planning on anything then why get me into this. We were fine, hyung.”

“We were not fine, Taehyun. You could barely look me in the eyes! And the- the coffee hangouts? You don’t even like coffee, Taehyun. Do you think I don’t know what you were doing?” Yeonjun was teetering towards a cry. “You were making me feel different. And I didn’t like it. I hated it. You treat me the same way as the people you had to tolerate, and it made me sick in the gut.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t,” Yeonjun calmed down. There was no use to getting mad. “You didn’t, but it made me feel that way.”

Taehyun knew he wasn’t innocent. He solely blamed it on the time, the growth, and the distance, but he had his fair share of blame when he grew ashamed of the feelings he harbored through the years. Yeonjun was his friend before anything, but he forgot about that for the longest time.

But still. “So, you thought it would be fun to play with my feelings and lead me to this?” He retorted. It wasn’t something he thought well of before spitting it out for Yeonjun to hear.

“What, no!” Yeonjun stood from his place. The movement alone made Taehyun lean back in surprise. Like this, Yeonjun loomed huge. He was already taller, but with the suppressed tension his presence seemed heavier. “I proposed because I wanted to be with you, but I..”

Taehyun still crossed his arms. “You proposed because you wanted to be with me?” It didn’t sound believable.

“I was impatient,” Yeonjun huffed. “I felt like I’m taking a very long time, and I didn’t want to wait. It terrified me to know that I could mess this up and I’ll lose you forever, so I wanted to be sure while letting you know that I wanted to love you the way you do.”

“And I’m sorry for telling you this now, when the damage is done. I love you, Taehyun. Even then, I do. I just didn’t know for the longest time, but now it’s all I think about when I’m with you.”

“You’re stupid,” Taehyun whispered. He never looked away, but somehow he was still in a daze. “You’re so stupid.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” Yeonjun comes closer and Taehyun can’t breathe. It’s only when the distance ceased to exist when he remembered how to gasp for air before diving into a kiss he met halfway.

And he was reminded of everything Yeonjun was with a single touch. The trembling of his lips as it moves with ease, the gentleness of his hands around warm cheeks, and the heating gaze of his tongue on the seams of soft lips. Yeonjun was everything combined, kissing Taehyun with certainty laced with fear, and a muttering of all he wanted to convey.

“I love you.”

Taehyun smiled with a heart that ached in glee and learned how to wrap his arms around Yeonjun’s neck to tug him close. “I heard you the first time,” He’s lifted up to the kitchen island, and merely had time to fix himself before getting drowned in the same love Yeonjun surrounded him with.

Just say the words and I’ll come to you.

☾

HYUN Thread! PrettyBoy

Hello. I have no time, but basically my boyfriend found this forum and read one of my posts about him and now I have to delete everything before he reads more.

Bye.

ㅤㅤ

CYJ Answer NickWilde

Too late, babe.

ㅤㅤ

HYUN Thread! PrettyBoy

Fuck.

ㅤㅤ

Endolphin Answer MolangLover

At least it’s your boyfriend who found your posts.

ㅤㅤ

BEN Answer TeddyBear

I can be the boyfriend who found your posts.

ㅤㅤ

Endolphin Answer MolangLover

For the last time, if I were to get back with an ex-boyfriend, you would be at the last of the list.

ㅤㅤ

BEN Answer TeddyBear

I’m on the list?!

GOING TO THE BEACH wasn’t the plan. It was so early in the morning when Yeonjun came knocking on Taehyun’s dorm room, his lips trembling and eyes red with remnants of tears, and he didn’t need words to know that holding Yeonjun was a start to where they’ll be later.

And now, Yeonjun was standing on sea stones, pressing the sole of his shoes. The calm sand was trampled on from early footsteps and playful fingers that drew words. If Taehyun didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a secret language that they only shared, now gone from the sea waves that climbed their way up with a mission to efface every single one.

“The sun is rising,” Taehyun said behind the phone, holding it up for the camera to hit Yeonjun’s eyes. “Do you want me to take pictures of you?”

Yeonjun smiled. “Yeah.”

Will you remember this? Taehyun mused with short breaths in every take. He was still too young to know why Yeonjun looked so pretty even after he cried. Eyes twinkling and hair falling all over the place, dancing in the wind with the flush of his cheek. On moments when questions don’t belong are moments when reasons don't matter, yet Taehyun already knew the alibi to his weak knees when Yeonjun smiled with the redness of his nose at nineteen.

“Do you want to ask about what happened?” Yeonjun asked in the air. Unconsciously bringing Taehyun’s head back from the clouds when their eyes meet one-sided. The camera falls low enough for Taehyun’s face to show, but he lets out no answer. “I broke up with Soobin.”

“Oh,” was what Taehyun could only find himself to say. Words didn’t seem fair when they started scrambling away from his mind. “That sucks,” He mustered up to babble like an eloquent scholar he was.

But it was enough for Yeonjun to crack into a fit of laughter. “You’re not great at this, aren’t you?”

Taehyun shrugged, hands having a mind of its own when the camera came back up. It rendered silly candid shots of Yeonjun making fun of his pathetic talent to comfort people, yet he’s never seen anything as pure as it. “Did the sea not give it away?”

“No, I don’t need the sea to feel better,” The shaking of Yeonjun’s head wasn’t enough to paint him every picture of what he meant. Taehyun forgot that despite not having anything to offer, Yeonjun still came to him. “But the sea seems to always go with you, Taehyun.”

[📃: This was something I wrote in a month or two and was posted on my main account first before coming here. Needless to say that this is not the best of what I can do, but this was what impatience brings! Also, the last part is from the mistranslation to Yeonjun’s caption on a TAEJUN post. I thought it was so cute.]

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measurelessdreamer · 2 years

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Message in a Bottle ch. 1

My first attempt at writing obikin and I’m beyond nervous! Read the first chapter here or down below.

Summary: Anakin and Obi-Wan had been childhood friends until Obi-Wan changed high school and moved back to Britain, their friendship slowly dying from the distance that was just too vast, and neglect that came naturally when you had still so much to grow into, so much to be. Anakin stayed in the States, finished high school, went to college, suffered great loss, dropped out of college before earning his degree, and found himself working at the local zoo, all the while maintaining his feelings for his childhood best friend a secret and safely in his heart. He thought he'd eventually be over it, it wasn't like they were likely to meet again after all, but they stayed with him. And one day, he was proven wrong.

OR obikin + zookeeper!Anakin (and I have no excuse)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Childhood friends, Light Angst, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining

Word count: 5963

A/N: Hey, everyone! This is my first work in the Star Wars fandom so I apologize if the characters don't feel quite right. I'm still making my way through Clone Wars and I have no self-restraint which is why this fic features five characters from there anyway, but hopefully, the fact this is a modern au will make those shortcomings a bit easier to bear. Please keep in mind that this fic features NO accurate depictions of zoos, zookeeping, or college life in the US whatsoever lol (seriously). I just wrote this because I was getting profusely fed up with my college and this was my escape. Just so you know, Anakin and Obi-Wan are both 25 years old. They met when they were 5 and got separated when they were 15 (10 years together + 10 years apart = balance to the Force ha!). This fic is not finished yet but hopefully, it will be. It's named after the song by Taylor Swift of the same name. All mistakes are mine. English is not my first language. I don't know if anyone is going to read this, but if yes, then I hope you enjoy it!

And I became hypnotized By freckles and bright eyes Tongue-tied

-Message in a Bottle, Taylor Swift-

Anakin wasn't in a good place after his mother died. It had been sudden and left him with no chance of ever preparing for it. That was how it usually went with car crashes and the most frustrating thing was that he had no one to really blame for it. No drunk driver or a beginner who had made a stupid mistake that had cost them another life, not even any wild animal that happened to be crossing the road at the time. It was just bad luck that it had been pouring that night with almost no visibility and his mom needed to go home from the town he'd moved into a few years ago because of college. She only came for this one day because it was his birthday, waving him off that a few hours of driving were nothing when it meant she would finally see him face to face after months. It wasn't in his heart to tell her no when he, too, desperately wished to hold her and be held in return. He couldn't ask her to stay either for he knew that she had to get back to work the next day. Maybe if there had been an indication the weather would worsen to such an extent or the forecast had mentioned it would be so dangerous to drive that night, he would stay his ground and make her stay even if it meant he had to go back to his hometown with her just to tell her boss to shove it the next time he even thought about being so hard on her. But no such thing happened. They hugged, and she kissed his cheek, doing the obnoxiously loud sound he'd remembered her doing ever since he'd been a little boy. He promised to call more, she rolled her eyes at him and told him she'd hold him to that and that was that. The last time he'd ever seen her.

The following weeks had been really hard for him. Saying it had shaken his world to its very core would be an understatement of the century. He was raging one moment, crying his heart out the second, all the while finding it very hard to keep his breathing even. Sorting out the funeral and their house somehow made it easier because, at the very least, he had something to do aside from crying on the floor in the corner of his bedroom and hating the world with all the sheer force of his being. But then all of that passed and he was expected to go back to his life like nothing had happened and everything was fine. Finish college, find a job, fall in love with someone his mom would never get to know, and make sure was worthy of her son. Yeah, not fucking likely.

So it took no time for him to drop out. There was no inner discussion or his brain just trying to reason with him to make sure this was really what he wanted that proceeded it. He just did it because Anakin had no clue what he actually wanted. It felt like he'd never had any, to begin with, and losing his mom just exacerbated his precarious feelings about where he stood and where his life was headed. It felt strangely liberating to walk out of the building of his college for the very last time even though he knew his problems were just about to start. He needed a new place to live, and he needed to find a job. As much as nothing felt better to him than running for the hills and trying his luck in getting around and just surviving from town to town, state to state, he figured taking one radical step at a time was a far better and healthier approach in the long run. It had taken both Ahsoka and Padmé approximately one hour of life to make him see that, but he eventually did see it and decided to take them up on the offer of making his life here despite the fact it sometimes felt beyond suffocating to stay.

But they were his best friends. They knew best, which was why he decided to take them up on their offer of living with them for a little while until he found an apartment that wouldn't drain him of both money and the last tidbits of his will to believe that this world could be a decent place to live in. They even suggested getting him a job at the zoo that was like a second home to them, saying their co-workers already loved him and would definitely welcome him with open arms. Needless to say, he was a bit skeptical to say yes. It just wasn't something he'd ever imagined himself doing. He, a drop-out student of engineering, now taking care of wildlife at the local zoo. It really didn't feel realistic that it would work out for him, that it would help, but it wasn't like he had a better choice at the moment, so he said yes despite the jackrabbiting pace of his heart.

That was two years ago. It still managed to elicit a smile on his face as he thought back to his indecisiveness while he was tending to the animals he'd come to know and love despite the fact most of them barely dedicated him a glance as he did his daily routine of feeding them and cleaning their enclosures. Because, in all honesty, he couldn't imagine himself being anywhere else and he was grateful beyond measure that Ahsoka and Padmé had talked him into it.

He'd stayed with them for the first six months and even though they persisted that it was fine if he wanted to stay longer, to get back on his feet properly, he just smiled and hugged them with all his strength, saying that he was thankful but that he thought it was time. He had enough money, some still left from selling his mom's house, some he earned from his working at the zoo and decided to keep for the future. He found an apartment, nothing too fancy, close enough to both them and the zoo, and even though the pain was still clearly there, maiming his heart for all eternity, and would sometimes come as if on full-frontal assault with guns blazing, as if he'd been reliving the loss all over again, those times felt less frequent the more time passed by. And eventually, Anakin learned to live with that.

So after two years, he felt like his life had taken a stand that was finally firmer and no longer under the threat of collapsing right under his feet. Padmé smiled when he told her that and said that it was indeed showing and that she was happy for him.

But then, it turned out, that the world still had a few surprises up its sleeve.

"Bad news, everyone," Ahsoka said as she found him and Padmé tending to the aquariums. "Cory stole a wallet from one of our customers. Again."

"They don't want to sue us, I hope," Padmé said, glancing at her worryingly. "There are warning signs all over the place and we make sure at least one of us is always in the enclosure with the customers, telling them to be careful and not come too close to any of the macaques."

"I don't think they want to go that far. They seem really nice and understanding of the whole thing. They just want their stuff back, which brings me back to...," she trailed off, a suggestive tone in her voice as she glanced at Anakin.

"What?" he asked even though he knew perfectly what she wanted from him.

"Come on, Skyguy. You know that, out of all of us, there's no one Cory is more likely to listen to than you."

"He's a macaque, Snips. The only reason he stole that wallet is that he thought it was edible. Give him something far more interesting and it'd be like that wallet never meant anything to him. You don't need me to do that."

"But you know how shy he gets when he’s dealing with people he's not familiar with. I can't risk him running off with that wallet and damaging it. God knows why, but it’s never so bad when you’re the one who must deal with him.

“Aw, you should’ve started with the insults. How can I say no when you’re being so nice to me?”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? I thought you liked our macaques."

"I do. It's just that you shouldn't rely purely on me. There are other people here who could find a way to their hearts. They didn’t like me at first either, remember?"

"You mean that one time they started throwing snow at you and screamed so much they woke up the whole zoo?"

"They were also throwing apples at me only because I gave them to them!"

"That was two years ago. You've grown on them more than any of us ever did."

"It really wasn't hard. Just come with me, I'll show you how to do it."

"Does that mean you'll make sure that wallet is returned to its rightful owner?" she asked, all doe-eyed and hopeful but with a bit of mischief sneaking in and he sighed when he realized what he'd just said.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm teaching you and then you will teach the others. I might not always be here, you know? And the way I see it, Cory is never going to care enough about this place to give us a break."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said, skeptical and dismissive because she knew he'd always been saying he didn't mean to stay working here permanently, but he'd never found it in his heart to leave so of course not many could take him seriously on that anymore. Himself included. "Now come on before Cory decides he'll eat that wallet anyway and our customers decide to sue as after all."

He rolled his eyes but said goodbye to Padmé and followed Ahsoka to the macaque enclosure.

Cory really was easily corrigible if you had something better to offer to him than he currently possessed and to prove his point, Anakin insisted on Ahsoka being the one to give him the beautiful papaya with the most amazing scent of ripeness they could find. She huffed and glared at him multiple times, but eventually, she gave in and snatched the papaya from his hand and the rest was indeed a piece of cake. Soon the wallet was safely in their possession with no scratches or bite marks and Cory was happily chewing on his papaya, looking like the absolute winner of this debacle, which, honestly, Anakin couldn’t deprive him of being.

"See? Told you it was easy," he said as they watched Cory climb onto a tree and sit on one of the branches so he could enjoy his delicious prize in peace.

"Yeah, fine, gloat all you want,” she said and passed the wallet over to him, “but you've gotta admit this is far better than cleaning up the aquariums any day.”

He snorted and gave her the look of feigned outrage he would always bestow upon himself when he was trying to look like he was above anything she suggested. It made her laugh so hard Cory turned his head to stare at them, looking strangely put off. For a macaque anyway.

“We should get this to its rightful owner.” The way she elbowed him did little to dispute what he’d already known – that by “we” she mostly meant him. He had nothing against talking to customers. Somehow it would always end up being part of his job even though he was responsible for the well-being of animals first and foremost. It was just that he’d had his share of dealing with difficult people back when working directly with animals wasn’t yet entrusted to him. These days, he tended to avoid it altogether. He would always say that was unconscious on his part, but Ahsoka seemed to have a mind of her own and would always tell him he was full of shit and drag him to the nearest person who seemed like they wanted to ask something even if that something turned out to be directions to the nearest bathroom.

That day, he followed her lead willingly as they crossed the bridge that connected the two ends of the enclosure – a hill shaped into the letter “u” which gave way to a beautiful valley underneath it that reached as far as eyes could see. People always stopped to admire the view. Normally, he’d be one of them, but Ahsoka carried herself with hurriedness that was uncharacteristic but not enough for him to feel the need to point it out and question it.

The words would be in vain anyway because only a few seconds later his eyes landed on the two people standing further away from the macaques as if still in the ever-present fear that more very spontaneous muggings might take place and he got his answer right away.

A man and a woman, most likely around his age. She had blonde hair and held herself with the grace and elegance of a public speaker or a lawyer. He had auburn hair and a beard put together so neatly that not a hair was sticking out. He wore a tweed jacket that accentuated his shoulders that were broad but slumped, giving him away as the victim of Cory’s wandering hands. Anakin’s step faltered as he stared at him. He tried to sell it off as yet another proof of how clumsy he was, but one glance at Ahsoka told him he utterly failed. That was just typical. Even if he’d never been the one who’d made a habit of ogling some of their customers.

They both smiled at them as they approached. The eyes of the man were blue intermixed with grey like the sky when night gave a way to dusk. But it wasn’t their shade or the way the sunlight shone in them just right that stunned him so much that he felt unable to form actual words and only came back to himself when he heard Ahsoka pointedly clearing her throat next to him. It was just that they seemed incredibly familiar.

"Sorry," he mumbled and handed over the wallet. "I assume this belongs to you."

The man blinked at him multiple times as if pulled right out of his reverie before he looked at the offered object and took it with a smile. "Yes, thank you." He had a British accent. Even that seemed familiar. "I'm so sorry for troubling you with this. I know we weren't supposed to come so close to the macaques–"

"No, no, it's okay," he cut the man off, cursing himself in his head in vivid detail for being so rude, but he was nervous—only God knew why—and when he was nervous his mouth would always do things out of its volition than listen to his brain which was supposed to know better. "You really aren't the first person Cory considered its prey and you definitely won't be the last."

"Cory?" the man asked, and his expression was so open and so friendly Anakin felt a smile tugging at his lips despite the fact there was really no reason for him to smile.

"The macaque that stole from you. We call him Cory. He's actually very friendly, but once his stomach calls, there's very little he wouldn't do to answer it."

The man chuckled and though it had to be barely audible for anyone standing just a few feet from them, Anakin felt like he'd never heard anything more enticing. "I'll take your word for it."

"You should," Ahsoka said with a friendly smile but a glint in her eyes that was saying she knew exactly what was going on with Anakin and there was no way they weren't going to talk about it the minute they were alone. "Anakin knows these macaques really well. They seem to be fond of him far more than of anyone else."

He fought hard not to groan as he opened his mouth to say anything to make that topic go away and somehow end the conversation entirely before he inevitably embarrassed himself but then he noticed that the relaxed smile had completely vanished from the man's face and was now replaced by a contemplating frown and a mild shock. "Anakin?" he asked, a slight tremble to his voice. "As in Anakin Skywalker?"

Anakin's eyes widened. "Yes, that's me."

The man blinked multiple times yet again, the mild shock from before now fully taking over his whole face as he looked at Anakin before forming a timid smile. "You might not remember me. But we used to live next to each other when we were kids. I'm Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi."

And for all the tough talk about how his life was finally stable and he couldn't be so easily put down, in that moment, Anakin felt like everything inside him just combusted. Because of course, he knew who Obi-Wan was, what he meant to him still after all these years of only guessing what the man might look like know, what he might be up to in Europe most likely, and how he was definitely not missing his old life here in the States. And the fact that he was here, now, looking like that, so much more beautiful than Anakin's brain could ever conjure him to be—even though he'd always been beautiful to him, but seeing the actual person, knowing the details that couldn't be denied—just made his heart skyrocket so loudly in his chest it felt like someone definitely had to hear it aside from himself. Ahsoka nudged him and he could hug the living breath out of her right then and there, he was that grateful because God, no, this couldn't be happening.

"Um– uh– sorry, no– I mean, yes, of course, I remember you," he finally let out, those words that felt like thousands of paragraphs in how much strength it took to actually form them. "I'm just... this is a lot to take in. The last time I saw you, you were just about to–"

"Board the plane for London, yes," Obi-Wan said, a hint of sadness in his voice which Anakin definitely couldn't dwell on because then his mind would wander off to that time he considered one of the worst moments of his life when it was his last chance to actually muster all the courage he never possessed and kiss Obi-Wan while he still could, damning the consequences for once, but just like any other time, he let this moment slip through his fingers and Obi-Wan with it.

"Yeah," he said and cleared his throat. "How have you been?"

"Good. Homesick, at first, even though it felt silly since I lived five years in Britain before coming to live here, but I eventually found my footing."

"And now you're back here.”

"Seems so.”

"Well, I hope, it'll be everything you remember it to be and more," Anakin said and cursed himself and the heat he could feel in his cheeks when Obi-wan just continued to stare at him as if there was nothing else worthy of a mere glance when he was there. Decades of wishing he'd be the center of Obi-Wan's attention like that definitely failed at preparing him, but it wasn't like the reasons behind it were what Anakin wanted them to be. Obi-Wan was just shocked to see him, just like Anakin was. They'd both changed quite a lot since they'd been fifteen. Anakin had grown taller, his hair got longer, curlier, and a tad lighter from all those workdays he spent under the sun. Obi-Wan had grown from a teenager who wore denim jackets and ripped jeans into a man with sweaters and neat jackets, hair looking perfect and so so soft—and that beard—all that screaming loudly into a great distance that he had to be aspiring to be the history teacher everyone always thought he should be and he just laughed them off without a second thought.

There was nothing more behind it. Anakin was sure.

"Excuse me," the woman next to Obi-Wan suddenly said, turning to Ahsoka. "Do you know where I could find your black bears? Obi-Wan doesn't seem to like them very much and so we figured we'd just skip them, but now I feel that since I'm here, I should go see them anyway. He could use some time to get over this incident with the macaques anyway."

"But of course," Ahsoka said with an enthusiastic smile, "I'll be happy to take you to Cupcake. He's just the sweetest." And with a wink aimed at Anakin that really wasn't subtle at all, Ahsoka led the woman away, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone.

"Did you really name a black bear 'Cupcake'?" Obi-Wan asked, looking pained.

"Wasn't me," Anakin snorted. "He has a white spot on his chest. Ahsoka said it reminded her of a cupcake and we didn’t fight her on it. But I’m pretty sure even he wouldn't like it if he was aware of what it meant."

"I guess I can understand that," Obi-Wan said, but he still looked pained. "But, seriously, 'Cupcake'?"

Anakin laughed. "If it makes you feel better, we also have a shark that's called Buttons, a hyena whose name is Stracciatella, but we call her Ella for short, and a hippo who we call Chubby. I could go on."

"Please don't," Obi-Wan said, looking so close to having an actual heart-attack Anakin decided to take pity on him. “Anything, in particular, you have against black bears?”

“You mean aside from the fact they’re terrifying and would attack me to eat me? No, other than that I can’t imagine why anyone would have something against them.”

“Okay, I'll bite. How many times have you heard they actually ate someone?”

“Well, there was this one time–“

“–in what, like, 1997?”

“That bear killed two people and wounded three more!”

“But it still happened more than two decades ago. People die from many things much more often.” Like car crashes, Anakin remembered solemnly. “But they’re terrifying. I can’t argue with that.”

Obi-Wan just kept staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “What?” Anakin asked after a few more seconds of silence.

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan said and shrugged. “It’s just that seeing you here and talking to you about black bears is not something I’d ever imagined we’d be doing.”

I never imagined we’d be seeing each other again at all, Anakin thought but didn’t say. “Disappointed?”

“What? No, not at all. Just surprised. I mean, where is the boy that dreamed of building his own motorcycle one day?”

Anakin’s heart swelled. He couldn’t believe Obi-Wan actually remembered that. “I still built it. And before you ask, yes, I've taken a few people for a ride, and no, no one has died so far and I'm yet to hear a complaint."

"You did always have a hard time paying attention when people were telling you something you didn't wish to hear."

"Really? You sure it wasn't just you?"

“Oh, yes. Me and Shmi had a lot to talk about after all. How is she, by the way?”

Anakin’s shoulders slumped at that, considering not telling the truth for only a second before dismissing the idea entirely. He’d always had a very limited ability to lie to Obi-Wan, there was no reason to try to learn better now when it was most likely this meeting was a one-time thing. “She’s… she died. Two years ago. Car accident.”

Obi-Wan visibly deflated at that. “Oh, Anakin, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s…,” Anakin trailed off, failing to finish that sentence because even after two years of mourning her it was definitely not fine. But he should be used to losing people by now. He’d lost Obi-Wan a decade ago, then her. It should be easy to talk about it, yet it was anything but.

“How about we sit? Can I buy you a coffee?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes so full of concern Anakin shied away from them. He didn’t need the pity.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he said.

“What, buy a coffee for my best friend whom I haven’t seen in ten years, who’s also the sole reason I actually have some money to speak of? It’s the least I can do.”

Well, when he put it that way. “Okay,” Anakin said and Obi-Wan’s whole face lit up so much it took a second for Anakin to realize he was being beckoned to follow.

“But I’m warning you, the coffee here is shit.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse.”

Anakin made it his mission to remind him of those words the moment they sat down a few minutes later and Obi-Wan took his first sip. “You were saying something?” he asked, the tips of his lips turning into a smug smile.

“I think I wouldn’t wish this coffee on my worst enemy,” Obi-Wan let out, staring at his cup, horrified.

Anakin burst out laughing, almost choking on the terribly bitter liquid in his mouth. “Not even on Cupcake?”

“I fear someone would accuse me of torturing animals if I tried giving this to him.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, the aspiring history teacher and a torturer of animals. You’d have one hell of a resume.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, amused. “Is it really so obvious?”

“That you became the one thing you feared becoming the entire time we were in high school? Maybe a little.”

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that I feared studying history."

"You continuously harassed me, talking about esters, and every time you saw me eating almonds, you complained about it so much I had to eat them in secret."

"Wait, you didn't tell me that–"

"–They're nuts people tend to eat, Obi-Wan. Not a fucking lily-of-the-valley."

"They're still poisonous and could harm you–"

"–When you eat, what, like four cups of them in one sitting? Yeah, I remember, but you see, no one really eats that many almonds in one sitting. Ever."

"Fair point," Obi-Wan said with a grin and shook his head. "Was I really so intolerable?"

No, you were perfect, and every day felt like an agony because I couldn't tell you that. "No– I mean, no more than usual," Anakin said and smirked when Obi-Wan glared at him.

"Well," he said after taking a sip and forming a profound grimace on his face that still made Anakin's heart stutter, because God, how had he become so beautiful– "I suppose we're not all destined to surprise. I don't know what led you to find your place here, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't suit you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. After all, I doubt there are many places you can find so many individuals who have the same flair for the dramatic as you," Obi-Wan said and Anakin kicked his leg with little strength in retaliation just like they would do to each other when they'd been kids. Obi-Wan laughed through it with him and chased after Anakin's leg under the table, bumping it and then keeping it there, touching so faintly a part of Anakin felt tempted to look under the table, to check whether he wasn't imagining it.

They stayed there even after they finished drinking that horrendous coffee. Each time one of them opened their mouths, Anakin expected that moment to be the one that would inevitably break the spell and show that, while seeing each other was nice, amazing, fucking everything, they'd still had a decade to catch up on and most of the time, it came naturally not to find the will or reason to live up to that. But no such moment came. They talked and talked and talked about everything and nothing until they heard someone clear their throat next to them.

"I see you've gotten cozy," Ahsoka said with a knowing smile. Anakin wanted to shrink from it. "Lucky for you, Mr. Windu left early today. Otherwise, you'd be in for having to find another job."

Anakin scoffed but stood up and Obi-Wan followed suit, coming to stand beside the blonde woman he'd come here with. His girlfriend? Wife? Mother of his child? Don't be ridiculous, Anakin, if they had a child, they would have brought them here. Maybe she was expecting?

"Who would be dealing with Cory and the others? Mr. Windu himself?" he asked and Ahsoka laughed at the idea. "Hopefully, we'll never have to find out," she said and soon after that, introductions were made. Anakin introduced her to Obi-Wan, ignoring the pointed glee on her face when she heard they used to be best friends once upon a time but utterly failing not to groan repeatedly when she asked Obi-Wan to share all the embarrassing stories about Anakin he could recall and when Anakin saw him smirk, he could definitely tell that meant he remembered a lot.

Obi-Wan introduced him to Satine, saying they'd met in college and come to the States together. Anakin had no reason to deflate at that. Obi-Wan had never been his and after all those years, there really was no reason to hope that might change, but he couldn't help any of it and it was a near thing that he actually let it show. Thankfully, he didn't have to pretend his indifference for long.

"I'm afraid we really should get back to work," Ahsoka said. "Our boss might be already gone, but some of our four-legged friends here can get even crankier than him and that's saying something."

"Right, of course, we won't keep you," Obi-Wan said and smiled at her. "It was a pleasure to meet you." Then he turned to look at Anakin and the world seemed to stop for just a second as Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it and pursed his lips before parting them again. "It was nice to see you, Anakin. I'm glad we did this." And he motioned toward the empty cups left idly on the table, not a grimace to be found on his face. "I hope we'll get a chance to do it again someday."

"Sure, why not," Anakin said with a smile and shrugged, hoping it showed none of his barely restrained glee and utter hope that yes yes yes, they would absolutely do this again and soon. He had to keep his cool. It was the polite thing to say and as much as Obi-Wan had always been prone to never keep any snarky comments just to himself, he was still the epitome of politeness and there was no reason for Anakin to cling onto this small sentence that could so easily turn into a lie, an empty promise no one should expect to be fulfilled because it had been ten years. Even if this first meeting went well, what guarantee was there, that the other would go the same way?

"You know where to find me," he added as an afterthought before his brain could stop him. "I'm not going anyway." He meant it to sound casual, friendly, teasing even, but of course that he hadn't thought of the implications and only realized his mistake a moment too late when Obi-Wan's kind smile froze and faltered before he schooled it into a pleasant expression. The smile was there, but it wasn't the same. It was guarded and no longer bright and Anakin hated himself for causing such a drastic change. I'm not going anywhere, unlike someone else I know– he hadn't meant for it to sound like that!

"I didn't mean to–" he hurried to explain, but Obi-Wan waved him off with a smile. Anakin hated that smile.

"It's alright."

"No, it's– I'm sorry–"

"You have nothing to be sorry for–"

"Can we just...," Anakin trailed off, faltering and struggling time and time again to find the right words. He didn't want to talk about this now. He didn't want to talk about it ever period. But he desperately wanted to keep talking to Obi-Wan even if it turned out to be for nothing in the end. If they turned out to be too different to ever rekindle their friendship. If this was the price, then he was willing to thrust everything he had at it.

Obi-Wan stared at him, eyes sad and calculating before a familiar glint of determination flickered in the endless stormy sea Anakin always wanted to drown in. "Are you free tomorrow after work?"

It came as such a shock to Anakin, that it took him a moment to answer. "Uh, yeah, I get off at five."

"Meet me after? We can go for a coffee or–"

"Yeah," Anakin said with much more vigor. Yes... please.

"Alright, I'll text you."

"Okay."

And that appeared to be that. Even if Anakin's heart refused to stop hammering for what seemed like an eternity after they said goodbyes.

"Okay, that was... weird," Ahsoka said before turning to look at him and frowning. "Are you alright?"

Anakin eyed her before clearing his throat. "Of course, I am. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, so you didn't find anything weird about how you two were so chummy me and Satine felt really bad for barging in, and then you were both... that the next second?"

"That?"

"I don't even have words for it. It was just weird. I thought you said you were best friends."

"We were."

"You didn't part on good terms, then."

"It's not that–"

"He hurt you."

Anakin's eyes widened. "No, it wasn't that. He didn't hurt me.” But he had. And in doing so Anakin had hurt himself.

Ahsoka stared at him, clearly not having a faculty that could believe him, but her scowl was that of a concern rather than offense or disappointment. "Just... promise me you'll be careful."

Because he was at a loss of what was the right thing to say, he said what came naturally to him. "Come on, Snips. When have I ever been anything else but careful?"

The smile on her face didn't reach her eyes, but he was thankful when she dropped the subject, and together, they ventured forward, still having some things to do before their shift was over. But even as Anakin kept his head in the game, whenever his hands were empty, he'd find them reaching for his phone even if only for just a second simply because it now stored Obi-Wan's number yet again because Obi-Wan had asked whether they could exchange numbers back when they'd been still drinking that pitiful excuse for a coffee and Anakin had been hopeless to say anything else than a blissful yes.

Was it a good idea to go through with this? The feelings were still there, strong as ever much to his dismay, and he hadn't had to hide them for so long that guarding himself around Obi-Wan no longer seemed natural. But then he remembered how it felt to be immersed in those moments of utter peace when they were just talking and there was no sword hanging above his head. It was just them, being friends so effortlessly as if they'd never stopped.

He wanted that back. And if he was going to build up another strain for his heart to get that, then so be it.

#obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #my fic #obikin fic #obi wan x anakin #mindy's writing #my zoo fic #star wars prequels

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recovery-n-poartry · 2 years

Text

Johnny

Intro

The hardest poems to write are the ones in which I haven’t entirely healed.

This is and will forever be one of those.

Part One

He captivated me from the start.

Drawing me in

The way the ocean gently pulls each wave back to her mouth,

Kissing her softly before releasing her to the shore once again.

His charming smile called my name in a heavenly tune.

He wasn’t the only man to ever call me princess.

But when he did,

He said it like it were the only name suitable for me.

He made me feel as though it were true.

He spoke it in a tone so soft, it made me melt to match its consistency.

Overlooking Pine Island Sound

Together

For the first time

Late at night

It felt as though the world had stopped its dizzying motion and time stood still.

For years after that,

There would be a bouquet of grocery store flowers on our kitchen bar for me.

I would learn what it meant to be half of the plural pronouns.

No longer was it mine and me.

Soon, it became ours and we.

We would watch the sunset on the boat as often as we could.

We would skinny-dip our way around one island after another.

We would make love off the coast of our favorite island.

And we would lose sight of the world.

The waves would encompass our love as they washed gently towards us,

Seemingly pulling us closer together with each swell.

The sky was a distant memory when all that was visible was water and skin.

Our home was wherever we were together.

Our dogs were our babies.

The ocean was our playground.

We came home to one another’s embrace.

He was mine.

I was his.

All was well.

Part Two

Our story did not end with “Happily ever after...”

Our story,

It ended as passionately as it began.

With fire on our tongues and desperation in our bellies,

We tore each other apart, one piece at a time.

Rage replaced our language of love.

Yet, it was not long before we discovered where we were best fit.

Our and we collapsed back to mine and me.

I call our breakup, “the dark days”

Let’s not talk about the dark days.

Instead, let’s talk about the countless times

My depression led me back to his arms.

Bawling for life to leave me behind,

I would dissolve in his arms.

I would give away my grief to my lover turned best friend.

And he would hold it.

He would hold me.

Both he and I knew that the days of we were over

Yet, the love lived on.

And that is to say,

Our love never died.

It transformed into the purest of friendships.

Where I loved to watch as he fell in love again.

He taught me how to have the courage to lean in for the first kiss

in my next relationship.

He held my hand as I told him I was pregnant and scared,

Knowing it wasn’t his child.

He held my entire body as I shook with sorrow

From the following miscarriage.

He was my rock.

I was his hard place.

There was nothing in between.

Part Three

I’m listening to Rudy Francisco’s reading of Drowning Fish

When a line grabs ahold of me,

“Aren’t they built to survive in that environment?”

And I think of him.

And the way he died.

The propeller stole the air from his lungs,

Replacing it with the same water that once bathed us in love.

Two men on the boat

With deceit in their hearts.

I was not there.

I could not stop them.

Part Four

There’s only one way I knew how to face a grief so strong and overbearing.

Drown it.

I hurt myself today,

to see if I still feel.

With each dive of the plunger,

My pain seemed to vanish.

I focus on the pain,

the only thing that’s real.

Give it a few hours.

It would be back with vengeance.

The needle tears a hole.

This mad cycle only worsened with time.

The old familiar sting.

Draining the life from me with each shot.

Try to kill it all away.

Intentionally pushing my doses, larger and larger.

But I remember everything.

Only to wake up to the same hell I passed out in.

Drowning the pain never seemed to work.

No matter how high the cliff,

I landed on my feet.

The hospitals never seemed to help,

Their only goal to regain consciousness.

Suicide is a door

I’ve grown too accustomed to knocking on.

A door that’s empty on either side.

#poetry #grief #poem #original #reading #prose #romance #poets on tumblr #TianaGoodwinPoetry #Tiana #TianaGoodwin

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kiwibirb1 · 11 days

Note

Hestia felt nervous. Sure, she felt nervous at her last prom too, but not Going To Prom As A Girl nervous. With a date! Sure, she knew Sonia liked her, and they had great chemestry, from all those months they spent fighting crime with each other on the same team. Secret identities and all that junk. But what if it was a friendly date, or worse, a pity one?! Bad Hestia, focus on the mirror to avoid looking like a member of KISS, no matter how awesome Tyler says they are.

Now, she was wearing a blue prom dress, and putting on makeup. Sonia offered Hestia some space to put her makeup on, seeing as having your roommate/date could potentially worsen her already worsening nerves. Sonia told her she was going to change in Revna's dorm. Revna and Sonia had plans for their clothes if Revna didn't feel like a girl on the D-day, which happened to be the case. Hestia made a mental note of they/them for Revna when Sonia sent her a message.

After listening to some banging music to calm her nerves, because She was going to prom with Sonia Pines, oh my god, she's so cool, and she's just Hestia, I'm gonna mess this up-

Knock knock knocking on Hestia's door.

"You done?"

"Yeah."

Wow! She actually managed not to stutter! Maybe there is hope- oh god, Sonia is wearing a suit. Brain shortcircuiting, sapphic.exe stopped working. The only coherent thought in her mind is, Oh my god, my face is going to melt my makeup.

"Wow."

That wasn't her voice, was it? Wait...

"You look so pretty, I... wow."

If you could get high on euphoria, Hestia figures she was the biggest stoner in the world.

Sonia's suit was a dark purple, over a black shirt and a purple tie.

"It was my dad's. Grandpa kept it, asked if I could wear it to prom. I like to think dad would like that."

She offered a hand to Hestia.

The music was loud, Sonia winced and sent a quick message to Hestia to tell her she has to put headphones to deal with it. She waited for Hestia to nod to put them on. Sonia smiled, and took Hestia to the snack bar, to fill up on food. Sonia then put a soda can in her left pocket.

"Men and their pockets." Sonia said smiling at Hestia, who couldn't help but laugh, as she hd to get used to crappy pockets.

As the slow dance started, Sonia asked Hestia if she could put her hands on her waist, not before flipping off some transphobes.

They made their way outside.

"Is it as magical as people say it is in fiction?" asked Sonia, putting her soda can on her forehead to cool off.

"Way more akward."

"I don't mind being akward with you."

Welp. If Hestia had any doubts she was in love with Sonia, these doubts just got demolished like one of these hot dogs with mustard, pickles and onions Sonia likes.

Sonia put her hand on Hestia's. She got closer. It was happening. Oh my god.

Sonia looked as nervous as Hestia felt.

"Can I?..."

Hestia nods.

Their lips meet, and Hestia melts. So that's what kissing is supposed to feel like. Sure she enjoyed kissing her first girlfriend, but with Sonia, she was just girl, kissing her girlfriend-

"Girlfriends? As in the lover kind?" asked Sonia, nervously.

"As in the lover kind." said Hestia, before starting kissing Sonia again.

THE GAYSSSSSSSSSSS

#asks #sonia pines #I REMEMBERED TO TAG IT

0 notes

neo-shitty · 2 years

Text

do i wanna know — l.jn

description. in which the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

pairings: lee jeno x female reader

genre. smut, slight pining, slight fluff, university!au(-ish), just a typical bad boy-good girl!au

warnings. swearing, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, hair-pulling, slight nipple play, messy sex, oral (m&f receiving), aftercare

word count: 10.4k

playlist: do i wanna know. (the only thing i loved abt writing this)

notes. there was an impulse to repost this yesterday, just in time too. happy jeno day! also i fucking hate this but i hope y’all won’t goodbye

“You have 1 new match.”

The notification sat atop others even long after the thread of flirty messages you’ve exchanged, the last few revealing your location and his final message—the ‘on my way’ haunting you for the past few minutes. The wait was always a double edged sword; you either got stood up or you’d end up having a night you’d simultaneously want to both remember and forget.

There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, the churn as you downed one shot after. You’ve always had your life planned out before you, whether it be by your parents’ hand or by your own. Somewhere along the line of your second year in university, a chain of uncharted events started happening, derailing every plan you had beforehand and throwing your life into complete chaos. Saying you were lost was an understatement. You were sure you planned your life well enough to avoid all further delays in your career. But one particular prick, a spawn of Satan himself, who came in the form of your Chemistry professor, lived just to make everything harder than they were initially.

And you hated her, but you couldn’t tell her that or they’d be kicking your sorry ass goodbye for the semester. But it seemed like she was telepathic anyway, because when your grades were released at the end of the term, yours missed the passing grade by a few points—making you kiss your dean’s lister dreams goodbye.

It took you a while to internalize that you were now a semester behind your initial plan, your plan of a perfect life pushed back by months on some parts and whole years on others. So you say ‘fuck it’, storming out of your apartment and so began the string of impulsive decisions.

Maybe making decisions half sober wasn’t the best idea but it’s unfathomable to think that the best way to cope with an already derailed plan in life? Was to make even more impulsive decisions that would further worsen the situation via your favorite escape plan—drinking the daylights out of yourself and wishing you’d still make your way home. At the very least, you’d give yourself a pat on the back for making it back alive from an outrageous night and give yourself a false sense of hope that you still had control of the things despite everything going haywire around you.

So when you find yourself at a bar on a school night, where (former) straight-A-overachiever girls like you shouldn’t be, it tips the universe’s balance.

It was obvious that your presence created a stir at the bar. AM was the closest spot to your campus, sitting right at the edge of the radius where alcoholic beverages weren’t allowed to be sold. It was typical; low ceilings, dim lights, smokey haze, alive with the hum of music and the chatter of alcohol laced individuals moving about. A pool table sat at one end of the room and booths sat on the other. Directly in your path was the bar and the empty chair you envisioned yourself spending the rest of the night on. It wasn’t everyday that someone who wasn’t a regular walked into AM and that alone got everyone’s attention—curious glances and hungry stares.

You find out about the latter first when someone finds their way to the elevated seat beside you, with more intentions of getting in your jeans than just getting to know more about you. Your clutch on your phone tightens, regret settling in when you’re finally on the spot you got yourself into. One night, you thought the whole time, listening as the man went about to brag about a life you didn’t give a fuck about. Hook ups were supposed to be relieving. This wasn’t the slightest bit relieving.

Your head spins with the smallest of gestures, so you avoid turning your head and looking around. You’re struggling to find the right words to tell him off and the seconds seem to drag on forever up until someone interrupts from behind you.

“She’s with me.”

You turn your head, vision lagging until you finally face the voice’s owner. Whoever he was, he didn’t look back at you. But he had his phone screen facing you, the familiar match notification right beneath his phone’s analog clock—the very same one you had. He doesn’t acknowledge you first, not even sparing a glance. Instead, he keeps his gaze locked with the man beside him.

“Do you want me to repeat myself?” he asks. His voice is bone-chilling, almost threatening.

The other man looks back, stoic and unmoving, but when the other boy doesn’t back down he falters eventually. Clicking his tongue, he slides off the seat. “Next time you won’t be so lucky, Lee Jeno.” Your eyes follow him as he beelines past the crowd of spectators still looking your way, then out through the exit.

You sighed in relief when he was finally out of the bar and out of sight.

“What’s the school’s golden girl doing at a place like this?” Jeno asks, taking the previous man’s place on the seat beside you.

Behind the counter, the bartender catches his eye and rushes over to pour him a drink, wordless. He presses the cigarette wedged between his fingers on an ashtray, lonely orange sparks dulling into nothing but grey ash and tossed aside. He keeps a respectful distance from you, not too far that you couldn’t hear him over the music, but not close enough to touch. His name rings in your head with familiarity, aware that he was someone who went to the same schools you did, but your thoughts were too hazy to pinpoint when you’d exactly been acquainted.

“The school’s golden girl needs some stress relief because she’s this close,” you raised two fingers, bringing them together but not letting them touch each other, “to dropping out.”

His chuckle is a low rumble out his mouth. “I never pegged you for the type who relieved stress like this,” he says, raising his phone with your exchange of flirtatious messages on the screen.

You weren’t listening anymore. Your thoughts are a flurry of drunken thoughts and impulses. But one thing remained rooted: you wanted to stop worrying about your academic problems for tonight—even just for tonight. So when you lean forward, pressing your lips against his own, Jeno flinches. The kiss came with a force similar to a headbutt’s—a literal smack—and you have a feeling that your bottom lip was torn but you were too scared to check. Sober you would have been appalled by your own actions, pulling you by the hair and dragging you out the bar. Yet you downed an entire bottle by yourself tonight and it was well beyond your capacity but you were that desperate to get the problem out of your head.

Jeno was the one who pulled away, one hand on either side of you to keep you propped up. He doesn’t push you too hard nor too far away, just enough to create a gap between your face and his.

You try to pry your eyes open but he’s nothing but a blur of abstract shapes that seem to change colors every now and then. He, on the other hand, was staring down at you, noticing the faint trace of tears staining your cheeks and your plump lips that had been on his just a few moments ago. He watched your eyes flutter open and shut every now and then but ultimately remaining closed.

Pretty, he thought. You’ve always been pretty in his eyes, even when he could only watch you from afar. You were way out of his league just as much as you thought that he was out of yours. That was the case for being on opposite ends of the same spectrum. You were ambitious and clever; consistently at the top of your class even when you were both younger. You had your life planned out and Jeno wasn’t even sure if he’d make it home the next day.

He had always been content with admiring you from afar—catching a glimpse of you through the doorway when he’d pass by your lecture hall, watching you eat lunch with your friends on the school grounds, just always from a distance and never up this close. But as much as he wanted to feel your lips on his again, it felt wrong.

Snapping himself out of the trance, he shakes his head as if it would magically make the blood rushing to his cheeks disappear.

“Yep, no babe. You’re drunk,” Jeno says, turning your chair so you’d be facing the bar again but keeping a hand on your arm so you wouldn’t fall over.

“I’m not,” you slurred.

A deep chuckle bubbled out of Jeno’s lips, “That’s exactly what a drunk person would say. I’m taking you home.”

“No.”

You say it firmly before you lose the battle of trying to stay awake. Your head falls straight to the counter but it never hits the cold, hard marble. His hand rushes up to catch you, your face hitting his warm hand instead. A glass bottle wobbles, nearly knocked off the counter before his other hand reaches over to grab it.

Thank God for fast reflexes, Jeno thought. At least it’d be easier to take you home without having to argue with you.

You wake up for a moment on the bus ride home, your neck feeling sore from leaning on Jeno’s shoulder but it was better than hitting your head against the glass window every time the bus turned into a new street. Jeno had a hand pressed lightly against your cheek to keep your head from falling off his shoulder. You wanted to thank him for doing you such a favor but the bus’ movement only made you more nauseous than you already were.

By the time you reached the bus stop nearest to your place, the world around you was no longer spinning. Your head still throbbed and your neck felt stiff from leaning too long but thankfully you’ve sobered up to walk on your own.

“Which one is it?” Jeno asked and you pointed at your door as you walked down the hallway of your apartment complex.

He walked you over with his hand still gripping your arm. He wasn’t tugging you harshly nor dragging you to your apartment door. He simply kept his hand there so you wouldn’t accidentally trip and fall over.

“Jeno,” you said when you reached your door. Jeno turned and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks and I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“T’was nothing,” he assured you. “Next time you drop by AM, don’t go alone. Okay?”

The lock dings as you punch your keycard in. You pushed your door open just enough to let yourself in. You turn around to shut the door behind you but Jeno jams the door with his boot. You find yourself staring up at him.

“Don’t go back there alone, okay?” he said sternly. His eyes find yours and for the first time the whole night, you get a clear look at him even when the hallway lights made your eyes sting with their brightness.

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a half-drunk half-sober you responded with, “Why? Wouldn’t you be there to save me again?”

He raised an amused brow, staring back at you for a few moments before stepping away from the doorway, never breaking eye contact until you closed the door between you.

You didn’t need to be around long to know who Lee Jeno was.

Back in high school, his name would come up often on the school’s intercom; something about setting an alarm off or bringing alcohol on campus or cutting classes to take his bike out for a spin at the school’s basketball court. You’d hear him walk down the corridors with his footsteps echoing the empty hall as he heads for the school head’s office for the nth time that month alone. He doesn’t come back and eventually things would go quiet. You’d end up believing that they’d gotten rid of him this time. Only to find out a week later that he’d gotten away with it yet again.

Jeno was everything you were taught not to be when you were younger. The boy, more often seen at the bar than inside the walls of a classroom, was known enough that nearly everyone knew a tale about him or two. He was often the talk of the campus and for all the wrong reasons. Surprisingly, he’s more praised for his acts than the opposite.

He was everything you were taught to avoid ever since you were a child but you figured that was easier to say than to carry out, especially when he’s the one who draws closer.

What you had with Jeno? Frankly, you couldn’t answer it either. All you could think about was that night at AM and how things have never been the same since then.

He’d been coming up a lot more than usual. In the back of the lecture hall, across the cafeteria, at the end of the hallway, everywhere. You’re unsure if he had always been there and you’ve only noticed his presence now, or he had never been there at all but he was now. At the car park, in the next class, or just somewhere all the damn time, lingering in the back of your mind and stuck with you like a shadow.

Then he was joining you at your lunch table on the days your friends’ classes overlapped your lunch break, walking you back to your place on the nights you’d stay past sundown at the university library and did all the miniature things that collectibly left a huge impact on you.

But he never said anything about it.

After lunch he’d leave just as quick as he came. When he walks you home, he’d turn around and walk away the second you’re inside. No texts, no calls. Just constantly popping in and out of your life whenever it was convenient for him. He never made it clear what his intentions were, nor what he was doing this for.

With Jeno there was no certainty, as opposed to everything that ever happened in your life. You’re unsure whether he’d stick around for long or disappear the next day. Spontaneous, just as you were that night, and fucking unpredictable. He’d grown on you, you couldn’t deny it. And the surge of emotions you felt welling in your chest whenever he so much as caught your eye in the middle of a crowded hallway, wasn’t something you liked feeling—especially if it was one-sided.

A toss coin dictates your fate on one girl’s night at the end of the semester. The neck of the wine bottle had ended up in your direction for the first time that night and your friends didn’t miss out on the opportunity to ask the big questions.

“So, you and Jeno huh?”

The saucy question is followed by a series of ‘oohs’ and scootches closer, all eager to hear the bit of gossip their friend had been keeping from them.

You feel your blood rush to your cheeks, “I’ve told you a hundred times before, there’s nothing going on between us.”

“You kiss him on one of your drunken adventures without us, he takes you home, he starts acting differently after that and there’s nothing going on between you?” your friend asked, arms crossed in front of her in impatience.

“Nope.”

“Nope or you never asked him?”

You don’t give her an answer. Your silence was enough.

She clicked her tongue, “That’s what I thought. My friend, what you’re playing is a waiting game.”

You sipped a bit of your drink, grimacing at the flavor before saying, “Isn’t he supposed to make the first move?”

“College isn’t a time to be modest, kid. When you see an opportunity, you shoot your shot,” she said as she made a finger gun pointed at another friend of yours, fired, and watched the latter dramatically fall over. “I can’t handle seeing you confused over something crystal clear. You’re supposed to be the smart one here”

“Alright, that’s it,” the latter said, setting her drink back down on the floor of the apartment before fishing out a coin from her pocket. “Heads or tails?”

You purse your lips before taking your pick. “Tails.”

“Heads, you head to AM right now and ask him what the fuck is going on between the both of you. Tails, you get to go on with your little waiting game and we won’t pester you about it any longer.”

Before you have the chance to react, the coin was already doing backflips in mid-air.

‘See ‘ya’ was the last thing your friends said when they dropped you off at AM that night. It was a mistake to wear such short clothing on a chilly night. It was a mistake to even be there at all. The air was frigid when you got off, sending goosebumps all over the skin the breeze touched. You tugged your coat closer to your body to preserve the last bits of warmth from the car.

The two-storey building stood before you. The signage—a heartbeat monitor line shaped to make the letters A and M—gleamed brightly overhead. From where you stood, you could hear the music from inside along with the faint laughter of the customers. You pursed your lips, a mannerism you often did when you were caught in a dilemma. Head in or freeze to death.

You didn’t want to die tonight.

Jeno lived on the second floor, which explained why he was seen here more often than elsewhere and why he was your closest match that night. You make a beeline through the crowd and head to the stairwell at the far corner of the bar. The music grew fainter as you climbed up each step, your own heartbeat now loud enough to drown out everything else.

You’ve thought about this night countless times before but now that you were finally here, you couldn’t figure out whether you had too much or too little to say. You wanted to confront him, wanted to ask him to stop confusing you, wanted to confess to him that you were catching feelings, wanted to know if he felt the same way. But you couldn’t find the right words to say it.

Hi, that night was a mistake.

Hi, what am I to you?

Hi, what the fuck do you want from me?

Hi, I think I’m catching feelings for you. Do you feel the same way?

I hope we can both forget about it and you would respect my wishes that you leave me alone. That made sense, you thought, but you might as well leave now instead of pushing through with this ridiculous plan. The point of the whole expedition was to coax the truth out of him, not pile up on the mountain of lies.

No matter how much you denied it, you didn’t want Jeno to leave you alone at all. In fact, you were hoping you’d get some sort of assurance that he’d be sticking around. It was a long shot but you wanted to give it a try.

‘That night was a mistake.’ My ass.

The thing about mistakes was that you normally wouldn’t want to repeat them. Yet, if you had the chance to do-over the past few weeks since that fateful night with Jeno, you’d do it all over again without the slightest hesitation. And in the do-over, the confrontation would be a lot earlier.

You asked yourself when you had become so bold.

You knock thrice, knuckles shaking as they struck the wood. The deafening music from when you entered the bar was nothing but a series of muted beats that shook the floor beneath you. Time stilled as you stood alone in the hallway, your heartbeat erratic and your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t hear you? Was it too soon to knock again.

But your eagerness consumed you, anxiousness at its peak. You couldn’t wait a second longer. The door opens before your fist lands another time and you look up to a familiar face but not the one you were expecting. Donghyuck stood by the doorway with his hand still on the doorknob, leaning against the doorframe as if to block both your view and your way. And to top it all off, he had his brow arched.

You shrug it off. “Is Jeno home?” The demand slips before you could give it any more thought and as the question hangs in the air between you, you think you’re overstepping.

Donghyuck whistled, “Why so serious?” You don’t ignore him out of your snobbish attitude, you were just too unnerved to joke around. “Yeah, he’s inside with the others. Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

Thankfully, he didn’t feel like meddling in other people’s affairs tonight so he lets you off with no more than a grin. Better that than lengthy questioning.

“Jeno Lee!” he calls, “______’s here.”

Donghyuck pushes the door open further and you finally see everyone else. They were all seated on the sofa, eyes fixed on the game on the TV screen. Only Jeno turns to look at you, his side glance enough for you to rethink your decision.

“Come in,” he says, turning his whole body around so he could rest his chin on the sofa’s back.

Your heart leaps to your throat when you catch him looking at you back. He had one eyebrow arched in amusement and a sly smirk. He patiently waited for you to enter but you didn’t, too nervous to move an inch. Overstepping again, literally this time.

When you still don’t move after a few seconds, mouth opening every now and then only to close it, he turns to his friends. “Alright, boys. Get out.”

At first, they didn't acknowledge him. For someone who owned the place, he didn’t look like he had that much authority. Or at least, that’s how they made it seem. When he told them he meant it, they finally stirred.

Someone speaks up from one of the couches, eyes still glued to the screen, thumb pushing the joystick. “Why don’t the both of you talk it out outside?”

Another boy sits up, kicking the other boy before taking the controller out of his hands. Jaemin, you recognized, sets it down on the center table. “Let’s go.”

“But I just sat back down,” Donghyuck complained.

This time, Jeno is the one who gives him a look. He knows not to cross him, so he purses his lips and gets off the couch. On their way out, the three spared you a few greetings. Some smiled (Donghyuck with a playful grin, Jaemin with a friendly one) while the other didn’t hide their disapproval as he walked past you (Renjun, controller robbed). You shrug it off.

When they finally disappear down the stairwell, you took your first step in.

“You didn’t need to ask them to leave,” you said when you shut the door behind you.

Jeno kept his eyes on you, “As if you’d say a thing if they were here.” He chuckled and you looked down—he was right. You couldn’t even say anything to him alone. How much more if he had company? “Why the sudden visit?” he asked.

His question hung in the air for some time. First, because you were busy taking in the surroundings. His apartment’s base color was white with accents of grey and black which contrasted AM’s dark gloomy atmosphere downstairs. It was twice as large as your apartment and you even shared yours with 4 other people. Second, you didn’t know what to say. Gone were all the dialogues you had planned. For a moment, you even forgot why you were there in the first place.

You stood there in awkward silence, clutching your coat tighter even when it wasn’t that cold in his apartment. You were nervous and conscious and seeing Jeno staring at you from a few feet away made it worse. You can feel him growing more impatient by the second. In the back of your head you could hear him say, ‘If you have nothing good to say, stop wasting my time.’ It was embarrassing in itself. Even more so when he made his friends leave just to accommodate you. You remember Renjun’s death glare in the back of your mind.

You had to start somewhere. All of this started somewhere.

“About that night,” you said but you trailed off eventually.

The confrontation scene was a lot better in your head. It was easier to plan out than to carry out. In your mind, it was smart and quick-witted. Out loud, you sounded awfully ridiculous. Heck, you couldn’t even get past the first three words.

Jeno scoffed, “What? Are you gonna tell me that night was a mistake and we should just forget about it?” he paused, catching the moment you looked up to meet his gaze. “Hmm?”

Your mind short-circuits at his reply, flinching, the same way it would whenever you were up on a podium of a presentation. But there’s only one pair of eyes staring at you and yet somehow it was enough to strike the fear a hundred would. They were Jeno’s and he stared at you like you were see through, and no amount of effort to cover up would keep you hidden from him. You part your lips to say nothing, your words falling short at the back of your throat—they don’t even hang on the tip of your tongue.

“Because clearly you haven’t.”

Finally, he looked away. You wanted to sigh in relief but the room was quiet enough that he’d hear a pindrop. Even then, with what little pride you had to spare, you didn’t want him to see just how much leverage he had over you, to see how his sly tactics worked. You tried to keep yourself together, putting up a strong front with the lack of eye contact. “Not with you popping in and out of my life every now and then. What’s up with that?”

He rose off the couch. His upper body was devoid of any clothing so when he stretched from sitting too long, it was hard to keep your eyes off of him. He was lean but he kept his body in condition. He winded his shoulders, flexing the muscles on his back and on his upper arm. You looked away when he turned.

“So you noticed?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice and you feel your cheeks heat up. He caught you. “Don’t be too conscious, you’re free to look. Promo’s exclusive to you.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention elsewhere. “Fuckboy,” you uttered under your breath. “Who wouldn’t notice?”

“You seemed like you didn’t,” he answered, cleaning up the mess the boys left behind. “Ignoring me when everyone else was looking.”

The teasing was relentless but you were growing impatient too. “I don’t have time for this, Jeno. What the hell do you want?”

“You.”

When you spun around he was leaning against the kitchen counter, loading the plates into the dishwasher beneath it. He still had a smirk plastered on his lips and it frustrated you. He countered every question you had with words that would turn the tables on you. You came here to do the questioning but it felt more like you were on the hot seat. You were wandering in uncharted waters like a lost boat in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle. You were aware of the danger but you were letting your curiosity get the better of you. Like walking a tightrope with unstable harnesses, like a moth drawn to flickering candle light.

“I’m serious,” you dismissed him.

“So am I.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Jeno laughed like it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. “And you like me anyway.”

You bit your lip, glad you had your back turned to him or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were getting. “What makes you so sure?”

“The fact that you’re here in my room confronting me about it,” he answered. “If I didn’t have any sort of effect on you, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

“My friends made me do this,” you defended yourself.

“But your friends would never make you do something you didn’t want to do.”

The tables have definitely turned now and you didn’t like it. You lost the upperhand, or maybe you never had it in the first place. It was as if he knew all your cards from the start and he took the liberty to excruciatingly drag out the part where he tells you that he’d known everything.

You turned, defeated and embarrassed that you’ve completely fallen into his trap. “Why are you doing this?”

“This?” he asked, his annoying smirk still on his lips. “You’re in my apartment.”

“This, whole thing!” you burst out, throwing your arms in the air in exasperation. “Why did you start acting differently after the kiss? What’s with all the mixed signals? I just came here to ask you why you’re doing all the shit you’re doing because it’s so fucking confusing. Like do you fucking like me or not?”

The million-dollar question slips out of your tongue faster than you can even register it. You’re breathless when you stop talking and you only realize how loud you were talking when the apartment falls silent again.

Across the room, Jeno stashes the last of the glass plates into the dishwasher before kicking the metal door closed. He leaned against the counter with his hands on top to support his upper body. “So you remembered that we kissed?”

It was the last straw for you. You rolled your eyes, “You know what, forget it.” You spun on your heel, marching back the way you came. A part of you wanted to remain calm and pester him until you got the answers you came for. But you were fuming with embarrassment. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking that maybe all those gestures meant something. It obviously didn’t. In fact, you wondered why you never thought that he could’ve done that to a hundred other girls before you.

Stupid.

You reach the door in seconds, grabbing the metal doorknob to swing it open. It opens by a few centimeters before it’s slammed back shut. The knob slips out of your grasp, so you let your arm fall to your side instead of letting it hang awkwardly in midair.

You could feel Jeno behind you, his breath fanning your face ever so slightly. He had one hand pressed against the door.

“Who said you were going anywhere?” he asked.

You turned around to face him, leaning against the door so you’d put some space between the both of you. You tilted your head so you’d manage to look him in the eye, “You wouldn’t answer my questions. What’s the point of staying here?”

Jeno looked down at you. His eyes shifted every now and then as if he were studying your features. You couldn’t help but feel conscious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from either. You found it hard to level your breathing with the proximity. This was the closest he’d ever been since the night you kissed him.

Your cheeks flared up when his skin brushed yours lightly. “Fine, I’ll answer. But answer mine.” He waited for you to nod before he continued. “You remembered that we kissed?”

You remember the feeling of his lips on yours even in your drunken haze. His chapped lips, the scent of burnt cigarettes and the accidental teeth clashing. You would’ve dropped anything to let that night go the way you had originally planned it to. “Yeah.”

Jeno leaned closer and you finally broke eye contact. Your eyes trailed from his lips down to his jawline all the way down to his bare torso. Seeing you flustered made him amused, his lips forming a playful smirk again. He lifts his other hand, running the back of his palm down the side of your face. He traces your jaw with one finger before resting it beneath your chin. He tilts your head up so you’d stare up at him again.

“Do you know that I want a do-over of that night?” he whispered, his voice raspy and low. He stared at you with hooded lids and your heartbeat spikes. The pit of your stomach stirs as you feel your own arousal begin to form. Every mental alarm system you set for yourself to avoid situations like these were blaring. You shouldn’t be here, you should be home. You shouldn’t be turned on by sweet lies.

Yet here you were. You balled your fists to suppress the last bits of your self control. Your fingers were tingling with the need to run them up his bare chest and down his muscled arms. You longed for his touch for way too long to hold back now. You wanted to feel his lips on yours again. You wanted to know what you missed out on.

What was there to lose? Your life was going haywire anyway already. Might as well make the most of it now.

Your response comes before you can ponder too much about it. “And you think I don’t?”

It was his turn to be taken off guard. You see the surprise in his eyes for a moment before they’re clouded again. He wasn’t looking into your eyes anymore.

And like the first time it happened, you pressed your lips on his. This time he doesn’t push you away. It’s when both his hands make their way to the sides of your neck that your lips finally part. He takes the chance to slip his tongue in. The kiss is sloppy and messy, with you just letting him take control. Then he pulls away to let you breathe, but the night was young and he was far from done with you.

Your back hits the back of the door when he kisses you again, his leg slightly forward and wedged between both of yours—parting them slightly. Your hands finally find their way to his body, running them up his chest and feeling the outline of his muscles on your fingertips. You felt Jeno lose his balance when you pulled him closer, pressing deeper into the kiss and groaning. His thigh brushes you where you’re sensitive. Only then do you feel how aroused you were and you mutter a silent prayer he doesn’t prey on the knowledge of it.

But you could already feel him smirking into the kiss, tensing the muscles on his thigh on purpose and making you wobble where you stood. Your legs closed on instinct, but it only made you more pathetic than you’d originally let on.

His hands clutch your coat, pulling it off your body before tossing it aside. His hands run down the side of your body, settling on the curve of your waist to pull you closer. As if you could get any closer than you already were. But no, he pushes you down, and electricity courses across your skin as you grind on his thigh. A moan escapes your lips only for him to catch it before he begins nipping at the skin on your neck.

“Something wrong?” he asked, licking his lips after leaving his first few marks on your neck.

Your own hooded, droopy eyes told him everything. He knew better than to let you walk with how weak your legs were.

“Hop on,” he says and you oblige, wrapping your legs around his lower torso. Your dress lifts and reveals the rest of your thigh that had been hidden earlier. He ran his hand up your thighs, supporting your weight as he carried you somewhere more comfortable. You find yourself burying your face in the crook of his neck, sucking on the skin and leaving your own marks behind. He tilts his head to give you more room and hums—the vibrations reverberating just enough that you feel it on your lips.

When you reach his bedroom, he locks the door behind him. He sets you down a foot away from the edge of the bed. You wobble for a bit before feeling the strength return to your legs. Jeno turned his head suddenly, capturing your lips again. Your head tilts back at the sudden pressure but his hand makes it to the back of your neck again.

You take a step forward and his legs hit the edge of the bed, making him fall onto the mattress behind him. He takes one hand off you to support himself, keeping himself in an upright sitting position. His other hand snakes around your waist as you climb unto him. Your legs were on either side of him—resting on the mattress, while you took your place on his lap.

It’s your turn to smirk when you feel his own struggle beneath you. He groans into the kiss when your clothed mound brushes against his bulge. He pulls away and leans back, taking a moment to admire the view in front of him. You still had your arms hooked around his neck and you looked at him back. There’s a smear of lipstick right where your smirk ended.

Jeno unwinds his arm around your waist to reach for your face, brushing his thumb against the skin where the smear was before he rests it over your lips. You grab his arm, keeping his hand where it is when he tries to retract it. He presses down on your bottom lip, marveling at how soft and plump they are. Your lips part at his touch, his thumb disappearing behind your lips as you suck on it.

You shut your eyes, feigning innocence even when you feel him pulse beneath you and it only heightens your own arousal. You bob your head once, letting his finger go only to catch him looking at you—hypnotized. Feeling cheeky, you kiss his thumb to catch his attention. It works and his eyes finally meet yours.

“You should’ve said you wanted me this bad,” he says ironically, staring at you with hooded eyes.

You raised a brow, “I’m the one who wanted you? I wasn’t the one trying to get your attention.”

“I wasn’t the one who drunkenly kissed you,” Jeno rebuts.

“As you said, I was drunk.”

“Drunken actions are sober thoughts.”

You rolled your eyes before staring down at him again. You run a hand through his hair again before resting it on his shoulder. Pushing down, you lift yourself off his thighs. “Are we really going to argue about this? Don’t you have other problems?” you asked, tilting your head before lowering yourself on him again. He heaves a deep breath in and you catch his eyes rolling back for a moment before he stares at his clothed manhood beneath you. You follow his gaze and see the results of your antics. “Need some help with that?”

Jeno meets your eyes and gives you a wordless nod.

You smile, hopping off the bed. You slip between his legs, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He watches you take your place, tensing when he feels your hand run up his thigh. Your hand doesn’t waste the opportunity to rub him through the material.

Jeno clicks his tongue, “Golden girl’s a fucking tease? That’d make a headline.”

You only replied with a smile, flattered at the side comment. Your hands reach the garter of his sweatpants. Hooking it with two fingers each hand, you drag the material down all the way to his ankles along with his boxers. His member stood tall and erect on his lower abdomen. He wraps a hand around it, moving his hand slowly up and down. White substance leaked through his slit, the beautiful result of your endless teasing from earlier. The sight of it makes your own arousal pool unto your underwear, you worry the whole undergarment is too soiled now to be used later on your way home.

You stifle a laugh and he raises an eyebrow, “Proud?”

You shrug playfully, “Maybe.”

“Now, suck it,” he says nonchalantly which makes you perk up your own brow.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask, resting your arms on either leg of his.

He rubbed his thumb against the slit of his shaft’s head, smearing it with pre-cum which he later brushed on your lip—hinting at the teasing you did earlier. “Sure, you don’t. When he puts his hand away, you lick your lower lip. The substance is salty on your tongue and there’s more of it still leaking out of his member. There will be strings of it if you do him good.

You move closer, lining your face up with the head. Your eyes meet when you look up to see how he looked from where you were. It’s now your hand wrapped around his pulsing member. His pre-cum alone is enough to lubricate your palm, making it easier for you to move your hand up and down. A groan escapes his lips when you run your own thumb on his slit, pressing down on his most sensitive area.

You lap your tongue against the side of his shaft, tasting more of the white substance on your tongue and it makes your mouth water. You reach the tip of his head and he watches eagerly as you part your lips to take him in. His head reels back and a low groan escapes his mouth as you close around him. You feel him at the back of your throat and when you’re close to gagging you pull yourself up, sucking him all the way up with your mouth vacuumed. When your throat recovers, you take him in again, repeating the process while slowly picking up your own momentum.

Jeno’s hand reaches over to you, collecting strands of your hair that fell off your shoulder whenever you lowered your mouth. You mistake it as a sweet gesture—an act of kindness in the midst of the heat—until he gathers all the hair up behind your head to use it as a grip.

He utters your name—his voice coming in the form of a raspy, breathless whisper. You hum in response, slowing down to hear him out. His hand rests idly on top of your head. “If it’s too much let me know.”

You manage to give him a nod and brace yourself for immense hair tugging and relentless pushing on the back of your head so you’ll take his dick faster. But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he tugs once on your hair and keeps you in place—your mouth a mere centimeter away from the end of his dick. Jeno thrusts into your mouth without warning. The tip hits the back of your throat making you gag but it’s gone before your throat can tighten.

“Baby,” he calls out. When you don’t look up immediately, he reaches for your face. His touch is warm against your cool skin. “Can you take it? If you can’t then we’ll stop.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” you answered.

His grip on your hair tightens again but he lets you take him in for a few sucks before he’s thrusting up to meet you every time you bobbed your head. Your fingernails dig into his thighs as he picks up the pace. You feel yourself gagging but your mind is too clouded with Jeno’s groans as his orgasm nears. You feel his thighs begin to shake beneath you, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. He barely gives you any time to breathe anymore but you understand his desperation to release. He thrusts one last time to shoot his load deep in your throat, pushing your head down so you’ll take all of it. But there’s only so much you can take.

The sticky substance drips off the side of your mouth and onto your chest and you look up at Jeno imploringly. But he isn’t looking at you, he had his head leaned back as he relished in his release. His grip on your hair loosens at last and you feel your neck relax. You finally swallow to give your mouth a bit more room before proceeding to suck him again until his senses are back to normal again.

He was still panting when he was made aware of your presence again. You were still licking the sides of his shaft when he tried to get your attention. He tugged you upward when your lips finally left his still-erect member.

“You did so well,” he slurs, barely comprehensible.

The remark you were about the reply is muffled when he pulls you down to kiss you. You nearly fall onto his lap again but you’re able to hold yourself upright. Instead, he guides you onto the mattress. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head, as he lets you fall onto the sheets beside him. He doesn’t break the kiss, not even when your places are flipped.

You were lying on the sheets, back arched until Jeno decided to pull his arm away. You were caged by him—lying between his legs with his hands on either side of the bed beside you. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss.

Jeno’s hands find their way to your body. Your breasts fit snugly in his hands, one for each one. He gives them a squeeze, earning a muffled moan from you. He removes your arms from the back of his neck so he could slip the fabric from your off-shoulder dress off. When he successfully does so, he tugs down on the remaining cloth covering your chest. Your dress is left to rest on your abdomen.

He only breaks the kiss when he starts to move lower. He begins to nip at the skin by your jawline, down your neck, leading down to your collarbones. When his lips finally reach your breasts, he takes his sweet time to play. He takes one in his mouth and the other in his palm. Your back arches off the bed when his tongue flicks your nipple, while his other hand draws circles around the other. The sensation sends goosebumps all over your skin. You feel your arousal drip, you were starting to think you’ve started to stain the sheets now too.

You yearn for contact when his lips leave your body entirely. You feel his hands run down the side of your waist and then your hip. They end up on the ends of your dress and he brings the fabric up, exposing the rest of your thighs that were kept hidden. He catches sight of the growing stain on the thin fabric.

His fingers wander over to where your crotch is. “How long have you been holding this in, hmm?” he asked, pressing his hand down on your folds before rubbing you through the fabric.

You jolt on contact, already feeling sensitive from earlier events. You know Jeno doesn’t plan on stopping your agony any time sooner, not with all the teasing you’ve done earlier. A moan escapes your lips when he starts drawing circles around your nub and Jeno would be lying if he said he didn’t like the sound of it. The cloth rubbing against you was only further soiled by his actions.

The fabric was drenched where he touched it and the thrill of knowing he was the one responsible for the mess you’ve made just made him more excited—evident in the throbbing of his cock even when he’d just released in your mouth.

Your breathing becomes uneven as he stimulates you even more. You find yourself grabbing onto Jeno’s arms, your back arching off the mattress every time he rubbed a bit harder. Your hips move to match his movements, thrusting up to meet him everytime he brings his fingers down further.

“You like that don’t you?” he asked, feeling you throb in his palm.

You were in too much pleasure to even manage to say a single ‘yes’ without moaning. You mumble an ‘mhm’ between breaths in reply.

“Mhm?” he echoes, setting the fabric aside and swiping two fingers through your wet folds. His fingers easily slip through, coated in the substance that’s been gushing out of you since this heated thing started. He continued making circles around your nub—the direct contact making you more dizzy than earlier.

“Jeno.” His name leaves your lips as a moan.

He looks up and one look at you makes the thoughts in his head swirl. You gripped his arms tighter every time he rubbed faster. Your teeth kept your bottom lip clipped between them as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He lifts himself off of you, moving back until his face was right before your core. His hot breath fanned your folds, sending a wave of goosebumps up your body. His lips meet yours. Your breathing hitches on your throat, becoming more and more uneven as his tongue flattens and licks up every bit of your arousal.

“Jeno, please,” you beg as you tried your best not to rub yourself on his open mouth.

“Please what?” he asks, but you don’t get to answer because he licks the most sensitive part of you and your mind goes blank.

He had one finger parting your folds enough to make room for his tongue. Something tells you this wasn’t his first time. Nobody wouldn’t have known that all thrusts and no play wasn’t the way to go with women. His tongue sucks on the skin by your bundle of folds sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. His antics make it hard for you to even have time to breathe.

Your orgasm draws closer with every flick of his tongue against your bud. He notices the way your breathing rushes. Your mouth hangs open, your back arched off the mattress and your hips thrust up but Jeno holds you down.

“Fuck. I’m close.”

He doesn’t answer just licking and sucking just like you had been when you were the one between his legs. Your legs begin to shake as you feel your orgasm ripping through you—a lot more satisfying than usual due to the lengthy build up. Your legs close due to the overstimulation when Jeno doesn’t stop, keeping his face caged between your thighs. He pulls away, gripping your left thigh and kissing it. Your senses were still muffled from your release but you can see his lips moving as if he were saying sweet things.

His hand traces your thigh before he rests it on your mound—red from the simulation and throbbing after your release. He parts your folds with his fingers before pushing two digits into your hole.

Your legs go slack, parting when he pushes further into you. When he pulls out, the white substance from your release follows—dripping down your lips and unto the sheets beneath you. He basks in the sight and the mess he’d made of you.

Jeno comes up to meet you again, wedged between your legs and his member brushing against your thigh as he moves. He turned your head so you’d face him again. He leans down to kiss you, the taste of your own arousal still present on his lips.

The kiss is passionate as opposed to every lust-driven thing that happened prior to it. There is no rash teeth-clashing, just feeling his lips on yours and the occasional slip of his tongue into the area of your mouth. Your limbs hook around him, drawing him closer. The kiss lasts for a while until he notices that you were both running out of air.

He pulls away, looking down at you with drowsy eyes. “I’ve loved you long before you even noticed.”

You fight the urge to make a clever remark—that what you had between you was nothing but an illusion in his head brought about by the hormones triggered while in bed. But you bite your tongue and don’t continue. “If you do, don’t let this night be a night I’ll forget easily, hmm?”

Jeno smirks, reaching for the drawer of his bedside table. His hand scrambles through it for a while until he finds what he was looking for. The way he drew the packet confidently out of its box makes you chuckle.

“Okay, baby. But I don’t want any additional problems.” He brings the packet to his mouth, ripping the wrapper with his teeth before pulling the content out.

“Baby?” you ask, watching him put the condom on himself.

“I’ve been calling you that all night.”

“I like it.”

“Then that’s great. You should get used to it,” he says. Then he aligned himself at your entrance, rubbing his member between your two folds before pushing his tip in. You watch his shaft disappear into you and you feel him inside. He stretches you but he doesn’t move until you've gotten used to his size.

“Why’s my baby clenching all around me? Are you that desperate to be fucked?”

His words make you clench even more, which was pathetic for you and amusing for him. No matter how much you wanted to play the brat, your body completely betrayed you.

“Fuck no,” you answered but as you expected, Jeno doesn’t buy it.

“Mhm,” he says, pulling out halfway before pushing himself back into you.

Your eyes flutter shut, feeling the coming and waning pain of the stretch inside of you as Jeno begins thrusting into you. He starts slow, leaning forward so he could rest on top of you. His hand finds your face and he’s kissing you again—soft, passionate and almost loving. You’re unsure if what you were feeling inside was the build-up of your next orgasm or the butterflies flying about.

He adjusts himself, pushing you up so he could have a better angle when thrusting into you. You moan into the kiss as he reaches untouched spots inside you. His mouth leaves your lips again, sucking on the skin by your jawline all the way down to your neck. The combined sensation of his lips on your skin and his cock deep in you makes you even more sensitive. A moan escapes your lips every time he thrusted in and it just makes him more feral.

He picks up the pace, unhooking your arms from his neck so he could pin them on either side of you. The view makes his mouth water. Your mouth hung open as you moaned his name—loud enough that it bounces off the bedroom walls. Your breasts bounced with every thrust he did. All around you, the room smelt like sweet aroma of sex with the echo of skin against skin muffled by the exchange of grunts and moans.

Jeno lets your hands go and you clutch on to the sheets. He had one hand massaging your breast and the other rubbing his thumb against your nub .

“Jeno,” you breathed out, peering your eyes open for a moment before they flutter shut again as your orgasm drew closer.

“I know,” he pants as his thrusts quicken, “me too.”

The familiar feeling wells in the pit of your stomach once again—like knots tightening with every thrust into you. Toes curling. Heart pounding. Breath, too short and sporadic.

Then it all loosens.

Your mind is the first to register your climax and you let the post-orgasmic feeling of bliss wash over you. Jeno fucks you through it, still thrusting at an alarming speed just so he could catch his own release. He pulls out before it happens, sheathing his cock of the plastic that was once wrapped around it. The hot strings of white spurt out of his slit and onto your dress.

For the second time, you feel your juices spill out of you. You unhook your legs and let them fall unto the mattress, having little to no strength to keep them upright. You were still catching your breath when Jeno shuffled around you.

“_____,” he calls out to you.

You open one eye with all the strength you can muster but your eyelid already threatens to fall back shut.

Jeno smiles innocently, almost as if nothing had happened just a mere few moments ago. “Tired now, are we?” he asked and you manage to give him a lazy nod in response. He pushed himself off the bed, slipping into his boxers and sweatpants again before standing fully at the edge of his bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re too tired to even reply. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. You could hear him cross the room, hear the water running, feel him dip the mattress around you. He was cleaning up the mess you’ve both made—his release on your dress and yours on the sheets.

“Sorry,” you utter as he takes off your soiled underwear while you lay immobile.

He shakes his head, “It’s alright, it’s on me for making you cum this hard.”

You raise one of your eyelids so you could lock your target. You kick him with whatever strength you had left in you before instantly regretting it when you start to feel pain in your lower stomach. You wince, your pain becoming evident on your expression for Jeno to see and he only laughs.

“Can you sit up for me?”

You nodded in response but your body didn’t follow. Jeno chuckles at the sight and offers his hands to pull you up. You take them. Even with the extra help, you still struggled to stay upright. He looks down at you—drowsy eyes, heated cheeks and pouty lips, trying desperately to stay awake. He leans down to kiss your forehead, reaching around you so he could tug at the ends of your dress.

“Arms up,” he mumbles and you oblige. He pulls the fabric up and over your head before setting it aside. He then hooks his arms beneath your knees, lifting you off the bed. He heads to the bathroom, kicking the door open. The room is spacious enough that he doesn’t struggle maneuvering around even while carrying you. “It’s warm,” Jeno whispers before setting you down in the tub.

The water was indeed warm when it wrapped around you—soothing and relaxing. You curl up, wrapping your arms around your knees and letting your head rest on top of it. Shortly after, Jeno joins you. He sits at the other end of the tub, his legs stretched beside you. He leaned back against the rim of the tub, arms resting on either side.

“What now?” you ask, turning your head so you’re facing Jeno.

He raises a brow, “What ‘what now’?”

You stare at him, struggling to find the right words to use in explaining what was bugging you. “Are you ever curious with what lies ahead? Like ahead of this day, ahead of this?”

“No,” Jeno cuts you off. “Unlike you, I don’t have my entire life planned out. I live day to day not knowing where I’ll be at the end of it. Why’d you ask?” His eyes meet yours and you look away, keeping your mouth shut. He pursed his lips, “Did my presence disrupt your perfectly planned life?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “To be honest, sort of.”

For a fleeting moment, you see him frown. He immediately regains his composure, masking himself in his cocky attitude once again, “We can always pretend none of this ever happened. But I’m not sure if you want that.” His eyes darted around the bathroom just to avoid yours. “I’m sure I don’t,” he mumbles under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“I told you to give me a night I won’t forget and you tell me we could pretend none of this ever happened?”

“I don’t want to be the reason your life is thrown off track, babe,” he answers, finally catching your eyes and staring right back at you. “But,” he continues, “I’ll stick around only if you still want me to. So, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you. If you hadn’t felt anything at all and only ever viewed him as bothersome, you would’ve said no right away. If you were merely here to confront him, you wouldn’t have let things get this far. But here you were, sitting naked in the tub across Jeno as you watched the boy’s eyes stare right into yours.

You were caught in the web of your own decisions and the slip-ups of your suppressed emotions. Your life was spinning further out of your control with every second you spent with him. He was everything you vowed to avoid in life—spontaneous, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Yet he gives you the opportunity to keep him in your life or not.

Having him around meant there were more nights like these; all of which were unaccounted for in your plan. Having him around meant having additional unwanted emotions; love, lust, jealousy. You never liked change, and having him around goes everything you’ve ever planned for.

But you think back on what he’d said earlier, about living life on a day to day basis without worrying too much about what the future held. It wasn’t certain anyway.

I’ll stick around only if you want me to. So, do you?

You do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sound anymore submissive than you already were in his eyes.

You roll your eyes, “I can’t believe you’re asking me this after we fucked.”

The amused laugh that escapes Jeno’s lips makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter about. You’re unsure if it was because of the nervousness of trying out something with no certainty or you just liked hearing him laugh. “So, is there a next time?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, throwing the last bits of your caution into the wind as you take the leap of fate, “you tell me.”

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