#THIS TOOK ME 5 HOURS TO MAKE PLEASE CLAP
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Admin Jesse villain arc who?
vvv base images vvv
CAPCUT RUINS THE IMAGE QUALITY OF MY DRAWINGS SO BAD AUGHHHHH
#mcsm#minecraft story mode#mcsm jesse#mcsm jesskas#mcsm lukas#admin au#mcsm admin au#THIS TOOK ME 5 HOURS TO MAKE PLEASE CLAP
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𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛
Pairing: Exotic Dancer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader (no mention of gender or ethnicity)
Summary: Hi, you've reached [your name]. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep!
w/c: 3.7k
warnings: cheating (on reader), lots of cursing, smoking, heavy drinking, weed smoking, body image issues (I'm sorry), this is a smutty fic (but there’s no smut), dry humping. Please let me know if I missed anything <3
a/n: This is the first fic I've posted in years lmao, I'm a bit rusty, but omfg I enjoyed writing this so much, it's very self-indulgent hehe I hope you love it just as much as I do.
this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.
Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged🥺
7:51 PM
“Baby please, You know I’m an idiot…she means nothing” Jake whined through the phone.
As of 5 hours ago, he became your ex but kept on calling you, each call pleading for your forgiveness and saying the same stupid excuse “I felt you pulling away, what was I supp-”
Before you could interrupt him yourself, your best friend and roommate took your phone “Listen closely you little shit, if you don’t stop calling I’ll personally chop off your balls, fry’em up and feed them to your mother in a fucking salad… it’s Wanda by the way” she huffs as she hands you back the phone, “Colorful” you grimace.
Shoving you inside the car, with you and Wanda on the back, Bruce behind the wheel and Tony as co-pilot, “Why do you even answer his calls?” Tony asks while Wanda lights up a Marlboro, and gives you a drag “Because I want to tell him to go fuck himself… I- I just can’t seem to find the right words”, “That seems right” Wanda quips and you roll your eyes, “Don’t worry you’ll find the words when the time’s right” Bruce adds, “Dr. Banner is right, tonight is all about getting shit-faced” Tony adds.
You all clap and turn up the volume to the perfect song “I don’t wanna hear, I don’t wanna know” Wanda sings, the wind on her face, while Bruce shouts “WE LOVE YOU MADONNA”.
They were right, fuck Jack, tonight you wanted to let go, you weren’t one for parties or clubbing but you couldn’t stay at home feeling sorry for yourself, partying with your friends seemed like the perfect distraction “LET’S FUCKING GO” you shouted at the top of your lungs.
9:05 PM
“The Hush-Hush Hideaway?” you laughed as you finished your first beer after two cherry vodka shots, sounds like a place where 50 year olds would come to have an affair, “Alright, alright before you keep on talking trash, there is more eye to meet” Tony argues, to that Wanda snorts “are you seriously drunk right now? after three piña coladas?”, Bruce laughs “they’re stronger than they look” Tony defends himself as he stands up, signaling you all to head to the dance floor.
You honestly loved the place, the lighting was incredible, the atmosphere was hot pink with hints of dark red and deep purple, the ceiling was decorated with hundreds of disco balls shining down on you, the bar had tables so crystalline and so red, it looked like solidified blood, each one surrounded by the comfiest leather couches. There was also the dance floor which you were dancing on now, it had the perfect stage for dancers or any kind of show, the whole place had the perfect mix of chic and urban.
10:39 PM
“This round’s on me” Tony shouts over the loud music as he hands you what would probably be your 5th drink, stumbling around as you danced to a song that suddenly became your favorite, as you downed the liquid gold you took Tony’s hand and started giving him a lap dance of some sorts which made everyone laugh along with you.
And then everything went pitch black, for 5 seconds the music was over, lights were out, for a moment you thought you passed out but then a huge white light shone straight into the middle of the stage, “Girls Gays and Theys!” a deep voice over the microphone started, “is this a gay bar?” Bruce genuinely chimed in, making you giggle.
“Tonight we encourage you to let that wild side of yours out! Please give a warm welcome to The White Wolf” the voice cheered with excitement and the crowd roared and cheered back, “he must be really good looking” you sassed, and in that moment, red ropes descended.
Not a second later a man dressed in a kevlar suit swirled down as if swimming in the red fabric, wrapping himself in a cocoon in the air so the next second he rolled down to the stage, the top of his leathery suit gone, leaving his gorgeous toned abdomen exposed making the crowd go wild. The lights enhanced his beautiful body. “D-does he have glitter on?!” Tony shouted in awe, everyone absolutely going crazy over this tall, brown-haired, thick oh so fucking thick specimen.
On the other hand, you were finding breathing a difficult task, especially because his eyes were trained on yours, maybe it was the several drinks in your system or the empowering song that heightened everything, but his stare was intense, the ice blue of his eyes chilled your spine and for a moment you thought he was going to stop the show, come down and rip your clothes off… yeah you definitely felt tipsy now.
This man knew the power he held, not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he had autonomy of every nerve and every muscle on his body, your heart and pussy were practically pulsing as you watched him dance. The magic was broken when you felt your phone ring in your pocket, taking it out, you saw it was Jake calling AGAIN, you knew your friends would tell you not to pick up, but part of you wanted to hear him out and scream at him, you didn’t know which one you were going to do.
Leaving the dance floor and heading to the bathrooms where you hoped it’d be quieter, you swipe to the green bubble “Please please forgive me” is the first thing the man says, making you sigh in frustration “S-top stop saying you’re sorry” but it’s like talking to a wall, you’re not even sure he heard you because he just keeps on whining.
??:??
You don’t know how much time you spent listening to him in the bathroom but eventually, you give up and hang up on him, splashing some fresh water in your neck you exit the room and bump into a rock-hard wall, but then unexpectedly the wall starts talking and you think maybe it’s not a wall.
“it was rude to bail” a grave voice rumbles in your ear through all of the noise, looking up you see it’s the white wolf, making you almost choke on air, but you were quick enough to react and raise an eyebrow in response “sorry?”.
Without even noticing, the man had cornered you into a wall “Don’t apologize, you can make it up to me” he said with a wild smile, “oh he’s good” you thought, then he looked at you as if he read your mind, “you look like someone in desperate need to have some fun… let me give you a hand” he whispered, his confidence made you forget he was a stranger, and oddly enough it felt like you knew him perfectly, the thought of spending your night with him made you shudder.
Taking out what looked like a big fat blunt from one of his pockets, he dragged the little bundle of joy from your exposed thighs, up your arms, slowly passing through your neck, and finally grazing your soft lips, his eyes never once leaving yours, he leaned in and the smell of cedarwood with a touch of french vanilla made your eyes roll.
Man, you’re really not keeping your cool, but he’s too beautiful for you to care, you might as well pucker your lips, but then he backs away, taking your hand and leading you to the backdoor between the kitchens. The sound of music and people dancing start to disappear until it’s muffled, “are we allowed in here?” you laugh as he lights up the joint and takes a big gulp, your heart pounds with excitement, this is exactly what you needed.
Your inner demons whispered that he really wasn’t interested in you, he looked like he was sculptured by frigging Michelangelo, he’d never want to be with someone as big as you, plus you felt sweaty from dancing most of the night, but honestly, it was more about the nerves you felt around him, but just as easy as the negative thoughts came, he batted them away with a single kiss to your cheek, near enough to the corner of your lips “lost you there for a sec” he teased.
As he handed you the joint, you took it with hesitance, “I usually don’t take marihuana from strangers, you got a name or does everyone call you the white wolf?” you teased, carefully eyeing him, realizing that he was still shirtless unconsciously making you bite your lip.
A lazy smile spread on his face “Waddaya mean you don’t know me? Pfft I’m your latest conquest”, it threw you off but he looked so sincere it made the butterflies in your stomach dance, “I’m Bucky” he laughed, he was so at ease with that pretty smile you couldn’t do anything but swoon.
Taking a drag of the blunt you breathe out the smoke through your nose as you offer him your name in return, not wasting a second he repeats it, slowly, maybe he was high but it seemed as though he enjoyed the sound of your name on his tongue, he savored it, your legs pressed against each other and you had to take another drag so not to seem desperate as you were for him.
He might be a stranger but deep down you felt unbelievable attraction, in less than 10 minutes of knowing him he made you feel powerful, and free, like maybe in a past life or somethin’ he was your soulmate… Pfft, you wanted to crack up at your own thoughts, somehow Bucky knew and started laughing, slowly leaning into you and crashing his lips with yours, it was sloppy but fuck you’d never been kissed like that, it was passionate, you felt wanted, right then and there you were ready and willing to let him swoop you off your feet.
12:59 AM
Bucky was showing you his best moves, his calloused hands gripped and groped your body as you both swayed your hips against each other perfectly in sync.
He was so smooth, the fogginess of the joint rumbled through your body, each touch, every one of his strokes felt like a wave, you were floating in a sea of music and his scent, nothing was wrong with the world, nothing could harm you because he was right behind you, worshipping you, telling you how he loved the feel of every roll and every curve, you couldn’t help but smile and he couldn’t help but kiss that beautiful smile.
Not long after your friends found you and you introduced them to the dancer who blew their minds, some of his friends joined you, and not long after you were the life of the party, shots and blunts came pouring, and just like you wanted you became one with bucky, you didn’t know where you began or where he ended, pain and misery were a strange and unknown concept tonight.
1:55 AM
Wanda had to drag you away from Bucky to chat with you a bit, she couldn’t hide that grin even if she tried “Dude I don’t even recognize you right now” you laugh with her knowing very well what she means, squeezing her wrist you stop the urge to squeal, “I don’t know how this happened but fuck he’s just so pretty I wanna cry” you both giggle, understanding the Rachel Green reference.
Turning to see Bucky you caught him already watching you, it looked like he was chatting with his friends but he wouldn’t look away from you, you realized he was waiting for you, and honestly you were eager to return to his embrace and intoxicating scent “Fuck Jack, you have men waiting in line” Wanda practically shouts as she pushes you back to the dance floor.
2:12 AM
After a while your social battery was low and you needed a break, so now you leaned against the wall in the back alley of the bar, a cigarette lit, resting on your fingertips as you recalled the events that brought you here tonight.
You didn’t blame Wanda for reminding you of Jake and what he did, after all, she was just hyping you, but now your mind was plagued, you memorized with detail how you found them, as some sort of self-punishment, why? you didn’t know, after years of therapy, you were still trying to unlearn self-deprecating thoughts that your family and society shoved in your face.
Jake cheating on you with a leggy blonde who was quite literally a Victoria's Secret model was a kick to your stomach, it made you realize that maybe every bad thought you had about yourself was true, and that was terrifying…
Realizing that the cigarette burned itself out, you stepped on it, but before you could come back inside Bucky opened the door and grinned “There you are, was worried I spooked ya”, to that you chuckled, somehow the laws of social battery didn’t apply to the handsome trapeze dancer “Never”.
Stepping outside and standing next to you, he takes your hand and starts playing with your fingers “What’s got my sweet doll so down?”, you expected the pet name to make you cringe but instead swooned. Lighting another cigarette you take a drag and blow it on his face, and he just bites the smoke, making you giggle, after a beat of silence you show him your heart.
“About… 11 hours ago, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me” you sigh, trying with all your might not to shed a single fucking tear, Jake didn’t deserve them, “Gimme his address” he deadpans, a look so deadly in his eyes, that spark was almost snuffed, but just as quickly his attitude changed, “I’ll kill 'im with my bare hands, I’LL FUCKING KILL ’IM” he shouts with foux determination, making wild animal noises that are making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe “you’re not funny” you say out of breath.
His thumb cleans away a single runaway tear, his touch is so gentle at first you’re not even sure he’s holding you, he’s so close you feel his breath on your cheek and his nose caressing your skin oh so lightly, “you’re dreaming”, you think incredulously.
In a second his touch becomes rough as he grips your face with both his hands, holding you still so you can’t look anywhere but his eyes, “he’s a fucking moron” he spits out, almost insulted, “and I don’t mean a jerk or plain stupid, I mean he’s missing some fucking brain cells to let go of someone so insanely beautiful as you”.
Your heart’s pounding in your ears, you’re about to explain but he cuts you off “And I don’t even need to know him, to be sure of what I’m telling you right now” he scoffs, “Hell, I don’t even have to know you to be sure, in the very short time I’ve known you, you’ve been everything” bucky almost can’t believe he’s saying this to you, suddenly the tension is palpable and neither of you can breathe…
“You’re driving me insane” is the last thing he says before pushing you against the wall, with a grunt he grips your waist and your lips crash with his, in a fight for dominance your tongues swirl, it’s as if Jake or any other man never existed, washed away by the ocean that is Bucky.
You loved how vocal he was being, he moaned into the kiss as you practically humped him, he bit your swollen lips as a warning to slow down but it only turned you on more. You could feel your hardened nipples rub against his chest, and it drove both of you nuts, with all his strength he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and pulling him for more, he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants you but he would never have sex with someone so drunk, even if that person begged as nicely as you were right now.
He laughs as you start leaving hot open kisses throughout his neck and jaw purring like a cat, “Bucky please” you mewled, asking him for more, his hand flew to grasp your hair in a tight grip, nibbling on your skin as he reached your ear “We aren’t doing anything except kissing the fuck out of each other doll” he whispered.
You made for a grab to his groin but he was able to take your hand and hold it above your head “I want you nice and sober when I get you to cream on my cock”, he groans as you make a final attempt to lure him in, but you know he’s right, so you huff in defeat, a pout on display to make your feelings known, “baby doll what’s wrong? you look flushed” he teases as you gasp in faux offense.
3:45 AM
The bar kicked everyone out but you still had some party left in you and apparently, so did Bucky because he’s already got you piggyback riding him to his car, you said goodbye to your friends assuring them you trusted Bucky, his place was less than 10 minutes away and you’d send them your location.
Once you got to the car Bucky stopped in his tracks, “we’re drunk and high as hell” he stated, and like a bucket of iced water you realized he was right “Accurate statement” you snort, carefully dropping you on the ground he swiftly turned to face you “so we should… perhaps, maybe take a cab” he goofs around as he steals small kisses form you “or we can walk? your place’s near right?” you reply, everyone was already gone to ask for a ride but he liked the idea of having some alone time with you, so, he picked you up and placed you on his back “To the Batcave!” he runs as you hold onto him as tight as you could.
4:05 AM
You peacefully walked on the side of the street as cars passed by, one thing that you loved about walking at night was the lack of noise, the night wasn’t completely quiet, you could still hear the cars in the distance, people coming in and out of bars or whatever, the breeze was the perfect temperature and the city lights of New York were shone beautifully.
Hand in hand you walked with your latest conquest as he so eloquently put it, conversation flowing, “I got cheated on once, it fucking sucks” You both laughed at the obvious statement “I thought we were going steady and she got bored” he shrugged, “it was a while ago, but it definitely messed with my head” he whispered as he squeezed your hand, it brought him comfort and you as well.
“You know what’s fucking hilarious though? I was planning on breaking up with him…ok don’t judge me” you laughed, “but I just stayed with him because it was easier to stay in a mediocre relationship than actually fight for my happiness…plus he had a hot tub” you felt stupid for saying it, but he didn’t judge you, his face remained the same, attentive.
Bucky took your hand and kissed each one of your knuckles “I got a really nice bathtub” he murmured into your skin with a smirk, your heart fluttered to what he implied so you jumped and kissed his cheek, holding onto his arm for dear life, content with how the day turned out.
4:38 AM
After smoking yet another joint together you were now straddling your dancer’s lap on his bathtub “It really is a nice bathtub” You grinned between kisses and he laughed, his hands roaming your soft skin under your clothes, you were heaven on earth he kept thinking, he was about to kiss you again but was interrupted by your phone ringing, which made both of you sigh in frustration.
You knew who it was, Jake had been calling over and over for the last 20 minutes and Bucky had enough of the bastard, “Answer him” he ordered, to which you raised an eyebrow “I- can’t I- seriously?” you say almost shocked “You know what you wanna say to him, so say it” he encouraged with a soft smile.
Without thinking twice you pick up, “Finally! what took you so long to pick up?” Jake barks, you have the phone on speaker so Bucky could listen, and he already hated how the jerk talked to you, making him grip your waist with possessiveness.
“What do you want?” you ask almost uninterested, “Baby please forgive me” he cries as if you could ever believe anything he said to you, “I’m so so fucking sorry, what else do you want me to say?!”, to that you let out an unamused laugh “just stop fucking saying you’re sorry, time to put on your big boy pants and take responsibility” you snark, which oddly, turns on bucky beyond belief.
Like a magnet, his lips start leaving love bites on your neck, making you gulp, “Babe let’s be honest, in a month you’ll be begging me to get back together, we both know you need someone to take care of you, you can’t be alone, you need me” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and then you really were done with his bullshit.
“Listen closely you fucktard, stop saying you’re sorry, stop begging me to forgive you, you were a waste of my time and the only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner was because it was convenient for me to stay with your sorry ass” you bark.
You could keep going but now Bucky was humming against your pulse, finding it incredibly hot how you stood up for yourself, he peppered you with hot open kisses that made your mind even fuzzier than the weed, “And I can take care of myself ass” you hiss in delight, it was meant to be an insult but Bucky was making you feel so good…
“Fucking drop that call”, bucky growled into your neck loud enough to be heard over the phone, then sunk his teeth into your soft skin, making you moan, unintentionally into the phone, before dropping it and gripping Bucky’s hair for support as you rubbed against the bulge on his pants “Fuck I can’t wait to make you mine” he moaned, dreaming of all the possibilities, of everything he wanted to do with and to you.
Despite the chills you felt down your spine, despite feeling exactly the same way, you laugh, “Honey… do you think it’s gonna be that easy?” you coo, drunk in power, you devour his perfect pink lips.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#exoticdancer!bucky#stripper!bucky#sebastian stan#carrot's harvest#Spotify
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I Don’t Deserve You {Part 2} (Joel Miller x Reader)
Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader
Warnings: fluff, protective joel, age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s), stalking, sexual assault attempt (lmk if i missed any)
Summary: You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight. But he felt insecure.
Words count: 2.9k
A/N: This is part 2 for I Don’t Deserve You Part 1. Thank you to everyone who read my fanfic!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
It was a usual Monday after the night Joel saved you from Josh. You woke up early and got ready to work and meet your students.
“Good morning, kids! How was your weekend?” You asked the students with a soft tone.
“I watched a movie with my dad last night!” A girl shouted.
“It was my birthday yesterday!” Another girl shouted.
They were active and you were always happy to listen to their stories. Their stories were always interesting to you. You loved how children were so pure and innocent.
“Oh really? Well, happy birthday to you! Why don’t we all sing happy birthday to Samantha?”
You invited the other students to sing the Happy Birthday song for Samantha. Each of the students followed your clap and sang the Happy Birthday song together. The day went and it was already time for the class to be dismissed.
“Okay everyone! Class is dismissed! Don’t forget to do your homework!”
Everyone was packing their bags hurriedly and you glanced at the door. The door had a rectangle transparent glass and you saw Joel. When he caught your eye, he quickly hid. You found him so cute and felt butterflies in your stomach. It felt like you were in your teenage years all over again. You shook your head and smiled. The kids were starting to leave one by one and you began to pack your stuff on the table.
“I saw you there Joel.” You teased Joel who was still hiding.
“Uhm.. Sorry.” He slowly walked inside the class and cleared his throat.
“You caught me.” He smiled shyly and put his hand on the nape of his neck.
“Are you stalking me now?” You joked.
“Absolutely not. I was just around and thought I’d stop by to see how you’re teaching the kids. Hope you didn’t teach them curse words.” He joked remembering his last joke at the bar that was cut off by Josh’s appearance.
“Of course not.” You scoffed and slightly hit his chest.
“Are you heading home now?” Joel put his hands on his waist.
“Yes, all the kids have gone home so I should go home now.”
“I’ll walk you home.” Joel gestured a movement from his hands as if he was asking you to follow him.
“Sure. Thank you.” You grabbed your purse and jacket.
Joel wasn’t actually around the area. He was not patrolling that day and couldn’t keep thinking about last night. He was worried that Josh might come to you and bother you again. After thinking about it for a few hours, he decided to visit you at school and walk you home. He thought that it was the least thing he could do to protect you. Without realizing it, he was starting to have feelings towards you.
“Do you want to come in and have dinner with me tonight? I can cook something for us.” You hoped Joel would say yes before you got in your house.
“Sure. Ellie is making friends now so she often stays out late.”
“Great. Come in.” You welcomed Joel.
You hung your jacket and Joel did the same.
“Please make yourself at home while I cook dinner.” You smiled at Joel.
Joel nodded and sat on the sofa in your living room. You walked to your kitchen, opened your fridge and took out some ingredients.
“Can I help you with somethin’?” Joel suddenly stood up and walked towards you.
“No, no. I’m good. Let me serve you dinner tonight.” Joel was your guest so you wanted to serve him.
“Okay.” Joel walked away and started to look around your house.
“You have a lot of books.” Joel stopped at your bookshelf.
“Oh, yes. I love to read. I’m a teacher.” You laughed.
“Right.” Joel chuckled.
After a few moments of banter while you were preparing dinner, you were finally done.
“Dinner’s ready.” You called for Joel.
He looked back from the sofa and hurried his way to the dining table.
“Smells good.” He sniffed.
You both started eating. You were nervous because you were scared Joel might not like your cooking. And your legs were shaking under the table.
“Hmm.. It’s delicious. Thank you.” Joel praised your food.
“Phew.. I was scared you didn’t like it.” You sighed.
“Are you kidding? This is the best meal I’ve ever had in the past 20 years.” He chuckled as he shoved another spoonful of your cooking.
“Thank you, Joel. You’re really sweet.” You were touched hearing his words.
The two of you had conversations as you finished your dinner.
“Let me wash the dishes. You cooked so I will wash the dishes.” Joel offered.
“Sure.” You gave your dishes to Joel.
You watched him from behind and got lost in your fantasy. You were imagining a life where you and Joel lived under the same roof as family. And you were the wife making dinner for your husband when he got off from work. He looked dashing from behind and his shoulder was broad. You imagined how it would feel kissing him. But you didn’t want to rush so you had to hold yourself. You hit your head and got back to reality.
“Done.” Joel wiped his hands with a towel.
“Thank you, Joel. For washing the dishes.”
“It’s nothin’. You cooked for me so it’s fair if I wash the dishes.” He shook his head.
You wondered how a man like him treated you so nice. You kept wondering why he didn’t come into your life sooner. Then you remembered why. You were half his age. But you didn’t care. As long as he made you happy, you didn’t care about anything.
You and Joel spent a few hours hanging out at your house then it was time for him to go home.
“I should probably head home.” Joel looked at you.
“Yeah, sure. Thank you for walking me home today.”
“Anytime. Thank you for the meal. It was delicious.” Joel thanked you.
You chuckled as you walked him to your door and grabbed his jacket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Joel raised his eyebrows.
“Sure. See you tomorrow.” You waved your hand goodbye to Joel.
The next day, Joel came and picked you up from work. He walked you home and had dinner with you for the second day, third day, fourth day, and it went on and on. Except when it was his turn to go on patrol, he couldn’t walk you home. But he would always tell you in advance if he couldn’t walk you home.
Joel and you often hung out in the city as well. Since you got close with Joel, Josh had never shown up. He just stared at you from afar but he had never approached you. You even had less guys flirting with you. As time went by, people were starting to recognize your relationship with him. People were making rumors and talking about you and Joel. They were talking about how far your age gap was and how Joel didn’t deserve you. He was old and ruthless but you were young and kind. You didn’t care what anyone said. Joel had never hurt you, he was always respectful, he was definitely not like what other people said. As a matter of fact, Joel had never been kind to anyone but you.
Your feelings towards Joel have grown deeper and deeper. On the other side, you had no idea how Joel felt towards you. Did he like you or did he just see you as a kid who needed protection? But you didn’t want this to end so you kept your feelings hidden until it was 2 months since you and Joel spent time together. You couldn’t hold your feelings hidden any longer.
It was another usual dinner with Joel. You watched him as he was walking outside your front porch.
“Joel.” You stopped him before he walked his way home.
“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows and looked back.
“Can I ask you something?” You wiped your sweaty hands to your jeans.
“Sure. What is it?” He walked his way back to your porch where you were standing, resting his hands on the handrail.
“What are we, Joel? I mean - I - I like you, Joel.” You confessed your feelings to Joel and stepped closer to him.
Instead of telling you the way he felt about you, he took a step back.
“No.” His voice was really low, he shook his head and looked down.
Your eyes were getting blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Joel quickly walked away from you.
“Joel.. Please..” You tried to stop him but you thought it was better to stay.
You were heartbroken. You went to your bedroom, covered your face with your pillow and cried all night.
On his way home, Joel was also heartbroken. He couldn’t see you cry like that, especially because of him. He regretted leaving you hanging like that. He wished he could hug you and comfort you. But he knew he shouldn’t. He had heard the rumors and he agreed to what people were saying. He regretted treating you nice if it would end up breaking your heart. He shouldn’t give you hope in the first place. Since then, Joel started avoiding you. He didn’t walk you home and didn’t have dinner with you. You and Joel ended just like that.
You hadn’t seen Joel since. Your days went so slow. Days felt weeks, weeks felt months, months felt years. It has been a month and you hated this feeling. You wanted closure so you decided to find Joel. You walked to his house and knocked on his door.
“Hi!” It was Ellie.
“Uhm.. Hi! Is Joel home?” You asked Ellie.
“Yeah! Joel! Someone’s here looking for you!” Ellie shouted and called Joel.
Joel made his way down stairs and his eyes widened when he saw you at his front door.
“We need to talk, please.” You begged Joel.
“Okay.” Joel gestured to Ellie to go, he closed the door and invited you to sit on the patio chairs at his front porch.
You sat with him but he didn’t say anything. So you started the conversation.
“Did I do something wrong, Joel?” You tried to find what was wrong to fix your relationship with him.
“No.” He replied coldly.
“It’s okay. Just tell me, Joel. Let me fix us.” You begged him.
“It’s not you. It’s me.” Joel wanted the best for you.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. What do you mean?” You were confused.
“I know you heard about the rumors. They were right. I don’t deserve you. I’m old. I’ve done bad things. I’ve killed people. And you’re young, beautiful…inside out, kind, perfect and everythin’. You deserve someone way better than me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started anythin’ with you. I realized I was crossin’ the line, that's why it’s better that I stopped before I hurt you more.” Joel put his elbow on his knees as he explained to you.
“That’s not right. I don’t care what people say, Joel. You treated me so nice. You’ve never hurt me. You protect me, Joel.” You shook your head in denial.
“Don’t you get it? I don’t deserve you.” Joel started to raise his voice.
“No, Joel. Please. Give me a chance. I can’t live without you. Please. Give us a chance.” You cried as you begged him.
Joel wanted to cry but he held it. He didn’t want to look weak. Instead he stood up and asked you to leave.
“I promise I won’t see you again.” Joel’s words made your heart even wretched.
“Joel, please..don’t..Can you at least give me a hug as a goodbye? Please?” You grabbed his wrist.
Joel wanted to hug you. He really did. But it would just make him change his mind. If he hugged you, he might not be able to let you go. So he let go of your hand and walked inside his house. You cried so loud and kneeled in front of his door. Hoping for Joel to come out and change his mind, but a few hours went by and he didn’t appear. You were getting hopeless so you decided to go home. You cried on your walk and you didn’t realize someone was following you. You grabbed your keys and went inside your house. Someone was holding your door before you closed it.
“Joel?” You hoped Joel was following you home.
“Nuh-uh baby. It’s me. Josh.” Josh smirked.
You gasped and started to shake.
“Wh-what are you do-doing?” Josh could hear you were scared.
“I told you that old man is no good, baby. You should have been with me in the first place. I wouldn’t make you cry. I’m way better than him. That old man knows it. He really doesn’t deserve you. But I deserve you.” It turned out that Josh had been stalking you and he was eavesdropping your conversation with Joel.
“No. Josh. Please get out of my house.” You tried to act like you were not scared but he could see you were shaking.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. You’re mine now.” Josh claimed you as his because he knew Joel wouldn’t be there to protect you from him anymore.
“No, please go.” You walked backwards as he slowly walked towards you.
On the other side, Joel kept thinking about what he had said to you. He knew it was for the best but somehow he felt something weird in his heart. He guessed maybe he should have hugged you goodbye. He didn’t hear your cries anymore so he decided to walk to your house. He saw your door was left open and he heard a loud thud and your scream. Joel’s heart was beating faster as he rushed inside your house.
“Stay still!” Josh was on top of you, holding your hands, trying to take off your pants.
“Josh, stop it!” You tried to push Josh away but he was too heavy.
Joel’s eyes widened as he was shocked to see what was happening. He ran towards you, grabbed Josh from behind and threw him aside. Josh was hurting laying on the floor. Joel’s eyes locked on Josh and punched him over and over again. Josh’s face was full of blood and he was begging for Joel to stop.
“Don’t you ever touch her again! You lay a hand on her again, I’ll break your arm!” Joel lifted Josh by his collar and yelled at his face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Josh begged Joel for his life.
“Now get the fuck out of this house and never show your face again!” Joel pointed his finger towards the door as he raised his voice again.
Joel closed the door after Josh crawled his way out of your house. You were in shock, crying, hyperventilating, shaking, and holding your ripped shirt to cover yourself. You had never seen Joel like this before. He was scary when he was angry just like what other people in the town talked about.
“Hey, are you okay?” Joel’s voice was different from seconds ago.
He sounded very soft. He took off his jacket and put it on you.
“I got you, babygirl. I got you.” He looked at you with worried eyes. (TLOU ep 8 reference 😘)
He wiped your tears with his thumb and hugged you. His hands rubbed your back in circles until your breathing was normal again.
“Can you stand?” He asked you.
You nodded and guided him to your bedroom. He kept holding your arm, holding your weight as you walked. You opened your closet to get new clothes and changed into a new one. Joel faced the wall as you changed your clothes. He was always respectful to you. Not like the other guys you had met.
“Here.” You gave Joel his jacket back.
“Do you want me to stay?” He thought he would stay for the night to make sure you were safe.
“Will you?” You asked Joel with your puppy eyes as you sat on the bed.
“Of course, darlin’. I don’t want Josh to come here again and hurt you.” Joel walked to your bedroom door.
“Where are you going? I thought you’re staying.” You were confused.
“I am. I’m sleepin’ on the couch.”
You chuckled. Everytime he did or said something, you fell in love with him more.
“Joel, stay here.” You pat the empty space beside you on your bed.
“No. I shouldn’t.” He still kept his chivalry.
“Joel, please. I don’t think I can sleep if you’re not next to me. I feel safe when I’m with you. Please.” You begged Joel.
“Okay.” Joel shyly moved his way to your bed and laid beside you.
You moved closer to him, put your head on his chest, and rested your hands on his stomach. You could hear his heart beating faster and his body was stiff because of your movements. Joel took a deep breath and put his arms around you. He rubbed your back in circles.
“I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve you. But can I get that chance for our relationship? Give me a chance to be better for you?” He rested his chin on your head.
“You should stop being insecure, Joel. You’re the best man I’ve ever met. All the guys who flirted with me.. They weren't like you. I know for a fact they only want to get in my pants. But you’re different. Am I right?” You caressed his chest.
“No. You’re wrong.” You were shocked by his joke and raised your head to face him.
“I’m joking. Relax.” He laughed.
“Don’t ever do that again.” You put your head back to his chest and hit his chest.
“Oh! You’re bleeding! We need to get your fist cleaned up!” You took his hands worriedly.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ve been worse.” Joel chuckled and kissed your forehead.
“Okay, then.” You kissed his bleeding fist that saved you from Josh.
The two of you spent the night cuddling, talking and getting to know each other. Joel told you about his past, Sarah, and Ellie as you drift into your sleep.
To be continued...
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller x you#the last of us imagine#the last of us x reader#the last of us x you#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction
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˗ˏˋ ✮ kairi's AUtober !
double feature 4: college miguel o'hara, your genius tutor. (college!miguel o'hara x bimbo!reader)
"is it... 2?" "no." "um... 3?" "still no." "uh, um..." "if you have the value of f(x) as 5, just substitute the values." miguel directed you as he pointed to the algebraic expression before you right then and there. you scratched your head and tilted it to the side as you hummed in thought. "so like... how do i do that?" you asked him with a sing-songy voice and with a bright smile, making miguel groan and rub his eyes from underneath his glasses. he sighed and took the pencil and began scribbling down the solution step-by-step for you to understand. as he explained the rules of the distributive property of multiplication and transposing to you, all you could focus on was how high his cheek bones seemed.
"you're like... a pretty statue, miggy." you murmured, poking his cheek bone with the pad of your index finger. he furrowed his eyebrows at you and flinched. "can we please focus on the problem?" he asked you all irritated, but you could see his eyes softening a little from underneath his thick, knitted eyebrows. you giggled. "but it's been an hour, i can't function with all these functions in my face..." "and i can't function if you'll keep acting like a child." he snapped back at you, making you grumble. "miggy, please, no more math, it's mind-numbing!" he sighed as you clung on to his arm and shook at it, like a child begging for a toy they really wanted. "just one more problem, and we can do whatever you want." "you mean it?!" you perked up with the sweetest smile on your face, with miguel warming up a little at your adorable reaction. "y-yeah, yeah, i mean it." he reassured you as you sat up straight and looked at the next question he prepared for you.
"erm... can we have a simpler one...?" you asked miguel all softly as he pouted and furrowed his eyebrows again, but took in a deep breath and nodded. "fine, fine... baby steps, right, baby steps..." he repeated to himself as he whipped up some simpler questions for you. "if you need any help, i'm right here." he told you as he moved closer to you, anticipating for you to ask him a question any second now. "ah, i have something to ask." "yeah?" "if i get this right... can you go to the mall with me later to go shopping?" "shoppi—do i look like the type to enjoy doing that?" "well, you... do seem like the scary boyfriend type... i've always wanted to go to the mall with someone to scare the boys who keep looking at me away..." you said fidgeting with your fingers. miguel sighed again and looked at you, watching you quietly solve the problems with some pauses, but noticed you were on the right track. "...alright, fine. i'll... go shopping with you later."
you smiled and clapped your hands together. "oh, you're the best, miggy!" you exclaimed as miguel looked over at you and nodded, looking away from you as you grinned up at him. "i'm not that great... n-now back to the problems at hand." he reminded you as you got back to work, with miguel trying to shake the thoughts raging in his mind about how adorable you looked, being all enthusiastic about him doing the simplest things for you; and... it really made him wanna do more things for you, everything for you, actually. the spell you unknowingly cast upon him was working, he... oh, he really was beginning to fall—but he'd give it time, he wants you to get better at your academics before he gives his everything to you, wholeheartedly; but maybe he'll beat himself to being at your every beck and call and do everything in his power to make you the happiest lovable airhead in his life.
tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce @obi-mom-kenobi
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara imagines#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 fanfiction#atsv#atsv x reader#atsv x you#atsv x y/n#atsv fluff#atsv fanfiction#atsv imagines#spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction#˗ˏˋ ✮ kairi's AUtober !#*･゜ﾟ(^o^)↝ kairi writes
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hiiii! Could you write a Jeremiah Fisher x reader where while they’re surfing on the beach the reader falls against the reef and go unconscious and Jeremiah takes them back to the Fisher’s house? And like the reader has a broken ankle or something but she keeps saying that she’s fine and tries to get up? Lot of fluff please! And don’t feel pressured to write or anything, thank you! 🧡
Accidents Happen
J. fisher x fem!reader
cw: swearing, mentions of blood, injuries
preview: jeremiah trying to teach reader how to surf and reader doesn't know how to surf, like, at all
To say you were nervous was an understatement. The waves were big, suddenly bigger than any wave you've ever seen now that you knew why Jeremiah really brought you to the beach.
"Jere, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I've never even touched a surf board in my life." You bit your lip anxiously, not taking your eyes off of the water for even a second. "Y/n, relax. You'll be fine," Jeremiah paused to look over at you. "You have me." He flashed you a smile before grabbing your hand.
"Now come on, it'll be fun." And just like that, he started running towards the water with you. He'd already tied the strap around your ankle and gave you the run down on what to do so there were no excuses you could really make. And to be fair, he was right.
You were probably overthinking the whole thing. I mean, how hard could standing on a board really be?
You needed to branch out more, try new things; and this was a perfect start. "Fuck it!" You yelled into the air as you ran with him.
-
So far, you were doing really good. You'd been out in the water for about 30 minutes, and you'd only fallen 5 times. You were now determined to hit at least one big wave without falling down. You saw one coming, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through your veins as you looked at Jeremiah.
"I'm gonna do it!" You yelled over at him with a smile on your face. "Hell yeah!" He yelled back, clapping.
You got yourself ready, fully confident that it was finally going to happen. You stood up running your hand through your hair as the wave creeper up. That's when it happened.
The wave hit so hard that it knocked you off your board, causing your ankle to get stuck in the strap. In trying to swim up, your other ankle got stuck in some coral and your head hit something before you went unconscious.
Next thing you remember, you were sitting on the Fishers' couch in their beach house. You blink your eyes open, looking around the area. "What happened?"
Jeremiah jumps as he walked back into the room, basket full of your favorite snacks not noticing you were awake. "Y/n? Thank God, you've been out for a little over an hour. Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Do you f-" "Jere," You grab his hand, causing him to stop. "Calm down, I'm fine. What happened?"
He took a breath in, looking anywhere but you. "The big wave you were excited about caught you off guard and hit you. You fell off your board and got stuck in some coral. When I went down to get you, you were unconscious and your ankle was bleeding."
You looked down at your left ankle when he said it, bringing your hand to run across the now scabbed over cut. Your head slowly started to throb as you closed your eyes shut, wincing when Jere put his hand on your shoulder. "What's wrong?" He asked, his tone worried.
"Head just hurts. I'm going to go to the bathroom." You went to stand up but the moment your right ankle hit the ground and you put your weight on it, you yelped.
"Shit," you sighed under your breath. "What?" You pulled your ankle up to inspect it, now seeing the purple and the welling going on around it. "I think I broke it." Your tone was sad as you frowned, leaning against the couch. "Y/n I'm so sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen."
He sounded guilty as he spoke, running a hand through his hair. "It was just supposed to be a fun afternoon. God, Y/n, I'm so sorry." He almost sounded like he was going to cry. Jere hated seeing you hurt.
You placed your hand on the back of his head, scratching gently. "Jere it's okay, it's not your fault I suck at surfing." You laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. "I do think I need to go to the doctor though, my ankle needs to get looked at." You spoke quietly.
"I'll get my mom to call your mom and tell her to meet us there." "Deal. Bring the snacks with us." You smiled, shoving his shoulder. "Yes ma'am."
#jeremiah fisher x reader#jeremiah fisher#jeremiah fisher tsitp#tsitp#the summer i turned pretty#the summer i turned pretty x reader
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Tell Us
Whump Rating: 3/5
TW: Mild-ish Torture, injury, resolved ending
Legend doesn’t like to show weakness, especially in front of enemies. Unfortunately, the bandits saw the way he stepped in front of Hyrule and Wild; both injured already and caught off guard. They made the logical jump that if they wanted to hurt the vet, all they had to do was focus their attention on the other two.
Hyrule whimpers and each sound cuts a little deeper. The bandits want the Master Sword—never mind that they couldn’t hold it, nor do any of them have it.
“Please! I don’t have it! I swear!” Legend rattles the bars of his cell, but it makes no difference. They’ve already been at this for hours and if they didn’t believe him before, they likely won’t now. How long before they give up?
“Too bad for you, hero,” one of them sneers. “You’ll just have to watch us take your friends apart bit by bit.” He digs a hand into Hyrule’s hair and yanks. The traveler winces, but keeps his mouth shut. “Sure would hate to move to more…extreme measure.”
More extreme? Whipping? Beating? Pulling fingernails? Legend hisses, but there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t have the one item they want.
Whatever he plans to do is cut off as one of the other bandits yanks Wild back into the main room. He’s bloody and bruised, but his eyes are hollow. It’s like…there’s no one home. The champion shut down quickly after being captured, already nursing a wound on his side.
Why did the trio decide to chase after the straggling monsters when two were injured? It was instinct, but by the time they caught up to the monsters they were cut off from the group. Easy pickings for the bandits.
Legend sends a silent prayer that the rest of the Chain will find them quickly.
“Any luck?”
“Didn’t make a sound. I don’t know if he can even talk.”
“Well, we still have this one for leverage.” The bandit claps a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder. “Pain isn’t working so I thought maybe we’d try a softer touch.”
Legend glances back and forth between the two, anxiety rising. What’s that supposed to mean? Hyrule is twitchy with people already. It took ages for him to relax into the casual back slaps and shoulder nudges the group uses.
“He seems…sensitive to touch. Brat probably lives half-feral in the woods.” The bandit gives an ugly laugh and ignores Wild, turning back to Hyrule. He grabs the traveler’s chin and forces his head up until his eyes meet Legend’s.
There’s a mix of desperation and steel there. I can take it, the look says.
His heart aches as he stares back. You shouldn’t have to; he tries to convey. It should be me.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” the bandit says. He runs a hand through Hyrule’s hair, but this time doesn’t pull. It’s gentle; carding through the curls. Wild often does something similar when the traveler is tucked against his side.
“I’m sure we can make this more comfortable for you all if your friend just gives us what we want.” The bandit wraps an arm around Hyrule’s shoulder in a mockery of a hug. One hand traces along his collarbone and cups his neck.
Hyrule trembles and leans back, eyes wide. “S-stop,” he whispers. It’s the first word he’s said so far.
“I want to. I really do.” How the man manages sincerity is a mystery. “This can all go away. Just give us the Master Sword.” His gaze switches to Legend. “You’re the hero. I know you have it.”
“I don’t! I swear, I swear, I don’t have it anymore!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Please!” He slams a palm against the bars, on the verge of tears. “Please, let me switch places.”
“Oh no.” The bandit straightens and shoots him a toothy grin. “It hurts you far more to watch.”
The other bandit gestures at Wild, who’s slumped in the chair he’s been tied to. “What about this one?”
“Hasn’t made a sound, you said?”
“Yeah.”
A half shrug. “See if you can get him to scream.”
“Stop it!” Legend’s eyes burn, traitorous tears slipping free. “Stop hurting them!”
“Give us the sword.”
“I don’t have it!”
“Then tell us where it is!”
“I can’t—I don’t know!” Legend closes his eyes in defeat, leaning his forehead against the cold metal. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
They don’t care about his sincerity, turning back to his friends. The main one wraps an arm around Hyrule’s shoulder and another around his stomach, despite the awkward angle of the chair he’s tied to.
Hyrule shudders and jerks, trying to escape the motion.
How long did they work on hugs before he accepted them as comfort? Legend can literally watch as all their hard work is undone before his eyes. All for an item he doesn’t have.
Wild screams.
They all jerk, turning to look at him. The other bandit has a hot poker pulled from a fire and presses it against the prior wound on his side. The champion thrashes, and the chair rocks, then falls over. His head hits the stone with a crack and he lies still.
No. No, no, he’s okay. He’s just unconscious, right? Head wounds like that can be dangerous. Legend sobs now, begging the bandits to let him take their place. What else can he give them instead? Why is he so helpless, locked in this cell? They haven’t even hurt him! Some hero, forced to watch as his friends are harmed on his behalf.
“You imbecile! What if he dies?” The two bandits argue over Wild, who’s still slumped on the floor.
Hyrule is crying, chest heaving with silent sobs and cheeks wet. Can he cast thunder to get them out of this? No, he’s already low on magic. What can they do?
One of the bandits gives a cut-off yelp and slumps to the ground. The other bandit stares at the arrow sprouting from his neck, non-plussed, before he turns to the entrance of the cave. An arrow sinks into his eye. The scream is cut off as a second hits his neck. With a gurgle, the bandit collapses to the ground.
Legend’s never been so happy to see the Chain rush in, weapons and fairies at the ready. Twilight goes to Wild and dumps out a fairy, while Warriors cuts the rope binding Hyrule to the chair. Wind pulls out a lockpick set and works on the cell door.
As soon as it swings open, the vet runs for Hyrule. Wild is slowly blinking, already crowded by Four and Twilight. The traveler flinches when Legend reaches for him and his heart sinks. “Sorry,” he whispers and steps a few inches back. “Are you okay?”
The smile he gets in return is watery, but there. “I’ll be okay.”
The vet has his doubts, but that’s a problem for the future. For now, they are saved.
#tortured for information#tw torture#tw injury#whumptober2023#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu whumptober#breannasfluff#mywriting#lu wild#lu legend#lu hyrule#technically triple threat#but i don't want to tag them
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Chapter 9:
And when we go crashing down we come back every time..
Masterlist - Previous - Next
TW: Eating disorder
Day 1:
Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
I felt the fresh morning air streaming in my lungs. Felt the first rays of sunshine warming my skin.
Silence. No traffic sounds. No humans chatting in the busy streets. No sound from construction sites. Silence. I straightened my back and sat up, spread my legs wide before I leaned forwards. Upper body touching the wooden planks of the porch. I could feel the stretch in my lower back, almost thought I would hear the creaking of the screws and iron plate. Then I got carefully up and leaned all to way to my left side, before I did the same on the right. Back up in my sitting position I closed my eyes again.
Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Exhale. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Starting over again.
Day 4:
"Come on, Liz! 5 more! 4, 3, 2, 1. And down." JK clapped when I slowly got up.
"I hate planks." I said and took the water bottle he offered me "What are we having today?" I took a sip and scrunched up my nose.
"Ginger, lime, mint. Good for the digestive system and also good for stress relief." he answered and I drank some more.
"Ugh, I hate ginger and mint is also not a favourite…" I mumbled and JK rolled his eyes.
"It’s good for you. Period. Get down, your 60 seconds break is over in 3, 2, 1 and plank…" god how I hated him at times, why was he always this freaking positive and cheerful.
Day 7:
"Liz, the race starts in 49 minutes, so if you want to watch it, hurry up." JK shouts from the pier and I try my best to finish the next 12 lengths in time for the race start. As I looked up after some time he waved me to him and I swam as fast as possible.
"Here, 22 minutes left!" he said as he helped me out of the lake and wrapped me in a big towel "Come on, hot tea and lunch are waiting." we make our way up to the cabin. What took me a week ago 9 minutes with crutches now only took me 5, still with crutches but the process was there.
Back in the cabin I made my way into the bathroom, but failed to open up the zipper from the wetsuit.
"JK, can you help me for a second?" I shouted and I heard his steps coming closer "Come in, can you open up the zipper please? My fingers are a little numb…" he pulled the zipper all the way down and turned to leave "My hero.” I chuckled.
"Everything for you, princess." he said obnoxiously sweet and we laughed.
"Get your ass ready, the race starts in a couple of minutes!" he chuckled and left the bathroom.
I watched as the camera panned onto Charles, congratulating Max, then Valtteri, then Lewis. He wasn’t happy, the moment he got out of the car, I could tell by the way he was walking that he wasn’t anywhere near satisfied.
"Hey Charlie, good race!" I said as his face appeared on my phone 4 hours later, he looks exhausted, unsatisfied, but also a little sad "What’s going on? Why that face? I know P4 is nothing we celebrate really. But come on! With that car?"
"I still want to win, no matter how shit the car is! Did you see Sainz? He was leading with a fucking McLaren!" Charles sighed and I wished for nothing more than to be able to hug him. "He’s my teammate next year and there are already so many articles out there! That he will be dominating me, he will give me a run for my money! What does that even mean?"
"It means they’re all idiots! Don’t listen to the media! Just do your races and don’t care what others have to say!" I tried to cheer him up.
"Yeah, you’re right! So tell me, how was the first week?" he changed the topic and I understood that he didn’t want to talk longer about the race. So I started to tell him about my recovery, what progress I made already in one week and soon after we were talking about random stuff none of us would know the next day anything about anymore. But just us talking felt better than anything else in the world.
Day 14:
"Hey Seb!" I exclaimed as he opened the back door for me.
"Lizzie! It’s so good to see you!" he said and pulled me carefully in his arms "How are you? How’s the recovery going?"
"It’s good to be back at the racetrack! And it’s going great. JK is literally my saviour! Oh here… Seb this is JK, my physio therapist." I introduced them and they shook hands "Does he know I’m coming?"
"Nope, all top secret. I hope there was no problem at the entrance?" Seb answered and I smiled "You’re a bit late. I hope he’s not in the car already! I told Sylvia to tell them to wait but with her you never know."
"We were sent to a different entrance because the one you told us was apparently only for staff." I said and he just scoffed.
"That’s why I told Syl-… never mind, come in now!" he ushered us through the garage as someone called him out.
"Seb! You need to get in the car! Now! You’re the last driver!"
"Shit! I’m sorry Lizzie! But I’ll tell him that you’re here before I get in my car!" Seb apologised and I just laughed.
"That’s ok! And now run!" I ushered him away as one of the Ferrari staff members brought us to our places and handed us both our headsets.
"It’s really cool to have you here, Lizzie!" the guy said and walked away smiling.
I watched how Seb jumped through the opening in the fence and ran straight to Charles' car, he leaned down and waved in my direction, Charles' head turned faster than the speed of light and I waved at him.
"Lizzie? Oh my god! What are you doing here?" Joris almost shouted and I turned in his direction.
"I wanted to surprise Charles, I was just a little late." I answered and Joris hugged me.
"If he wins today, it’s because of you for sure!" he laughed and I just grinned.
P3. Gino tapped on my shoulder and I looked up at him and he gently side hugged me.
"Ciao bella! Come on Lizzie, let’s go to the barriers! I’ll make sure that no one comes too close to you!" he said and I nodded, then I looked at JK.
"Go! But be careful!" he said and I chuckled.
"Yes, Dad!"
He jumped out of his car and as he was on his way to his team he stopped abruptly when he saw me, he pulled his helmet off and ran straight up to me before he scooped me up in his arms.
"Hey, ma belle!" he whispered and I giggled like a little kid.
"Put me down, Charles!" I laughed and he set me down "Congrats, Charlie bear!"
"Thanks. It seems like you’re my lucky charm, you should stick around!" he said and I blushed "What are you doing here?"
"You looked so sad last Sunday, I don’t know, something was off, I wanted to surprise you and asked Seb for help." I whispered and looked down, he tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear and embraced me again.
"I’m so happy that you’re here, ma belle!" he whispered and then he sighed happily.
"Charles, your team is waiting. And your interview. And your weighing! Come on!" I laughed and he let go of me, although reluctantly.
Day 15:
"It’s so peaceful!" Charles said and inhaled deeply as we sat on the porch, watching the sunrise, as we arrived just in time "I’m glad that I decided to join you for some days!"
"Me too, Charlie, me too." I whispered, suppressing a yawn and resting my head on his shoulder.
"Let’s get you to bed, ma belle!" he said but I shook my head, as the first sunbeams of the day were gently kissing my face.
"Just a couple more minutes, this is nice…" I pleaded and Charles sighed.
"Yeah, it really is!" he answered and gently leaned his head on mine.
I opened my eyes and realised I was laying in the bed of my bedroom. I slowly got up. Out of bed, walking out the room. On the sofa sitting were Charles, reading a book and JK sketching something in his mysterious book.
"Boys." I said and they flinched.
"You’re up." Charles patted the sofa next to him and I sat down.
"Barely." I yawned and closed my eyes again, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Then why did you get up?"he asked and JK chuckled.
"You’re leaving on Wednesday, I don’t want to sleep through most of it!" I whispered and Charles put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side.
"Ma belle, it’s not even 12… and I’ll leave on Wednesday in the evening. We have enough time." he answered and I nodded.
"I’d say let’s have a nice little walk? And later on, we’re having a little cheat day? You wanted to use the pizza oven outside, Liz?" JK clapped his hands together and got up "I prepared some dough and we’ve got a lot of that good marinara sauce you loved so much! On our way back we’ll pick up the groceries in the store and then it’s pizza night!"
"Sounds like a plan!" Charles nudged my shoulder and I sighed "Come on! Show me how beautiful it is here!"
"I’ll fire up the oven, you guys prepare the toppings!" JK commands and Charles and I nod.
"So, we have mushrooms, bell pepper, pepperoni, salami, ham and look at that cheese!" I said as Charles washed his hands and grabbed some bowls, cutting boards and knives. As I washed my hands Charles was already munching on the first slice of ham "Charles!"
"I have to check the quality of the product! And if it’s still good! I don’t want you to get a food poisoning!" he shrugged and I laughed.
"And you’re trying the ham then for what?" I raised an eyebrow.
"I’m getting to the veggies, don’t worry! But what about JK and myself? Our safety doesn’t mean anything to you?" he asked, acting shocked.
"I’m sorry! You’re absolutely right!" I laughed.
"Thank you, ma belle! I guess it’s safe to say that ham is all good!" he said and put the ham slices in one of the bowls "Next salami!"
I laughed and began cutting the veggies, throwing them in different bowls.
"How are we doing, guys?" JK walked back in the kitchen, checking the bowls "The fire is burning quite nicely, dough is ready. I’d say, another, maybe 30 minutes and we can throw some pizzas in there!"
"Alright, here, Charles, put all the bowls on the tray, I’ll grab the sauce and something to drink, JK, can you grab plates and glasses? Oh and a spoon or whatever for the sauce!" I said and walked over to the fridge, grabbing some of JKs homemade lemonade and the sauce.
Outside Charles and I set the table, lighting some candles and JK took care of the fire. I sat down and watched as the last rays of sunshine coloured the sky in all shades of orange, red and pink. I shivered a little and pulled my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around them, watching as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountain tops.
"Here." Charles stood next to me with one of his hoodies and helped me into it "Better?"
"Better!" I smiled at him and as his scent engulfed me, I blushed a little.
"Alright guys! It’s pizza time!" JK exclaimed and Charles held out his hand and helped me up.
We each made a pizza with the toppings of our choices and JK professionally shoved them into the pizza oven with the shovel. After a minute the air was filled with the mouthwatering smell of our pizza’s. JK turned them to make sure they bake evenly.
"It smells delicious!" I said and Charles nodded in agreement.
"Now it only has to taste like it smells!" JK laughed and checked on the pizza "I’d say they’re done!"
"Pizza time!" I clapped as Charles held out the plates and JK put the pizzas on. He then sat the plate with my pizza in front of me and plopped down next to me on the bench.
"They look amazing!" Charles said and filled our glasses with lemonade, then he held his up and JK and I did the same and we toasted them together "Cheers!"
The first bite of the pizza was heavenly and I groaned.
"After weeks and weeks of Buddha bowls and wholewheat pasta and protein stuff, this pizza is the best thing I ever ate in my life!" I said and Charles and JK laughed "I’m serious!"
"It’s definitely far up, that’s for sure!" Charles laughed and JK nodded.
For the next few minutes we ate and talked about everything from racing to traveling. Indulging into our cheat meal, after a while the conversation died down and a content silence fell over us. I saw in the corner of my eyes how Charles and JK glanced over at my plate and I heard JK sighing when he realised I only ate 2 slices of my pizza, but he didn’t say anything.
"I’ll bring the stuff in and head to bed. I’ll have an early FaceTime session in the morning! Don’t stay up too late, kids!" JK got up and put the box with the dough and his plate on the tray, then gestured to my plate and me like he wanted me to eat more then he walked inside.
I sighed and played with another slice of my pizza.
"I thought it’s the best thing you ate in your life?" Charles asked and I looked at him confused "Doesn’t look like it."
"I’m just not that hungry…" I answered and shrugged my shoulders but Charles looked at me for a while.
"You’re okay, right?" he almost whispered it and I looked up "You would tell me if there’s something wrong?" I nodded.
"It’s just, all of these super foods and nutrient boasted stuff I’m eating right now because of JK is a lot! I know it’s healthy and it’s a good fullness but I feel bloated sometimes! I swear!" I laughed and tried to convince Charles and he eyed me questioningly for a moment but then nodded.
"But come on! Eat at least another slice of pizza! It’s seriously one of the best I’ve ever had!" he said and I smiled and bit into the slice.
"Damn! I wished we had some pineapple." I said and Charles' face scrunched up in disgust.
"Please, please, tell me you’re joking! Ma belle! Since when do you eat that!" he sounds disappointed.
"Oh relax, I was just kidding." I laughed.
"Good! I was thinking there’s something wrong with your brain!" he said but as soon as the words left his mouth he looked at me horrified "Oh god! Lizzie, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I’m so, so sorry! Fuck! I am stupid! Ma belle, please believe me…" he began but I only shook my head laughing.
"Stop! Charles, it’s alright! I know you didn’t mean it!" I said but he still looked beyond shocked. I turned to him and grabbed his hand "Hey! Come on! It’s really okay! I know you didn’t mean it in any bad way!"
"I wasn’t thinking! But still, I shouldn’t have said that! I’m so sorry!" he looked down at our hands and sighed.
"Charlie, can you please look at me?" I say quietly but he didn’t move so I laid my hand on his cheek and turned his face towards me "Hi… please, listen to me when I say that it is okay! Really!" he leaned in closer, our foreheads resting against each other and he inhaled deeply.
"Still, I’m sorry ma belle!" he whispered and I only nod slightly, sitting back up "I didn’t think… it’s just a saying and…"
"Shhh… stop, please!" I put my finger on his lips to silence him "Stop apologising. It’s fine. I’m fine. Okay?" he nods slowly and I look up at him, right hand still on his cheek, left index finger on his lips. This close I could see all the tiny freckles on Charles nose, his thick, long lashes framing his eyes, eyes so beautiful I could get lost in them, over and over again. He looked deep in my eyes, one hand at my hip, the other covering mine on his cheek. Charles closed his eyes and swallowed hard, as he opened them he leaned in even closer.
"Good night guys." JK’s voice made us both flinch and pull away from each other.
Charles cleared his throat and ruffled his hair and my breathing was erratic. What just happened?
"It’s getting late? I think I’ll take a long shower and then go to bed!" I said and faked a yawn and Charles nodded.
"Yeah, you go showering, I’ll take care of the dishes!" Charles got up and grabbed our plates and glasses and then walked away, but then he turned around "I’ll put your pizza in the fridge!" then he left.
I took a deep breath and walked inside, straight into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror, shaking my head. Nothing happened. It was just a vulnerable moment because he was scared he hurt me. All good. Right?
Day 16:
After a good swim in the lake, we walked back up and I almost slipped, but JK thankfully caught me and we laughed. He held me close to him, just to annoy me but I laughed it off, shaking my head. Back at the house after taking my shoes off he pulled the zipper of my wetsuit down and I walked straight into my room. Getting out of the wetsuit I noticed a little bruise on my spine and called for JK, I put a towel on my front and waited for him.
"Is that from the black roll?" I asked as soon as he walked in and looked at me confused "That bruise above my ass!" he looked down and gently stroked over it.
"Does it hurt?" he asked and applied a little pressure but I shook my head "Now?" he rubbed a little stronger and I nodded "Alright. Seems like you’re making something wrong here… we’ll have a look tomorrow when we’re using it again." he said and I nodded "And now take a shower, you’re shivering!" and he left.
Day 17:
"I don’t want you to go!" I whispered as Charles hugged me tight.
"The season is almost over and then we’ll see each other way more! I promise!" he said and I smiled "I’ll text you as soon as I’m in Maranello!" he kissed my forehead, then he shook JKs hand and got in his car.
"I see you in a bit, ma belle!" Charles smiled.
"Bye, Charlie bear and please drive carefully!" I said and he nodded, then he drove off and JK pushed me back in as it slightly started to rain.
"Alright, Liz. Some light stretching and maybe a bit of cardio?" he suggested and I nodded.
"Let’s go!"
Day 21:
"Liz? Liz? Are you still sleeping? Liz?" the door opened slowly and JK poked through the crack "Liz? Are you awake? Come on. 4:00! We gotta get going if we want to see the sunrise!"
I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I only groaned and blinked rapidly. Trying to at least make something in my body move, but to no avail. JK realised that something was off and came to my side, kneeled down and switched on the lamp on the nightstand.
"Liz? Can you hear me?" he asked and I nodded slightly. Trying to even out my breathing "Lizzie? What is happening? What was that?"
"Give me a minute…" my voice was hoarse and my throat was dry. He got up and came a moment later back with a glass of water and helped me to gulp it down "Thanks."
He helped me sit up slowly and waited for me to start talking whenever I was ready.
"After I woke up from the coma, it was maybe a week later? I fell asleep, but then I woke up… and it felt like… I couldn’t move. Nothing reacted. Not even wiggling my toes. But I was awake. I looked around, but I couldn’t move. I panicked, I thought that the last week where I was awake was just a dream and I was still in the coma, like I never woke up from it and I could feel how breathing became harder and harder. I could hear these voices laughing that they would pull the plug on me. There were these shadows kind of lurking over me and I was so freaking scared. And it all felt just like it did when I really was in a coma, so yeah… I thought I’m still not awake. So I tried to thrash around the bed, but to no avail. I don’t know how long it went on like this but I woke up the next morning, feeling like shit. Muscles sore and tense, tired and exhausted. And with a headache I never had before… after that it happened more often… just like in Monaco whenever… whenever… yeah well I googled a little and I’m pretty sure it’s sleep…" I explained to JK.
"Sleep paralysis." he said it at the same time as me and looked up in horror "Please tell me you’ve told the doctors about it?" and as I shook my head slightly he pushed himself of the ground "Lizzie! For fucks sake!"
"I told Dr. Friese that I felt tense and had strong headaches. I didn’t told him the rest. How could I?" I said and JK sat down next to me.
"You said, you heard someone saying they would pull the plug on you… but you’re not supposed to know about that?" he looked at me with big eyes and I gulped.
"I was kind of awake. Sometimes I could hear the people talk, open my eyes a little crack…" I whispered and tears were streaming down my face. JK pulled me into him and rubbed my back soothingly "I didn’t tell anyone, because mum and dad already felt guilty enough that they decided to let them pull the plug on me. If they knew that I knew about it? That I heard it? That I was kinda awake the whole time? JK they would never forgive themselves!" I sobbed out and he just held me close.
"It’s going to be okay, you hear me Liz?" he said and I nodded "We might need to slow down a little. Focus more on your mental health at this point… don’t look at me like that. You’re doing great, physically! We’re far more ahead in your recovery than I thought we would be! So we can slow down a little. And I think it’s important to find you the right help… because what you went through, what you’re still going through is something I can’t help you with. So we will look for help." I sighed but nodded.
"I just don’t want anyone to find out. About everything! The coma, the sleep paralysis, the…" I stopped and JK only nodded.
"I know, Liz, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who noticed it." he said and I looked at him confused "You have an eating disorder. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you. What you’re eating is not enough. And what you’re eating is pretty often exiting your body the way it entered. I’ve heard it."
"It’s just the stress. And I’m just not hungry anymore. Dr. Friese said it could be the trauma, the meds and stuff." I looked down at my hands.
"Yeah, that’s normal for the first 3-4 weeks. And not 3 months later. I’m sorry for being so blunt. But sometimes you need nothing more than someone being straight up with you! We will tackle that as well!" JK said it gently and I only nodded "For now, let’s get back to bed and sleep as long as you need."
I laid back down and he tucked me in, then he squeezed my hand and left. I fell asleep almost immediately
Day 25:
Another day without any message or call from Charles. Since he left a week ago I received barely any messages from him, one that he arrived safely in Maranello and had a lot going on the next day, but he said he would call in the evening, he didn’t, I asked why he didn’t call, no reply, one day later a message that he arrived in Monaco and yesterday that he’s now in Turkey. But that was it. No small talk, no jokes, no nothing. And when I tried to call him, he didn’t pick up. Maybe because of what happened, no what almost happened, he felt guilty? He had Camille after all. Maybe I should accept that she was right from the beginning, Charles’ full focus should be on her, as she was his girlfriend. Not me. Maybe I had to…
"Hello Lizzie, my name is Dr. Lindner, I’ve talked a lot about you with JK… so why don’t we start with you telling me everything that happened from let’s say the start of this year." Dr. Christian Lindner, therapist specialised in stress and trauma sequelae, was the one therapist that stood out for JK and would be the one I should confide in. He seemed to be a really nice guy, still I felt a little awkward sitting here and telling him about what happened.
"Even before the accident?" I asked and he nodded.
"Everything that changed from this year to last year. Family, friends, job. I want to know everything." he smiled encouragingly and I took a deep breath.
"Alright, good for you that we’re paying you hourly…" I joked and he laughed.
"Why do you think I chose this profession in the first place?" he countered and I laughed. Maybe this could work. He was funny.
"The year started, well not so good…" I began to tell him everything, Charles and Camille, Camille and her friends hating me, the cancellation of the WSeries for this year, me gaining some weight and Camille's comments, me trying to eat less to nothing to lose the weight again, overdoing it a little, the accident, being kind of awake, the video, me wishing I had died that day, the recovery, the sleep paralysis, Charles not talking to me anymore. As I looked up at him he smiled and handed me a box of tissues, somewhere along the way I had started to cry, I didn’t even feel it.
"Thank you Lizzie, for being this open and honest with me!" he said after he gave me a minute to gather myself.
"I swear I didn’t expect to let this all out! I’m so sorry!" I said a little embarrassed but he shook his head.
"No! Don’t apologise! This was exactly what I needed from you! It’s normal that once the floodgates are open everything comes out. That’s a good thing! This way I’ll be able to help you better. Because although your life… well I’m not one to sugarcoat things, there’s a lot of shit going on. And a lot of shit that you need help with to cope with. And that’s why I’m here. We will tackle every obstacle on its own. Step by step. I’m not setting a timeframe, we will be done when we will be done. But for now I think the most urgent matters are your anxiety, the eating disorder and your obvious feelings for Charles Leclerc." he said and I nodded but then I realised what he said at last "I’m not just a funny guy, Lizzie, this is my job. So… you and Charles and Camille? That’s also one of the main topics we’re starting with!" I nodded slowly.
Was this something I wanted to talk about every other day? No. Was this something I wanted to think about all the time? No. Will talking about it help me? Probably.
"Yay… I can’t wait…" I said sarcastically and Dr. Lindner just laughed.
"No one said that it’s going to be easy or that you would like it!" he chuckled and I just rolled my eyes "You built walls around you and I’m here to wreck them down… but don’t worry, I will stand with you on the rubble and sing “I’ve been looking for freedom”." And that made me laugh again "So, why do you think he ghosted you? Is it even ghosting when he texts you?"
"3 messages! Just to tell me that he arrived at his planned destinations! It’s just because we almost… we almost…" I sighed and shook my head "We almost kissed I think…"
"You think?" Dr. Lindner asked and I just nodded "And that’s a bad thing because? Let’s forget about Camille for a second. It’s just you and Charles."
"Just because I have these feelings, doesn’t mean he has them. And what about our friendship? I can’t live without him in my life. That’s just not possible! But what if I lose him because he doesn’t feel the same?" I said and leaned back on the sofa, hands covering my face.
"So it’s more the fear of losing him, that makes you feel like this? Not the fact that he has a girlfriend, that is not you?" he pressed and I sighed.
"Yeah, I don’t know. Both I guess?" I mumbled and he nodded.
"Alright, that’s something we can work with." he scribbled something down in his notebook and sat up a little straighter "And your anxiety and trouble with eating comes from, let me guess, Camille?" I only nodded "Yeah, that fits the pattern. It’s your own insecurities and feelings that are getting in your way. And with whatever she’s saying to you, she’s playing right into it."
"But can we fix that?" I asked quietly and Dr. Lindner nodded.
"Yes, we can. And we will. For today, I’d say it’s enough. I work out a therapy plan and I talked to JK already. He will help you with your eating. We’ll get there. Don’t worry." He got up and I did as well "I’ll see you on Monday! Goodbye!"
"Thank you, for the talk. Have a nice weekend!" I said and he smiled, before he left.
"How do you feel?" JK asked as he walked in and I sat down again.
"Better. Maybe this will work out." I answered and he nodded.
"It will." he said and I smiled a little.
"Yeah, I think so too."
Day 28:
P4. No call. No FaceTime. No message. Only pictures of him and Camille in the paddock. I texted him after the race that it was a good one and it almost was a podium. No response. JK sensed that something was off but didn’t push me to talk to him. I ate, went to bed and fought the tears. To no avail. I cried. A lot. Why did he ignore me? Was it really because of what happened? I called him, for the hundredth time and finally he picked up.
"Charles? Hi!" I began.
"Hi. This is Charles. Leave a message and I’ll call back." Voicemail.
I wanted to hang up. But all the frustration and sadness erupted and I let it all out.
"Charles… I-I don’t know what I’ve done that you’re so mad at me! I don’t know why you suddenly don’t call or text back anymore! I just… I’m sorry for what happened. Well almost happened! But it’s unfair to just cut me- I just miss you. Okay? Please just text me back! Tell me how to fix this! Tell me what I can do to fix us! Please, Charles! Please don’t leave me!" I sobbed into the phone desperately and as the announcement came, if I wanted to keep the message or delete it and re-record it, I deleted it and hung up. Then I cried myself to sleep.
Day 35:
One week of daily therapy sessions.
One week of daily meditation sessions.
One week of daily cooking classes.
One week of daily desperately checking my phone, with nothing from Charles.
One week of daily stupid jokes from JK to cheer me up.
Sleep. Eat. Therapy. Meditation. Repeat.
Day 36:
I sat buried under a ton of blankets on the sofa. Tear stained face. Headache.
"Hey princess. I thought we would go for a little walk?" JK asked as he walked in and looked around the room "Liz?" he was about to leave as he heard the rustling "Are you under there?"
"Yup." I mumbled and sat up.
"Okay. Not concerning at all. Come on. We’re going for a walk." he said and pulled me up.
"I don’t want to. I can walk just fine" I grumbled but he just grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, pushing me towards the door.
"Well, it could be better. You still need every couple of minutes a break and your legs are sore in the evening. So come on. Let’s go." he stood at the door and put his shoes on before he nudged me a little to do the same.
"Fine! Can’t be that bad." It wasn’t fine. And it was that bad. Not even halfway through I twisted my ankle a little and we had to head back home, where JK helped me on the sofa, left to get the first aid kit and then took my shoe off and checked my ankle. He was gentle and the pain wasn’t too bad, still I couldn’t help myself but tears were streaming down my face. JK looked up as I sobbed and gently pulled me into his arms. I don’t know how long we sat like this. But after a while, when no more tears were left to cry I sat up and looked up at JK. He smiled down at me and wiped the tears from my face with his thumbs. He was always so caring for me. Cheering me up. Supported me through this time. Always trying to make me feel better. I leaned in and kissed him, almost. JK pulled back and I blushed. I was shell shocked and scrambled off of the sofa, trying to walk away as fast as possible but my ankle gave in and I almost fell, JK catching me, like always.
"Lizzie, hey, look at me." he said and I shook my head.
"I’m fine, please let me go." I tried to pull away but JK didn’t budge.
"Lizzie, can we talk about this like adults?"
"No, JK. I’m sorry. I’m just- please let me go…" I whispered and the tears were back. JK gently pushed me down on the sofa and sat next to me.
"Look at me, please Lizzie." he said and I took a deep breath, before glancing up a little "It’s okay. Something like this happens quite often… it’s just normal. You’re vulnerable right now. You’ve been through a lot and usually Charles would be the one you feel attached to, because he is the one always by your side. But now it’s me. You see me as the one constant in your life right now. Like an anchor. So you’re transferring your feelings from the one you really love onto the one who gives you stability and safety at the moment. And that is me. But it’s not real feelings. Okay? It's okay. Nothing happened, it’s all good between us." he said it so gently that I swallowed hard and looked up.
"Charles and I almost kissed when he was here and now he’s ghosting me. What if… what if it’s the same with you?" I whispered and JK sighed.
"It’s not because of that, Liz." JK said and I was confused "I told him to lay a bit low for a while."
"What? Why would you do that?" I was furious and got up "You saw how hurt I was the past two and a half weeks because of that? And you didn’t say anything? Why?"
"Because first of all you had to start focusing on yourself! And not on Charles! Lizzie you were constantly checking in on him, whenever he was down, you were down and unmotivated. Your recovery was, is, more important right now and you should finally see that! And secondly, I needed you to finally face the truth that you are in love with Charles! You had to finally see that this denial is only making anything worse for you. You had to be honest to yourself and I had to trigger that. And look at that. You’re finally open up, finally be true to yourself and admit that you’re not fucking ok. So yes. Scream and shout and fight with me all you want. But you’re finally able to talk about your emotions instead of locking them inside, building walls that are higher than the fucking Sky Tower!" he was breathing heavily and I stood there contemplating what he just said. I closed my eyes and slowly sat down again. He hesitantly did the same and I looked at him for a second. Then I leaned back and laid my leg on his thighs.
"Is it sprained?" I asked and JK looked at me for a moment before he checked my ankle again "And what the fuck is the Sky Tower?" JK laughed.
"What?" he asked and took one of the bandages out.
"You said I build walls higher than the Sky Tower…" I answered and hissed a little when he secured the bandage and took a second one.
"It’s a telecommunications tower in Auckland." he said as he finished bandaging my ankle.
"I’m still mad at you. And at Charles. He shouldn’t have listened to you! How could he read all my messages and not even once answer me! And what did you tell him why he shouldn’t talk to me anymore? Not because of my feelings?" I sighed and JK only nodded.
"It’s okay, I broke your trust on this one, I’m sorry. I promise you it won’t happen again, only if you let me no other choice… just kidding! Maybe not. But anyways. I told him that you couldn’t focus on yourself if you’re always worried about him. And he couldn’t focus on his season, if he’s always worried about you. So yeah. I promised him to update him every now and then, which I did. But that was it." JK wriggled my ankle a little and as I didn’t react he carefully lifted it off and stood up "I’m sorry, Lizzie. I tried everything with you, but you wouldn’t open up to me. So I had to make you more vulnerable in order for your shell to crack." he walked out of the room and I closed my eyes. Although I was still mad at him, I understood why he did it. Why was he always right?
Day 66:
The last weeks were filled with more therapy, more meditation, more work outs to strengthen my core and built back some muscles, but mostly to get the needed nutrition back into my body. I could almost eat normally, without thinking about Camilles words with every bite I took. The anxiety induced by her almost gone. Only once was the sleep paralysis back. The last time my brain was lagging when I spoke a lot was at one of the earlier therapy sessions. When we were talking about how Camilles presence affected me. Over all I thought I was on a really good way. Charles still didn’t text me. After I texted him that I knew about what JK said and he ignored the message, again, I was worried. Didn’t he know what to say, after we’ve almost kissed? I thought he would answer. Maybe even apologise. A lot. Nothing and it hurt to know that it was this easy for him, to cut me out. Unfortunately it was something I couldn’t change, but talking about it with Dr. Lindner helped a lot.
"How do you feel today?" he asked and I shrugged a little.
"I’m nervous… in 4 days I’ll see my family again. After months. I don’t know, it’s weird. I think it was a good decision to stay alone here, to tell them not to visit me, after my feelings where such a mess after Charles left… although that wasn’t the reason, I know." I said and scratched my chin.
"How do you feel about seeing Charles again?" Dr. Lindner asked and I swallowed audibly "Ahh. That good, huh?" he chuckled.
"No, it’s fine. I mean. I know how I feel about him. And I know that these feelings are okay to have. I won’t deny them anymore to myself. But that’s it. Charles and I are friends. Best friends. Losing him would be the worst that could happen. So I have to accept these feelings. But I also have to accept that he has a girlfriend…" I answered.
"Very mature. But we talked about the effects Camille has on you? And we talked about how you have to be honest with Charles how you feel about her? How she treats you? And that she is one of the reasons for your anxiety and eating issues?" he asked and I nodded "That’s good. Really, Lizzie. You’ve come a long way in the last month. I think in the new year, we will start with 3 sessions a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday? As my office is in Stuttgart, that’s very convenient."
"I knew it! I knew you were Swabian, too! Although you tried really hard to not let it out!" I laughed and he just chuckled.
"I can hide it most definitely better than you!" I nodded at that and we both got up "Have a nice break! Relax. Talk to Charles. You’re family, tell them about the issues you’re still facing. From that on, it’s going to be easier!" he said and hugged me.
"Thank you, a lot! I feel so much better!" I said and as he released me he grinned.
"That’s why they pay me the big bucks!" and with that he left.
"Okay, Liz! I’d say the next few days we focus a bit more on cardio? And then I’ll get you back home on Sunday!" JK looked at me determined and I nodded.
Home. The first time after I left for Monaco I would be home again. The first time in months that I would see my family again. And the first time after our almost kiss, I would see Charles again, as him and Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo were going to celebrate Christmas with us. I wasn’t scared. I was nervous. How do you tell your best friend, that you’re in love with, that his girlfriend, he’s in love with, is one of the main reasons for your anxiety and eating issues over the past months?
Merry fucking Christmas.
————————————————————————-
Little Note:
That's it, chapter 9 is out, sorry for the delay - I had a little trouble writing that one, but it’s done (finally!). Next chapter will be a little bit different. You’ll see^^
Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!
If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!
Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!
Taglist:
@silkenthusiasts @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @itsjustkhaos @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic
All the images I’m using are from Google, Pinterest and Instagram.
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc 16#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc f1#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x female driver#charles leclerc imagine#ferrari#scuderia ferrari#female driver#formula 1#formula 1 x female driver#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x female reader#formula one#f1 x female driver#f1 2023#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 fandom#f1 imagine#f1#cl16#cl 16#cl16 imagine#cl16 x reader#f1 fanfic#best friends to lovers
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The Married One
Jonathan Levy x TA Reader
Series Masterlist
Prt 5 of the Different Versions Series
Summary: waking up in a classroom being taught by... marc?
Warning: ta = Teachers Assistant, classroom sex
Yn/3rd person pov
I woke up to someone tapping my shoulder making me grogily raise my head rubbing my eyes harshly before opening them the blurring of colors slowly coming into focus.
"Who know my class didn't only bore students but my ta as well" my eyes moved to the man talking it was a slightly older marc with a few gray hairs, a beard and wore glasses "am I that boring" he asked teasingly as he leaned onto his arms that was settled on the edge of my desk.
"Hmm" I hummed not really hearing him the sleep fogging up my mind "I said" he paused his voice turning into a whisper "am I boring to you" my face blushed as he leaned a bit closer to me his breath fanning over my face "Mr levy" I felt relieved as a student called out to him making him stand and turn away.
"Yes ms wilson" he asked walking over to her desk, I looked over the class the board was covered in information and diagrams of the brain before they drifted back to the man he chuckled from something the student said, his curls swayed as he threw his hear back.
I was lost in thought but was abruptly brought back into reality as the loud bell echoed through the room "ok class remember the assignment is due next week thursday no extensions" he clapped his hands together as he spoke to gain the attention of the class.
The students packed up their things in a rush to get out only a few taking it slow as they spoke to their friends "you look beautiful ms yn" my eyes snapped to the students as I heard one call out from the crowd making a few of the other students laughed "that'd enough Jaden" Mr levy snapped loudly making the boys shut up.
The classroom immediately became quiet as the students left and Mr levy walked to the door and closed it "thank you" I murmured putting my hands into my lap as my eyes stared down at my small desk "he's a fucking asshole" he swore as he made his way to his desk sitting down with a sigh.
I nervously tapped my thigh as we fell into silence I looked around biting my cheek I didn't know what to do, leaning my head back against my chair "still bored" I straightened up as he spoke my eyes meeting his as he looked at me over the lense of his glasses a few pieces of his hair falling into his face.
"I don't know what to do" I murmured turning my chair to him, his eyes moved up and down my body I could see him bite his lip before sighing "we have no more classes for a few hours so please go to the office and print these" he said grabbing a few papers and holding them out for me to take.
I quickly rose from my seat and took them from him "don't be too long in the office I'll need to over a few of those before class" he mumbled as he typed away on his laptop I nodded my head not sure if he'll see it or not, I quickly made my way out the door looking for any directions or something to lead me to the office.
"Hey yn wait up" I turned around as someone called my name to see a man running towards me, he looked a little older then me with blonde hair that fell into his face as he ran "heading to the office" he asked panting as he slowed down beside me "yes" I murmured he nodded his head acknowledging my answer "i-i'll walk with you" he muttered breathlessly and started to walk with me.
I followed a little bit behind him as he lead me to the office "oh what's this" he asked taking the papers out my hands before I could protest his eyes scanning over them as he rambled on "I can't before you actually like that man as a person" he laughed making me narrow my eyes at him "Mr levy" I asked confused on what he ment "yea that man is a complete asshole do you hear him and his wife are divorcing" he muttered looking at me ever few seconds but not my face my breasts.
I didn't feel comfortable around this man, I wrapped my arms around my stomach nervously "he's probably perving on you every chance he gets" he growled 'kinda like you you sick fuck' I rolled my eyes and was relieved when I saw the office sign "I think I'm ok from here thanks" I murmured taking the papers back from him before walking slightly faster to disappear into the room.
I went to the printer placing the paper inside and pressed print "you know if I was your boyfriend I would never let you leave home" I tensed as I felt his breath on my neck "please leave me alone" I said shakely making him chuckle and place his hands on my hips stopping me from moving.
"I think it's what you want deep down to stay home to be looked after" his words made me cringe away from him as he leaned over to whisper in my ear "it's not" I stated "I think your ly-" he dwindled as he heard the door open "I suggest you back the fuck away from my ta Jenkins" I felt relieved as I heard levy's voice "jonathan levy why can't you just leave us alone I'm not hurting her so what's the problem" the man removed his hands from my waist as he turned to jonathan.
"Yn get to my classroom now" mr levy muttered looking over jenkins shoulder to me I nodded and left without a word, I wondered around the hallway intill I found my way back to his class the uneasy feeling somewhat subsiding as I closed the door I slumped over to the desk sitting on the edge of it as I waited.
It was only a few minutes before he returned, my eyes wondered over looking for any injury or something else the only indication of something happening was the reddening of his knuckles "what happened" I asked going to him as he shut the door "he won't bother you anymore" he growled as he pushed past me to get to his desk.
I fumbled with my hands as I walked back towards him "thank you" I whispered "you've saved me more then once today" I stopped infront of him nervously intertwining my hands "is there anyway I could repay you" I asked making him bite his lip and groan leaning his head back "don't fucking do this" he growled adjusting himself on the table.
"But what if I want to" I whispered stepping closer to him, he stared at me with danger and hunger in his eyes his labored breaths made his chest heave as he grabbed me to pull me close turning us around so I was pressed up against the desk "fuck I wanted this for some long" he muttered before pressing his lips against mine.
I moaned into his mouth as he ran his hands up and down my thigh slowly inching its way up my skirt "I fucking need you, begging for my cock" he grunted moving my panties aside sticking two of his fingers inside, "fuck mr levy" I whined my knees buckling making him push me more onto the table "fuck say my name baby just like that" he muttered curling his fingers making me see stars.
"Please mr levy" I moaned but whined out as he pulled his fingers out, he slowly brought his glistening fingers to his mouth licking them to get all of my juices while maintaining eye contact with me "sweeter then I thought" he growled and forced me to lay down on the desk my eyes followed his hands movement as he undid his belt and zipper and as his hand slowly slid into his boxers fetching out his cock.
His eyes became half lidded and full of lust as he slowly pumped his cock a few times before pressing it against my entrance, "beg me for it" he muttered sliding the tip up and down my slit "beg me to fuck you" he growled I whined loudly squirming on the desk "please, please fuck me please" I whined he chuckled darkly and slowly pushed in.
I moaned out as he leaned onto his arms pressing his dick further inside me "your so fucking tight for a little slut" his words made me whine and shake underneath him "my little slut" he said bringing his lips to mine, our lips molded together as he started moving in and out of me "fuck" he groaned against my lips.
He moved his lips to my neck sucking harshly at my skin as he thrusted "m-mr levy" I moaned out throwing my head back against the wood "please" my shook as I moaned I felt myself clench around him as I neared my climax and so was he, his groans and grunts fueling my desire "fuck fuck fuck" I cried out as I cam around him and soon after he did too filling me up with his seed, the panting of my breathe made me tired and my eyes fluttering.
"Good thing I can use you whenever I want because you are my little slut"
#oscar isaac#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac x reader smut#oscar isaac smut#oscar isaac characters#oscar isaac characters smut#oscar isaac characters x reader#oscar isaac characters x reader smut#scenes from a marriage#scenes from a marriage x reader#scenes from a marriage x reader smut#scenes from a marriage smut#jonathan levy#jonathan levy x reader#jonathan levy x reader smut#jonathan levy smut
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Beach
Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
-Description: You and Spencer are married. You two have a beautiful daughter, and you all are going on vacation.
-Warnings: Fluffiness, having a child
-Word count: 1177
-Note: (Reblog from Wattpad!) Summer break + vacation = heaven. I love it, to travel a little in summer break, so here is a relaxing one shot. I don't think they do this activity, I write here, in America but some people do it in my country. Including me, when I was younger. So, enjoy!
Masterlist
Y/N POV:
We all deserved vacation. So, that was exactly what we were going to do. It was summer break, so our beautiful 6 year old daughter was home. Spencer and I, took a week off of work, so we could spend some time with her and go on our deserved vacation.
Spencer knew how much I loved the beach, so he surprised me with 5 days at Virginia Beach. I was so excited and so was our daughter.
It was around 3 hours driving, but eventually we made it. We rented a little apartment, perfect for the three of us. As we arrived, our eyes went wide. It was gorgeous. We immediately dropped all our stuff and went to look around.
'Is this my room, mommy?' (Y/D/N) asked, as we followed her to a cute, little bedroom.
'Yes, sweetheart, this is going to be your room for a few days.'
She clapped in her hands from excitement, as she ran further to discover the rest of the place.
'It is beautiful here.' I spoke to my gorgeous husband, who was already looking at me.
'You are prettier.' he admitted, making me blush.
'Shut up!' I hit him playfully on the chest, before capturing my lips with his.
Just as we ended the kiss, the little one ran towards us.
'Are we going to the beach? Please!' she begged, putting her adorable, begging eyes on.
'Yes, we are. Let's first get you changed.'
_________________________
In no time, we all got changed into some more beach clothes. Spencer and I, took some large towels to lie on and also a bag full of buckets and scoops, stuff were (Y/D/N) can play with in the sand. We were ready to go.
We reached the beach and placed our towels on a nice spot. We all went to sit on the three towels, giving (Y/D/N) her stuff to play with. She began to dig, placing sand in the bucket. We watched in awe, seeing her having fun.
'You know, honey, mommy used to go to the beach every year.' I told her, as she looked up in curiously.
'Really? Every year?' she asked me, while I nodded in confirmation.
'Did you also played with the sand?'
'I did play a lot with the sand, just what you are doing now. But, do you know what I also did?' she shook her head, as I now fully got her attention. Clearly, that from Spencer as well.
'I always sold flowers. It weren't real flowers, they were made by other children, by me sometimes. They were made of a nice fabric, you could easily break them, but they were so nice decorated, that you rather kept them. If you wanted a flower, you needed to pay for it. But, not with real money, you needed to pay with special shells, with a little cutting edge on.' I searched in the sand, and by my surprise, I found one. It was a surprise for me, since you find them rather closer to the sea.
'Were all the flowers the same price?' she asked, playing with the shell.
'Just like this one.' I hold the little shell up, before giving it to (Y/D/N).
'No, the more beauty the flower, the more shells you needed to pay.'
'And, what did you do when you got the flowers?'
'I sold them. Probably for a lighty higher price. But, the ones who were really expensive and beautiful, I kept.'
I gave a look around the beach, and again by my surprise, there were still children, selling flowers. Just like I used to do. A smile appeared on my face, as I looked with excitement to our daughter.
'Honey, what do you think? Shall we search for a few shells by the sea and then buy some flowers?'
Her face immediately lights up, while nodding excitedly.
'Do you want to come with us, Spence?' I asked, as he nodded his head.
We all went to the sea, looking for shells. We left our stuff on the beach, trusting nobody is interested in a few towels and scoops. However, our important stuff, like our phones, we took with us as well a bucket to place the shells in.
After a while, we found a bunch of them, so we decided to go back. We walked to another child, who was selling her flowers. Spencer and I, squatted down, while (Y/D/N) was looking doubtfully to the flowers.
'Which one do you like?' I whispered in her ear, as she eventually made a choice. She pointed me a flower, a little shy to speak.
'How much is this one?' Spencer asked the slightly older girl, pointing at the flower, (Y/D/N) wants.
'30 shells.'
We then, began to count 30 shells and placed them in the bucket, the girl handed us. We thanked her, and left with the flower.
'Do you like this one?'
'Yes, I love it!'
'Have you decided yet, if you want to sell it?' I asked her, curious about her answer.
'I want to sell it, so I can buy other flowers.'
'For how much are you going to sell it?' Spencer asked, as she thought for a moment.
'35.'
'And, that's how you make business.' I lifted my hand for a high five, as she hit my hand, happily.
_________________________
We went with her a few more times, as she eventually began to do it on her own. But, we agreed, she stayed in a specific erea, so she was still in sight. She began to buy and sell flowers, just like I did once. As she was out for buying flowers again, I began to talk to Spencer, never losing sight of our daughter.
'Thank you so much, Spence. I really appreciate it, I know you aren't always a beach man, but I'm really happy to be back here. Thank you, love.' I spoke to him, while sitting on our towels.
'I'm glad, you like it. And, I myself, enjoy this as well. And, that buying and selling flowers activity is a really good idea. So, she learns how to handle money and to think first, before buying it.'
'I never really thought about it like that, but I love it that she is doing the same thing, I did as a child. So much memories are coming back now. I'm really happy, she loves to do this.'
'Me too. I love you, (Y/N).' Spencer spoke, making me smile.
'I love you, Spencer.'
_________________________
#criminal minds#cm#spencer reid#fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x fem!reader#having children#fluff imagine#mentioningmargins
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My Biggest Regret
Part four:
**
"Y/n pass me the tomatoes please,"
Chan's mum and Y/n had started cooking a big meal for the boys. It was currently 5 in the evening and Chan's dad had gone to pick up the boys from the airport leaving Hannah, Y/n and his mum cooking in a hot kitchen for 9 men. 9 grown men meant a lot of meat, a lot of bread and a lot of food in general.
"Here you go auntie," she passed the tomatoes and started on the dessert. Chan's favorite cheesecake. She hadn’t cooked it in a while but she knew she could, after all she made sure to in-grave the steps in her brain just incase Chan had ever asked her to make it for him.
"Mum I don't know why we're cooking so much for him!" This was the 50th time that evening that Hannah was complaining, "there just going to finish all this in 10 minutes!"
"Aish!" She smacked Hannah’s arm lightly causing Y/n to smile at the two and giggle, "all you've done is complain since morning! Be like Y/n and actually help," Hannah rolled her eyes and walked over to the oven to check on whatever was inside there.
"Y/nnie, my love, maybe go rest a little bit? You've been on your feet for a few hours,"
"It's okay auntie, we're almost done anyway so don't worry about it," Y/n assured Mama Bhang.
"Okay sweetie but aren't you so excited! Channie comes home!" She clapped her hands and spun a little.
"Yes I am excited, woah woah-" Y/n quickly grabbed the spoon that was about to hit the ground and handed it back to her.
"We must celebrate today don't you think?" The older lady stood by the stove and stirred one of the broths that were cooking, "how about some wine?"
"Mum, where shall I put this?" Hannah was holding a tray and it looked very hot. She was sweating a little too just like the rest of them.
"Just put it by the counter and start plating everything baby," she instructed the girl before turning back to a very concentrated Y/n, "so wine?"
"Yeah sure, I can go out and get some-"
"Oh! Don't be silly! You really thought I wouldn't have a stash of wine?" She teased and walked over to the caboards in the leaving room and walked back with two bottles in hand.
"Are we finishing both of them?" Y/n asked in shock looking at her elder grabbing three cups and setting them down.
"Oh sweetie! If we can, why not? We've been in the kitchen for hours! Don't we deserve this?" She poured and filled the glasses with wine and handed them out.
"Okay! I'm almost done with the sauce, I'm moving the hotpot onto the dining table, you two finish dishing up plates and start bringing them out,"
"Okay Mum, what about the ice cream? Should we put them in the coolers?"
"No, just feel the coolers with ice," she instructed Hannah before leaving the two in the kitchen.
"I've never seen her this happy before," Y/n giggled and started to stack the foods on the plates.
"Same to be honest, I don't think she was even this happy when I graduated," Hannah rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine.
"Oh! Don't say that Hannah, you know we were all so excited," Y/n had attended the graduation and made sure to take a lot of pictures cause she was proud and she wanted to make an album of memories to give to Chan when he came back. She had stacked a lot of pictures of things he had missed including birthdays, graduations (including hers) and just casual dinners and parties. The book was thick and she couldn't wait to hand it to the boy.
"I just don't under why-"
"Hannah you can't have this grudge with your brother, I was also in pain and I was hurt but you can't keep holding onto the grudge, his on his way home right now, you should be celebrating. Don't ruin it by being angry! Let him get home and after dinner you can talk to him about it okay?"
"Ugh I hate it when you're right," Hannah rolled her eyes. They both took another sip from their glasses and finished up setting the dining table.
The balcony door was open revealing the hot grill outside waiting for Chan's dad to put the steak's on the grill.
It was around 6:30. The glasses of wine were empty and now filled again. They were all washing up the dishes and cleaning up the house because Mama Bhang had recieved a text saying they were pulling up in the drive way.
Y/n's stomach started to churn, she couldn't believe. Chan was here. Chan was finally here. The glass in her hand was suddenly empty again. She had chugged it down.
"Okay should we go take a shower now?" Hannah asked as she finished wiping the table. Her mum was laying blankets on the couch incase anyone was going to sleep on it and she put out a few snacks on the table for the boys.
"Yeah let's go," Y/n agreed and headed to Hannah's room. She closed the door behind them and Hannah poured another glass for Y/n.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Y/n asked already tipsy. They both giggled as Hannah nodded her head.
"If we're going to do this, let's atleast do it drunk?" She justified, well questioned.
"You're so silly!" Y/n chuckled and grabbed her towel to head into the bathroom.
Her head was spinning a little but she couldn't help but overthink everything. She couldn't contain her emotions. She couldn't explain how she felt. She could just simple day she was happy but that couldn't explain all of her emotions. She wanted answers from Chan. Why did he disappear? Did he still love her? Because she made sure to keep herself pure for him. She made sure to keep herself innocent for him because he had promised to be her first in everything.
"Y/n! Hurry up girl!" The knock on the door causes her to jump out of her trance and quickly get out of the bathroom. Hannah was sat on the bed scrolling through her socials.
“Okay I’m done,” she said while rolling her eyes playfully.
"Finally! I thought you passed out or something," Y/n put down her toilet bag and get dressed as Hannah was taking her shower.
She had decided to wear a cute blue body hugging dress that she had gotten from skims with a white and blue cardigan.
She then went on to put on some perfume and do a little bit of makeup. Her hair was then slicked back into a pony tail.
When Hannah was done she also wore something similar to Y/n's but hers was in red and she let her hair fall since it wasn't long enough to be put up.
They decided to take a few selfies and pictures since they both could agree they looked really cute and wifey material.
"Girls?! There here!" They hear Chan's mum yell throught he house. The two got up and finished the wine in their glasses and made their way downstairs.
"Oh my girls! You both look so beautiful," she cooed at the sight of both of them.
"Thank you mum! Now where are they?" Hannah was impatient, she wanted to see her brother and his friends.
The door handle wiggled and then opened revealing her dad and a bunch of people behind him.
"Geuss who's home," his voice boomed throughout the whole house.
"Move!" His mum run past his dad and jumped into Chan's arms. Her body trembled against his as she started to cry.
It was a beautiful sight and Hannah and Y/n couldn't help but tear up a little.
"Oh my baby Boy! I missed you so much. This can't be real," she cried in his arms as Chan allowed her too.
"Hey Mum, I missed you so much," he wouldn't admit it but tears dropped from his eyes aswell. He did miss his mum with everything in him.
"Well since those two are busy," Chan's dad cleared his throat while chuckling, "girls these are the guys, introduce yourselves," he encourages the two girls that stood behind the couches.
"Hey, I'm Hannah, Hannah Bhang. His little sister and this is Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n. She's a family friend." Hannah smiled and waved. Y/n waved too, since she wasn't used to being people around her age she looked terrified but in all honesty she was just shy.
"Nice to meet you finally! I'm leeknow," he walked over to them to shake their hand. "That's Changbin, Han, Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin and I.N," he points at the different guys. They both smiled and waved at each of them. Y/n was trying so hard to remember all their names.
The blonde guy caught her eye though. Hyunjin was it? His was so pretty but what made her fall for him more was his soft plump lips.
"Welcome to Australia," Y/n finally said, "Make yourself at home." She smiled and lead them to sit down.
"Hey! hey! hey! I haven't met them yet!" Chan's mum said after she finally let go of Chan and dragged the boy into the house, they all chuckle and get up again to greet their elder. She made sure to give them hugs and kisses.
"Hannah!" A not so familiar voice called distracting them from the sight in-front of them. They both turn to Chan. "Are you not going to kiss your brother hello?" He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. His eyes automatically falling on Y/n.
He gasps and analyzes her figure, she was even more beautiful than he could remember. She looked so innocent and so grown up now.
The guilt started to eat away at him. It started to slowly creep up and it made his body heat up.
"Okay okay you're squeezing me to death!" Hannah was panting and trying to wiggle out of his strong grip.
"Woah," was all he could say. He almost even dropped his travel bag. "Y/n?"
"Hey Channie!" She smiled and waved at the boy who quite literally looked like he was about to pass out.
"Long time no see ehhh?"
**
#skz imagines#skz comfort#skz angst#skz x reader#skz drabbles#skz fluff#skz stay#skz x y/n#skz x you#stray kids drabbles
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Married
re:preview no. 1 and no. 2
minors + bots do not interact; fic rec blogs without comments do not reblog
A/N: from a joke idea to a poor fic preview to a final fic ... here it is! and it took me a little less than 2 weeks to write this, so please take it with a grain of salt. also, ik that i said i hate childhood friends to lovers (for psych reasons), but jeno is just so friend shaped.
summary: you take jeno to be your lawful wedding date, in busan.
includes ... girl/afab reader, porn with feelings, mutual pining, strong!jeno, they’re both government officials with the city planning department, jaehyun (127) marries mingyu (svt) btw ... smut warnings ... sex dreams, lingerie, oral sex (f + m receiving), masturbation (f + m), fingering, spanking, 69ing/ish, big dick!jeno, choking/breath play, edging (kind of but not really), praise during sex but not like a kink, unprotected sex, and so, so much consent ♡
wc: 25,9k (again, i am so sorry)
again, minors + bots do not interact
“Hey … hey, wake up. The conductor hasn’t come by to punch our tickets yet, and you’re sitting on them.”
You gently pat Jeno’s face where the 5:30 sunrise glows, barely seeping down the half-shielded window; he immediately closed it, about five minutes ago, once the night ended, more irritated by the sun waking him up than moving beds from his apartment to train, but he still kept a small part cracked, as if wanting to relive the road trips home during Seollal, when you two, excided by leaving college at the earliest moment, would book the cheapest rides and get picked up before rush hour. Your long sleeves scratch along his freshly shaven jaw, like scrubbing pillowy softness into his cheeks, and he tries to ignore it – tries to ignore you, except you become extra annoying, squeezing his face harder until he has to slap your hands away to avoid sleeping on the empty hard seat beside him, the last one in this connected row, where his blazer, a less comfy pillow than your narrow shoulder, takes residence. Jeno slides his palm across yours, enveloping your wrists like handcuffs, fixing them on your thighs. You have to take a moment, tongue weighing heavy and dry. He never really lets you forget how strong he is, oblivious to it all.
Even last night, when you helped him last-minute stress pack (a.k.a. the real reason you stayed at the 00-Line apartment), you hopped on his overflowing luggage, complaining that one clap from him would snap it shut (or completely break it, but you felt optimistic!). Granted, your shoes sat on top of all his clothes, preventing it from zipping up without something weighing it down – which is why his blazer sits on the bench, not in his bag, or yours. You told him that he could put it in one of your bags, but you both knew there was no room, what with all your different wedding outfits. He deadpanned at you, hearing that revelation – the multiple wardrobe changes –, throwing his facial cleanser at your loose makeup bag (the one you ended up shoving in his backpack too).
But not everyone can just wear one suit like him! You have the pre-wedding outfit, before you change into your attendance dress at city hall while you help Jaehyun set up; then, there’s the dinner dress, which you plan on also using at the rehearsal dinner, and a dress for the real reception, and of course you need a backup in case something happens to one of those, in addition to the matching shoes, because shoes (and accessories) elevate the appearance, as you reasoned, which made him visibly nervous for some reason, as if you would leave him looking like an outsider with your family, the same family he has known since middle school. You reassured him that he will always match with you, and if not, Busan has a thousand stores to buy a tie … which would have the potential to also not fit in his bag, like the blazer, but you two – he – can make it work! He makes everything work, like a superpower.
Jeno end up wearing the blazer over his hoodie, to the station, giving him a needed second layer against the dark 16-degree weather. He looked more put together with it on, than he probably actually felt, especially considering that he only had 10 minutes to get ready before Mark drove you to the KTX station. Although, the façade breaks now that it’s just the two of you in the booth – no strangers, no coverups, no friends, no expectations; so when he picks his head up and his hoodie falls, navy fluffy hair sticking out at random angles, you stop staring at your hands below his and catch his bangs, tucking them back gently into place. You want to move him into your lap (it might be more comfortable), but not yet; the conductor still has to punch your tickets, and you don’t want to repeat Chuseok 2020 when the conductor scolded you for laying across the bench. Plus, you never really get the chance to do this with him, be this close to him, not that you don’t want to, or that it’s too hard.
You just … never get the chance.
“How are you this awake,” he groans, raising his analog watch into squinted view, nearly crying laughter as his eyes close again, cheek pressing into your shoulder, “at 5:37 AM?”
You roll your head dramatically, provoking more grumbles out of him that make you giggle as he jostles. “Some of us actually go to sleep earlier when we know that we have a schedule at dawn.” You graze your recently manicured nails into his scalp, mumbling through a smile, “You knew we were going to leave for Jaehyun’s wedding a few days in advance; you were there when I booked our tickets; he invited us to lunch because of you.” Jeno makes an objecting noise. “Ah, maybe I should’ve invited Haechan instead.”
“Hey.” Jeno smacks your thigh, his long fingers curling behind your knee to pull you closer. You gulp, praying that he cannot hear the knot in your throat. Apparently, his displays of strength are inversely related to his energy levels; the less energy he has, the more he uses his strength with you. But thankfully, he remains oblivious, poking your stomach with his furthest hand. He slinks up your shoulder, massaging down your tension to get selfishly comfortable, warm breath exhaling into your neck. “You fell asleep maybe 20 minutes before I did,” he objects, arguing the root of the problem, as if knowing that he will always be your first choice, “and that was, like, four hours ago.”
“Ha,” you laugh sarcastically, masking the new sweat on your palms under your sweater paws. You rub your hands together for a second, bouncing the heels together, before pushing him up, with all your strength, holding him there long enough – despite a series of complaints – to take the tickets from under his ass. “I wasn’t the one who said, ‘No,’ to coffee when Jaemin offered.”
“He went to sleep when I woke up!”
“Eh,” you wave off and lay him on your shoulder again, “Excuses.”
“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, pouting, cuddling you so tightly that your revolve falters, “I’m doing you a favor, and you’re being mean to me.”
You comb his hair again, soothing all the wrinkles in his forehead, not denying it. He is partially correct. You do take advantage of his kindness – merely because he offers it so nicely, on a silver platter; it is a reason why you lo… why you … why you return it so easily, albeit quietly, like now. He will attend your cousin’s wedding this weekend; he lets you overpack his luggage; he opens his apartment to you with wide arms. And in return, you paid for the KTX tickets and hotel; you reserved a slot at a shooting range in Jeonju where your layover stops; you let him fall asleep on your shoulder right now, even though you are tired as hell, too.
Besides, your cousin, Jaehyun, probably would have invited Jeno to the reception anyways. He invited everyone, on a limited occupancy, from Eunwoo to Jihyo. And Jeno , who once wished Jaehyun to be his older brother, is pretty close with your family. There is no way he would not end up in the family photos.
“Ugh.” Jeno sits up, rubbing his eyes single handedly with the arm detached from you. “Why did we agree to lunch? We could be sleeping right now.”
You laugh at him, tugging him back down easily, and ghost your fingers in his hair. “Mingyu has to finish up some work project before they can go on their honeymoon, so Jaehyun suggested lunch to give his fiancée some uninterrupted time.”
“Boo, they’re just going to fuck,” Jeno yawns, starting to fall asleep again. “You stay over at my apartment all the time, it’s like you practically moved into my room, and there’s no way you get any work done.”
“Ha … ha .. a .. yeah …” Totally not distracted by him, or how much freer he is in his bedroom, always wearing basketball shorts without underwear as it seems, always manspreading enough for you to see. It is definitely not the same thing. You lift your head to look over the seats. “Where is that conductor? We need to get moving.”
Jeno slides you back down. “But really, you got this?”
“Ye-yeah.”
“Alright.” He nuzzles into your neck, almost kissing your skin when he tilts his chin up. Your entire body freezes for a second, anticipating, hoping, that he kisses you, any part of you. But he doesn’t. And you press your lips together, eyes closing too, just briefly, as not to fall asleep. “I’m going to take a quick nap. Wake me when we get there?”
“Yeah, okay.”
As he settles into sleep, Jeno’s head slowly nods forward, and you cup outside his cheek, catching him before he falls, lingering your nails behind his jaw for a moment, for this moment, until you spot the conductor. Amazing timing. You sigh. Jeno’s fingers twitch closed, briefly, like a reassuring hug that you misinterpret – willingly misinterpret – as something more, like this is okay, it is okay to have feelings during arbitrary moments. You inch apart from Jeno again, shifting on your hip, into the aisle, and pick up the tickets again, holding them so tightly that little veins fold onto the papers.
The conductor comes by, moving ever so slowly, like he wants to help you preserve this moment, with your best friend unconscious on your shoulder, and as though he could read your heart, he says, “You’re a cute couple."
"Ha ... thanks," you smile politely, biting your lip, grounding yourself with a look a Jeno. He spasms in his sleep, hand squeezing your thigh again. “Oh, right.” You hand the tickets over, reality resuming. You try to cease your shaking hands between your thighs, shoulders raised as awkwardly as the smile on your face, but Jeno’s hand, his strong hand, splits your legs, so you give up.
“We still have some chocolates left from White Day,” the conductor informs softly. The entire world seems to calm down, or stay asleep, for Jeno’s sake, and you don’t blame them, lowering your own tension too. “I can bring some for you and your boyfriend if you like.”
You swallow thickly, licking the corner of your mouth, considering it selfishly because why would anyone reject free candy?, but you shake your head. “No, I’ll – I’ll, ah … wait for my b-boyfriend to wake up first. H-he really likes chocolate.” Oh, my God; be cool, you scold yourself, but the nerves make you feel bad, like you are too close to Jeno or you make him uncomfortable with other people’s assumptions.
“Alright,” the conductor nods, smiling at the two you, practically repeating cute couple, “Let me know. I’ll save some for you.”
After he punches your tickets and hands them back – an archaic practice, and vain, since you checked in electronically around 5 AM – you grab Jeno’s hand.
And, in his sleep, he weaves your fingers together.
Attention, passengers: we are approaching Jeonju Station in five minutes. Please collect your items; we will be stopping shortly.
Jeno yawns awake, lulling his neck tall along the line on the backrest, kneading the kink in his spinal cord that keeps forming after he sleeps on your shoulder (he should really move onto your chest). Speaking of you, Jeno reaches at his sides, left and right, fingers dancing into the empty seats, not even finding his blazer. He peaks an eye open, wincing as the full morning light assaults his vision, then he actively looks for you, and finds you easily, already standing, pulling down your bags from the overhead hanger. A wheel jams on the railing, making you lean on your toes, shakily, to get it down, but you look unstable, so he immediately gets up, the second he sees your ankles wobble, and steadies you by your lower back, using one strong hand to bring down the luggage by its handle, his palm lingering too long.
The timing hasn’t been that great lately, these last few days – months, if he’s being honest. Like, yeah, you practically spend every waking moment together, a side effect of knowing each other since middle school and now working together on a project for urban revitalization in the lower Seoul district, but there are little things that still separate you from him. Not enough to make him feel as if you are drifting apart as best friends, as childhood friends; only enough for him to notice that he relies on you to be his personal comfort, his home away from home. And maybe, he thinks, this trip can recenter your relationship.
So, he starts by closing the distance.
Except, as strong as he might be, Jeno knows he is unaware of how much he uses at any given moment, and you tense in front of his hand, instinctively jolting up and hitting him square under the chin with the back of your head.
“Ow!”
“Sorry!” you scream, equally cringing and grabbing your hair, before finishing lamely, not knowing how to help, “sorry. You scared me.” You step into his personal bubble, practically into his chest, and grab his chin before he can cover up the temporary pain, holding him almost as long as he touched your back, except he didn’t have a valid excuse to you that long. He holds his breath, as if a doctor started the inhale-exhale stethoscope check, but you stop talking.
“You could’ve woken me up,” he tells you, moving your hand with his jaw, staring at your lips, willing you to talk or break the beat. “I know the bags are heavy,” he says, which translates to I would’ve helped you.
“Yeah, but you looked so cu … so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you until I absolutely had to.”
Jeno nods, fair; he’s done the same in the past when you were in college, especially after exam season, after you pull multiple all-nighters in a row but still make plans with your friends. Like, there was this one time, you stayed over at his apartment, a different one than he lives in now, one closer to Uni, for Haechan’s birthday party later, and you fell asleep on his bed while he played League with Jaemin and Jisung. He ended up waking you up about ten minutes after the party started, to give you a bit more than an hour of sleep. Needless to say, neither of you were the first to wish Haechan happy birthday, for which he only accepted monetary penance, but Jeno thought it was worth it, no amount of money enough, to see your smile refreshed and echoed in your posture.
“Hey, is that my blazer?”
You glance at the lapels, slightly raising your arm as well, as if you forgot that you were wearing it. “Yeah, sorry, I – I got cold.” You slowly take it off, shaking the sleeves off your shoulders. “Do you – Do you want– ?” Do you want it back?
“No,” Jeno interrupts, fixing his jacket by the lapels over your shoulders again. “It’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get hypothermia”
Once it situates correctly on your body, Jeno trails his hand up your arm, rubbing your bicep, sensing that the cold probably got to you, given that the loud air conditioner in the back contradicts the clear sunny sky. Then, the train stops, violently, and you both reach your arms out to steady one another, ultimately falling against the chairs, his waist pressed tightly against yours. You inhale sharply, first, and he copies you, hands brace above and below each other’s elbows. Neither of you really stand this close to each other, having too much respect for your friendship. He can name less than a handful of moments: 7 Minutes in Heaven at the beginning of 9th grade; an awkward dance at your first high school dance in 10th grade; truth or dare during sophomore year of college; accidentally pressing against you in the copy room at work after the shelves in the supply closet broke and the handyman shoved a thousand boxes next to the printer. Jeno doesn’t know what is different now; this, too, is probably another rare occurrence. He has loved you forever, never making a move, but …
“Th-thanks,” you whisper, quickly pulling away your hands.
There it is.
“No, um, no problem.”
Wordlessly, you go through the unloading motions: you stacking his backpack on the roller luggage, him taking the duffel bag that you claimed was heavy. Jeno closes the distance again, putting his hand behind the small of your back, walking you preemptively down the aisle. You slump against his palm, resting your cheek occasionally on his bicep as more people file out in the front, and he lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, because the fatigue is probably hitting you now that you have to force your body to move.
Once you get to the front of the train, an exit almost like a plane since you sat in the middle of the cart (not the most coveted place, since you can’t recline or get out quickly, but the easiest to snake), the conductor greets him:
“Hey, you’re awake!”
Jeno points at himself, lines forming between his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” the conductor confirms, handing over a small bag of chocolate hearts. “I saved these for you.”
“Thanks?” He tilts his head to the side as he unwinds himself from you, accidentally bumping his elbow on your head, and accepts the candies with two hands – a clear bag of shiny pink and yellow Hershey’s mini-chocolate bars. “Why us– ?”
“Okay, thanks, have a good day!” you shout, pushing him into the station, barely stopping to bow before exiting the train.
Jeno manages to catch the conductor’s last words, something about good-bye and being cute. “Do you know what that’s about?”
“Nope,” you lie badly, and he gives you a skeptical look, which you ignore. “But fr-free chocolate.”
So he lets you ignore it, eating one. It tastes good, but he swears he hears you exhale in relief.
The layover in Jeonju lasts two hours, until a little after 10:30 AM, but it feels like two minutes.
You spent the entire time latched onto Jeno, supporting your caffeinated body through all the laughter and smiles – yours and his, as you surprised him with activity after activity, a thank you for coming, for willingly enduring gossipy aunties practically cross-examining him on the reception floor and drunk uncles at the karaoke machine who would otherwise be tone-deaf without the drinks in their hands. After the first activity – a short 30-minute session at a shooting range – Jeno picked you up with his knees, spinning you around outside the building, repeatedly crushing your torso between his beefy arms. And when he thought that was it, you Uber’ed to the Jeonjuchun River and rented a couple bikes next to one of the pretty pavilions (big mistake; you had to go back to the start and wait for him there because you couldn’t keep up without your ass catching on fire!). His dumb, wide smile made you want to keep going, plus you had a last planned surprise to grab coffee and pastries at the Mural Village, having called ahead two days prior to reserve a couple of their signature glazed donuts, his favorite.
So, it makes sense that when you get on the last train to Busan, exhaustion hits your entire body full force.
As Jeno packs the bags on the overhead hanger, you sit sideways on the chair, watching him, noting how his hoodie slightly rises, right under his belly button, confined neatly by the prominent outlines in his abs. To really sell whole ‘not-checking-out-your-best-friend’ bit, lean into the spine of the booth, lazily leaning your head against the leather cushion, half-closing your eyes, lazily leaning on your own shoulder, arms folded comfortably across your stomach. You don’t know where the lie and truth meet, but you still wear his blazer, and the earthy cologne keeps you awake, as a (poor) substitute for his proximity, until he kneels down next to you.
“Tired?”
You can hear the smile in his cheery voice.
“Mmhm.”
If he were Jaemin, you might’ve cancelled every surprise (or just not planned them) and accepted his offer to take a nap in the station while the next train arrives. If he were Renjun, you might’ve left later in the day, or the previous day, or maybe not even planned lunch with your cousin, since the two don’t really know each other that well. If he were Haechan, you might’ve gotten teased after the second you stared wobbling on your toes, needing his support to get you on the train, or he would have driven all the way to Busan in that newly painted car, taking turns at rest stops. But no, this is Lee Jeno, your best friend since middle school. You used to joke that you had a platonic crush on him, that you manifested being his best friend from the moment you saw him; you just didn’t know that it meant this.
“Short on words?” he jokes. Earlier, you were more talkative than him, a side effect of being as awake as he is now, before you ate a peanut butter jaffle, nearly falling asleep as you finished breakfast, like a child after Seollal dinner with the grandparents. “You had so much to say when you were willing to let me, your best friend, starve.”
You roll your eyes, leaving them closed when he takes his seat, offering his arm as a plushie for you to cuddle; you also shift your hips, invading his personal space to lean even deeper on him. “As if you would starve. How many donuts did you eat? Six? A dozen? How many sandwiches?”
“Are you calling me fat?”
You slide your arm across his abdomen, letting your hand dangle on the other side. “I’m saying you’re just giving me more surface area to hug.”
Jeno rolls his eyes, his entire head, mocking your actions from the first train ride, “Excuses.” You slap his chest, accidentally groping his pec (you were aiming for his arm), and leave your hand there, slowly dragging your wrist down his abs (again, not intentional – and hopefully he feels that way too) to hug his waist. He brushes your hair behind your head, equally running his thumbpad along the curve of your ear. “I got this one; take a nap.”
“You got the tickets?”
“Eung.” He pulls them out of his front pocket. “Freshly printed from the KTX terminal –“ He grabs your fingers, gently rubbing them between his like helping you wash your hands. “- ink smudged under your nails.” You groan when he drops your hand.
“Bags put away?”
“Yeah, all four of ‘em.”
“Make sure the pastries–”
“Shhh.” Jeno curls his hand over your mouth. And you are tempted to lick his palm, except your mouth is too dry, so you resign to breathing through your nose above his long fingers. “Sleep; I got this.”
“You know, these seats recline …”
“Shh,” he repeats, laying you back down on his shoulder.
Unfortunately, you wake up the next hour after a train attendant bumps your booth with her snack cart. Ironic, since you had a weird dream involving Haechan as a Domino’s delivery boy (even though he hates American fast food!), dropping off a pizza with all the pepperoni replaced by Jeno’s eye smile, and you paid using a ₩100,000 bill with Renjun’s college CSA (Chinese Student Association) presidential portrait in the middle. Eh, you’ve had weirder. Like that dream – after Jeno started working out more … diligently, in college – where you basically pounced his bones at the end of multivariate calculus in the middle of the lecture hall. That, and the one with a young Bill Nye.
You inhale deeply and push your palms on either side of your legs, inadvertently groping Jeno’s thigh in the process, making him jolt too, when you get yourself upright, leaning a little more on him than the chair.
“Everything good?”
“Hmm?” you yawn, stretching your limbs under his arm, which somehow blanketed you during the ride. You spare it a glance before looking up at him again and answering his question, “No, yeah, all good, just –” Another yawn escapes you. “– tired’s’all.”
Jeno squeezes your torso into his chest. “You can go back to sleep. We have a little more than an hour until Busan.”
You nod into his hoodie, almost accepting it.
Then an egg sandwich with your name scribble on it appears in front of your nose. And you reluctantly wake up, shaking Jeno off your shoulders as the train attendant hands you a small paper food-box, the lunch that you reserved with an extra ₩10,000, in case the jaffle place was closed on Thursday mornings. With the professional photos and multilingual descriptions, you practically could not say no to the gilgeori toast.
Except, you can and you do. One bite into the brioche, after the attendant leaves, you barf the mashed pellet onto a napkin, quickly washing away the taste with some water.
“Don’t like it?” Jeno teases, giggling loudly. Then he takes a bite of his caprese katsu sando and immediately regurgitates it into an empty paper cup on the table. “Oh, ew.”
The two of you exchange raised eyebrows and nod at each other, verbally confirming, “Switch.”
As you finish your second sando, of three, occasionally nibbling Jeno’s food, just to make sure that you really don’t like it, the train unexpectedly shuffles forward, making a fast stop as if it almost missed the station – not the Busan Station, which you aren’t sure whether to be happy about. On one hand, it would mean that the conductor almost missed your stop in Busan (literally impossible, since it is a major station), if you were in Busan; on the other hand, reality, it just jerks the entire cart, your bags and everything loudly jangling above. You hear the rumpled plastic tote bag, full of pastries from a local shop near the Mural Village, squish between the luggage bags, and you immediately get up to save them.
Jeno’s hands stabilize you as equally quick, when you crossover his legs to enter the aisle. His strong fingers dip into your skin that exposes after you grab the pastries, your hoodie lifting right below your belly button. You exhale shakily and look down at him. He concentrates on reading the stats on the game he lost when you got up. You come back on your heels. Then the train jolts again, stopping for real. And Jeno grabs you harder, probably more surprised than you, given the way his wide eyes ask if you’re okay. You nod, then dig through his backpack, pulling out a Tupperware in addition to the pastry bag, and take your seat again – all while aided by Jeno’s massive hand.
He takes the bag from you, holding it in front of him on the table, as you open the Tupperware, to check if everything was all good – no broken cookies.
“Oh, thank Go– Hey!”
Jeno takes one of the cookies with bigger chocolate chips, although the edges are distorted, curved out of shape. “Yum, I love your mom’s recipe.”
You frown, whining, “I made those for Jaehyun and Minghyu.” You pinch his arm, closing the box and taking the bag before he eats everything there, too. “Plus, you ate an entire bakery in Jeonju. How are you so hungry?”
“Nothing compares to a mother’s recipe.” Jeno bites into the cookie again. You cross your arms under your chest, trying to emulate your best mom-caught-him-with-his-hand-in-a-cookie-jar state. He doesn’t crumble, but he coaxes the last bite into your mouth, smiling after you comply.
You roll your eyes, sighing, “God, these are good.”
Jeno rolls his eyes too, munching on his last sando again. “I love that you’re so humble about your baking skills,” he laughs
But all you catch are the I love you and his crinkly eye smile.
Attention, passengers: we have arrived at the Busan station. Please gather your belongings and departure the train at your nearest exit.
The actual stop is even worse, if that’s possible, than the other 500 it took to get here. And Jeno finds that he doesn’t like this train very much – the stop is too abrupt, and there was no warning like the previous ride. He might even file give a comment or two on the feedback card, assuming there is a box somewhere for it. Once, he gave a thumbs-down on a YouTube video for not effectively helping him tie his boxer hand wrappings. Or, maybe, the driver sucks.
He just hates that you wobble so much every time you stand up in the cart, even though the ride is over now. Not that he hates helping you. He doesn’t mind, almost enjoys it, if he were being honest – holding your waist between his long fingers, under the guise of steadying you or warming you up, given that he never really gets to be this close to you. And he takes advantage of the moment, of your exhaustion, inhaling the remnants of your shampoo as you nestle into his chest, face first.
You mumble something incoherent against his shirt, then groan when he laughs.
Jeno pushes you back up, for less than a second because you fight him, trapping his waist in your arms. He laughs a little bit louder, and his shoulders rise to his ears, allowing him to hug you around your neck, practically suffocating you between his beefy biceps. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said –” You lift your chin, pouting at him through your eyelashes. “– the Uber will be here in five.”
“Oh, then should, um, should we …?” He gestures to the exit.
“Yeah,” you doze, shaking yourself off him, shoving your hands in his blazer pockets. Jeno frowns. He hopes you can get more sleep tonight, especially since the hotel is, like, 20 minutes away from the train station. “Let’s go wait over there.”
Jeno throws his arm over your shoulder, guiding the two of you through the automatic double doors, his hand hanging in the air above your chest. Outside, you slant onto him more, wrapping your arms around his waist again, turning your cheek on his pec, eyes half-closed too. He can smell his own cologne on your skin. But, scared that you might hear his heart skip a beat, Jeno rotates you into his neck, resting his face on your hair. He only gets half-a-second though, until your phone beep beeps, altering the Uber’s presence two meters away, which is even closer than he thought. Seems like everyone wants time with you, at his expense. But as the car pulls up, honking, confirming your ride, you yawn one more time and fix his hoodie, with your arms circling behind his head, before packing the luggage in the trunk. It takes Jeno another moment for his body to move. He waits until you have to pat the car seat to grab his attention – because no matter what, he’ll always leave an eye out for you, an ear open for you, an arm free for you. And he follows.
Everything goes fuzzy during the 15-minute drive (the driver took the freeway, rather than the streets), without an object to distract him. He basically ordered you to sleep, as if the car vibrations weren’t a strong enough lullaby, shushing you into the crook of his neck, like he leaves that place specifically for you.
“– cute couple.”
Jeno snaps his neck up. The driver’s – an older man – eyes reflect a smile through the rearview mirror, and he repeats it:
“You two,” he clarifies, “You look like a cute couple.”
The sentiment echoes later, again stealing the air from Jeno’s lungs, once you arrive to the hotel, accurately predicted by the app on your phone, not that he was counting down the meters until you arrived …
Jeno barely lets you thank the driver, shoving you through another automatic double doors set with renewed vigor. You give him a weird look that he cannot quite narrow down, so he ignores it, pointing to the front desk, unaware of how much time has passed, not wanting to block the entrance. You turn slower than him, and he thinks his cover has blown, that you will know that the Uber driver said something weird, something he has pondered since, basically, middle school. But instead of asking question, you answer the concierge’s questions: Name and ID? Credit card? Reservation for … two? Jeno taps his toes into the ceramic tile, tempted to pull out his phone, but he doesn’t, in case you need him.
Then, she makes the point that snaps his neck up again: “You two make a cute couple – oh,” she frowns, typing into the computer. “A room with two beds?”
“Yes,” you confirm, sounding like gritting through your teeth. Jeno cranes his neck forward to confirm, but as he does, the concierge grants you the room tickets and you move on, pulling him by the hand – interlaced fingers – toward the elevator, avoiding the topic.
Silently, again, Jeno follows you through Floor F to Room 23, only stopping when you roll his luggage in front of the TV and dresser. He copies you, unsure what to do or say without knowing exactly when Jaehyun, or Mingyu, will stop by for lunch; although he expects it to be soon. You put your hands on your waist, staring at the floor. He almost asks you what you’re thinking about, but you cross your arms under your chest, sheathing your hands under his blazer.
“S-sorry about that,” you whisper, so quietly that he has to step closer. “Be-because she thought that we, um, th-at we are –” You wince. Jeno reaches out, squeezing your shoulder, thumb rubbing harder to reassure you further. “– were a couple.”
“It’s o– ”
“The same thing happened with that train conductor.”
“What?”
Maybe he sounds too surprised, because you look mildly offended, mouth agape. And he pauses, for what feels like eternity, until you laugh. Then, he laughs. You sway forward a little bit, both hands landing on his chest. He catches you, steadies you, again, laughter fading into a smile.
“Sorry, about that,” Jeno apologizes honestly, by the tone of his voice: soft and comforting. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling like he owes you some sort of explanation. “I guess I was too close to you.”
But you disagree.
“No, it’s fine!” you reassure him right away, as if all his worries are ridiculous – which they might as well be, since you are his best friend (don’t tell Jaemin; although, Jaemin tends to be more affectionate than you in social settings, and they have been mistaken for a couple on quite a few occasions, even with you present). Then, you glance at your hands, darting between your fingers on his shoulders and his eyes. “I w-was probably too close to you to-too.”
And with that, you retract your hands.
But he catches them, puts them back.
“It’s okay,” Jeno promises, his palms stroking small circles into your waist. “The Uber driver also thought we were a couple.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
A beat passes.
And in that beat, Jeno realizes that neither of you are like this with your friends – you don’t hang off his arm; he doesn’t spend an entire night staring at you from the corner of his eye – and neither of you were like this as kids – you weren’t each other’s first kiss; never have you been called out for cuddling, justifying it as “we’ve been doing this since we were young!”. But this could be the residual pent-up energy from forcing his body not to immediately find you in every setting. Like, his judgement can lax while the real world pauses outside the Busan border. You know, he has let you borrow his clothes from middle school through college, to now; he has held your hand across the sidewalk, making sure that you stay on the side furthest from the cars on the street; he has hugged and kissed (your forehead) and cuddled you in the past. And each time, he shoved any inkling of feelings back down.
“I –” Jeno starts, but you are too close to his face and words fail him. He needlessly brushes hair away from your face, as if the action would bring him clarity. It doesn’t; it gives him more questions than answers, especially in the way that you slowly crawl toward his face, eyes trained on his lips. Jeno returns it, mouth parted on the last syllable he said, shoulders falling down, down, down. He slides your hips over his, stuttering his hand onto your cheek, letting you rest in his palm, your head turned, ready if he closes the distance.
You lean forward on your toes, standing tallest on his shoulders. He mimics you, getting smaller, as a way of asking for your consent, and this time, you copy him – copy what he usually does – flickering your gaze to him until enough time has passed. You get closer … closer … closer …
Ping!
“S-s-sorry,” you mumble, pulling out your phone from your back pocket but not pulling away from him. Jeno bites the inside of his mouth, unsure whether to move, since you don’t. One breath escapes his lips, mutually breaking the moment. “It’s – It’s Jaehyun – Oh,” you exclaim, as if realizing the proximity for the first time. You step back, escaping his grasp, pointing toward the bathroom at the front of the room. “I-I sh-should get ready. He – He – Jaehyun, my-my cousin, um,” you stutter, shaking your head at the ground, “I don-I don’t know why I’m telling you that; you know him.” You grab your duffel bag, but it pounds the floor. Jeno thinks you weren’t aware of how heavy it is, and he raises his eyebrows. “Anyways, -” You smile at him, hands pressing into your hips. “- he – Jaehyun – will be here in 30 minutes. I-I’m gonna go change an-and get ready in the bathroom. Yeah, uh, bye.”
You slam the door.
Another five minutes later, after he collapses on a bed, it hits him: Jeno almost kissed you.
Lunch goes off without a hitch. Mingyu picked an Italian place called La Bella Citta, which was originally meant to cater their wedding, until Jaehyun decided that he wanted traditional food at the reception. It is a pretty expensive place, hence why they paid (partially because you and Jeno are the siblings he never got). And the lunch followed a simple formula: Jeno makes a (bad) joke; Jaehyun brings up an unrelated anecdote, chuckling prematurely at just the thought; Mingyu laughs too hard, accidentally spilling champagne; and you get a bunch of memories, smiling fondly as Jaehyun cleans Mingyu’s shirt with a Tide pen.
Well, there was this one thing.
Your risotto didn’t taste very good – the rice was overcooked; butter had been added over oil; the dish lacked its creamy texture, more soupy in consistency. Thankfully, Jeno exchanged half his steak with you (not the tenderloin part, of course). No one would have noticed; had you not been so obviously gawking at him for the gesture, because it sparked Mingyu’s clumsy ass to comment something about doing the same for Jaehyun in the past. And then Jeno turned it into a competition for which of them has exchanged more meals with the Jung family (although you don’t share the same last name; you are part of the family by extension).
While they battled it out, with Jeno winning since he did take your egg sandwich on the train earlier, Jaehyun poked you in the arm. “So you brought him?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“No, no,” he shook his head, “I just thought you might bring Jaemin or Renjun – I never see Renjun, and he buys really good gifts.”
You snorted. Yeah, right. Renjun bought a choco pie for Jaemin’s birthday, like, at midnight, from a convenience store; he bought Jeno PJs, even though Jeno doesn’t wear pyjamas (you can attest); and he bought you a thrifted candle holder which broke after you put an electric candle in it. If Jaehyun wanted a good wedding gift, he should have told you to bring Jaemin. Still, you would’ve brought Jeno; like, no matter what, you would have asked Jeno first, and he would always say yes. Even during that awkward orientation week in college when his physics professor caught him shotgunning two beers at the same time right before class (it happened twice); you begged him to go to office hours with you, needing constant reassurance that you did not, in fact, sound like an idiot.
“And I thought you liked Jeno,” you frowned.
“No, I do; probably not as much as you, but of course I do. If you didn’t tell me before the wedding invites went out, I would’ve sent one to him myself.”
After that, everything everywhere happened all at once; you didn’t have time to contradict him, or self-reflect – Mingyu spilled more champagne; Jeno leaned his arm behind your chair, using his other hand to pull you closer, to help you avoid touching the entering wedding party; Jaehyun tilted his big ass forehead at you knowingly. You were almost relieved to head back to the hotel, instantly collapsing on your bed without changing out of your Sunday finest clothes instead of responding to Jaehyun’s cryptic observation.
“I’m dead; I’m dead,” you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the golden hour seeping into your room. Dramatically, you fall backwards onto your bed, relaxing your entire body into the comforter. You peak under your arm to find Jeno when he doesn’t respond, and he smiles back at you, hanging up his blazer before taking a running start.
“Oof!” Jeno flops like a fish beside you, covering his eyes too. “All of us are dead,” he jokes, referencing the drama he started last week. You started it first, binging it a couple days after it aired, but when he told you about it, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d already seen it and watched half the season with him. It became part of your daily lunch routine, not that you know how long it will last. Your urban revitalization project is temporary, a bit long term temporary, spanning until maybe October, but still temporary.
You shift onto your side, hands folded in prayer under your head as a pillow, scanning his peaceful face. “Hey,” you whisper tentatively. You wait another few seconds (maybe even a minute) before opening your mouth, hand reaching out to touch him. “Jen, I –”
“Yeah?” his voice rasps.
“I j-just wanted to thank you for coming with me today,” you change your mind, recoiling before he opens his eyes, which he does, peering at you with the same wide curiosity as the day you met him, “And switching meals with me all day. I – I –” You inhale. “– I really appreciate it, really … appreciate you.” You whisper the last bit, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.
But he does.
“Of course,” he tells you, like he could never say no. And suddenly, you cannot recall an instance when he has ever denied you the thing – he shares his food with you; he helped you spontaneously paint your apartment at 3 AM; he gives you his clothes at the crack of dawn. “You’re my best friend.” Now you can remember the moments – he wouldn’t do the laser tag tournament with you (and Jaemin); he turned down your invite to The Griffin Bar; and worst of all, he outright refused to go to Renjun’s Single’s Appreciate Day party with you. “I’d do anything you ask.”
You roll onto your back, facing the ceiling, and close your eyes.
“Jen-Jen-Jen-Jen-Jeno, Oh!” your rapid legato whimpers wake Jeno up.
First, his body reacts, an involuntary twitch from his feet to head. Next, everything above his torso moves, his arm covering his eyes. He turns into his elbow, away from the window that isn’t as bright as he thought it would be. He, then, remembers that he, somehow, fell asleep on your bed, or you two fell asleep on the same bed; neither of you really got the chance to figure out the sleeping arrangements, since yesterday had so many activities. Not that it mattered, or was a bad thing; you did spend the previous night in his apartment, in his bed. Granted, you slept feet to head, him on top of the duvet with another blanket.
Jeno drops his arm down his cheek, cautiously opening an eye to the other half of the bed.
His hand and jaw fall.
You moan his name again, mouth gaping at the ceiling, eyes twisted shut while your back arches off the mattress. At some point in the night, you must’ve changed, or you wore that lingerie set under your dress the entire time at lunch. Jeno cannot help it; his eyes find your tits spilling out of your teeny-tiny mesh cups that don’t look like they would cover up very much skin anyways. He tries to move to your face, but his willpower fails, and he looks for the source of your moans: your hand between your legs. Unfortunately, you still wear the matching, lacy panties, and your palm hides just how wet you are, the other fisted into the sheets by his thigh.
Jeno bites his lip. Why would you wake him up like this? Do that next to him? … Unless …?
Experimentally, Jeno leans onto you, pressing his still-clothed chest over you bare arm, the one attached to the blanket, clawing it roughly. He kisses your shoulder, ghosting his index finger down your naked stomach. Your moans get louder, more encouraging, so he doesn’t stop. God, Jeno wonders how you have this pornographic glow at golden hour, before the day even starts, that he cannot get enough of. You arch further off the bed, into his touch, making his fingers pad deeper into your skin, increasing their pressure until he gets to your pussy. He cups around your hand, guiding the way you grind into your own hand. But desperate for more movement, maybe more of him, you scissor yourself. And he can feel it, feel your knuckles flex, forcing your thighs separate for the deepest stroke.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“To-touch me, please, Jeno, touch me.”
Jeno inserts his fingers with yours, simultaneously rutting his fully erect penis on your leg, which makes him realize that he is too clothed, but he doesn’t want to pull away from you. Instead, he straddles one of your legs, grabbing the opposite side of your neck. Blindly, using his tongue to find your most prominent vein, he sucks at your throat. He kisses you, kisses your neck, sloppily, repeatedly, until you whine even louder. Jeno has to break away, moaning into the air, his chest sweating through the white whore shirt. The two of you might get a noise complaint; is it bad that the potential turns him on? He barely gets to return to your neck, barely gets to make that wet mark even more tender, when you reverse the positions.
You push him back down, temporarily, just long enough to flip your hair over your shoulder and climb his waist. And apparently, he makes a strangled sound, because you release his shirt, smoothening out the wrinkles, mumbling something about buying him a new one later, but the entire action makes more of your hair fall down, so Jeno sits up quickly. You slide down his lap, only stopped by his long, thick cock standing under his pants. His dick outlines your ass curve, pushing your cheeks further apart. With the new position – the better position – he shoves your hair back, fisting it into a ponytail the same way you fisted the sheets, exposing your neck again. He starts a new hickey, too impatient to find the last one (it is on the other side), sucking his way down. Your bra straps fall down your biceps at this point. The plastic little adjuster springing free with your tits as Jeno bounces you in front of his cock, too much acceleration rolling your body on top of his chest that he has to force his body to slow down before he cums prematurely. He wants to cum inside you.
The decision to end the foreplay, the juvenile grinding, occurs when you rip his shirt open, mumbling something about buying him another later. Your nipples rub on his pecs, almost purposefully missing his, circling around the areola. He grunts throatily, catching your ass and pulling your cheeks apart, slapping them twice, fast, as a punishment for your sopping pussy teasing him, ghosting his cock.
“I want you,” he breathes, “I want you so bad.”
“Then, fuck me.”
Jeno hooks a finger around your panties, moving his knuckle slowly over your clit until your legs shake as much as his do. He gives you a quick look, a quick kiss, before lifting you on your knees, positioning his cock between your legs. You brace your hands on his shoulders, lowering yourself with his hand on your hip. He gets halfway in your pussy, the both of you throwing your heads back, moaning to the ceiling. After a brief recovery, he trusts in all the way.
Jeno stutters his hips down, preparing the next thrust, his eyes shut tighter than your pussy walls around his dick.
Then, he wakes up. For real.
He jumps, in a cold sweat, the birds chirping outside. And maybe, Jeno should be concerned now. Initially, he just looked for you, as the first thought crossing his mind while he opened his eyes – eg, when you slept over at his apartment, feet to head, him too scared to sleep next to you in case he accidentally confesses murder, or close to, during his sleep; when he slept on your shoulder in the train; this current moment.
Yeah, technically, he is in your bed – hotel bed, but still. Jeno fumbles around the mattress, untangling himself from the blanket that you probably put on him last night. When he stands up, in the small aisle between the beds, unbuttoned pants slipping off his waist, the hem covering half his feet, he recognizes that these are yesterday’s clothes, from the lunch with Jaehyun and Mingyu. He stumbles toward the night, every part of his body warm, his cock burned by the teasing memory of almost pounding you in the very bed he just woke up in. Of course it was a dream; it was too good to be real. Jeno grumbles, palming the small table for his glasses. As he puts them on, he finds the hotel stationery branded with your messy handwriting:
Left for coffee xx be back in 30 ♡
Jeno nods his head. Half an hour. The other half of the bed was vaguely warm, he remembers. He looks to the other bed – still made, pressed enough to bounce a ₩500 coin off. Evidently, you fell asleep next to him, too, and even though he cannot recall who fell first, he can recall who woke up first and how he woke up. His cock writhes, twitches under the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, no longer swinging between his legs; it wants to know how deep your vaginal canal is, and Jeno steadies it, groaning because he spent half the day steadying your pretty waist. The thought makes him involuntarily squeeze tighter, makes him realize that his underwear constricts the blood flow that rushes to his cock head, stopping at the base like a spiteful cock ring. So, he frees his entire length, shimmying his bottoms below his ass, and hops onto the empty bed, with what he assumes is enough time to finish what his dream started.
Focusing on the upper half, Jeno dry rubs his tip, roughly massaging his finger around the head, expediting his orgasm like a college freshman testing out the sock-on-the-door myth with a solo session. His fingers curl tightly around the circumference, slowing down his thrusting. Pre-cum quickly dribbles above his navel, leaking into little pools in the crevices of his defined abs. He slathers it along his entire cock, twisting his palm up and down, moans loudly bouncing off the walls. The wetness creates the foundation for his fantasy, conjuring the image of an equally moist mouth choking down his fully length, your mouth choking down his full length. Jeno knocks his head on the wall, whole body panting into the air. His hips float, too, and he chases his hand, a poor replacement for pussy or a sex toy; ass coming off the blanket as sweat builds up on his body. He unbuttons half his shirt, sliding his fingers to his nipple. That familiar tension in his stomach creeps into his chest, and his moans get more desperate, louder.
Then, as if his dream were a premonition, you come out of the bathroom, wearing a low-cut sports bra and matching tight, black leggings.
“Ah!!” you both scream.
A beat passes, maybe an hour, Jeno cannot discern between his exhibition rising and your gaping mouth.
You react first, running into the bathroom.
“I thought you were out getting coffee?!” he shouts, covering his dick with the blankets. It twitches underneath.
“Why would you think that?!” you scream back, before calming down and cracking the door open a little bit, “I got back five minutes ago. I was putting stuff in the bathroom for my shower.” God, his dick really twitches. He might even cum untouched. You sound like the beginning of a bad porno, and maybe his fantasy was an actual bad porno, but the thought of you, with so much exposed skin, willing to expose more skin under hot water. “Why are you –”
“I thought I had time!” he interrupts. He stands up and pulls his pants on, silently screaming at his boner to go away. It doesn’t. And he resigns, praying that you won’t see it. “I thought I would hear you bring me a coffee too and have time t-to-to cover it up.” You usually buy him a coffee too; you did it all four years through college – barged through his heavy apartment door, or announced it, pressing the iced coffee on any bare skin available.
“It’s in the fridge! I didn’t want to wake you after yesterday.” You slowly come out of the bathroom, and he turns around, wincing when his still-hard penis bounces against his hip. “It’s an iced coffee,” you tell him, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact. You cross the room toward the mini fridge. Jeno sucks in a breath. The coffee is inside. Of course it is.
When Jeno coughs, you immediately turn around then look away as equally fast, having accidentally made eye contact with his penis (and him with your tits, again, just like in his dream). “Do you, um, do you still want to take a shower first, o-or can I, um, get in there?” He scrunches his nose at the poor choice of words.
“N-n-y-you can go first,” you stutter through a mirrored cough.
His shower lasts the half hour he thought he had.
Overcoming awkwardness has, surprisingly, never come up in your relationship with Jeno, not even through the ungainly middle school phase, during when you confidently kept your fleeting crush on him a secret. Well, you hoped it was a fleeting crush. Those feelings bubbled up on and off for years, and currently, they were on. Last time they turned off (aka when you suppressed them), Jeno had a girlfriend, a long-term girlfriend, for two years. You thought you were in the clear, thought you were over it, permanently, especially after they got stupidly expensive promise rings, but habits are hard to break. And you crawled right back to him.
You step out of the bathroom, towel shaking out the water droplets from your hair, casually dressed like you arrived from Hongdae. The oversized shirt doesn’t stick to your skin as much as your sports bra earlier after your quick run in the streets, or the blouse that you nearly sweated through at lunch yesterday as the afternoon temperature increased to accommodate for spring. You jump on your bed. Well, you guess this is your bed, the one closest to the entrance and bathroom, because Jeno … occupied the other one. You glance at it, instinctively hiding your hands under your tousled covers, then shake your head. As you look away, you see your handwriting on the hotel stationery crossed out in perfectly straight lines (a symptom from majoring in architecture, you know) above Jeno’s cursive:
Went down to the lobby for breakfast. It ends at 11.
You flicker at the digital clock beneath a disconnected lamp: 10:05 AM. Still early. You got up some time around 5:30 or 6, your body absorbing too much sleep, having passed out almost right after getting back to the hotel from lunch. Unfortunately, Gwangbok-Dong doesn’t open until mid-morning, about 10:30, so you couldn’t buy a wedding gift yet (you have an envelope of cash for the reception, but Jaehyun added a registry link qr code on the invites). You also hoped to give Jeno more time to sleep, knowing that he must’ve gotten five interrupted hours total in the span of 36 hours. Shopping without him would have knocked out a chore, the only chore really, and then you two could buy him a tie or just wander around the area, which, come to think of it, costs a lot of money. It costs money to breathe, Jeno once joked during an ECON 305 lecture sophomore year, so now, you might as well take advantage of the complimentary bibmbap.
By the time you get downstairs, the chefs have disappeared, and only three plain bibimbap dishes remain amongst the sparse assortment of other breakfast snacks. At least this moment has somewhat perfect timing; you didn’t have very good timing earlier when you caught Jeno with his dick in hand (or did he not have good timing? You have no idea). You snake around the buffet-style tables, picking up a small mango juice and a few side dishes in addition to the main. Once you have a decent portion, you walk toward the half-empty seating area, scanning the chairs for a place to sit. You kinda look like a new high school transfer student searching for a clique – do you sit with the band geeks and their giant brass instruments? Do you sit with the chem nerds and finish the homework that’s due tomorrow? Or do you latch onto the one person you vaguely know so that people don’t stare at you for standing too long?
Yeah, you immediately find Jeno playing some cart rider game on his phone under the table. Nice to know that the sentiment is returned, ha.
“He-hey,” you mumble, clanging your tray on the metal table. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
Jeno looks up at you and puts his phone in his pocket. He gestures to the seat already pulled out, as if it were waiting for you. “Yeah, of course.”
You eat a few bites, hoping that the tension will go down the longer you are in his presence, but he fidgets by your side, rubbing his feet together loudly over the wood flooring. He gives you an apologetic stare, waiting for you to break first. Slowly, you finish chewing part of the egg and wash it down with juice, equally marveling at him, unsure how exactly to say alright, we both know that I caught you masturbating and you probably finished off in that not-so-short shower without (1) scarring the other guests and (2) completely altering your relationship. Like, you didn’t even have sex!
“About this morning,” you start, “I should’ve knocked.”
“No, no.” Jeno shakes his head. “I should’ve … not … done … that. We’re sharing a room for the weekend, an-and it’s your space as much as mine. I’m sor-”
“I mean,” you interrupt, pushing your spoon around the bowl of rice, “it happens. You – Guys get … those,” – morning wood, hard-ons, boners – “an-and it’s not like you were thinking about me. I get it.”
Jeno makes a strangled noise, so you whip your head at him. Suddenly, you notice his proximity, and you push all the way back into your chair, accidentally skidding it across the floor. Your eyes go wide, eyebrows more talkative than your sputtering mouth. You aren’t stupid; he knows that, but Jeno is too honest for his own good, even at the expense of his own thoughts. He bites his lip, evidently saying more than intended, and that is how you have known him for the last decade – overly blunt, blurting out his thoughts easily, every answer written on his face, stuck on the tip of his tongue.
And you cannot help yourself when the memory of his massive cock resurfaces, his pre-cum pooled at the neglected slit as his fingers massage right under the head. Your fight-or-flight response activated before you could make a conscious move to take the leap, to get even closer on him than the train allowed. You wonder, breath hitched, whether you idealize his cock – whether he idealized sex with you. On your end, it has been a while since you last got laid, a couple months, bit of a dry spell hitting you at the start of this new urban revitalization project to fix up the arts district around the SeMA. The initial funding took some convincing, both the government and museum not seeing the necessity, but once your team got the ball rolling and you were able to pull in Jeno, the lead architect, and Renjun, a graphic designer, you figured that time would be more in your favor.
That was not the case.
Your team leader divided the project based on skill-level, meaning that you had to cooperate on the ground level with Jeno and Renjun, planning every move from point A to point B. So, while half your coworkers enjoy hoesik, probably out there hitting on clubgoers and getting laid, you stay at the office past witching hour, hunched over blueprints and maps and expense reports. The only saving grace, really, is working with your best friend. … Your best friend who just inadvertently admitted that he jerked off to the thought of you. … Your best friend whose dick you currently think about, trying to revisualize whether you remember it correctly. Maybe you need a refresher.
“We don’t,” Jeno clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, hands rubbing on his jeans, “um, we don’t need to talk about it.”
You bite your tongue.
Because you do want to talk about.
Geotechnical engineering, in college, was easy. Jeno received A-level marks all three terms, nearly a 100% in the second term. Designing a new plaza around the SeMA, for your project, was easy. Jeno got his first design approved by the MOLIT and the Cultural Heritage Administration, based on a 4AM napkin sketch. Fuck, even finding your G-spot in his dream was easy (although, credit is due to the movie magic directed by his subconscious). But all of those have something in common: a template. You know, like, engineering follows a basic algorithm, as do project designs. And he’s had years of experience giving people orgasms, even made a few squirt, so he can just manipulate a technique to best suit your pussy.
With this, with you, with the real you, Jeno doesn’t know what to do, or where to start, when you are so close to him, concentrating on straightening out the main knot in the tie you wrap around his neck. I’ll buy you a new one echoes in his mind, the assurance you whispered in his dream, now that you are actually out shopping. He can smell your own body wash this time, compared to the cologne on his blazer in the train station. And you probably don’t even know how hard it was for him, then, to not kiss your neck. Maybe that’s why his subconscious creates a pattern out of it: bring you close (like at on the KTX), taunt him in his dream (give him the kiss he wanted and set up something more), bring you close again.
It took a moment, both times, to actually build up tension. The first time, he scarcely kept his eyes open, couldn’t really appreciate your body, half-tired, half-scared; probably why his subconscious went easy on him last night, as if having mercy for all the dick veins in his heart. And when he caved, you caught him. Jeno spent the better part of this shopping excursion keeping his distance – e.g., even though you browsed home appliance stores together, he walked a few meters behind you, only stopping to make commentary:
“What if we get them an air fryer?” he suggested, to get out of there as soon as possible and relieve the awkwardness.
You refuted, “They already have an air fryer. Mingyu bought one, since Jaehyun can’t cook.” Right. “Makes him feel like Baek Jongwon.”
So, you settled on a nonstick, ceramic, pink Always Pan set (in addition to the cash envelope) that Mingyu might get more use out of and help lessen the dish load. But you let Jeno pick the color.
“There,” you finish, eyebrows unfurrowing. You turn him toward the adjacent mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t immediately scrutinize your work (not that it was necessary; you have been tying his ties for formal events since MUN championships in high school). Your hands linger, warm, on his shoulders, falling slightly on his pecs. Then, you let go, palms up as if an AED machine alerted you about the next incoming shock. “I’ll either do this same knot –” A cape knot. “– or an Eldridge knot, depending on which dress I choose, but both look good for a solid color tie, like this one.”
“What about a trinity knot?”
Jeno cannot believe that he is making small talk with his best friend about the various types of knots; the same best friend who vomited into a cup 0.2 seconds after entering a bar, resulting in your entire group getting kicked out, and then fell asleep on the sidewalk outside, resulting in a cop arresting all seven of you for the night because you made it seem like you were all blackout drunk. Your relationships survived that whole mess, despite everyone losing the ₩25,000 entrance fee (although, Haechan and Renjun refused to go out with you for, like, a month). Most importantly, your relationship with him survived that; actually your relationship with him didn’t even take a hit. He nursed you back to health the next day, which might have, or not, been a symptom of his excessive drinking – tucking you into bed with a thousand blankets, bringing you 35 water bottles, taking your temperature every 4 minutes.
“Mmm,” you consider, fixing your gaze back at his neck. “Probably not. It’s not really formal enough for a wedding, and I’m already on the fence about an Eldridge knot, in case Jaehyun or Mingyu want to wear one – it’s like if I wore a white dress to their wedding. People would think that we were getting married.” Jeno raises an eyebrow and is met with silence. You drop into your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a forced laugh bubbling through your esophagus. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s, um, it’s fine,” he reassures you. He should be sorry, for making you deal with his emotions. “You could, um, tie it change it at the wedding hall, or, um, at the reception. I don’t think I’ll end up wearing it all night.”
“Or you could learn how to tie something better than a half-Windsor,” you tease, slowly lifting your head.
An identical smile breaks onto his face. “It’s a classic for a reason!”
“Call it what it is: basic.”
“I haven’t had to learn how to do other knots!” Jeno pushes your shoulder, laughing when you do. “Besides, it’s never about my clothes. I’m just the accessory, your arm candy.”
Your giggles fade, then almost as if remembering the distant morning, you separate from him. And he has to close the distance again. He tentatively reaches for your hand, boldly threading your fingers together. You don’t react, instead choosing to focus on the glass display case under the mirror. Your hair moves just a little, the strands loose from your ponytail blowing, slightly, in the wind. His hand could replace it – the hair tie – if you wanted (it’s what his subconscious wants), but you focus on the glass display case under his reflection. You fiddle with the blade of a tie that you both rejected earlier (ha, you seem to be rejecting a lot of things today). The color didn’t suit his skin tone or the garden wedding theme; Jaehyun made sure to include a sample of his bouquet in every invitation. How is he going to be a good wedding date, to you, if you can barely look at each other?
“Did I sa–?”
“Let’s buy this one,” you decide, interrupting him simultaneously. You pull the purple off him, as if un-marking him. Another stark contrast to his dream, which has him wondering whether his fantasies are boring. “Then, we can get dinner at that bistro down the road. I know you’ve been craving steak, and Jaehyun is doing a chicken-or-fish style reception.”
Jeno shakes his analog watch into view: 3:27 PM. You finished breakfast before noon. Should you leave now, you might be able to finish dinner just as quickly (or long), based on your pace eating bibimbap, and grab coffee before the café by the hotel closes.
“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
Jeno pays for the tie and an extra two white dress shirts (just in case), as well as a chocolate bar from the tiny stand at the register, stacked near the gift cards. You thank him, but it is the least he can do – (1) he feels really bad for this morning, and (2) you essentially paid for every other part of this trip except the food. He reassures you that you need not apologize; you are his best friend, but then you throw that back in his face when he brings up money. Both of you keep parroting “don’t worry, it’s fine” at each other, only to retreat into awkward silence.
You hold the shop entrance open for him, gesturing him out the door, then walk a pace behind him. The medium-sized, paper shopping bag swings between the two of you; well, it would, if he stood next to you.
Jeno stops.
“What are we doing?”
You pause too, body freezing mid-motion for a second, then you look over your shoulder, eyes looking him up and down. When his head tilts to the side and his eyebrows furrow, you turn around.
“We’re going to the bistro,” you answer, as though it were obvious.
But Jeno already knows that. He made the plans with you half an hour ago. “No, I mean this. Why are we –” He shakes his head again; he knows why, too. His reflection in a department store catches his eye, so he pulls you from the middle of the sidewalk around the corner, somewhat hidden behind another building. “What are we doing?”
“Jeno … are you okay?”
“I’m serious! We practically spend every day together, it feels desolate when you’re gone, and … and –” He steps into your personal bubble. “You’re not here with me right now.”
“Jen,” you drag out his name, looking away from him, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”
You are not hearing him.
Jeno cautiously withdraws his hands from his bomber jacket. His nails accidentally scratch the pocket inner lining, giving him a chance to back out, to reconsider his declaration. But he doesn’t need a second chance; he just needs the first chance. So, instead, Jeno grabs your palm, inching his fingers up your elbow, and scans your eyes. Without resistance, you draw him closer at his waist. The shopping bag falls down low on your wrist, drumming against his thigh and yours. He feels your leave his waist and slide up his cheek; he has to close his eyes, not entirely believing the way his body betrays him, leaning into your face.
“I … I …” he pants, head spinning.
“Hey, it’s okay,” you assuage. He can feel your breath on his lip, so he sucks in air, lips parted slightly, scared he might ask for too much. And maybe that is where you get a signal – get the signal – because he feels you rise to the tips of your toes and kiss him. “Let’s just order room service.”
Why did you say that? Let’s just order room service. The suggestion prolonged the time before you could kiss him again, because once you got back to the hotel, heels practically floating off the ground, you had to wait.
Luckily, the hotel was just around the corner. If you ran, you would have been upstairs in 10 minutes, but the two of you took your time, practically strolling through Gwangbok Road. He walked beside you this time, his pinky occasionally grazing behind your hand.
And in the elevator, Jeno became bolder. His entire body, previously trembling, gravitated toward you, latching onto every part that you would allow, and you gave him permission, made it known that you wanted him to touch you. You almost pressed him into the reflective wall, trapping him on the cold metal railing, but you restrained yourself; you already made that initial move: kissing him (well, it was the next move, since you caught him masturbating, earlier, to the thought of you. Then, he was the first person out the elevator, practically dragging you into the bedroom, nearly detaching your arm. Outside your hotel room, Jeno kissed you. Your hips knocked beside the key swipe, making it easy to fumble the key card out of your pocket and through the lock. You didn’t open the door immediately, choosing, instead, to stand on your toes, and wrap your arms behind his neck, essentially climbing him, like a tree, in the empty hallway, the shopping bag floundering on his back. Jeno paused the kiss, trailing his lips away, ghosting his breath on your tongue. His gaze flickered from your parted mouth to your eyes, and you saw his dilated pupils grow bigger. He pointed his eyebrows to the green light, right before it turned red. You scanned his face for another rejection, and seeing none, you opened the door.
But once you got inside, Jeno sat you on the bed, perching you where you fell asleep next to him last night. You dropped the shopping bag and your jacket to the floor, staring up at him the entire time, hopefully inviting. While he towered over you for this second, you admired your work – bruised lips, static hair, flushed skin, even his breath bated. Subconsciously, you touched your bottom lip, dragging it down to see if it were equally swollen (it was). Jeno took a step forward, but changed his mind, ordering room service from the restaurant downstairs through the phone on the nightstand.
Now, you flicker your gaze over his body, checking him out like a man who convinced his foreigner girlfriend not to dress modestly at the clubs. Your eyes flicker slower, up his tiny waist (that makes his flat ass appear a little plump) to his strong biceps, sleeves pushed up to reveal more skin, back to his lips, which mumble a swift thank you before returning to the edge of the bed. You slide to the very tip, spreading your legs wide open enough for him to stand between. Jeno curls his thumb under your jaw, lifting your chin, maybe admiring your features too. You hope that you look equally disheveled.
Jeno gently pins you on the bed, slithering up your torso, brushing his pecs on your tits. He grabs your waist, fingers dipping toward your butt, dragging you to meet his pelvis.
“You have to tell me,” he says, eyes closed, millimeters from kissing you again, “right now, that you want this, want me, before we do anything more.” His thumb comes under your shirt, drumming an indiscernible beat directly on your stomach, just around your belly button, almost unsure which direction to go – toward your pants, toward your bra, outside your shirt. Your breath hitches, and you feel your body sink lower into the mattress. “I need to know that we’re on the same page.”
“Can’t you feel it?” You guide one of his hands down your pants, his long middle phalanges driving cautiously into the seam. He cups your pussy, falling level on your chest. His lungs pant heavily into the back of your neck, tickling the hairs into standing up. “I want you.”
Jeno chases your lips, barely managing, “Not what I meant.” With your consent, he kisses you again, and you, consumed by his undivided heat, ignoring everything that isn’t his touch, like the white sheets rusting under your long hair as his shirt grinds into your abdomen, riding your clothes up. He hooks a hand under your thigh, switching the positions for you to straddle him. His legs stretch forward, feet planting into the ground, which gives him the leeway to sit up and brush your hair back into a makeshift side ponytail. Jeno scans your eyes, darting side-to-side, all the tension melting away after you smooth his shoulders. “I … I …”
You caress his cheek, having mercy on his dick (currently hard under your ass), and lift his chin higher. “I know what you meant.” You press your lips into his, chastely. He responds, puckering his lips each time you peck him, but he also frowns – frowns deeply enough for you to really pull away; his frown looks more intense than you felt. “I …” you whisper, sliding your arms on his shoulder, fiddling with his hair. You teeter on your knees, shifting your weight across his lap. He stops you. “I like you so much. More th-than friends.” Then you kiss him again, to wipe your confession away, because you can live with it. You can live with the repercussions of his mistake; you can be his mistake. This doesn’t have to be a whole thing. You don’t need to finish your confession with his rejection.
Jeno whimpers your name, tugging you away by your hair. “I –”
“It’s okay,” you whisper, “You don’t need to say it. Just me –”
“No, I need to –” He sucks in a breath. “Can I kiss you?”
You shake your head, an actual mistake because he freezes; you only meant it in disbelief. So, you lower down again, sliding your hands under his jaw. You turn your head to the side and mumble, “Don’t stop,” before reconnecting.
Jeno pats his palm on your pussy. His opposite hand, the one above your hip, fingers your waistband, scratching continuous circles, waiting for an affirmation. “I meant kiss you here.” He pouts at you through his eyelashes. “Can I kiss you lower?”
You shimmy off his lap, pushing him into the bed. “Everywhere,” you answer hastily. He helps you glide off your pants, and his veiny hands are all you can concentrate on, everything else blurring until he fondles your clit, above your black panties.
“Do you like this?”
“God, yes,” you pour moans into his mouth, holding his throat straight, like a tall glass for iced tea. When he inserts a single, long digit between your wet pussy lips, he winces, as if being penetrated himself, as if you found his prostate on the first try without any lube other than your spit. He adds a second finger, his longest finger, the middle finger, the ‘fuck you’ finger (literal in this case), prompting you to hump his hand. Your hips roll forward, increasing intensity. You gasp when he scissors his fingers wider and crosses them over one another, like a promise, then you bounce higher, your ass cheeks squeezing together. “Fuck, I didn’t know you could do that.”
Jeno slips in another digit, curling all three forward, his ring finger (the free one) twitching unrestricted. “I guess there’s still a bit you don’t know about me,” he blows into your gaping mouth, your moans following his rhythmically to the beat of some song you cannot think of while riding him.
You sink all the way down his hand, grinding your clit on his palm, and take off your shirt. Before your tits can spring free, Jeno pulls you close, trying to suck marks above your bra. You grate broken ah, ah, ahs, growing louder whenever his fingers sheath completely inside you. As if goading you, he slaps your jiggly ass, twice for every once you shake down. You yank Jeno away by his hair, darting through his swollen lips, his flushed cheeks, his narrowed eyes. Under you, his dick twitches.
“Should I –“ you pant, slowly stopping on his hand. But he seems not to like that response and drives his fingers back up. “Can I,” you correct, “ah, ah – Can I help you with-with that?”
“I want you to cum.” Jeno squeezes your ass cheek, and you fall into his lips again. Your tongue falls out, stiff, virtually asking for something to occupy your mouth. He takes his free hand, shoving it between your lips, pushing your tongue down, saliva pooling under his fingerprint. “Are you close, pretty girl?” His hand moves faster, rougher. Your thighs twitch. “Feels like it.” Your panties threaten to slip back into place, so he rips it. “Sorry,” he mumbles carelessly. You don’t blame him, too focused on your legs tensing up but his thumb on your tongue pushing you back down.
“Don-don’t worry,” you whimper, “I, ah-uh, have a – ah – nother pair. They’re also black, fuck, but lace. Hides better under my-my dress.” You skid lower down his waist, and his cock stands up on your ass.
“Fuck, you’re going to ruin me.”
“Untouched?”
“Maybe.”
However, you don’t like the thought, considering it unfair – unfair to him that he has to settle for a cheap orgasm; unfair to you that you cannot milk him dry between your thighs. So, you descend his legs, prying him open at the knee. You spare it a glance, covered by his jeans, wondering what it would be like to bend over it, ass in the air, spanked harder.
“Hey,” Jeno calls, snapping you back to attention. You relieve your thighs, unclenching, to stare at him. “Is this –” he inhales sharply, possibly trying to come off nonchalant, like it would be okay if you decided to stop, decided that you didn’t want this anymore; you swoon. “Is this still okay?”
“Of course.” You meet his eye. “Always.” You loop the tops of your fingers under his waistband, above his Calvin Kleins, the name brand embroidered as thick as his veins leading under it. “Can I help you with this?”
“God, yes, please,” he finally answers, throwing his head back on the pillows.
You unzip his pants, the sound bouncing off all four walls without any moans to cushion it; you could practically hear a pin drop. Jeno props himself on his elbows, and his abs crunch forward, tightening his impeccably defined six pack. Like, you already knew – since college – that he sculpted his body at the gym like Pygmalion did Galatea, but it adds pressure, not because your hand wraps around his cock (you have yet to touch him), rather because his gaze burns holes through your hands.
“You don’t,” he mumbles, “You don’t have to take it all. If you can’t. You don’t.” Jeno shakes his head, his hair shyly hiding his eyes. “I just want you, so it’s o – Fuck.”
You lick the premature bead of cum, digging your tongue in his slit to clean all of it out. Your thumb and index fingers wrap, tightly, below the glans. You bob your head a little lower, tasting just the tip, flittering your eyes to gauge his reaction. While your inexperienced days are behind you (pun intended), Jeno has this magical first-love quality about him, that makes sucking his dick seem like your first, like when two rom-com leads finally have sex, except it’s in a car on a cliffside for added drama. He appears to agree – how? You don’t know exactly for sure, but people outside your relationships have mentioned that you make a good first girlfriend.
Jeno involuntarily stutters his hips higher, pushing half his cock past your lips, making you gag. Evidently, there are many things about him you still don’t know – namely, how big his dick is. You always suspected him to be above average, especially after his sporadic growth spurts in high school, but you never imagined that this would be your way to measure him! He can barely fit half his shaft through the rim of your lips. And it gets worse (better?) when you hollow your cheeks, scraping your tongue above your teeth, because your mouth squeezes him out. Jeno mumbles a string of curse words, nearly screaming them as you suck harder, his fists twisted in the blankets. You pull off his cock, replacing your mouth with your hands, albeit tighter, and spiral your saliva down to the base, leaning tall on your knees to spit more on his tip, in the slit from where precum bubbles out.
“I told you: I want you.”
“Fuck.” Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, sit on my face.”
You stop moving your hand, subconsciously throbbing your palm to the beat of his (dick) pulse. “What?”
Jeno’s fingers tap on the blanket, his voice increasingly whiny, “Sit. On. My. Face.”
You comply, kneeling around his cheeks, knees brushing his shoulders – which still wear his shirt, nothing but his abs and penis exposed. All the cloth touching your skin makes you feel more vulnerable, most likely more vulnerable than Jeno, and he might regret this in the morning. So, as he anchors his extra-large hands under your thighs, digging into your muscles, you pinch his shoulder, like a safe word, a safety action. And he stops.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, curving his neck to see you better. Maybe you frown too deeply or maybe you are on the verge of tears, because he sits up again, immediately spinning in front of you. “Hey, -” He gingerly reaches for your cheeks, holding your chin above his fingers. “- We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want. It’s okay. I want you to want this.”
“I,” you swallow, cautiously looking into his eyes. You cover your chest, hide your boobs by your bra – the only clothing on your body - and naked arms. “I just,” you mumble before finishing lamely, face warming with his hand, “feel really naked.”
“Oh,” Jeno says simply. He scans your face indiscernibly, so you, not wanting any of this to end, raise your eyebrows suggestively and glance at his shirt. “Oh!” Jeno takes it off, elbows crossing on either side of his ears, showing off his Dorito torso. And you must have been leaning forward, because you fall into his chest, a hand bracing widely on his obliques. You sheepishly raise your face, slightly ducking under his perky nipple; you lower eye-level with it and hesitantly lick it. “Fuck. Is this why you wanted me to strip?”
You flatten your tongue under his areola, then flick upward, tentatively building more pressure until you have his waist in both your hands, holding him steady while you massage his nipples. Your opposite thumb pushes small circles where your mouth neglects, almost kneading him like that time he taught you, in Chem 224, how to use a mortar and pestle properly, holding the ceramic bowl firm against the thick pestle breaking apart various solids into fine powders. Deeming his left pec marked enough (by your nails and lips), you move to the right, leaving a moist path between his boobs, but, rather than fondling the other side, as you did when it was dry, you fist his dick, dragging him forward. You assume Jeno gets the hint, given that he traps you on the sheets, under his flexed biceps. He kicks off the rest of his pants and slithers up your body, pressing his completely naked body into yours, only your bra left as a barrier. Jeno straddles across your hips, his cock spasming, as if asking you to do the last honors while he gropes your entire lower half, massaging your ass with the heels of his palms.
“Do – do you-you still want me to sit on your face?”
“No,” he heaves instantly before doing a partial push up (push down?) to kiss you, aggressive and instant. You can feel his broad deltoids pinch together while you ground yourself on his muscles, using the moment as an excuse to grope him. He swirls his tongue in your mouth, simultaneously smacking his wet lips to you, making you constantly chase him, come up only to be pushed down again. “Fuck, mayb-maybe later.” Later. You’re going to do this again. Jeno holds his torso still, slowly moving his cock between your pussy lips, lubricating himself prepared. “I want, uh, I want to be inside you,” he moans, voice breaking, “Can I fuck you? Please?”
You guide his tip into your cunt. “Please.” And when he stretches your hole, urging his girth past the involuntary tightening, you arch your hips up. “Full, full, fuck.” He shallowly thrusts, pulling out a little bit, only to push in more. Your thighs shake, and you point your feet down, curling your toes, to keep your legs separated enough for him to go faster. But you notice that, while he pistons in and out of your cunt, you cannot feel his balls slapping your ass; you cannot hear the distinct skin-on-skin noises – that’s when you realize: he’s not completely in you, despite the full feeling practically in your cervix. “Jeno,” you whine, “Fuck me.”
“I am,” he answers, breath quivering through gritted teeth.
“Harder,” you beg, fidgeting to give him additional access, little grabby hands wriggling along the outline carved around his muscles. “More.” You claw into his well-defined six pack. “F-fill me up all the way.”
Jeno mattes your hair down with his thumbs, coaxing your eyes open again. You peak through just one, then slowly open the other; you can feel the lines in your forehead melt away. Just for a second though. Because he uses your temporary relief to bottom out. You barely process any of his movements, until he kisses you again, his thrusts stuttering too gently. His breath trembles, controlled, masking the way his hands fight some urge to bruise your hips, so you hook your shin around his strong leg and topple him. When you sink down on his dick, taking every inch, pussy working overtime to accommodate him, the both of you groan. You honk his pecs, matching each squeeze with your breath. The bedsheets rustle, having come undone with all your tossing and turning, and Jeno kicks the blankets off the bed, sitting up. He mouths your perky tits, tilting his head to the side, jaw dropping with his tongue to suck as much skin as possible. You grab the headboard, accidentally slamming it into the wall, once, twice, three, four, five times, when he circles his hips, dick flopping around inside your cervix, ridiculously deep. Jeno grabs your ass, strikes your skin hard to start bouncing you on his lap. He helps you keep his cock inside your pussy, guiding you less than halfway up and banging his skin against yours. The position pushes you forward, allowing his shaft to graze your sopping clit, vulva pinning opened.
“Ahh,” you scream, “Je-Jeno, I’m-I’m –“ You throat tightens, words choking, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum.”
Jeno brings his lips to yours, half a millimeter away. He grunts, abs tightening too. “Cum, baby, you can do it. You can do it. Come on, baby.” He grabs you by the throat, holding you in place as he licks into your mouth, eating up every moan, every breath, and fucks you faster. Your pussy gets wetter, more malleable, and you finally cum, toes curling, unwinding in his chokehold, tongue flopping out. He kisses your pink, plump tongue, lips smacking heavily, moaning out his nose and mouth, “Uh, uh, uh, fuck. Can-can I –“
“Cum inside me,” you finish for him, answer for him.
Jeno propels his cock a couple more times, the last one driving both of you into the air. Thick spurts of cum shoot into your pussy, almost adding another inch, the tip of his cock hitting, jerking, on your G-spot. You sit there for a little bit, your bodies slumping down the headrest, possibly addicted to the way your walls continuously milk even more cum out of him.
When he finally finishes, cum forcing its way down your thighs, he kisses you. “So … about sitting on my face?”
Your face lights up, the thought of him eating his own cum out your cunt way too exciting, and you push him on the bed, immediately popping his cock out and straddling his mouth.
An obnoxious ringing interrupts Jeno’s dream, way too early (well, anything that wakes him up is too early), and he whines at it, preferring to sink into his heated mattress pad. But the default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless, right now, for whatever reason – even though he probably wake up earlier than this during the work week. He buries his head in his pillow, trying to force the alarm into snoozing. His nose brushes into the soft pillowcase, inhaling the aromatherapy. Then, it moves … you move. And Jeno remembers the night before. It wasn’t a dream this time.
You slam your hand on the nightstand, briefly sliding out of his arms. The alarm – your phone – persists though, falling to the floor. You mumble a small fuck under your breath, softer than last night; the memory makes his dick twitch. He feels you crawl over the edge, rustling the bedsheets, your ass brushing his dick away. You dip heavier into the side with a Herculean effort, reaching for your phone, then slide it onto the mattress under your pillow. He tries not to react, tightens his already closed eyes, but his dick twitches. Thankfully, you seem blissfully unaware, nuzzling back into the pillows, a hand crossed over your chest, breathing deeply.
Jeno exhales through his nose, relieved. You must’ve fallen back to sleep – good, honestly, with work and then the whole train ride mess a couple days ago. Maybe he can use the time to finish what he started yesterday morning. Unfortunately, when he grabs his cock, points it up, his pelvis scrunching his abs, your thighs part, just briefly, then close again. The tip catches between your ass cheeks, trailing toward your pussy, sliding with back and forth, aided easily by how wet you are. Jeno internally groans at the thought of you having a sexy dream, hopefully about him. You start swaying, and your arm starts shaking, and your breath labors – you are touching yourself: your neck, your arms, your stomach, your clit. All the shifting spurs Jeno into action. He slowly and shallowly rocks his hips forward, spreading your natural lubricant across the top half of his cock. You lean into him, hands changing to claw his burly naked shoulder, and guide his fingers to your cunt. At the new position, the closer position, he sloppily mouths the part between your neck and shoulder, his breath as hot and heavy as his tongue.
You freeze for a second, stiffening your posture, and he thinks that maybe he misunderstood or that you changed your mind, so he slowly pulls back. His cock springs free from the tight crevice, wet and warm and hard, twitching on your round ass.
“I’m sor – Did you not – I thought – I’m sorr –“
You turn around and kiss him quiet, throwing a leg over his hip. Your heel digs into his lower back, above his flat ass, lodging the tip in your pussy again. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, kissing him harder the further you sink down. Once he is completely inside, you pull your face back and wrap your arms around his neck, practically fusing your bodies together. Everything moves too fast for him. Jeno is unable to appreciate your touches. He makes it known with a mewl, chest beating quicker than yours. And as if you sense it – best friend intuition, you might say in any other situation where his dick isn’t in you, like wordlessly handing over a bag of ramyeon that you ‘borrowed’ from Renjun’s room – you brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and he opens them this time. You’ve always been good at comforting him: when he had a panic attack over losing his wallet, when he got reprimanded at work for shredding the wrong abstract, etc. He has always known it. Well, not always; he doesn’t know where it began, but he knows the feeling will last forever, like a vow. Jeno hugs you around your waist, tighter, asking you to move for more or to stop for less, because, much like last night, should you give him an inch, he’ll take a meter.
“Don’t be sorry,” you beg, humping his cock again. “I want you.”
Jeno loses balance and falls on his flat ass, his thighs sandwiched densely between yours. He fumbles around the bed, pushing away the thin sheet to see his cock disappear in your pussy. It should be impossible; you should be tight, having nothing to prep you beforehand, but maybe his stroke game last night was enough, you came twice on his cock alone, the stretch evidently lasting through now. The mattress creaks and the headboard hits the wall as you bounce firmly, knees jabbing into the bed. Your breath shakes, abs visibly flexing, and you fall forward, hair splaying over his shoulder. He licks his middle finger, then drags it under your thigh, trapping his cock in a V, using his lubricated finger for added pressure on your clit, his dick abusing its underside. His free arm belts behind your back, index finger teasing outside the rim of your asshole.
“Oh, oh,” you scream, biting your lip, pawing the comforter for some stability while he rams your little cunt. “F-f-ffuck.” He spanks your ass, dragging the meaty flesh up with a glowing hand mark. “Cu-cu-cumming. Mmm, oh my god, I’m so c-close.”
“Already? Shit.”
You tuck your hips forward, and he takes advantage, moving his hands under your torso, massaging your clit with all his fingers and sucking your tits. The repetitive sounds synchronize – your whimpering, his whimpering, your skin slapping into his, the bed springs screeching, your cunt squelching. All of it overwhelms his senses, and had you not been so close to his ear, Jeno would’ve missed your mantra:
“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno,” you squeal, moans getting increasingly louder, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your pussy drools cum down his legs, and he gradually decelerates, riding out your orgasm.
A beat passes, full of tense heavy breathing, before he pants in your face, nearly screaming (as if you hadn’t done so a moment ago, in his ear, with his face buried in your neck). “Breakfast,” he says simply, loudly, trying to hear himself through the ringing in his ears that preserves the way your moans sound, as if this could end on Monday morning when you get back to your real lives – which it could. You never said what this is. “Should we, um, should we get breakfast?” He remembers your alarm, trying to suppress the hardness in his cock, as if this were all just a formality, a complimentary wake up call not provided by the hotel, and he looks away, but he doesn’t go far, only dropping to your lips, not wanting to part, even in his view. “You know, that first meal of the day, typically eaten during moan-morning, often in, um, including rice, eggs, milk –”
Jeno flickers his eyes away from your lips, catching you gazing at him. Somehow you make it less creepy than when he does it. There was this one time at the end of high school when he checked on you, in the next cubicle over, in the library, only to find you asleep on your textbook, relying on osmosis rather than flash cards to study for the CSAT; 15 minutes passed and he felt like he regressed into that middle school nerd who just stood there, wheezing. Or that other time in international student building during college when Renjun slapped him on the arm because he was staring at you too long; he lied, saying that he was just making sure you got the right coffee from the vending machine, but Renjun knew. Jeno is convinced that his entire friend group knows how he feels about you – Haechan tried setting him up with you back in high school; Jaemin practically read his diary; Mark … Mark might actually be the only one who doesn’t know, for sure, but he definitely suspects something!
You grab his chin, snapping him out of his thoughts, and search his face before kiss him, your eyes fluttering closed as you grind him through the overstimulation. “Cum in me,” you order, “I’ll milk your cock dry.”
“Fuck,” Jeno breathes, never detaching his lips. He hugs low on your waist again, slapping your ass with both his hands. And when he can’t take it anymore – take the grinding, the clenching, the bouncing – he mumbles your name in your mouth, “Baby, I ne, uh, I need to cum. Let me cum inside you,” he takes you up on your offer, like the more-than-decade-long pining stops at a dam, at your answer.
Wordlessly, you shove you tongue in his mouth, cradling his cheek as he leans deeper between the pillows. You grab whatever length of his cock that is not in your pussy, and he whimpers when you throb your hand around him, teasing the other half inside your cunt. Jeno scoots forward, using the momentum to slap himself all the way in you, making your hips stutter. Fuck, you’re tight. And he knows that it’s a dumb myth for the vagina to be this compact, narrow canal, but your wall muscles barely conform to his girth, and the thought boosts his ego, so he holds you steady against his chest, repeatedly ramming your pussy with long thrusts. Your tits jiggle off your chest, scraping his pecs, almost slapping him in the jaw as he tilts his head up to suck more bruises under your chin, to soothe you from all the choking last night.
“Je-Jen,” you stammer, “I don’t –“ You swallow, shaking your head. “My legs are-are going to giv-give out.”
“It’s okay, baby, just breathe,” he tells you. He punctures your hips at a faster pace, like giving your pussy CPR, ordering your clit to administer a shock, blowing the kiss of life for the both of you. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” he guides, “You can do it.”
Jeno flips you on your back, an oof resounding the room, yelps and giggles following. He gives you a second to gather your composure, regulate your breathing, then pistons his cock repeatedly in your pussy. His tip catches on a particularly hard clench, and your walls refuse to let him go, trapping him in a spot that abuses your G-spot. He pushes the entire length inside you, practically fucking your cervix again, driving your back arched. You writher along the mattress, hair splaying among the sheets. His fists outline your obliques, thumbs erroneously pointed outward, trying to support your back. He accidentally slips on a particularly hard thrust, but before he can save himself, he protects your skull from hitting the headrest or your arm from getting crushed by his chest. Phew. Maybe if he were weaker, he would hold you on the bed, thrusting in a way that lets the both of you fall into the pillows, or maybe if he were stronger – mentally and physically – he would be able to stay up, not tempted or dizzy at the sight of your slightly parted mouth. Jeno readjusts his hands – one pushing your waist into the comforter, for his own support, and the other creeping toward your neck. You lift your chin up, giving him consent, and it takes him a second to move forward; he didn’t think he would get this far, that you would completely let him manhandle you. But, he guesses, he doesn’t know everything about you, and he is so excited to discover more. He pads his fingers on either side of your esophagus, squeezing just enough to make breathing a little harder for you, make it harder for you to follow the breathing pattern he ingrained in your cunt.
“Fuck, baby, breathe just like that.” Jeno peeks an eye wider, glancing at the blanket tosses away. Cautiously, he drifts his gaze to your stomach, and his cock twitches. You moan loader, almost confirming him thoughts – is he really that deep? Your pussy clenches. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jeno kisses you. “Cum with me,” he moans your name.
You used to make fun of him for being such a romantic, always cooing when he’d swoon over Knox and Chris, until he decided that he didn’t like their romance anymore. It’s too possessive. Although, he understands the sentiment, because the way you look at him, now, face contorting over your second building orgasm, incomprehensible whines spilling into the air. He should have done this sooner, should have kissed you sooner, and he would have, if he had known it would lead to this, because he can do it; he can bury the depth of his feelings while you sort yours out. If he can have you this close, like this, he would do anything.
Jeno draws his hips back, your name snagging on his moan. He feels your fingers dig in harsher as your legs tense up, tension building in your stomach. His knees chafe against the sheets, rocking an imprint into the mattress that keeps your legs open. Jeno slows his thrusts, instead hammering his entire cock harder. He tries not to cum prematurely, wanting to see your second orgasm of the morning overstimulate, but as he abrades your clit, holding your thighs wide, he feels himself shoot a thick rope of cum deep in your pussy, and it’s not long until he spills everything else, fucking you through his own orgasm, fucking his cum into you, your hole greedily drinking it all. You follow a few hits later, shaking your ass to help yourself along, then Jeno collapses, sweaty hot body enveloping your matching one. He presses sloppy, wide, open-mouthed kisses on your clavicle, steadily trailing up your neck, your cheek, and pecking you on the lips.
“Better than your dream?” you giggle, returning a kiss.
“Way better.”
Getting out of bed takes forever. The first time you tried to leave, you sat on the edge, stretching your arms upward. You bent over, standing on the ground, reaching for your toes, shaking off the jelly sensation, but Jeno, equally awake, rejuvenated from the twenty-minute rest since his cock was in you, leaned over the edge as well and made out with your pussy, licking all the way to your rim and back. Rather than shoving his head away, you pushed your hips back, for more, and eventually returned to bed, kicking up your legs and giggling your way into another blow job. The second time you tied to leve, you had to cross over Jeno’s body to get to the aisle between your beds, since your bed was pushed against the wall). You slithered a leg over his waist, balancing your palms on his shoulders, his cock twitching on your ass. He grabbed you by the waist, holding you there. You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be innocent (even though you really did want to get out of bed) as his cock hardened.
And now, the third time, your legs shake on your way off the mattress, having experienced way too many orgasms in less than thirty-minutes.
“Come back to bed,” Jeno whines, patting the empty warm spot you previously occupied.
“No,” you laugh, holding your arms out for balance before you fall again. You slap his grabby little hand away from your ass, much to his dismay, and pick up one of the new shirts you bought him yesterday that slipped out of the bag after Jeno kicked over a blanket. “I’m hungry,” you pout, facing him and buttoning up the top few buttons. “I need something to eat.”
“You have something I want to eat.”
“Real food, dork.” You walk over to your luggage, hunching over, ass on display but too far away from him. He groans, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed. You slip on a pair of panties, and his groan gets louder, making a smile instinctively spread on your face. “Come onnnn,” you complain, crawling onto the bed with a blouse and bra in hand, inching into his face, “Let’s grab something at that bistro. We won’t have a lot of time tomorrow at the wedding, and it’s already 5.”
Jeno sits straight, back against the headrest, his arms behind his head, showing off his thick muscles and tiny waist. He looks you up and down, a frown settling into his lip as he releases his arms with another groan. “Are we doing this backwards?”
“Doing what?” you ask, focused on exchanging his top for yours, another long-sleeve but black this time. You creep onto his lap, legs folded over the edge. He instantly goes to stabilize your waist, and you replace your arms around his neck, giving him a chaste (albeit sensual) kiss on the cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I just want to get dinner.” You put a hand on his arm, doing your best to give him a set of puppy dog eyes that you hope he cannot refuse. “Please?”
Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, let me put on some pants.”
The wait time at the bistro exceeded the amount of time it took to get ready and Uber over there, so you decided to look for something else. It seemed as though the universe wanted to punish your feet, everything else either closed by noon or surpassing an hour wait. You know that Jeno hates waiting more than 45-minutes. If he even knows that the restaurant is trendy or high-end, he won’t leave the apartment.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble and stop in the middle of the sidewalk, an empty sidewalk around the corner from yet another restaurant. Jeno slows down ahead of you, a hand coming out of his blazer to rub the frown lines in his jaw. “I didn’t think everything would take this long.”
“Hey,” Jeno calls, stepping into your personal bubble, preventing you from looking away by cradling your cheeks, “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll find something.”
“No, it’s not okay,” you shake your head, tearily looking into his eyes. The night sky almost obscures them, but Jeno led you close to a building with motion sensor, external lights. “It’s ridiculous, honestly, and you keep comforting me, but I’m starting to feel like a bur –”
You are cut off by your own gasp when Jeno kisses you, effectively shutting you up, and you melt into his arms. He simply puckers his lips, kissing you as long as he inhales before breathing out, just enough to regulate your heartbeat. The whole world slows down around you, every sound muted except the gentle smacking of his lips. One of your feet pops, kicks up, and you lean into his touch, fully assuaged.
Jeno pulls away first, leading you over to an open hotteok stand without a line. He orders two for each of you and a large soda to share, paying quickly. The vendor compliments the two of you as a couple, but when you go to correct him, Jeno interrupts you again, a hand on your lower back, thanking the guy, and walks you down the street. Once you get to a bridge, streetlamps connected by strung lantern lights, he relaxes against the railing, using the warm pancake to heat up his hands. You look him over again, then glance at your attires; it seems weird – you both wearing nice date clothes but eating ₩10,000 snacks, sharing a soda instead of wine.
“What?”
“I just …” You turn the wrapper around in your hands, gaze falling to the chewy dough. “How are you so nonchalant about everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are w-we going to pretend that the stuff in the hotel room didn’t happen? Like I didn’t confess that I like you, more than platonically?”
Jeno sighs, casting his gaze to the floor. But, like, why? You are the one vulnerable right now. In the last 24-hours, you confessed, to liking him more than friends. You only ever came close three other times; three times in 12 years: at the beginning of high school, motivated by your friends to take control; at the end of high school, before graduation, when you thought that he would go to KAIST instead of Yonsei with you; in the middle of college, during volunteer work at a soup kitchen. And each time, you chickened out. You thought that maybe, after you entered the workforce, like a real adult, you would face the music, face these constantly lingering feelings, and maybe, this is it; this is the music, but something about him, about this, regresses you back to that teenage girl feeling: shy and insecure.
“I –” Jeno inhales, crumpling the hotteok wrapper into his pocket, then waddling over to you. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”
You frown. He is not listening to you. Why else would you repeat the friendship-shattering phrase? You thought that this was it, that you could live with being his weekend mistake, but that involved getting a solid response from him, something tangible to let you know how he feels.
“I just … You don’t …” You lick your lips, gradually dropping your gaze to the floor, unable to face him with all this uncertainty. “I,” you emphasize, pointing your middle phalanges above your heart, “don’t know what you’re saying. Jen, I want some cl –”
For the second time tonight, he cuts you off with a simple kiss, long and chaste, holding you by the neck, as if the action exempts him from explaining himself. And maybe you are easy to sway, because you let him kiss you in the middle of a bridge overlooking the Busan city streets, convincing yourself that having him physically close is the same as having him emotionally close.
Jeno hopes that he won’t be like Jaehyun on his wedding day – absolutely insane. Well, he hopes that he won’t be like this on his wedding day, with you, oscillating between awkward silence and carrying out his childhood, assuming that he marries you. Granted, the wedding cake did melt, and another groomsman, the best man, Yuta, is running late (delayed flight from Japan), and Jaehyun did rip his tie, hence why Jeno, now, runs around the Park Hyatt Hotel, searching for any front desk attendant to point him toward a sewing kit at the very least. He should have brought his back up tie, a skinny black tie that he definitely does not know how to turn into a cravat, and he cannot ask you, not after last night when he evaded your question by sleeping with you.
Left. Right. Left again. Jeno looks around the empty, second-floor hallway, above the equally empty front desk, adjacent to the imperial staircase. Promptly, he shuts the door, inhaling and exhaling under the weird single lightbulb at the center of the ceiling, eyes shut, trying to imagine his happy place.
“Jeno?”
He sighs, shoulders dropping, face finally relaxing without the groom-zilla pacing and spiraling without “his soul mate” to calm him down, but Jeno cannot refute very much. Even in his dreams, you exist. And maybe he talks too little, or you talk too much; maybe he doesn’t say enough, or maybe you don’t say the proper words, but he could live in the in-between, in the that moment after you say something and right before he doesn’t. So, he sinks into your enveloping voice, engrossed by just the sound of his voice, no pressure behind it – pressure to answer your ‘I like you’ confession with his thousand-word ‘I love you’ confession; pressure to have the ‘what are we’ conversation; pressure to face your inevitable rejection that, although you feel something more than friendship for him, you don’t feel the same way. Except, Jeno doesn’t just feel the warmth from your words.
Your fingers slowly touch his tall shoulder, pads of your fingers dipping in harder to grab his attention. And he screams.
And you copy him.
It takes a moment for him to turn around, a hand over his heart, patting down his lapels. But when he does, when he finally looks at you, as if he were the groom this wedding, waiting for you, the bride, to surprise him at the end of the aisle, Jeno’s breath stops. He cannot discern whether it’s due to the shock value of being in close proximity to you again, in an intimate setting almost rivaling 7 minutes in heaven (though he can say that he’s had more than 7 minutes in heaven with you, outside a closet); or it’s because you look absolutely stunning, somehow making the lime green garden wedding theme work for you – Jaehyun practically shoved a floor-length dress in your arms the moment you both arrived, absolutely exhausted, half-filled coffees pressed against your foreheads, above your sunglasses blocking the sunlight, as if you two were hungover (you weren’t; neither of you have drank more than water this weekend so far), before he directed you to Mingyu’s “side of the hotel”, even though you are his cousin, and took Jeno to his side. And, when you initially asked him to be your wedding date, Jeno didn’t expect to stand with the wedding party, thought he would just have to sit in the audience, watching you stand at the altar in front of the wrong man (granted, your cousin and his groom), but Jaehyun gave him a matching green tie and the second groomsman spot.
“Ha-ha-hi. What, um, what are you doing in here?”
You, staring at the floor, feet squirming clickty clack in your heels, hold up a tiny sewing kit. “Stealing some supplies for Mingyu. He brough an extra cravat and wants me to sew in tie, as a precaution, in case something happens to the current one.”
Jeno lets out a small laugh, and you slowly look up at him.
“What?” you frown.
“Nothing,” he smiles at you. “Just … they’re really meant for each other. Jaehyun ripped his tie, and he sent me looking for a sewing kit to fix it.”
You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. And Jeno coughs weakly into his hand, trying not to think about the way you kissed him, last night, head tilted again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly. “What about Yuta?”
“Delayed.” Jeno jingles his watch into frame. “He should be arriving at Incheon in the next few minutes, but he won’t be here until, like, 20 minutes be-before the wedding,” Jeno trails off slowly at the end. The ceremony, the intimate short portion of the early afternoon, starts in two hours. Except, right now, the closet seems more intimate – perhaps 50 people will be accommodated later, the ballroom, and if he translates that into this space, about a tenth would be in attendance. And they probably would not like to witness him undress you with his eyes.
“Mmhmm,” you hum, stumbling your fingers onto his lapels. You feel the material once, under your thumb, then smooth out imaginary wrinkles. He has to wonder what you see that he doesn’t, but he says nothing about it, not wanting you to leave him. “Luckily, Jaehyun has you then, huh?” You press your palm into his jacket, just the one time, above his rapidly beating heart, then start dropping your hand.
But he catches you.
“I’m lucky,” he says, the words falling from the tip of his tongue, like breaking the dam, letting all the pent-up and unresolved feelings flood, “to have you.” Jeno subconsciously tugs you forward, by your hand, until you stand just a hair away, your dress breathing like a Lee Byung-Ho sculpture for SeMA’s Aging World installation a few years ago (he took you and spent the whole time scribbling your name next to the notes that he had to decipher later for his extra credit essay). He flickers his eyes across your face, waiting before he gets an approval. You stay still for the longest second in history, and he mirrors it, mirrors you. When you appear to move away, he also copies that. “Sorry. Sorry. I know we’re in a kind of uncomfortable spot, and I probably shouldn’t’ve –“
“Jeno?”
“… Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
You fist his jacket, ruining the lapels more obvious for him to see, making him stagger forward. He braces a hand on the bookcase storage behind you, pulling your lower back toward his pelvis to help you evade ramming your spine into the shelves, but he still falls, face first into yours, one strong arm keeping you close, the other hovering above your cheek, too scared that he might crush you with the impossible weight of his crush, his feelings. You try to comfort him – as you always do, like a rock – fluffing his hair. Then, your foot slips, stiletto heel snagging on a loose roll of toilet paper. And he catches you, of course, always, holding your waist so tightly that you might crack. You echo him, this time, grabbing, groping, gripping every surface that you possibly can. To stop himself from toppling you, he bunches your silk dress at your hip and shoves his strong leg between your thighs. He drags you up his knee once, twice, thrice, and you moan.
“Jeno,” you barely manage to breathe, after one kiss, lips tight. You go lax in his arms, fawning over his arm like a damsel in distress – head thrown back, hair starting to tangle at the roots, leg hooking onto his waist. He moves down to your neck, your collarbone, your chest; he slides down the spaghetti strap for easier access, peppering wet kisses onto your skin. “Oh, my God,” you moan, arms tightening around his neck, drawing him impossibly close and thrusting your half-exposed tits in his face. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
Jeno kisses you harder, his tongue barely poking out, bottom lip dragging up. His inhales feel – and sound – heavy, trying to inhale everything about this moment.
“I want you,” he mumbles, nose brushing your cheek. He stops kissing you, open mouth panting into your ear. “But not like this. Not right here.”
“Jen,” you whine, sliding your hand under his jacket, clutching the back of his dress-shirt slightly untucked. “Please. I want you.”
“I – “ he gasps. “I –“
Then your phone rings.
I want you so bad, but not like this. I want to make love with you.
“He-hello?” you answer. You press your forehead to Jeno’s, and he takes the opportunity to analyze your face, the face he has memorized in his daydreams. Jeno twirls a loose, long strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah, I f-ff-found it.” He presses a singular kiss under your jaw, tongue hunting for a prominent vein. And when he finds it, he pushes, harder, sucking just light enough not to create an ostentatious mark. “Mmm,” you nearly moan wantonly, legs giving out, “I-I’ll br-bring it by right now. O-okay, yeah, bye.” You quickly hang up the phone, dropping it to the floor, and wrap your arms around Jeno’s neck, returning one kiss, the final kiss, long and chaste, everything spilling out. “I have to go,” you whisper, sliding down his thigh.
“Yeah,” he mumbles back, “Me too.”
During the wedding, you did this a lot.
Thankfully no one noticed, or you hoped that no one noticed – you and Jeno staring at each other, across the altar; you behind Jeonghan, Mingyu’s best man; him behind Yuta, Jaehyun’s best man. You wanted to pay attention to the grooms, and their lovely ceremony, but seeing Jeno, just a few people away, had you quixotically imagining him at the forefront of the room, surrounded by your own friends and family. Who would be his best man: Renjun, Jaemin, Haechan? Would you get married in his hometown, or maybe abroad? What would you wear – Leehwa, Vera Wang, custom Prada?
Everything faded in front of you, when he met your gaze, staring you down over Yuta’s shoulder, closest to the officiant. You thought that the venue’s organization had it out for you, putting you on a pedestal below Jaehyun, but as Jeno returned your acknowledgement, you realized that the venue was, really, protecting your feelings, because the moment you locked eyes, the entire weekend flashed through your memory – almost kisses, actual kisses, accidental touches. You had to suppress all those feelings, make sure none of it was written on your face, like they meant nothing, like you don’t know what his current suit looks like crumpled and on the floor of your hotel room, like he belongs closer to you. The cheers following Jaehyun and Mingyu’s ‘I do’s were the only thing to bring you out of your own head, to draw the details of reality again, as if you willed time itself to move into the reception so that you could have Jeno to yourself again, restoring the intimacy of this affair to the grooms.
Unfortunately, it took a bit longer to even breathe in Jeno’s direction.
Both the Jung and Kim families shuffled everyone down to the reception ballroom, where even more friends and family and colleagues waited. You had to go back upstairs, without Jeno, to change into your party dress – the silk purple one, a shorter material that matches the tie you bought him. And then, the tables separated you as well, sending Jeno to mingle with other singles and you with your distant cousins, through the first course as both grooms, together, made their rounds, greeting every guest and expressing their gratitude in low bows for coming to celebrate their union. You finally found an escape during the main dish, which forced everyone to pull food from a buffet table rather than be served the same appetizer.
“Hey,” you bump elbows in line with Jeno, stealing his attention from the galbi-jjim, a small smile fighting your cheeks. “I – I can’t believe we got separated there. Do you think I can sneak you back to my table?”
Jeno chuckles and places a rib on your plate, using the obnoxiously large tongs to fix a batonnet carrot atop the meat. “I hope so,” he answers honestly, nose crinkling as a sign of it. “You’d think that they would put us together, since I’m supposed to be your plus one.”
“But I guess not,” you finish for him. You look over your shoulder at your table – nearly empty, like the preceding pew taking communion, then whisper, like making a tryst between spies, “Meet me at my table when you’re done. You can take my aunt’s chair; she’s dreadfully boring.”
You finish plating the traditional food that Jaehyun picked out for the occasion (according to Mingyu) and return to your table (Table No. 3) ahead of Jeno, who stopped to wait for a restock of japchae right before the dessert platters. He is easy to please – and they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – because after he plates his noodles, he looks over his shoulders and sneaks a bite, eyes prettily fluttering closed, lips puckered around the tips of his manicured nails, licking his fingers clean. You try not to laugh, biting it behind an inevitable smile. Jeno finds you, easily, as he always does, tilting his head in confusion, but you wave him off, gesturing for him to finally join you, make you feel at little less alone among the extended family branches.
“Here, take some of the japchae,” he says, already unveiling a nearby fork from the dark green napkin cloth and piling it next to your rice. “It tastes –” He kisses his fingers. “- chef’s kiss, amazing.”
“You two make a lovely couple,” your aunt interrupts – not the dreadfully boring one; a different aunt, a younger aunt, who, just two years ago, claimed that she wouldn’t be like the rest of the peanut gallery, gossiping and leaping to conclusions about everyone younger’s love lives. You and Jeno sink into your respective chairs, deliberately avoiding touching each other. She leans in, over your arm, almost daring Jeno with her excited Princess doe eyes. “Can we expect another wedding soon?” He coughs. And you drop your metal chopsticks. And your aunt leans back, shrugging as if she hadn’t dropped a bomb. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m probably not the only one who is expecting it. You graduated college – what – 10? 13? months ago. Right now would be perfect for you to get married, while you’re still young.” She briefly points a spoon at Jaehyun and Mingyu, before chopping up her almon bowl. “They got married young, and now they’re going to honeymoon across Europe. I’m just saying –“ She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “It’s better to get married young – you grow together; finances are easier to manage; your health is in good shape, etc. etc.”
Your other aunt, her wife, finally joins, too, and smacks her arm. “Are you bothering another couple about getting married?” She turns to you with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry, after we got married, four years ago,” she emphasizes more to her wife than you or Jeno, eyes slightly narrowed (although playfully) on the last syllable, “she has been obsessed with weddings.”
“Happens when you marry a wedding planner.” They kiss.
You turn away, shyly looking at Jeno, mouthing an apology.
Surprisingly, he leans into your ear, whispering. His initial breath, before he even says anything, sends shivers down your spine, and he grabs your arm, rubbing your naked forearm for warmth. Oh. He mistook it. “Just play along,” he instructs. You can feel a hair move from its place. “It’s easier to say that you don’t know when we’ll get married than to explain why we’re, um, you are not dating.”
“W-we don’t actually know when we’ll get married,” you answer, gradually building your voice to conversation decibel.
“See! I told you they were a couple! There is no way that they wouldn’t be. Look at them!”
You cautiously glance at Jeno, stopping at his matching purple tie (he must’ve changed when you changed; and lucky him, a simple tie is easier than an entire dress), because you do not want to be so obvious about your lie. The train conductor, the Uber driver, the hotelier … they all thought the same, but since then, the start of your trip, you discovered that he does want you to touch him, in all the ways that carry meaning (and then some). You just do not know to what extent. He never said anything, never explained anything, not that you are entitled to his feelings. And you tried to reason it all – maybe you say too much, not really letting him, or maybe he says too little, constantly shocked to silence by all the secrets you spill.
You open your mouth at the round table, but another aunt of yours comes by and pinches Jeno’s cheek, saying something about how handsome he is, the statement echoing far off in your ears. And thank God, honestly; you did not quite know what to respond, merely hoping that, if you simply opened your mouth, your Broca’s area would follow. It didn’t.
“Yes, yes, but as you mentioned, my lovely date does not have a drink, so we best fix that,” you hear Jeno express. You peek to your side, then up, seeing him having stood at some point in his conversation. He throws you a look, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smile nearly rectangular, and nods toward the open bar. Oh! You stand up, too, albeit clumsily, knocking your thigh into the mahogany, the silverware and ceramics jostling; you give your aunts a hasty bow and apology before taking Jeno’s arm. “See,” he says to your other aunt, “We must be going. There is a long Island iced tea out there with my name on it.” They laugh together, then you let Jeno drag you away to the open bar, away from prying aunties.
“Long Island iced tea?” You quirk a single eyebrow. He refused to drink those ever since the 2020 trip to Germany when you, Jaemin, and Renjun got so fucked up on Long Island iced teas, consuming more and more, claiming that it just wasn’t hitting, until it did, that the four of you missed your nonrefundable trip back to Incheon.
Jeno rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh, couldn’t think of a different drink.”
You flutter your eyes to the drinks menu, reading through the specialties until you find the Long Island iced tea … right above the Sweet Pink Punch, a fruity pink margarita that is definitely right up his alley, had he had a few drinks in his system already. You raise your eyebrow even further up.
“Okay! I wanted the pink drink,” he pouts. “Is that what you want me to say?” The bartender immediately pops one up on the counter for him, pointedly fluffing the pink little petals over the equally pink salted rim. Jeno groans. “So not what I wanted.”
“Here,” you laugh, flagging down the same bartender. “I’ll take a six blueberry kamikaze shots and a whiskey smash.” It is Jeno’s turn raise an eyebrow at you, and you laugh harder, lightly smacking him on the stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re just gonna take a couple shots to take the edge off this whole party, –” A bit of liquid luck, if you were being completely transparent. “– then, we’ll make a few rounds and leave early. The key is – thank you –“ You pass him half the shots and put your drinks close together, making it ambiguous which belongs to whom. “– The key is to make a strong impression, and since we were at the altar today, I think we’ve got a free pass, but, just to be safe, –” You down a shot. “– we’ll take a few more photos, schmooze Mingyu’s cousins, note a talking point for later, then –“ You click your tongue. “– we’ll bounce.” You down another shot. Just one little glass remains, filled on your side of the bar, while your date has yet to even touch the table, so you look up at him. Jeno has an arm folded under his chest, opposite fingers dragging his bottom lip down, intermittently padding inside his mouth. And you swallow, throat suddenly dry with only liquid courage to drink. “Is … Is that okay?”
“Huh?” He drops his hand, and your eye follows, mouth drawing a continuous blank. “Oh, yeah,” he answers. “But, um, we don’t have to leave right away. It’s your cousin’s wedding; it might be fun to hang around with everyone for a bit.”
Jeno doesn’t know why he said that – We don’t have to leave right away, and it might be fun to hang around for a bit. Those few rounds you talked about (not the shots ☹) turned into hours, even more after you offered to stay while everyone else left, to help clean the reception hall. Jeno stood up, also, to start piling dishes into bus tubs, but you, and the others helping, only gave him easy-to-complete tasks or shooing him away. He eventually just sat down, sporadically drinking a bottle of soju, watching you laugh with your aunt and Mingyu, now your cousin-in-law, over something he couldn’t hear from so far away.
And when Jaehyun approaches, Jeno misses him, too caught up in the way your eyes almost physically light up at Mingyu’s umpteenth gawky faux pas of the night.
“How long?”
Jeno jumps, straightens his back. He relaxes after seeing Jaehyun, who looks far calmer than a couple hours ago. Maybe marriage suits him, brings out the vulnerability that no one really sees unless they get a few drinks in him. Jeno wonders if marriage would change him. Would he be more conscientious? Introverted (if that were even possible)? Would he have the same level of self-control? Or would his sex life get worse? And what if he didn’t marry you? He wants everything that marriage entails, even the compromises he might not be able to think about right now, but he isn’t sure that he would want it if it wasn’t with you.
“I …”
“How long have you been in love?” Jaehyun repeats, a knowing look quirked into his smile.
Jeno inhales, once, twice. He opens his mouth. Then, he puts down his bottle. “Forever,” he answers quietly, “maybe.” He winces. That sounds wrong, so he corrects himself, “Probably. Your cousin …” he starts, not saying your name, because if he does, he might accidentally confess something that he wants only you to hear.
Jaehyun chuckles, possibly more intoxicated than Jeno. It feels like that time in high school (Jeno cringes at how often he’s thought about his teenage years, like someone stuck in the past, but he cannot help that he has spent half his life with you) – that time in high school, near the end, when you invited him to his first college party, Jaehyun’s college party. So many things happened, so many firsts happened: his first beer, his first time losing his wallet (it was in the garage refrigerator), his first hickey; he emerged from a random bedroom, tugging up the collar of his shirt, and accidentally bumped into Jaehyun who was coming out of the bathroom from a different – but similar – experience.
“Dramatic,” Jaehyun comments. And Jeno whips his head to look at the groom, but he finds him looking at Mingyu. Jeno turns, too, but his eyes find you instead, instantly forgetting about the wedding party, until Jaehyun starts talking again. “Though, understandable.” Jaehyun spins his chair to Jeno, crouching a little closer, like he is about to reveal a secret. “You know, I almost asked you to give a wedding speech too.”
“Me?” Jeno points to himself. Jaehyun nods, re-affirming. “Why?”
Jaehyun shrugs, leaning back. He takes Jeno’s soju. “Because you give good speeches.” He tilts his bottle to Mingyu and you dancing and singing (Mingyu off-beat; you off-key). “My husband –” He smiles (that annoying and sickening lovey-dovey smile … that Jeno can’t help but want too). “– thought it might make you confess.”
“What?!”
Jaehyun shrugs again. Then, a beat passes, and Jeno opens his mouth, but Jaehyun gets up to join you and Mingyu; you pulling him up by an imaginary lasso. He hands back the soju, shimmying toward his husband. Another jealous pang bubbles in Jeno’s chest, and, yeah, he may not be the best person to let give a speech, or he might be the best. Sure, he wants that – to be called someone’s (your) husband and dance the night away with them (you); and yeah, he thinks about what it means to be in love, or what love itself means, and he comes to the same conclusion, every time. He comes to the same conclusion as you gesture for him to join the mini-after party, starting up an old SHINEE song on your iPhone that everyone knows.
More muzak fills the silence, albeit awkwardly now, through the first floor of the hotel. Jeno holds the sensor open, allowing you to enter first and push the Floor F button. He takes a place next to you, leaning on the cold wall, flushed face finally starting to mellow. You stare at the red numbers increasing on the monitor above the door, adjusting the hem of your purple cocktail dress lower than his tuxedo jacket hanging off your shoulders, rubbing your thighs together at your knees. The reception lasted longer than you anticipated; weddings, especially those so deep in Busan, tend not to exceed two hours, but you stayed passed 7 PM, since 11 AM, helping around where you could. And maybe it started out as a way to avoid Jeno, after the previous night, then all the discomfort and embarrassment faded, once you got a kiss and liquid courage. It seems to have faded by now though.
“Beautiful, um, beautiful ceremony,” Jeno mumbles, scratching the back of his neck and biting back a smile.
"Yeah,” you agree, breaking into a nervous smile. You fumble with the silver cufflinks, the memory of the last time you were confined to a small space with him – the closet at the Park Hyatt Hotel – at the forefront of your brain, and you wonder if his breath would be warm, or warmer, on your neck now. A glimpse of Jeno crawls into the corner of your eye, so you look him up and down. He doesn’t appear tired, rather lost in thought, like you, lips sucked in as if preventing another secret from falling out (or maybe he has to throw up). It becomes harder to ignore the weekend tension, the unsaid confessions, the sex. “Jeno, I lo –”
“So –”
Silence pulses, and the elevator goes up a floor.
You both close your mouths again. Perhaps you should have taken the stairs; the huffing and puffing would help you break the quietude. Beautiful ceremony was the first thing he said to you since getting into the Uber from the reception hall. And before that, he only made small talk, interrupting you if he even sensed a deeper conversation. It was frustrating, but you also understood. You kept bringing it up at inopportune times. Either the next task (eg, the wedding, the not-your wedding) or the atmosphere (eg, too many people) prevented you from really talking it out.
“Oh, you go first.”
“No, you were talking first. You go.”
You inhale. “Jeno, I lo –”
Ding. You have arrived at Floor F.
There it is again.
Jeno shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, gesturing for you to leave ahead of him. “We can talk about this in our room.”
Our room. Funny enough, since you two moved into the new gender-neutral dorms, at the beginning of college, people assumed that you were roommates (oh, my God, they were roommates) and were quite shocked upon finding out that Jeno chose to stay with Jaemin and you with an upperclassman, Yoohyeon, who had the same major as you but was in her last year. And similarly, to this hotel, your room – our room – is in the middle of the Fth Floor. Yay, more awkward silence to tread through. :|
You fall into routine with Jeno, as you step foot in your hotel: he takes your his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it in the closet by the door, and you saunter towards the closest bed, eyes trained on the ground as if an officer asked you to for a walk and turn test. You kick your shoes off by the heels, nearly moaning when the straps release your feet, and rub the bottom before a blister appears. Jeno, equally shoeless, joins you, sits beside you, his thighs parted widely on the space you give him.
“Jeno, I lo –” you start. But he leans over, caressing your cheek, and kisses you, slow yet passionate. His thumb rubs long, comforting lines above your jaw, helping you to relax further and you accept, holding onto his arm for stability. You add another hand, behind your back, supporting yourself as he guides you down on the neatly pleated duvet. He almost tries to say something through the embrace, his tongue clicking a syllable or two above your teeth. “Are – are we doing this again?”
Jeno pecks your lips and rests his warm, exposed forehead against yours. “As much as you want to.” He kisses you again, falling alongside you on the open bed, turning you from the edge. “I,” he pants, eyes closed, chest rising. You brush away his hair, pushing back all the strands you can bunch, stealing the moment to selfishly admire him without the weight of ruining an already intimate affair with your affair. “I – I can’t do a onetime thing with you.”
“Me neither.”
Jeno opens his eyes, instantly analyzing your face. “What does that mean?”
“It –” You peck his lips again, rolling him under your body, straddling his waist. “– means that this feels good.” You grab him by the collar, a button falling undone. He immediately finds your waist, just like the train ride, hands belting through your short dress, dragging the silky material up your thighs. You can feel his shirt scratch into your skin as you both find the most ideal spot. He winds up further on the bed, arms mingling with the sheets, and you slide down his hips, slipping to his dick, teetering on your knees, preemptively riding him. “Do-do you like it?”
His body freezes, and you fear that you did something wrong, touched something wrong, said something wrong, but then, Jeno shimmies his hips, sliding down his trousers. You feel his cotton Calvin Kleins touch your own cotton panties; your pussy practically activated by the twitch of his cock. He taps high under your thigh, drumming hard enough to jiggle your ass, almost contemplatively.
“I … like it,” he decides to say, but his easy-to-read face frowns and he opens his mouth again, “I … I love it.” He bites his lip. “I love … I love you. So much.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” Jeno gazes into your eyes, and you try your best to reciprocate, because you do reciprocate everything: the looks, the feelings, the love. Slowly, he sits up, rolling his spine toward you. When he gets in your face, millimeters away, he tucks your hair behind your ear again. You trap his hand there, clamping it between your cheek and shoulder, leaning into him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he whispers, but you both know that your relationship would not survive the depth of either one of your feelings, not after all these years.
“I love you, too, Lee Jeno,” you answer, kissing him before he can say anything else.
He slithers his fingers under the sides of your underwear, twisting them up, his face pliantly moving in your hands. You grind through your panties, and after a moment, you find his dick, grazing just the tip through your ass, all the way to your clit.
“Shit,” he moans. His hands readjust on your waist, gripping tighter, making you moan. “Are we doing this again?” You nod your head, holding him still and diving a bit lower. Your thighs adapt to the new curve in your back as you sloppily kiss his neck, tongue exploring his clavicle. “Then, sit on my face.”
Jeno helps your legs around his face, licking the wetness up your knees. His constant eye contact tells you to watch him, and you have to fight the urge to completely melt on his washboard abs. Jeno pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, a finger hooked around the black lacy material you once mentioned, that you looked forward to wearing after he ripped the other pair. You nearly lodge a complaint at the silence and the emptiness, but then, he moves. He flips you over, simultaneously tearing away your underwear, clawing your ass to ride his face; his chin lifting, abrading just under your clit. Your forehead falls to his groin, nails scratching into his bare legs – smooth and muscular. He starts peppering tiny kisses all over your vulva, tongue probing the further you soak his face. As a distraction, you unbutton his shirt, from the bottom up, fisting the hem, dragging up his torso. You walk backward, on your knees, punching holes into the mattress, exposing his abdomen. Experimentally, you lick a stripe through his well-defined abs. His knee kicks up. You do it again.
“Princess,” he whines, forehead resting on your inner thigh. “I won’t be able to control myself if you touch me like that.”
“I’m barely doing anything,” you mumble, crawling to his leaky cock again. Jeno, vindictively, adds a finger, and another, and another. He licks your pussy, swirling his tongue near your rim, then jumping back to your cunt, joining his three fingers. You fall forward, groaning, and take his cock, clothed, in your hand, drawing his tip along the lines of your lips, suckling the head.
“Fuck.” His head hits the mattress. It makes you feel attractive, sexy, to turn him on like this, and you love it.
“God, I love you,” you whisper.
“I love you,” Jeno returns. He almost nips your skin, lips barely covering his teeth in time. “So much,” he breathes, almost awed.
“Jeno, I’m gonna cum.”
“Wait!” He pulls his face off. “I want to see you.”
Romantic. And you guess it’s the season, that heightens, if not adds, to the sentiment. So, you contribute, trying to give him everything and more – that is what you have been doing all weekend with the train ride and the food and the hotel and the clothes, giving him your whole self.
You scramble off his chest, turning around, to face him. He flickers from your eyes to your hair and combs the staticky baby hairs back down. And you like to think that you’ve gotten to know him more, the last couple of days, think that you’ve gotten more accustomed to the little gestures, the tender indicators which show you something lasting. You lean down again, slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He rolls you under him, trapped by his strong biceps, humping his dick between your legs, not allowing you a single moment of refractor. With his lips sewn into yours, he extracts his cock, lubricating it with your vaginal spit, teasing your hole. You swivel your hips, trying to push him inside. And just you think he might taunt you further, your orgasm hanging by a thread, he presses forward, centimeter by centimeter.
“Fuck,” you both groan, heads thrown back. A beat pulses, letting you, and him adjust to the size, the tightness (even though you spent 24-hours practically attached to his pelvis, skin sticking in this same way).
“Okay,” you exhale, “Okay. Move, please.” But Jeno keeps his head glued on your shoulder, breath shaky, chopped by tiny whimpers. You groan his name, elongating it when your voice chokes on a sob, feeling his thick cock throb inside you, raw and bare. “Jeno, please, I wan – I need to cum.”
Without looking at you, Jeno pulls back his hips, thrusting shallowly, his tip flopping around your cervix, searching for your sweet spot. And he knows when he finds – you know that he knows he found it – because your face contorts, eyes twisting shut, body relying on his touch to see. At some point, he meets you in the middle, greedily rolling his torso on top of you, roughly dragging you through the bed sheets. Jeno kisses you again, the same tender passion rising but more fervent, like he needs to chase the moment, like he missed out on chasing you all these years. So, you slow down, gasping into his mouth, showing him that you are here, with him, for him, forever, if he wants. And you let out a strangled cry, repeating his name like a mantra, hooking your arms under his shoulders:
“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”
He starts fucking you faster, increasing his pace as his name disappears into a series of blurry sobs on your tongue; he smashes his lips on yours, slamming his hips hard – hard even for him, judging by his own low-pitched whines. Your dress chokes your waist, the straps having slid down your arms, off your wrists, and your boobs spring free, somewhat free, since he holds you so close. You pull him in, nails clawing his back, flexing your legs away to give him the freest access to your cunt. He finds some stability in your clit, pushing the pulsing nub into his thrusting cock.
“Tell me you’re going to cum.”
“I’m so close. Please, please, please.”
Jeno pinches your clit. Your back drives off the mattress, trailing his abs, grinding every inch of skin that you possibly can, both of your outfits doing little to obstruct the tension, only adding strenuous friction. His hand punches the mattress, to avoid losing balance, and gives him more leverage to move faster, if that were even possible. In, out, in, out, yank, pull, prod, in, out. You babble more nonsense, brain barely processing quick I love yous and his name, before an earthquake shatters your sympathetic nervous system, breaking down the walls that blocked your orgasm. Your body trembles, rolling upward, accidentally meeting his thrusts, and your pussy spasms, coaxing out weepy hiccups from Jeno. You push two fingers between your bodies, around the base of his cock, helping his orgasm. And you feel the first ribbon of cum shoot deep in your cervix, his shoulders shuddering, but he keeps going, jamming his cum far up your cunt.
You lay there, curling around his arm, taking his cum while he planks above you, watching your spasms lessen. Jeno moves first, removing your clothes and situating the two of you by the pillows. He pulls you into his chest, shimmying your dress off your legs and his shirt off his shoulders. You let yourself close your eyes, melting into his arms, into the weekend, into finally getting the love of your life. And maybe minutes, or an hour, passes, not that you’re counting, because you’ll have him as long as he will have you. And you think he feels the same, know he feels the same when he whispers a phrase that only people who want to be together for a long time say:
“So, when are we getting married?”
#neohub#jeno x reader#jeno fluff#jeno smut#lee jeno smut#nct fanfic#nct smut#nct dream smut#nct jeno x reader
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Drama King
Sick | Derby Harrington X Fem | Reader
Summary: Bif calls you over to the Harrington House in a slight panic. Derby is sick and won't stop whining.
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It's Saturday, Even though the sun is shining through the thin peach-pink blinds of the room. (Y/n) is still asleep in her bed, sleeping in for today. And doing homework later.
Her mobile phone is in charge at her bedside, the alarm clock is off. She doesn't have to do anything today, she already finished her homework last night. That's why she is sleeping in.
At least that was the initial plan for today...
Until (Y/n)'s phone buzzed to life, waking her up. With a heavy arm, she reaches for the phone to pick it up, "Who in their right mind dares to call me at this unholy hour on this day..." (Y/n) answers groggily.
Whoever was on the other end was caught surprised by the rather cryptic answer.
"Uh, good morning (Y/n), It's Bif." The voice of Bif finally comes through. There was an inaudible noise in the background on his end.
"Are you busy with anything, right now?" He asks all innocent sounding, causing (Y/n) to get irritated. "Well, I was trying to sleep in. What do you want?" She already knew that Bif wouldn't just call her for the fun of it. Either he or Derby wants something from her.
"Err, so..." Bif stammers, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. The weird noise in be background now sounds like a scream, a distant muffled yell of Bif's name sound from another room.
"Spit it out, Bif." (Y/n) grumbles and rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling blankly.
"Alright, alright. There is something wrong with Derby, you need to help me... Please?" At least he said please, not all Preppies know that word and the meaning of it.
(Y/n) lets out a deep sigh, "Okay, fine. I'll be there soon." she doesn't wait for an answer from the other side and hangs up on the Prep.
~~~~
It took (Y/n) another 5 minutes to get out of bed, and then get dressed to meet the Preppies at the Harrington house.
Yawning, (Y/n) runs a hand through her hair to smooth it out just before knocking on the doors of the house.
It was Tad that angered, he looks slightly panicked "Oh, (Y/n) thank goodness you're here." He huffs in relief, looking glad to see (Y/n) has shown up as Bif had told him.
"What could possibly be wrong with Derby that you have to coax me out of bed for it?" (Y/n) asks with irritation, entering the house as Tad steps aside for her, closing the door behind her.
"Oh, it's a drama (Y/n). Derby was complaining about a headache yesterday, but now he can't even get out of bed. Or at least doesn't want to get out." Tad explains in a hurry, seemingly nervous.
(Y/n) thinks she already has an idea of what's going on. "So... Derby is sick?" (Y/n) concludes, and Tad's face lights up. "Yes, yes! But it sounded more like he is bloody dying!"
Bif enters the room and immediately makes his way over to (Y/n). "There you are!" He snatches (Y/n)'s arm and pulls her back up the stairs towards a room that she assumes is where Derby resides at the moment.
Bif stop right before the door, "Derby keeps moaning about how bad he feels and he won't stop complaining about it. You need to help him." He holds (Y/n) by her arms, he probably doesn't know how to care for sick people, but that doesn't matter right now.
"If I help, what's in it for me?" (Y/n) compromises a deal.
Bif sighs long, disappointedly, "Fine, I'll treat you to dinner for a full week." He offers in defeat. (Y/n) smiles in triumph victory. "That's more like it." (Y/n) claps with glee, "Let me handle this." (Y/n) then knocks on the door twice, announcing her entry before entering the room entirely.
The bedroom is just as luxurious as the rest of the house, with velvet curtains and large paintings, Fancy polished wooden furniture and a king-sized bed. Under the sheets in the middle of that bed was a shivering lump.
"Derby? What's wrong with you?" (Y/n) approaches the bed and pokes the lump which she assumes is his shoulder. The lump lets out a tortured groan and then shifts, crawling up to the head-side of the bed.
A tuft of messy blonde hair reveals itself from the covers, just before the rest of Derby's head. It's evident that he is indeed very sick. His face is red, his eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he is in pain.
"Oh wow... You're really sick." That is all that (Y/n) can say upon seeing the poor Preppy.
"I did not notice that..." Derby groans sarcastically in reply. Her comment irritated him it seems.
(Y/n) turns around to the private bathroom to get some supplies to help him. A rag drenches in cold water and looks for Bif. (Who luckily is still outside the door on guard) And ask him for more supplies, then she returns to Derby.
"Am I dying?" Derby asks once (Y/n) gingerly takes a seat on the side of the bed. She can't help but snort quietly. "Not if you let me help you," she states and gently runs the cold rag over his forehead to cool him down. It appears to work as his body relaxes slightly, and then he coughs, which sounds very painful.
A knock at the door announces Bif, who returned with the supplies you asked him to fetch for you.
Derby let out another pathetic whine as (Y/n) leaves to get the things Bif got for her. Thanking him in the process.
"Can you sue a sickness?" Derby sniffs, and rubs his nose in the sheets and writhing in his bed. "If you do that, you'll make your family look bad." (Y/n) answers, knowing how to talk back to the rich boy to keep him from doing stupid things. Derby is actually alright if you know how to talk to him and his other rich friends.
Derby grumbles and dives back under the blankets.
"no, no. Come back here." (Y/n) pulls the sheets down to bring Derby back. "Noooo." He whines, his arm resting over his eyes dramatically.
"Stop whining... or you'll never get better." (Y/n) argues back and arranges all the supplies to help the Preppy get better.
(Y/n) picks up a small box with medicine and a glass of water for him to take the medicine with.
"You have to take these." She announces and gestures to the two objects in her hands at Derby.
Derby looks at the two items blankly, before turning his head away with a small childish "Hmph."
(Y/n) lets out a sigh, she was afraid of this, "This is going to be tough..." She mumbles to herself.
~~~~
Derby is indeed the worst patient (Y/n) has ever had! And she thought her little brother was bad when he was sick.
Derby is whinier than ever, he won't cooperate and he believes he is dying.
(Y/n) doesn't believe that he is dying, that is just him overreacting. But his complaints about his pounding headaches do get her attention.
"It's like someone punched me in the head repeatedly until I lost consciousness," Derby complains while rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ease the pain.
"Sorry to hear that, Derby. I can't give you any more painkillers right now." (Y/n) says with sincerity. He has already taken a lot of those at the moment.
She reaches over and gingerly strokes his hair. The blonde locks have a really soft and smooth feel to it. Expensive conditioner for sure.
The feel of (Y/n) hand smoothing out his hair causes the Preppy to stop moving. His hands landed back on the silk sheets.
He doesn't tell her to stop, so she keeps going and rakes her fingers across his scalp and Derby feels a shiver going down his back.
Derby then suddenly shifts, lifting himself up with just his arms and shuffles over to rest his head on (Y/n)'s lap, landing on her skirt with a huff. "Keep going..." He demands weakly while snatching one of her hands and planting it on top of his head.
(Y/n) doesn't protest and does as he asks, resuming the massaging treatment to the rich boy's scalp.
"Your hair feels like satin, Derby." (Y/n) comments as she toys with the blonde strands, his usual neat haircut now made wilde by her hands.
"You can never go wrong with coconut oil." He replies lazily and closes his eyes to relax.
The feel of her fingers continues, slowly lulling him to sleep.
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Derby seems like the whiny type when he is sick, so I took that assumption and ran with it. And here we are.
Thanks for reading.❤️
- Smilex
#bully scholarship edition#bully x reader#derby harrington#derby harrington x reader#x reader#reader insert#sick fic#fluff#hurt/comfort#imagines
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Y.O.U (Years Of Us), Chapter 5: Old Friend
Jimin x half black/half Korean OC; Taemin half black/half Korean OC
Genre/Rating: 21+, established relationship, idol!AU, smut, angst, and fluff
Summary: Kamaria has a night out on the town and runs into an old “friend”.
Warnings: semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, and creampie.
WC: 2.8K
Song Of The Chapter: Taemin-Danger
9 Years Ago
Kamaria sat in one of the many studios in the SM building, nervously tapping her foot as she waited for one of SM’s most prolific groups to make their way inside. Although Kamaria had officially signed as an artist to the company not too long before, she still enjoyed writing music so after writing a song called “Good Evening”, she took it to the company who decided to give it to their top male group.
“Hello?” A sudden voice called out as the door opened and Kamaria had to will herself to stay calm as the members of SHINee walked inside.
“Hello, sunbaenims,” Kamaria smiled as she stood up, bowing politely as the members filed into the room. “I’m Minali or Kamaria, whichever you prefer.”
“Oh, no need to be so formal!” Onew exclaimed with a bright smile. “We’ve heard amazing things about you! I’m Lee Jinki.”
“Minho,” he introduced himself with a bow.
“I’m Kibum,” Key added.
“And I’m Lee Taemin,” Taemin grinned widely. “Our managers told us that you have an amazing song for us.”
“Well, I’m hoping you all will think so,” Kamaria chuckled. “I got inspired after hearing a song from an American group and after contacting them, they gave me permission to use the song and change it up so I did so and added new lyrics.”
“Well, no time like the present,” Key said as he clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started.”
Going into the session, Kamaria had been insanely nervous because SHINee was a legendary group in the KPop industry and Kamaria had only just debuted less than a year prior. However, as the session began and everything started to flow, she realized that she had been worried for nothing. The members were just as nice and funny as they had been rumored to be, not to mention the level of professionalism that they exuded when it came to doing what they loved.
“I love this song so much!” Minho exclaimed. “And after hearing the original, it’s amazing how you made it into something completely different.”
“That’s definitely some talent there,” Onew nodded in agreement.
“Thank you,” Kamaria replied sheepishly, feeling her cheeks warming up in embarrassment. “You guys made it effortless, though. Your voices are amazing.”
“We’re professionals darling,” Key joked, making Kamaria laugh. After a few more times of recording their verses, they all decided that almost three hours in the studio had been enough so they decided to go their separate ways.
“Taemin-ah, you coming?” Key wondered as Onew and Minho paced out of the studio.
“Ah, no hyung,” Taemin shook his head, throwing a quick glance Kamaria’s way before looking back at the older man. “I’ll get home on my own.”
“Alright,” Key smiled knowingly. “Be safe. Minali-ssi, amazing work.”
“Thank you so much,” Kamaria beamed as she took a break from packing up her bag to bow towards him. Key walked out of the studio then, leaving Kamaria and Taemin by themselves.
“Uh, Minali-ssi?” Taemin called out and Kamaria looked up at hearing her Korean name. “I was wondering, would you mind staying here a little while longer?”
“Uh, sure but why?” Kamaria wondered.
“I’m not exactly satisfied with my vocals,” he explained. “But if you have plans and can’t stay, I can always have our managers contact you to set up a better time and-”
“Taemin-ssi, I don’t mind at all,” she giggled. “And please, call me Minali.”
“Only if you call me Taemin.”
“Alright,” she agreed easily as she set her things down next to her. “Let’s go over them again.” Once Taemin went back into the recording booth and put the headphones over his ears, Kamaria sat in front of the mixing table and restarted the song. As Taemin began to record his lines over again, she happened to catch the part that he was talking about.
“So this part of the song is a build up,” Kamaria began after she cut the music off. “Your voice should reflect that but the thing is, you have to start strong to lead up to your high note. It’s not the same breathy one that Minho does in the beginning.”
“Can you give me an example?” Taemin requested.
“Sure,” she nodded before beginning to sing. “Negero ga, negero ga, negero ga-ah.”
“Ah ok, I get you,” he said. “Restart the song?” Kamaria did then, watching with a smile as Taemin effortlessly copied the way that she had song the riff for him.
“That’s it, you hit it,” she said. “Come on out and listen to it.” Taemin did as instructed, stepping back out of the booth and standing next to Kamaria’s chair as she replied the song.
“Excuse my language, but that sounds so damn good,” he praised. “I absolutely love it and I know the hyungs do too.”
“Like I said, you guys make it easy,” Kamaria echoed. “Your voices just blend so well together, especially yours.”
“Am I your bias in SHINee?” He wondered and Kamaria looked up at him with a smirk. “Or at least your favorite voice?”
“Actually, Jonghyun was,” she replied with a smile. “But you and your voice are a very close second.”
“Well, would you mind if your second favorite bias treats you out to dinner?” Taemin wondered.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“No, think of it as a ‘thank you for writing one of my favorite SHINee songs in recent memory’ dinner,” he chuckled. “How about it?”
“Yeah,” Kamaria nodded with a soft smile. “Ok.”
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“I don’t understand why the two of you are doing this to me,” Kamaria muttered from her place in the back seat as she glared at Nari, who was in the drivers’ seat.
“Because you needed to get out of the house!” Kang Seulgi exclaimed. Her and Kamaria had been extremely close friends since Kamaria’s days at SM Entertainment and with their busy schedules, they didn’t get much time to hang out together.
“You’ve been in the house sulking ever since you had that dinner with Jimin,” Nari added, glancing in the review mirror at her best friend. “Between that and the anniversary of your mom’s death coming up, you need to keep your spirits up.”
“And you two thought a night out in Gangnam would help that?” Kamaria deadpanned.
“Hey, good music, even better drinks, and gorgeous ass men?” Seulgi smirked. “Of course.”
“Good thing neither of you get paid for thinking then,” she muttered.
“Oh, you’ll feel better once you’re there and have a few drinks in your system,” Nari dismissed and Kamaria turned her gaze towards the window then, setting her chin on her hand. She was grateful that her friends cared enough about her to recognize when she was struggling but sometimes, she just wanted to wallow and feel all of her feelings.
Not too long later, Nari pulled the car up in front of one of the hottest spots in Gangnam, Club Octagon. As soon as the three of them stepped out of the car, a crowd tried to form around them due to Kamaria and Seulgi’s combined star power. Luckily, security was quick to usher them inside and to their own little section.
Nari made quick work of getting three drinks to their table and they lifted them up into the air.
“What should we cheers to?” Nari wondered.
“Friendship,” Seulgi suggested. “Existing, new, and future.”
“To friendship,” Kamaria smiled as they all pushed their glasses together. Since it was just a double shot of soju, it was effortless for Kamaria to slam it all back in one go.
“Alright, I’m hitting the dance floor,” Seulgi announced before hopping up out of her seat. “Come with me, Kam.”
“I don’t feel like dancing,” Kamaria said before glancing at Nari for help.
“Oh no, you guys go ahead because I saw some people I know,” Nari smiled as she stood up. “I’ll meet you guys out there!”
“You have no excuse now,” Seulgi smiled as Nari walked away from them. “I’ll buy you another drink.”
“Fine,” Kamaria huffed, allowing Seulgi to pull her up into a standing position. “But I want the drink first!” After a quick trip to the bar where the two of them downed more shots, they then made their way to the dance floor.
Club Octagon was frequented by a lot of music lovers so they played a wide array of music, both Korean and Western, that had everyone going crazy. The vibes were immaculate and even though she hadn’t really wanted to go out in the first place, Kamaria found herself feeling happy that she had allowed her friends to drag her out.
Life was hard and unfair but moments like these would always be worth it. Always.
Before she knew it, an hour had passed and Kamaria’s high heels were starting to put a strain on her feet. Just as she found herself about to turn and tell Seulgi that she was going to sit down for a break, she felt a pair of hands station themselves on her waist from behind.
“Can I have a dance?” The voice asked and Kamaria gasped, recognizing that voice anywhere as she turned around.
“Lee Taemin!” She squealed before throwing herself into his arms. “What are you doing here?!”
“Kai dragged me out,” Taemin chuckled, setting her back down onto the ground before motioning behind him with his head. When Kamaria looked over his shoulder, she saw Kai from EXO talking animatedly with Seulgi and Nari. Once he made eye contact, he waved happily and Kamaria laughed before waving back.
“How many drinks has he had?” Kamaria wondered as she looked back at Taemin.
“Too damn many,” he huffed with a smile. “I’m starting to think he just wanted to let loose and dragged me along so that I could prevent any scandals from occurring.”
“That sounds like him,” she giggled.
“And you? What are you doing out in Gangnam?”
“Same predicament as you, conned by my friends,” Kamaria sighed. “Admittedly though, I needed some cheering up.”
“Ah yeah, it is February huh?” Taemin grimaced and she nodded solemnly. “Well, if it helps, you might not feel that great but you definitely look it.”
“Yeah?” She smiled softly, looking down at the black ruched bodycon dress that covered her body.
“Absolutely,” he confirmed. “So, will you dance with me?”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” Kamaria hummed. “You could at least buy me a drink first.”
“That can be arranged,” Taemin smirked.
.................................................................
5 Years Ago
“That’s it my love,” Taemin whispered huskily as he thrust forward roughly, causing Kamaria to moan underneath him. “You’re taking it so well.”
“Feels so good Tae, fuck,” Kamaria gasped. “Harder.”
“You’re asking or telling me baby?” He wondered as he wrapped one strong hand in her shoulder length braids before yanking backwards and bringing her face closer to his.
“A-asking, I’m asking.”
“Rephrase that for me then.”
“P-please fuck me h-harder,” she pleaded.
“Much better,” Taemin cooed, reaching out with his free hand and taking ahold of Kamaria’s jaw, forcing her to crane her neck and look into his eyes. “You gonna come?”
“So hard,” Kamaria nodded.
“Rub your clit and come for me then,” he instructed and Kamaria didn’t hesitate to reach underneath herself, finding the bundle of nerves with the tips of her fingers. Not even a minute later, Kamaria’s orgasm hit her causing her body to shake and tremble. The feeling of her walls clenching around his length made Taemin groan loudly as his own orgasm bubbled to the surface and before he could even react, he felt himself spilling inside of her.
“Holy shit,” Kamaria sighed blissfully, giggling when Taemin allowed his body to fall on top of hers. “Get off of me. You might be skinny but that muscle isn’t weightless, you know.”
“I don’t even think I can move right now,” he chuckled. “You’re too damn good.”
“I could say the same for you,” she replied, smiling to herself when she felt Taemin press an open mouthed kiss to her shoulder.
“My gorgeous love,” he murmured.
.................................................................
“Fuck Tae,” Kamaria moaned, letting her head fall back against the wall of the bathroom stall that she and Taemin had crowded into together. After a few more drinks and dancing together to a few songs with wandering hands, Kamaria couldn’t help herself and ended up kissing him. Like any old habit, the familiar feeling came right back like second nature and it wasn’t long until they ended up in the bathroom.
“Stay quiet, my love,” Taemin whispered from his place on his knees in front of her. “You don’t want anyone to catch us in here, right?”
“R-right,” she nodded as she looked down, biting her lip right after when he sucked her clit back into his mouth. Her dress was pushed up around her hips, her thong pulled to the side and held against her thigh by one of Taemin’s hands, and one of her thighs hooked over his shoulder.
“You have no idea how much I missed the taste of this gorgeous pussy,” Taemin murmured. “You’re always so wet, Mina.”
“Cause of you,” she whispered, gasping when he quickly flicked the tip of his tongue against her. “Oh my gosh, that feels so good. Please keep doing that.”
“Asking so well,” he cooed before doing just as she requested. The feeling had her reaching down and burying her hands in his hair, her fingers gripping the strands tightly as her hips began to move on their own accord.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” Kamaria whimpered and Taemin just doubled down on his efforts in response, his tongue working double time to make her orgasm.
“God...fuck!” She burst suddenly, her jaw dropping open in a silent scream as she came on his face. Taemin, ever the considerate lover, licked up every ounce of wetness that escaped her slit before he gently removed her leg from his shoulder and stood up.
“You ok?” He checked, smirking when he realized that her body was trembling a little bit.
“Sorry, I haven’t had any sexual contact with a human being in like six months,” Kamaria giggled breathlessly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “My world is a little rocked right now.”
“And here I was thinking that you just remembered how good I used to make you come.”
“Oh trust me, that plays a part in it too,” she smiled before leaning forward and kissing him firmly. The kiss instantly turned into a French one, their tongues sliding against each others and Kamaria moaned at the taste of herself on Taemin’s tongue.
“I hate to make you come and then run,” Taemin began, murmuring against her lips. “But I have to get going.”
“Really?” She pouted. “I haven’t even gotten a chance to reciprocate yet.”
“I know and it’s taking everything in me to say this right now,” he laughed. “But I have a schedule with the hyungs in the morning and wake up call is at 5.”
“I could come back to your place with you.”
“Just for me to want to fuck you all night?” He chuckled. “Tempting but I can’t.”
“Alright,” Kamaria relented. “Have your managers discussed Nari’s offer for us to do a duet together on my new album with you yet?”
“They have and I have some free time coming up soon so have Nari contact them and they can set up a time for us to further discuss it in depth,” Taemin replied.
“That means the answer is yes?”
“For you?” Taemin asked with a smile. “Always, my love.” Not being able to help herself, which seemed to be a constant theme in any of her interactions with Taemin through the years, Kamaria kissed him one last time before he pulled away from her.
“I’ll see you soon, ok?” He murmured.
“I hope so,” Kamaria smiled, watching with half lidded eyes as Taemin slowly opened the door to the stall, checked to make sure that it was clear of any people before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. Taking a few more minutes to compose herself and fix her dress, Kamaria then stepped out of the stall as well before making her way out of the bathroom. She didn’t even get five steps down the hall before Seulgi and Nari came rushing up to her, both of them sporting shit-eating grins on their faces.
“What?” Kamaria wondered.
“You wanna tell us why Lee Taemin came out of that bathroom and practically dragged Jongin out of here?” Seulgi wondered.
“Or why he was sporting the biggest hard-on I think I’ve ever seen?” Nari added. “Or why you happen to have a post orgasm glow on your fucking face?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kamaria smiled with a shrug. “You guys ready to go?”
“Yeah, ready to go so you can tell us all about what happened in that bathroom,” Nari smiled. As the three of them made their ways out of the club then, Kamaria couldn’t help but to think how happy she was that she had come out after all.
#bts#bangtanarmynet#bangtanbathhouse#bts jimin#shinee taemin#jimin x reader#taemin x reader#jimin x oc#taemin x oc#jimin smut#jimin angst#jimin fluff#taemin smut#taemin angst#taemin fluff#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#shinee angst#shinee fluff#shinee smut#bts x reader#bts x oc#shinee x oc#shinee x reader
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“THE PRELUDE: ACT OF RECLAMATION” A LIVE SHOW BY OSÉ [SOLD OUT]
Headline Show Review - 09/12/2023
[Pictured below; Osé and band]
[Photographer: @bygideooon_ on Instagram]
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*DISCLAIMER* All photos and videos from this event are over on @reviewsbyliam on Instagram. Please head there after reading this article to witness the greatness that we did. Thank you and enjoy reading!
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I arrived in London on the 29th of November, suitcase in hand, 5 hour coach journey behind me and a now 45 minute Uber journey to Deptford. My boyfriend met me at the coach station, we spent the first evening just settling into the area, getting some food and having a few beverages (as you do), and then some well earned sleep after both travelling from separate parts of the UK.
Experiencing a day of being a tourist in London the next day was bewildering - I wanna live there now.. I'm definitely made for the big busy city life. We headed back to the hotel, and got ready to make our travels towards one of my long time internet friends first ever SOLD OUT DEBUT HEADLINE SHOW!!
The emotions were at an all time high, before we get into it though..
Here's a little backstory..
I've known Osé for 3/4 years now, first meeting on Twitter (now X) and forming a mutual connection through Ariana Grande and our overall love for music. I always knew that Osé loved to sing, I also knew that one day, he'd be on a stage somewhere giving it his all performing his music and not looking back - little did I know how real that thought would actually become.
Shortly after debuting this blog, Osé called me and told me the tear flowing news that was him booking his first ever headline show to debut his first new project. We screamed, laughed, I cried for him because I was so elated with pride, and then he asked me if I would join him in London, interview him as well as review his show, and help write the description for his event. I must've asked him several times if he was joking, following up with a loud !!YES!! and getting to planning..
Fast forward to the night of the show..
Entering the venue and the thought of not knowing what I was about to hear from Osé was anxiety inducing but extremely exciting nonetheless. I'd heard the music from his project prior to the show as he wanted me to be able to catch a feel of what was to come to help my own personal work, which was such a beautiful gesture. So I kind of knew the sounds of the night, but chose to not listen to them like they were the last songs on Earth so I could re-experience my first listen.
On stage before Osé was another uprising artist called Josh Pace, who was a very good musician to have before the main act as he drew the crowd in and the vocals were so raw. His bass tones were unreal.
After listening to Josh melt our ears, we mingled for a little while, grabbed a couple of drinks to calm the nerves, and then realised it was time..
I knew that when Osé took to the stage, it was going to become HIS world. We weren't here for us, we were here to witness a spectacle that can only be described as out of this universe.
Opening the show with an interlude describing who Osé is, some words being uplifting, some words describing Osé in a more vulnerable, judgmental light.. it was very honest and intriguing. The interlude interpreted that many people have things to say about Osé and his character, including himself, but nobody really knows the true him - hence the reclamation of his story.
Osé walks on stage, the room is flooded with screams, claps, hoots and hollers, he smiles and tries to take in the reception he has just received (which was extremely deserving) and starts to sing one of the most ICONIC songs of all time; Creep by Radiohead.
The raw power that exonerated from Osé’s vocal box was like watching a superhero find their power for the first time. The moment he opened his mouth, he was unstoppable, it was Osé’s time.
I just knew he was about to SMACK us in the jaw with this show after blowing us away with his rendition of Creep and my heart was racing, my knees were weak and I had a dry mouth. I was SO nervous for Osé, but one thing I noticed, Osé wasn’t nervous, because he was home.
Osé started singing his songs from his project, including one song that had a very personal meaning which Osé spoke to us about before he performed, allowing us to see that artists we listen to, admire and idolize are struggling with personal battles just like us. I wont be revealing the track names, because the project is still under review by Osé himself and this night was just about getting a feel for whats to come. But when the project is birthed, you'll see. The night was all about the people closest to Osé finding out why this project is in the works and how he is choosing to utilize it to expand his character and knowledge of the world, which in my eyes is a very safe choice to make as an upcoming artist because for you to do well, you have to make sure your work is cohesive and relatable, and that is what Osé's project embodies, truly.
The raw talent that exudes from Osé, whether its through speaking, writing, singing, anything - it is a talent to be acknowledged and afraid of. Osé's vocals were so strong, and the evidence of his ability to explore across genres is even stronger. We went from sad, to funk, to healing, to rocking out. Not to forget that the band which accompanied him on stage were well into their element also. The guy on the drums? I could've watched him go crazy for hours. And don't even get me started on the saxophone, we will be here for eternity.
Stage presence is a HUGE factor into an artists success, because nobody wants to see an artist just stand there on stage like a bowling pin and sing into a mic and then wave and walk off. Thank the Lord that wasn't the case for Osé. He walked onto that stage, announced himself, and just let his inhibitions go. When the crowd hyped him, it was like the funk spirit had taken over his soul and he just threw his hips like there was no tomorrow. He laughed, he jumped, he clapped, he cried but he also joked with the crowd and made it the most safest space I've ever had the pleasure of being in.
At the end of the night, Osé thanked everyone for attending his first sold out headline show, and had to halt a few tears (so did I, many times). I have never heard a room erupt into screams, whistles, chants, you name it, so loudly before. I was watching Osé on stage just taking in the love that he so righteously deserved, which made it a full circle moment for everyone involved. The gratitude displayed was immense and he truly and authentically cracked the egg of success and stepped into the rest of his life as a vocal powerhouse that night.
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Raw vocals, warming stage presence, immaculate band and organisation. Venue was cozy and made the vibe so much more intimate than it already was. Location was easy to find.
OVERALL REVIEW OF THE NIGHT: OUT OF THIS WORLD!!!!!!!
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If you're wondering whether to give Osé a chance when he next does a show, wonder no more because I'm here to tell you that it would be one of the biggest regrets of your life if you didn't attend a show of his or at least take a dive into his socials and hear the heaven that leaves his mouth when he sings. I have an upcoming interview to be released with Osé, and we discuss his early life, career, fears, and so SO much more. We dive into topics about the night too, and just have a good old catch up about how much Osé's life has changed since his sold out headline show. Keep an eye on my Instagram page for more details surrounding the release of that!
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A message to Osé: Thank you for coming into my life and showing me that being creative is okay, it's okay to be vulnerable and show it in your work, it's okay to struggle and share that with people because we are all human and deserve peace. I will be forever thankful for the opportunities you graced upon me surrounding this event and I will forever be in debt to you. You are one of the most intelligent humans I've come across, and watching you blossom as an artist and a friend is a blessing that I will never let go. Never give up on who you dream to be, because the ability that you hold within yourself to make that happen is a lot more stronger than you'll ever know. I love you and I'm forever proud of you! L x
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Thanks for reading! Photos and Videos from
“THE PRELUDE: ACT OF RECLAMATION” LIVE SHOW BY OSÈ
will be posted to my Instagram @reviewsbyliam !
Head over there and check them out!
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Written by Liam Wibberley
09/12/2023
LW
#music#blogger#music review#review#spotify#blog#applemusic#musicreview#independent artist#indie music#interview#new reviews#popular#british art#musician#rock#instrumental#album#guitar#nicki minaj#barbz#new music#alternative#songwriter#singer songwriter
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mommy issues!JK
when you return back to the table, jungkook doesn’t even let you get a sentence in before he’s thanking you for going along with his scheme. you’re beginning to think he followed you to the bathroom because how did he know you were feeling a little shaky about it? nevertheless, you still apologize to him for kissing him abruptly. “no problem, but i shouldn’t have kissed you like that. i’m sorry” you say; a complete 180 from what you and alina originally talked about.
“you don’t have to apologize, y/n. he loved it” says eunwoo and alina slaps him on his shoulder for the unnecessary comment. “it wasn’t consensual though” you whine.
“oh it was definitely consensual” eunwoo smirks. “ouch, woman! quit hitting me”
“quit making y/n uncomfortable then” alina says which makes you and jungkook laugh until you notice something on his face. “oh no” you whine “my lip gloss is everywhere” you take your thumb and attempt to wipe the glossy stains on the corners of jungkook’s mouth but he immediately flinches away.
“well wipe it off or something. it’s kind of smudged” but eunwoo and alina knows that he’s not ever going to wipe it off. not unless he has to. even as he’s talking to you, he’s going back and forth from your eyes to your lips that still have little remnants of your lip gloss.
honestly, he wants to kiss whatever is left of it away and finally claim you as yours but he knows he has to wait. either way, this is the best night of his life; it’s an unforgettable one he’s happily going to rub in chaeyoung’s face when he sees her on monday.
as the night goes on, you all move on from the incident that took place and had lots of fun. of course, nara is still glaring daggers at you and jungkook and to keep up the boyfriend-girlfriend act you both act flirty with one another, hold hands, and call each other pet names.
you’re sure by the end of the night jungkook’s colleagues will pester him about who are you and why he never revealed you sooner since all this time jungkook looked to be single. when women tried to hit on him at the office, he never revealed he had a female partner yet here he is hand-in-hand with you. there’s no denying your attraction either. some even wonder if you’re the mother of his 5-year old son.
“greetings everyone” nara says as she gathers the attention of everyone in the venue. “i am so happy you all have gathered here to bid a farewell to the man who built this company from the ground up. you take care of your employees, care for your customers, and now you get to reap the benefits of your hard-work. thank you mr. gang for all that you’ve done. on behalf of the company and i, we want to give you this 20 carat diamond plaque with your name on it”
everyone stands up to clap their hands for their boss, including you. even though you don’t know who he is, he promoted jungkook and seems like a nice man who knows his employees on a personal level. that’s probably why his departure from the company hurts a little because how often is it that people get a boss who cares?
“as the new ceo of the banking company, i want to start my first day by promoting a certain ‘someone’ who more than deserves it…jeon jungkook please come to the front” says nara “starting next week, there will be another banking company just like this one in incheon and you will be the director there”
eunwoo’s eyes widen, including yours. that’s almost 5 hours away from busan. you’re happy for him, you really are. being promoted from manager to director of an entire building is a big deal but incheon is no where near busan.
jungkook will have to move into an apartment in incheon and enroll seol in a new school there.
you’re beginning to think nara did this on purpose.
~🫧
What the fuck.
His smile immediately falters, and he looks at you and his friends in complete and utter shock, what the fuck is her problem? Why did she do this?
You actually encourage him to go on the stage so he listens to you and as he is standing next to Nara, it is so obvious that he’s fucking pissed.
Incheon? You’ve got to be kidding.
When she hands him the mic. He smiles, a fake one directed at Nara. “Thank you so much ma’am, but I don’t have enough experience to become a Director. I guess I’ll have to pass this great opportunity.” Some people even gasp, he’s looking directly at you when he says this stuff into the microphone. He knows what she’s up to and he is not going to let her succeed, she is literally staring his gloss stained lips but he doesn’t give a fuck.
“I am more than happy with my position here and if you do not agree with my decision, then you’re free to fire me.” He says, folding his arms, as he hands the microphone back. She’s making a mockery out of him and he’s pissed off. You know who’s clapping the loudest? Eunwoo.
Why would this evil bitch even try to separate him from you and his friends? She is definitely jealous that you kissed him and he’s so thankful to her for that because of her you had your first kiss.
But her jealousy is not something he’s willing to deal with. They were history they were together years ago. On top of that, the relationship was really against his will. “ well, I should get going now.. everyone let’s celebrate our Mr. Gang, and welcome Ms Jang.”
As he leaves a shocked Nara. it must be painful for her because this is a reminder of what happened exactly a few years ago he had left her just like this.
But no one can separate you two. He will kill who would try to do that. Jungkook does not care that he’s getting looks from everyone and he’s worked so hard from his way to the bottom to the top. He has hidden his true identity from so many people, and you don’t even know.
Jungkook comes back to the table and stand next to you as you all sit down, “yn? Do you want to leave?”
He asks.
You just have to say it and he’ll take you home. He feels so panicked right now because he’s being forced to be away from you and it’s giving him the most extreme panic attack and he’s about to fucking lose it.
Fuck Nara.
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I’m sorry this is going to be a little long… oops? I finally have a long weekend and now that I’m home I’m ready to dive into TNT (which I’ve been holding off for so long it’s insane I didn’t cave in earlier lol)
“Yunho would recommend we all stop drinking water if Mingi said it was a good idea.” I actually giggled at this and scared my parents’ cat lmao T^T This is hilarious and I already love the character dynamics! Also, kudos to woo for helping mc by giving her lozenges, I already love his character juygtfdfghj (I have a feeling he’s gonna be my favourite)
Oh gosh Mingi’s “it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you” and Yunho's “I’m just worried about you, I want you safe” had me melting on the floor. T^T
As someone who finds… the whole abo thing slightly… *sigh* how do I put it nicely? A lot of it goes very close to the nc category and always manages to make me uncomfortable especially since boundaries are not set before and just... Yeah. So, the fact that they’re talking about it beforehand and setting boundaries makes this so much better? I mean I know you said that ch 3 borders on dubcon, but they did talk about it so I guess that worked out well?
Bruhhhhhh I LOVE HOW YOU’VE WRITTEN MINGI HERE JKHTYRDFGCHJH the no-nonsense, level-headed guy~ T^T (who also runs away when things calm down lmao... Well... We can give him this one though, the aftermath is quite awkward)
JKGFVHKJIU You’ve got me all blushing and giggling with the dialogue especially the “Alphas are meant to provide,” He reminds you, “so let us.”
I love the awkwardness and the lingering feelings that are there throughout chapter 4~ And the last line obliterated me jkhgfjlui T^T She just wants her yungi T^T
OKAY CAN I SAY I LOVE JUNG WOOYOUNG? Remember when I said he’s gonna be my favourite in the beginning (lol I started writing this ask like… 3 hours ago oops?) I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON FOR THAT HAHAHA~ Can I get work friend!WY too please?
Oh gosh, okay Seonghwa! LMAO I love how he took the whole thing in stride. We love an unphased man~ And he offered himself up for the next heat??? AND THE WAY HE DOES IT OML. “you’re pretty, I’m pretty.” I was literally rolling on the couch in laughter.
Oh gosh, Sannie being the voice of reason is so on brand. (And side note, the whole, “but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you” seems like such a San thing to say I— *sob*) I honestly love chapter 5 so much? Can’t wait to see how the friendship between mc and woosanhwa grows (because I literally love them so much rn ahaha) and how things turn out with yungi~
P.S. sorry if this is weird and feels more like a smash of random words jskmsns T^T I'm always kinda nervous to send asks but I loved the fic so much I just had to tell you ;-;
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! okay so i was literally giggling and clapping my hands reading this review i LOVE it thank you so much for taking the time. it means so much to me that you would do this 😭
but also YES to work friend wooyoung, like in my opinion he just has the makings for the perfect best friend character and there's so much more to come with him and the MC here. he's the most fun to write every time, he gets to have the best dialogue lol
also regarding your note about dubcon/noncon, i couldn't agree more! i'm comfortable reading both of those things if called out clearly in a fic, and i recognize why it's a kink, but it's really a sensitive topic that isn't for everyone and should be handled delicately. that was a big reason why i wrote the consent scene pre-heat in, and i'm glad that resonated with you! i've mentioned this on the blog before, but there will be a noncon scene in a later chapter between the MC and another character however, i just want to be clear it is not actually sexual, it's more just the implication of it and reader grappling with being an omega and feeling like she doesn't have the autonomy she wants to have. i really hope that is taken well by everyone, but just wanted to mention it again since you talked about it and for any other readers that may not have seen my earlier note.
also wait yes protective mingi / alpha mingi makes my brain spin. i'm excited to write yunho later on being a little more self assured about everything because he was leaning more hesitant in earlier chapters and letting mingi take the lead.
thank you SO much for your comment again, you pulled out some lines that honestly i was really proud of when i wrote them, so this comment means a lot.
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