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wonysugar · 1 month

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close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable.

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however,

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect.

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face.

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again.

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing.

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her.

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip.

plus, her panties were wet.

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down.

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger.

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her.

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation.

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment.

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair.

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?”

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?”

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing.

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?”

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

#smut #kpop gg #hanni pham newjeans #hanni newjeans #newjeans smut #hanni pham #hanni pham x female reader #hanni x reader #hanni x fem reader #hanni pham x fem reader #hanni smut #newjeans hanni #female reader #kpop gg smut #kpop girlgroups

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lunahearts · 4 months

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Okay I'm doing it. I'm chapter 96 posting.

This is not meant to be a big analysis post this is mostly just me sharing all the little moments that Marcille & Laios show their care for each other because they are SO beloved to me. Join me on the journey if you wish.

(but also the above statement may be a lie. I do have a point here, it turns out, and the point gets at some of my Big Feelings of what Dungeon Meshi has to say about the nature of friendship & living in the world)

So, first of all, the conversation about Laios being king at the start of the chapter. Just in general Laios insisting on presenting himself in his own way here is so good. Character development!!

Before the events of the story he hadn't shared his inner world with anyone but Falin. Now he's like Actually I'm gonna dress up in the discarded remains of my monstersona and that's just how it is.

And even though there are a LOT of parts of the story and bits of character growth that go into this, I think it specifically highlights some interactions from a few chapters ago.

After all, his initial reaction to having been in that monster form & coming out of it was trying to hide from everyone.

And I think everyone helping him put things in perspective here contributes to how he is able to present himself as king. They assure him that he is accepted, despite having just been seen by EVERYONE at his Peak "Weird Monster Guy" mode.

Highlighting what Marcille says here especially:

Going out to "face them with a smile" is EXACTLY what he does. Not right away. He's still pretty stressed in the following scene in this chapter. But he is able to face the crowds with a smile, eventually...

As king. Dressed in the memory of his most vulnerable moments, the most honest expression of his desire.

BUT I'M GETTING A LITTLE AHEAD OF MYSELF. Before the King Laios speech, there's a little moment with Marcille I want to highlight, because...

Did y'all know that by the end of the manga, Marcille isn't like... grossed out by eating monsters any more? Or at least, she's definitely changed her reaction to it. It's Namari who makes the "yeah it smells good despite what it is" comment, not Marcille.

We even get shots later of Tansu, Shuro, and Kabru being kinda grossed out by - but still going ahead and eating - the different Falin foods. Chilchuck also throws out a line about it being surprised that it's good.

But there's no disparaging comment from Marcille, despite the Everything of the situation. I just think that's also a nice little detail. She may not be as far in the monster eating game as Laios, but she's more willing to roll with the weirdness.

So after this little moment, this is when Laios comes out in his new regal outfit. And first of all...

This is such a good contrast to the moment when the group goes to save Marcille in chapter 84. The monsters had stopped attacking, and everyone's reactions to Laios and the others framed him as unsettling. Creepy. Maybe even traitors.

They even use some of the same labels (lord of the monsters/lord of the dungeon, dark lord/demon king)., but the context is that they are disgusted. The parallels in this manga....

Have a tendency to destroy me. What a difference in reception.

Anyway, after this moment, Laios stops to talk to the group... and I'd like to point out again: MARCILLE ISN'T FLIPPANT HERE EITHER!!

Chilchuck is still Chilchuck, of course, and I want to be clear I love that, too. Chilchuck is who he is to his core. His little jabs are very affectionate in this chapter.

But Marcille... Marcille only points to the Winged Lion symbol as being weird, not the monster bits. And like, considering what she's just been through with the lion, being skeptical of that part is... fair.

(don't get me wrong, her "that's fine and all" isn't exactly excitement. BUT the point I'm trying to make is less about her completely changing her feelings & preferences. It's more about how she expresses them, and how she treats Laios and HIS feelings & preferences)

And she continues to be so encouraging!! Wah!! Like, despite, all four of these people definitely caring about Laios, it's Marcille specifically who tells him to relax and just be honest. And you know what? I think that's what Falin would have said, too.

Please also note how cute everyone's little faces are in the crowd:

(see, Chilchuck loves him too!! Look at that fond face, and the cheer. and Senshi! and Namari! They really are such a family)

Laios' short speech actually has a little bit I'd like to highlight as well, since I think it is a nice little reflection of his choice to keep the lion insignia on his new outfit:

"Eat to your heart's content," he says. Not just "enjoy," or "let's eat."

Dunmeshi does such a wonderful job of framing so much about the Winged Lion with nuance, and this is a good example of that. Desire is not bad! Craving and consuming is beautiful. As Laios says when explaining the lion insignia...

It's not just something to get rid of.

So then... on to the feast!

And not only does Marcille not express any grossed out feelings, as I mentioned before... she even helps to gross out Chilchuck!!

Her weird girl powers are only just in their infancy. She will only grow more powerful in time...

As the feast goes on of course we get the group's realization about her hair, and I'd like to point out:

I really feel like they have such similar reactions to finding out about how the other has been affected by the Winged Lion

Just... the quiet concern. Not making a huge fuss, but... worried. Understanding. A little heartbroken for each other.

SPEAKING OF HEARTBROKEN REACTIONS THOUGH. WHAT COMES NEXT REALLY GETS ME.

After Chilchuck braids Marcille's hair for her, the topic of her needing to leave everyone comes up and...

God, these expressions. Every Time I see these panels I think about about what Laios saw in her nightmare. Her fears. The weight of inevitable loneliness, and the way it has marked her. As much as Marcille tries to keep things light when talking about it, he knows what this means to her. And it HURTS.

So he doesn't accept it. But do you notice how he frames this. Do you see. Not "do you want me to fix this." Not "hey I have an idea."

"Would you be willing to stay."

He doesn't know whether she will accept. Whether she will hate the idea, actually, of staying here with him. He's putting himself out there fully prepared for rejection & dismissal, as he has faced many times before.

But his pitch, his proposal to her, it's not JUST an excuse to ask her to stay, either. He's put thought into this. Into what Marcille could mean and do here. Not just to and for him, but for the people of this area. The place he has taken responsibility for.

He's also thinking about Falin. And about all the other little girls, the people of all sorts, just like her. He's thinking about the people who have been killed (burned at the stake???), hurt, shunned. About the people who have been abandoned. The people who are still alone.

He's not just offering Marcille an out from her isolation, he's offering her a new purpose. A new way to continue her work, to do the things she cares about. He SEES her! he understands her.

BUT ALSO HE'S SO NERVOUS OUGH. FIDDLING WITH THE PLATE. UNSURE IF SHE WILL CARE. UNSURE IF HE HAS IT RIGHT.

HE'S NOT GOOD WITH PEOPLE HE'S NOT GOOD AT THIS.

BUT THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER. AND SHE WANTS THIS LIFE HE'S OFFERING HER.

Still... it's not that simple for her, even if for a moment she is swept up in how much she wants this.

Again here, Marcille is working so hard to be chill about the whole 'going west with the elves' thing. She looks absolutely devastated in the first panel, but puts on a smile in the second.

Maybe she doesn't want to bring down the mood. Maybe she doesn't want to burden everyone with what seems like the only option she has. Maybe she had already accepted the cost that might come with bringing Falin back. Maybe after everything with the Winged Lion, she doesn't want to risk letting herself fight for her desires too hard.

But hey. Desires aren't always bad. They aren't something to just get rid of.

A small bit of visual storytelling here... I love that Marcille is confined by the panel, but Laios is stepping outside of it. He's literally pulling her outside of the box she feels trapped in.

Also, I love that his first acts as king are:

1) welcome everyone to a big feast

2) stand by his friend and help her find happiness

It's great stuff and it's so Laios.

In addition to that, I love how this whole act actually plays out. I love that, while getting the elves to let Marcille go, he gets to be extremely cool and protective...

but also like. Not THAT cool and protective.

No really, I mean it! I think it's important! It's important that cool 'suave king guy Laios' is a front he puts up when he needs to deal with these strangers, and one that he completely drops once it's just him and Marcille.

He's not trying to impress her, or convince her he's cool and suave. Why would he? He trusts that she's okay with the messy, often unimpressive, sometimes kinda gross reality of who he is.

And isn't that what Dungeon Meshi is all about? Messy, unimpressive, gross reality. And how beautiful, how wonderful, how very precious it is

Especially when you get to share it with your friends.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #marcille donato #dunmeshi analysis #dungeon meshi spoilers #posting on this blog bc I'm not sure the sideblog is showing up in tags yet :/

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famwhy · 1 year

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Inconsistent

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

Hobie Brown X F!Reader

Synopsis: In which, Hobie Brown confuses the shit out of you.

Note: following up on my last post, here is how I would write Hobie's speech patterns.

"What are you doin' up 'ere?"

Your lids fluttered open, eyes flitting to the side.

He stood there, hands stuffed in those ridiculously high pockets you always criticised with a click of your tongue; criticisms he would respond to with a light, airy laugh that never failed to melt your insides and turn you into a pile of mush.

The glow of the billboard lit him up, coating his silhouette in a warm orange that complimented him so well—bringing out his piercing, dark eyes in ways you had only ever dreamt of.

"I just felt like the ground was getting a little boring." You shrugged, forcibly tearing your gaze away from his intoxicating form to bring it back to the twinkling city below you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your peripheral caught the sight of those familiar, heavy boots appearing out of nowhere to swing beside your own and, all of a sudden, the bustle of the sparkling street below you was the least of your worries.

Ultimately, you found your eyes trailing back up to his form—breath hitching in your throat as you gazed at him once again.

He was close; much closer than usual. His knees were practically touching your own and the piercings that littered his face glinted under your gaze. Half-lidded eyes stared back at you—a smirk sly enough to make you gulp situated on his handsome face.

"What you sayin'?"

"Hm?" You blinked.

"C'mon, love, I know when some'in's goin' on in that pre'y likkle head of yours." His leg nudged against your own, instantly sending warm tingles through your whole body. "You can chat to me; 'bout anything. You know that."

You almost couldn't help the fond smile that stretched across your lips at his words. "Yeah, I know."

Hobie had always been tender and caring; sweet and kind. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to put it. It was one of the reasons why your legs turned to jelly when around him; one of the many reasons why he absolutely floored you.

He was just so vocal about everything he believed in—held such strong opinions that he was never afraid of voicing out; that he would yell and scream at the top of his lungs about—you had almost found yourself envious of his confidence.

Even his clothes were loud; bold and so incredibly out there. You couldn't ignore his presence even if you wanted to—

—and to be honest, you never really did want to.

"How's the youngen?"

"He's fine, still on my arse about not needing his big sis to coddle him—" you rolled your eyes, "—how're yours?"

"They're 'opeless," snickered the guy, "man's out 'ere lookin' at 'er like she's the only person in the world and they're still not together."

He threw his hands up in his exasperation and you found yourself giggling slightly—you always did at his antics, no matter how ridiculous.

"...what about you?"

He rose a brow. "What about me?"

"You, uh, you have anyone you're thinking about that way?" A sudden rush of nervousness hit you all at once and you found yourself wondering why exactly you decided to open your damn mouth. "Y'know, like a— a girlfriend or something?"

"I don't believe in labels."

He said it—plain and simple—and your heart felt like it shattered in your chest, pieces of broken shards getting stuck to your insides to sting you even further.

"Oh..."

He didn't believe in labels. You probably weren't even on the list of potential lovers for him. Of course, how could you have let yourself hope for anything more?

"There's this one girl though."

You blinked, the rapidly growing pool of salty water in your eyes being desperately put to a halt. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She's a nice one—nice personali'y—" he placed one arm against the rough stone of the building, leaning in so close, you could feel the light puffs of his breath against your skin, "—'m thinking of goin' for it."

You wanted to be mad at him, to loathe him for liking another girl while you were so obviously head over heels for him—but in that moment, all you could focus on were his lips and the shockingly short amount of distance between them and your own.

Your heart was beating right out of your chest and you were just so confused. Here he was, talking to you about some girl he was interested in; shattering your heart in a million pieces like some worthless, glass vase—and then he was somehow making the useless shards continue to beat pathetically at just his proximity right after he broke them.

He was just so—

"Mm?!"

Your eyes widened a little, disbelief rendering you unable to move; to respond to the sudden feeling of lips on your own—of his lips on your own.

You. He was talking about you.

Warmth bubbled inside of you—coating your whole form in a lovely sheen of bliss—and soon, your lids fluttered shut as you pushed back against him—reciprocating his passion with your own.

The kiss was sweet and tender, but it soon grew into something more than that. His arm wound around your waist as soon as you kissed back, pulling you flush up against his form and allowing you to feel the heat of his body against your own.

Your fingers made their way to his wild locks, tugging on them as you felt his hands trail down, landing on your arse and pulling you onto his lap—as though just having you right up against him wasn't enough; as though he had to have you closer.

The electricity that ran through your body was enough to coax a smile out of you—one you knew he could feel through the kiss; that you hoped he would reciprocate with just as much love.

And he did, pulling away to rest his forehead against your own—dazed, half-lidded eyes staring straight at you with a mixture between a suggestive smirk and a genuinely joyful smile on his face.

You almost forgot to breathe as you looked at him with just as many pink clouds littered in your gaze—just as much adoration written clearly in your eyes.

"How about it, love?" He asked against your lips, "wanna be mine?"

You giggled dreamily, almost like a little school girl with a crush. "I thought you didn't believe in labels?"

"I don't believe in consistency."

It was official—

—Hobie Brown was the most confusing man you had ever met.

#hobie brown #female reader #hobie x reader #hobie x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #x reader #hobie brown x you

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hyypnotix-writes · 10 months

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Part 2

~ hiya! I'm really nervous about posting this, but I couldn't not at least try to give you a second part after the response the last one got! ~

~ I really appreciate everyone reading it and enjoying it as much as you did ..I hope this one doesn't ruin it for you! ~

~ I think this one's around 13k words. so again ..it's a long one, if you have nothing else to do! ~

~ there’s quite a lot of story before Alexia makes an appearance, sorry ..but she does eventually show up! ~

~ I promise to put more of her in the next part if any of you end up wanting one ~

~ I’m really worried this will disappoint a lot of you, but at least you still have the first part to go back to, if nothing else! ~

~ I really hope you're able to enjoy it even just a little bit, and thanks again for loving the first part so much! the response was very overwhelming and I've loved you all reaching out to tell me that you liked it ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

~ Part 1 ~

________________

One night.

One perfect night.

That’s all it took.

One perfect night to throw your whole damn life into disarray.

One perfect night, that’s lead to endless subsequent nights, spent tossing and turning on your own, replaying the memory over on a loop in your mind. It’s only been about a month, but it feels like an eternity.

A never-ending, exhausting cycle of yearning and confusion.

It was the most welcome distraction from your ex-boyfriend’s evil escapades, you’ve not really thought about him at all since.

It should have set you free, broken you out of the chains of mundanity. It showed you a whole new world, a world of women. It gave you a new perspective on life. Unlocked a realm of brand-new possibilities all ready and waiting for you to venture, and yet, you don’t want to explore any of them.

It's not that you haven’t tried.

You’d have been an idiot to assume that it’s only her that can make you feel like this. That would be giving her an awful lot of credit. Yes, she was your first woman, but that didn’t mean that she needed to be your last. The way your mind and body reacted to her, maybe you could have been slightly gayer than you thought, but it doesn’t really look to be the case.

A pair of lesbian sisters always seemed incredibly unlikely to you, and your sister’s already called dibs on the label. Maybe it’s the mere existence of your younger sister that eradicates the possibility of any real queerness in yourself. That’s probably how the handing out of sexualities works, right?

It’s a working theory, and one that you seem to be proving the accuracy of.

You’ve been to a few more clubs since your entanglement with the Spanish mystery. Only returning back to that specific one, once. It gave you a headache just stepping through the door. She was still everywhere in the room, her spirit living in the walls. You barely managed to stay inside for even a second before it became too much for you, sending your heart and mind racing.

You took yourself back home, reminiscing every single kiss you’d shared with her on that fanciful journey back to her hotel together. Looking up at the floor she had been staying on, as you hastily walked past it on your own.

Even the nightclubs that aren’t haunted by her ghost, haven’t yielded much greater success with you.

You paid a visit to a smaller bar, a fair few nights after your perfect one, and had found a woman interested in you. More than interested. She was pretty, and friendly enough. She was flirty and bought you a few drinks. She didn’t try to play it weird by aiding you in your consumption of alcohol. There was no intriguing salt and lime foreplay. She was far more straightforward, far less irritating.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t work. Maybe she was too plain. Maybe she was too simple and easy for you to understand. Or maybe it’s the fact that when she pressed herself against you in search of a kiss, an alarm bell rang out inside of your head. You suddenly found yourself all too aware that she was a woman, and you simply no longer wanted to follow through with your curiosities.

It doesn’t help in your confusion, why the femininity of one woman can leave you feeling more certain of your straightness, while another’s femininity has you still helplessly pining after her.

It’s not like you were under any illusion with the Spanish woman. You were entirely aware that she was also a woman, and it wasn’t off putting to you at all. You enjoyed her being a woman. She smelt nice, she tasted nice. Her body was beautiful, and her lips were soft, and it doesn’t make any sense that she’s allowed to put a yearning in you that no other woman is able to satisfy.

That does seem very typical of her, though. She really was very cocky and frustrating.ﾠﾠ

Until she wasn’t, of course.

Then, she was just sweet and considerate. Cautious and careful. Flirty and undemanding. She took you back to hers and she still had no expectations from you. She was still willing to let you walk away. Maybe you should have.ﾠﾠ

You knew even then that you should have.

It was daft of you to follow after her. Foolish to lose yourself with her, spending the night together, giggling under the sheets. Sharing kisses as you drowned yourselves in each other. Learning her body, every mark, scar and freckle, and committing them all to your memory. Tracing her curves and her tattoos and discovering what it is that makes her tick.ﾠ

She was patient, and understanding, she wasn’t in a rush with you. She spent the whole night exploring with you. Studying your body, wanting to learn all the things you liked her doing, and the things you really liked her doing. She turned what could have been a terrifying, embarrassing, disaster of an experience, into the most incredible encounter of your life.

She brought you more pleasure than your pathetic ex-boyfriend had ever managed to give you in your whole 5-year relationship, in less than 5 minutes of her having your clothes off. She had the most unholy of noises spilling from your lips with her fingers and tongue inside of you, and she wasn’t exactly quiet herself, in letting you know when you were doing the right thing with her.

She was intoxicating, exhilarating. She was life-affirming.

She’s a far more dangerous addiction to you than alcohol could ever manage to be. You’ve never been tempted by drugs before, but you can’t even imagine the high from them being able to compete against what she’s done to you.

It was just one night.

It was one perfect night.

________________

Living back with your younger sister isn’t exactly where you saw yourself being at 26. Your London flat had started feeling a little too big for you, without a traitorous arsehole of a man invading your space. So, you invited her to move in with you, not wanting to have to give up your dream property just because he had decided to try ruining your life. You needed help with the rent, and she had gratefully accepted.

You didn’t necessarily expect her to also invite her idiot new girlfriend into your home with her. That wasn’t really part of the deal, though you didn’t explicitly tell her that she couldn’t. You can’t really blame her. If you were able to spend every waking moment of your life with ‘A’ right beside you, you’d jump at the opportunity headfirst.

It still doesn’t aid in the dispelling of your confusion. There’s no jealousy when you see them together. Her girlfriend does nothing for you, none of her girlfriends ever have. You both have decidedly different tastes in women. Your sister’s taste is entirely questionable, yours is perfection.

You haven’t mentioned your Spanish predicament to your sister. She’d probably laugh at you for it, call you tragic, and embarrassing. Tell you everything you’ve already been telling yourself on repeat in your head. She wouldn’t be very helpful; she very rarely is. She’s your very annoying, smart-arse of a little sister, who couldn’t possibly give you any decent advice. She’s 2 years younger than you and she's an idiot.

She’s not the one who’s still hung up on a stranger after over a month, though. It’s rarely taken her longer than 24 hours to get over someone she’s been with. She’s not the one who’s been questioning herself every night. She’s never questioned herself at all. You’re fairly certain her very first thought, straight out of the womb was about another woman.

She didn’t really have to come out to the family at any point, she kissed her first girl when she was 8. Always been a bit of a Casanova, your sister. A walking stereotype of a lesbian. Short, brightly coloured, undercut hair, quite a few piercings, heavily tattooed. She’s obsessed with women’s football, always watching re-runs of ‘The L Word,’ and overwhelmingly insistent in trying to prove to you that Taylor Swift is also secretly gay.

Your sister’s certainty in her own sexual identity isn’t something that’s ever irritated you before. Not when you were always so sure of yourself, too. You appreciated her confidence. It was admirable, given the way people can be with her. She’s your self-assured little sister, who isn’t great at confrontation. So, you support her whenever anyone tries to tear her down.

Now, however, this too-late-in-life existential crisis you’re struggling with, has you wishing she’d try to be a little bit more questioning herself. Her surety and cockiness about her sexuality is suddenly the most prominent attribute of her personality, and it’s really starting to drive you up the wall.

It’s a rare evening where it’s only the two of you at home together. You don’t really know where her girlfriend is, and you don’t much care. You only feel responsible for one annoying lesbian, the one who shares your surname.

She’s being rather antisocial with you, playing video games alone in her bedroom, and you’ve just finished tidying up the dining table after sharing the dinner you cooked for you both. You’re not exactly sure how you’ve found yourself solo parenting your stroppy little sibling when you’re really not much older than her yourself, but there you go.

Maybe you should try speaking to her. See what she can possibly offer you by way of sapphic guidance. If she’s going to continue having her nuisance girlfriend living here rent-free, she should at least try giving you something to make it worth your while.

You walk straight through to her bedroom and collapse your head onto her stomach on the bed. Making sure to do so with just enough force behind it to ensure you manage to leave her winded and interrupt her gaming. She grunts under you, and you earn an overly aggressive smack to your shoulder for achieving your goal. As, whatever other little child she’s playing her game against, has just managed to score past her.

“You’re a twat!” She scolds, and you backhand her face to shut her up. She raises her fist above your stomach, and you flinch, bracing for impact.

“I have a question!” You shout, before she has chance to attack.

She pauses her lifted fist above you, and reluctantly agrees to a truce, providing your question is of interest to her. “What?” She groans, and you fiddle with your fingers, trying to find the right wording.

“Why do you like women?” You ask, your face grimacing as you await her response.

It isn’t your smoothest ever phrasing, not your wittiest form of delivery. It’s honestly, rather annoyingly, not the most subtle line of questioning. Despite it not being entirely to the point, your sister isn’t stupid.

“What?”

Oh ..maybe she is!

That’s not going to be super helpful with your impending interrogation.

“Why not men?” You suggest, still trying not to be too blatant. “How did you know you liked women?”

“I looked at one.” She tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Why?”

“Do you find every woman attractive?”

“No, but I find enough of them attractive to sense a pattern.” She explains. “Why?”

“And you’ve never been attracted to a man? Not even tempted?”

“No. Not once. Why?”

“Never ever?”

“Y/N!”

“I was just wondering.” You tell her quickly, drumming your fingers on top of your stomach.

“About women?” She queries.

“About ..why women. What it is about them.”

“Aside from the obvious?” She snickers, nudging your arm.

You quickly bounce your head back against her stomach winding her again.

“Stop doing that!”

“Stop being annoying!” You warn her. Your frustration at yourself getting the better of you.

She tries to push you off of her, but you mess with the analogue sticks on her controller, and she turns her focus back to salvaging her match. “You really are a twat! Get out!”

“I need your help.”

“I don’t care!”

“..I’m sorry.” You mumble, and she scoffs at you, pushing you off of her bed unceremoniously.

You can’t say you blame her, you’re a constant threat to her in that position, it’s too big of a risk. You enjoy bouncing your head and ruining her childish little game far too much.

“Why do you like men?” She counters, and you find yourself stuck for words as you sit on her floor.

It’s the question that’s been floating around your own head for a little while now. You’d never thought about it before. You just were. You had crushes on them all throughout your childhood, you’d had meaningless boyfriends in your teens, you met your bastard ex at university and figured that was it.

You didn’t need to question why you were attracted to them, it just always made sense.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, letting out a groan as you grab one of her pillows and bury your head into it.

“What’s going on?” She asks, as she prods at your shoulder with her foot.

“Nothing. I was just—”

“Thinking about women?”

“No!”

It isn’t really a lie, you’re not thinking about women, just the one. The one woman who’s been invading all of your thoughts for the past 30 something days. The one who won’t let you sleep properly at night, who won’t let you focus completely at work.

The one woman who refuses to leave your head for even a second just to let you rest, to let you breathe, to let you remember what life was like, prior to her entering it and recklessly setting fire to everything, before she ran away from you and disappeared into thin air.ﾠﾠ

“I kissed one.” You confess, trying to suffocate yourself with her pillow.

This really does take her by surprise. You can hear her movements on top of the mattress as she turns her game off and pulls her pillow from you with a rather startling urgency. There’s great confusion on her face as she looks at you. She really must think you’re very boring if that’s enough to render her speechless. Imagine her reaction if you admitted to all the other things you did to the Spanish enigma.

“You kissed a woman?” She asks, frowning at you.

You’re not entirely sure why she looks quite so cross about it. You’re not trying to steal her thunder here. You’re not about to start trying to catch up with her numerous exploits of female companions.

“Mhmm.” You mumble in reply, smoothing your hair back from over your face.

“Why? For a man?”

“No! I just wanted to ..I thought it’d be fun.”

“..and ..was it?”

“Mhmm.”

She looks at you with a very distinct air of incredulity. It’s a rather annoying look, weirdly condescending. She doesn’t believe you. Why she thinks you’d bother lying about it, you really do not know. You’re not that desperate for a story to tell her.

It’s almost offensive that she thinks you’re so incapable. You didn’t just kiss a woman. You went down on one, you had your fingers inside of her. You evoked moans from her, she scratched her nails down your back. You’re not some virginal prude. You’re not inept. It can’t be that shocking and inconceivable that you could share a single kiss with someone of the same sex.

You were right, telling your sister was pointless. She’s offered you no assistance and no support. She’s a useless little waste of space and her horrible girlfriend is an advantage-taking little freeloader.

“Thanks, very much! This was really helpful!”

Your words are laced in sarcasm as you slide yourself up away from her bed with a sigh, throwing your middle finger up back in her direction as you exit the room, and slam her bedroom door shut behind you.

You slam your own bedroom door shut behind you too, just in case she hadn’t picked up on how pissed off you are.

You’re not really pissed off with her. She doesn’t know what’s going on inside of your head. You’re pissed off with yourself, for still being all entirely far too consumed with a woman whose name you do not know. Who wouldn’t even bother sharing her profession with you. It isn’t fair.

You collapse headfirst onto your bed and let out a rather guttural groan into your duvet. You’re very frustrated. Your brain’s a mess, your sexuality’s up in the air, and you allowed yourself to picture, far too clearly, your memories of having sex with the gorgeous Spanish woman and now that ache that she’d put inside of you is back.

There’s a knock at your door, and you’re not in the mood. You grab your duvet and burrito yourself in it down to the foot of your bed.

“Y/N?”

You don’t even grace your sister with a response. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a swine.

No, but she really is a swine, as you can hear her turning the doorknob and just walking right into your bedroom anyway. She’s really, unbelievably terrible at reading social cues.

“Do you want to come to Spain with me next week?”

See what I mean? What the hell?

That’s a very serendipitous little offer, though. You didn’t even mention to her that the woman that you kissed was Spanish.

Did you?

She can’t have worked that out by herself. That would be insane. She’s already proved herself to not be the sharpest tool in the shed. That wouldn’t make any sense. What an intriguing little invitation.

It’s very embarrassing that just the mention of the country sends a shiver down the back of your neck. All this instant adrenaline running through you, as if she’ll just be waiting for you there as soon as you land down in a random Spanish airport. Yeah, that seems likely!

Spain’s not the biggest country in the world, but it certainly isn’t small. You’re not going to accidentally stumble into her again on the beach, or in a marketplace. She’s definitely not going to be staying in the same hotel that you’d be in.

It shouldn’t have your heart racing like this. The chances of finding her again are so infinitesimally small, so extremely impossible, so overwhelmingly unlikely ..but you do stand a better chance, if you’re in the right country.

“Next week?” You mumble under the sheets, playing it incredibly cool, as you try to ignore the way your heart’s started thumping at a thousand beats per minute.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were going away with your girlfriend?”

“..we broke up.”

Shit. She would make this all about herself.

You wiggle yourself free of your duvet cocoon and open up your arms for her to crash into you. She might be a useless little swine, but she’s your useless little swine. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.” She grumbles, as she starfishes herself on top of you.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You never liked her.”

“That’s not true.” You protest half-heartedly, kissing the side of her head.

“I am fine ..I broke up with her.”

“Well, thank fuck for that!”

“See!” She laughs, rolling off the side of you. “You hated her!”

“She was horrible!”

“You could’ve said.”

“You wouldn’t have left her if I told you to. You’d be getting bloody married to the girl. Twat.” She giggles defencelessly next to you on the bed, because you’re absolutely right. She has always been a contrarian little thing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll find someone else tomorrow.”

“Unbelievable.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you push her away. “You can’t just give me her ticket. Did she not pay for it?”

The embarrassed little look on your sister’s face is all the wordless response you need. Her girlfriend never paid for anything. She really was an advantage-taking little freeloader.

“Where are you going in Spain?”

“Barcelona.”

“Why?”

“Football.”

“Oh! Give me a break!” You exclaim and roll down away from her back to the foot of the bed. “Why are you going all the way to Spain just to watch some football? You can bloody watch it here.”

“It’s the Champions League!” She informs you excitedly, and you can’t even pretend to match her enthusiasm. “Chelsea’s playing Barcelona.”

“Woo.” You respond flatly, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. “You watched them play together today, didn’t you? Why are they so bloody obsessed with each other? Even I know there’s more teams than that.”

“It’s the second leg..” She starts explaining, but none of it means anything to you, and you really just can’t bring yourself to care.

Going all the way out to Spain to be stuck inside a stadium with thousands of screaming fans? What sort of holiday is that? You don’t care about Chelsea’s success or failure. Your sister’s dirty crush on their star-striker is just another one of her many celebrity infatuations that you can’t make any sense of.

You don’t want to sit next to her as she gets herself all hot and bothered watching women run around a football pitch. You don’t even enjoy watching men do it, you have no interest in watching women.

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You tell her, dismissively.

“Please? We can do more than just watch the football.” She offers, pouting pathetically. “You have to come with me! I’ve just been dumped!”

“No, you haven’t!” You remind her, laughing at her useless attempt at guilt tripping. “And you haven’t really left me much time to negotiate with work.”

“You work too hard and you’re due some time off! Your boss isn’t going to refuse you, just bat your eyelashes at him. The filthy pervert.”

“Hm.” You mumble, drumming your fingers over your stomach as you think.

She isn’t wrong, about you working hard, at least. You do like to bury yourself in your work. You enjoy your job, and the harder you work, the more you earn. You haven’t had time off in a while, and your boss is unlikely to say no to you, you are his favourite employee. You don’t agree that it’s because he has a crush on you, you get good results for the company, and attract lucrative clientele.

If batting your eyelashes could get you back in the arms of your Spanish one-night stand more easily, though, you’re not above flirting with him to get you there. You could take a few days of leave, go off to Spain, and possibly run into the woman who’s been living inside of your head.

It’s such an incredibly remote possibility. An absolute stab in the dark chance of finding her. She probably isn’t even in Barcelona. You’re not cultured enough to be able to pin her accent to a specific city. She’s just Spanish. There’s much more places in Spain than just Barcelona. Barcelona isn’t even the capital. Maybe she’s in Madrid, Valencia, Marbella. She could be a party girl living on the island of Ibiza, you had originally found her in a bar. You don’t get a body like hers drinking yourself senseless every night, though.

What if you do find her, and she wants nothing to do with you? There was only ever the promise of one night together. You already pushed your luck by spending the rest of the morning with each other, she doesn’t owe you anything more. It’s unlikely that she’s been spiralling quite as pathetically as you have. She’s not going to be fending off a sexuality migraine.

You undoubtedly won’t have been the absolutely mind-blowing experience to her, that she was to you. She’ll have had sex with countless women. She definitely enjoyed herself with you, that much you’re certainly sure of. You can’t fake every bodily reaction to someone, but the rest of it could have been for show. The display of heartbreak afterwards.

So, maybe she’s an actress, that would certainly make sense. It would explain why she had money, and why she had a company paying for her hotel. Maybe that was her little ‘business trip’. Perhaps she was in London promoting a Spanish movie. Maybe the entire thing was all a performance, and you fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

Either way, stalking her in Spain would be far too pathetic. Even if she does want you to find her, it’s so desperate and needy of you to go all that way, and if she doesn’t want you to find her, you end up looking insane. Travelling to Spain, to possibly just show up right there on her doorstep? What a terrifying thing for you to do to the woman.

But what if it’s a sign?

Your clueless little sister, inviting you all the way to Spain, with absolutely no idea that the woman you’re harbouring all of these confusing emotions for, lives there? Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s the universe trying to get you back together. Maybe she didn’t fake it, she does feel the same, you’ll find her in Spain and spend the rest of your lives together.

Please. Behave and be so goddamn serious with yourself. You sweet and simple, delusional little fool.

“The woman I kissed was from Spain.” You inform your sister thoughtfully, and she sits herself up on your bed to frown at you.

“You’re still going with that?”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“You’re straight. Straight straight straight.” She points out, with such an incredibly annoying inflection to her voice, it makes you want to bang your head against the wall. “You’re also 26. You were in love with an ugly bastard for 5 years and you’ve never shown an interest in a woman before.”

“I hadn’t met her before.”

“Gayyy!” She giggles, and you give her an almighty clack on her arm with the back of your hand, to wipe the smug little smile from off her face.

“Go with the woman you’re hooking up with tomorrow.” You instruct her. “I’d be a nightmare to watch football with, you’d have to keep explaining things to me.”

“I don’t mind doing that.”

“Do you have no other friends to go with you?” You laugh and she pouts dramatically again, shaking her head. “You’re a lonely little loser!” You tell her with a smile.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” She asks, rolling her eyes at you.

You take in a deep breath and let out a very heavy sigh.

What’s the worst that can happen?

She’s already completely upturned your life. It couldn’t make things any worse for you. Whether you’re able to bump into her or not. You’ll either find yourself some peace, lounging in the Spanish sun, or you’ll be left in exactly the same position you’re in now, but with a much healthier glow to your skin.

You could even find yourself a Spanish man while you’re out there.

Mm.

It’s really not a good sign for your heterosexuality, that that’s no longer an appealing option to you.

“If I can sort it with work,” you reason, “yes. I’ll come to Barcelona with you.”

She lets out an embarrassingly girly squeal and crashes her head against your stomach, with just enough force behind it to manage to leave you winded.

“Twat! I’m making no promises about going to the game, mind. I’m just coming for the tan.”

“Maybe your ‘Spanish lesbian’ is also a fan of football.” She encourages

“Mhmm. I’m pretty sure she is.” You admit contemplatively. “Is that an entry-level of requirement for lesbianism, then?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “Because if that’s the case, I really can stop questioning myself.”

________________

Booking time off work really is as easy as your sister thought it would be. Maybe your boss does have an inappropriate crush on you like she suspects.

She’s very excited about having you for company, and she tries to educate you on all of Chelsea’s history, the players’ statistics, and their personal lives, all before you go on your little trip together. It really does just go right in one ear, and straight back out of the other. You’re not fussed on the facts and figures; it’s not why you’re going.

There’s not enough room in your brain to care about the ins and outs of Sam Kerr and Kristie Mewis’ relationship. You’re not interested in the fact that Chelsea currently have 6 WSL titles, and are going for their fifth-straight one, and you really aren’t bothered that the semifinal’s first leg match against Barcelona ended in a draw.

That is a fair amount of information for you to have retained already despite not being interested. Your sister really has been going on at you, you’re almost a footballing expert.

Touching down late in the morning in Barcelona, you can’t pretend there isn’t a tiny part of you that’s letting yourself get a little carried away with dreaming. You’ve played through enough countless scenarios in your head of running into the Spanish wonder again back in London, of course your mind’s racing with the possibilities in Spain.

You drop your bags off at the hotel your sister’s booked for you both, with the intention of heading back out to explore the city together. It’s a peculiar looking building, bright red, oddly shaped. She really never has been one for subtlety, it’s the perfect sort of accommodation for her.

She insists on wanting to have a look at the Olympic Stadium before the big match, as well as seeing the state of Camp Nou’s renovations, and you really can’t indulge her any more than you already have. You probably will end up joining her for the game tomorrow, but you’re absolutely not walking around the outside of football grounds for fun.

You’ve seen the exterior of Stamford Bridge more than your fair share of times, Wembley, the Emirates. There’s not that much difference between the lot of them, and they’ve never really been your favourite form of modern architecture.

So, you agree to go your separate ways for your first afternoon in the city, you’ll meet back up with each other tonight.

Playing tourist around the streets of Barcelona on your own, is quite an exciting little experience for you. You’re not very worried about getting lost, despite not speaking too much Spanish beyond the basics. Your hotel’s a distinctive looking building, it’s not going to be super difficult to find your own way back to it.

You get a taxi further into the main hub of town and you’re able to mosey about with a rather unrestrained confidence, turning down tight alleyways and strolling aimlessly along multiple cobbled streets. You manage to find yourself being comfortably led astray, by allowing nothing more than just the warm gentle breeze to guide you as it blows against your body.

It turns into a more casual exploration of the more authentic side of Barcelona away from most of the tourist hotspots. You have no real idea where you are, and you’re quite enjoying the small rush of adventure.

A coffee is what you start craving, and you’re not exactly limited by options. Every other building on the peacefully quiet backstreet you’ve found yourself on, seems to be a tiny café. You could start ip dip doo-ing all the individual offerings, but that’s putting far too much consideration into it. You decide to go for the smallest one, the most unassuming. The best coffees always come from the places that aren’t trying to market themselves to any foreign tourists.

A little bell rings out as you step through the door and the barista almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of you, he clearly isn’t used to getting anyone other than his regular patrons. You offer up your friendliest of smiles and a quick ‘hola’ to show him that you mean no harm, and you tap your finger gently on the countertop as you inspect the board behind his head.

Choosing the littlest coffee shop might have been a tiny mistake because absolutely everything on the menu is written in what you can only assume, is a rather confusing variation of Spanish. You can’t back out now, the barista already has an adorably excited look on his face at having someone new in his little shop, you can’t break his heart like that.

You study the chalk written on the board for entirely far too long, in the hope that the words will slowly start translating themselves for you. It doesn’t work, obviously. So, you take a punt at a random one of them, with the rather daring assumption that you haven’t just ordered yourself a troubling batch of Spanish poison.

“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you surely do not know. It’s recognisably ballsy of her, almost rude.

Her words echo in your ears, as time stands still around you. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with that unmistakable, and entirely enchanting, cocky little tone to it.

You can’t really have found her so easily. Life’s never been that kind.

You can feel your heart clattering around in your chest instantly. Like it’s trying to escape from your ribs, to go off and say hello to hers, all by itself. Your chest’s rising and falling intensely as your breathing shallows and picks up pace.

It can’t be her; it can’t be. This city’s just absolutely full of Spanish women.

She holds out her card right over you to pay, gently resting her arm down onto your shoulder, and you’ve definitely seen that tattoo before. The ‘11’ printed on her wrist.

She’d refused to explain the meaning when you’d asked her about it. She wouldn’t give you the backstory behind any of her tattoos. It was too personal; you weren’t allowed to know.

She thought you might have really fallen for each other if you both started sharing too much information about yourselves, and you only had the single night to spend together.

“It would be too painful.” She had reasoned with you.

That was very clever thinking on her part. She absolutely managed to prevent you from having an awful lot of heartache and suffering about the whole thing, by letting you know absolutely nothing about her..ﾠ

You still can’t bring yourself to turn around and look. Even though you know it must be her. It can’t be likely that there’s multiple Spanish women that have branded themselves with that specific number on that specific part of their body. Surely to god.

“..gracias.” You manage to choke out very shakily, in little more than a whisper, still facing forward.

You have to turn around at some point. You can’t very well drink your coffee on the tiny little counter right in front of the barista when you can’t even have a conversation with him. Just staring at him, silently, neither of you able to speak each other’s language? That would freak him out! You’ll find yourself back on a plane headed for England before you know it, with a restraining order hanging over your head.

Grow up and turn around. Just turn around.

It’s her. It has to be her.

The barista accepts the woman’s payment method with a familiar little smile back at her, and she carefully retracts her arm from over your shoulder slowly. You can smell her perfume on her wrist as it wafts back past the side your face. You recognise the scent, and you find yourself following it round you like a lost little puppy, your knees almost giving way beneath you.

You didn’t accidentally stumble upon her at the beach. It’s not a Spanish marketplace. She definitely isn’t staying at the same hotel that you’re in.

You’ve found her, while getting yourself lost. In the tiniest little café, on an unnamed, tumbleweed backstreet, right in the very heart of Barcelona.

There’s a wide smile of disbelief on her face. Which is hopefully an indication, that she isn’t terrified of you being here, she hadn’t faked her feelings, and she, much like you are with her, is a little overwhelmed to see you.

“Hi.” Is all that drops out of your mouth, as your mind goes blank at the sight of her.

“Hi.” She says back, with the exact same breathlessness as you, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

“….Hi.”

“You’ve already said that.” She reminds you, and she’s clearly able to bring herself back to her senses far more quickly than you are, because there’s that charming little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips again.

You’re not really sure which one of you instigated it, you both just sort of ended up colliding into each other, gripping at the material of each other’s clothes. It’s a very desperate hug. Even more so than the one you shared outside of the hotel elevator. You melt into each other, merging yourselves together like two corresponding puzzle pieces.

It’s an embrace, holding not just the 12 hours of curious devotion between you, but over 30 days' worth of frenzied yearning. It has you both clinging to each other with everything you have, as it defies everything you came to accept as truly achievable, that heartbreaking belief in you, that this reunion would never really happen.

It’s an impossible hug, and it’s one that neither of you want to pull away from.

“What are you doing here?” You mumble against her, clinging to her shirt as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.

“I think it should be me asking that question.” She tells you, chuckling. “I have far more right to be in Barcelona than you do.”

“This is where you live?” You ask. “You’re from Barcelona?”

“Mhmm.” She murmurs. “Mollet del Vallès.”

There’s really no reason for that to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. It’s only a place name. It’s a good job she didn’t spend much time speaking Spanish to you back in London, you really would have been like putty in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” She questions.

“I thought you might want your sweatshirt back.” You joke casually, and she loosens her grip on you slightly so she can face you.

“Do you not want it anymore?” She asks, furrowing her brow as she studies your face.

There’s a clear look of uncertainty in her eyes, a small sense of worry, and you do feel mildly guilty for teasing her. “I was hoping ..maybe I could swap it for another.” You smile. “It doesn’t really smell like you anymore.”

She doesn’t allow you to feel guilty for too long. That small air of arrogance that’s always threatening to escape her, does so, in a predictable little smirk at the implication.

“You’ve been wearing it that much?” She asks you proudly, and you push your tongue against the inside of your mouth as you roll your eyes at her typical display of cockiness. She carefully closes the small distance between you both again, gently pressing herself flush against you. “Does it smell of you?” She whispers in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down the side of your neck.

“Mhmm.”

“Mm. Maybe I could be persuaded to make a trade, then.”

She’s impossible for you to resist when she’s like this. It’s still an intriguing talent she has, evoking such a physical reaction from you, by doing hardly anything at all. A quiet little whisper in your ear and your body’s immediately burning up next to her? You’re still so incredibly tragic.

You might no longer be certain of your sexuality, but maybe it really doesn’t matter. Why do you need to understand it? Why does it need an explanation? No one else in the world is important at all when she’s standing here in front of you. No one else would ever really stand a chance. How could you ever be interested in anyone else, when you know that this woman right here exists? How could any other person ever truly compare?

There’s a desire in you that’s clearly also felt in her, when she moves herself to look at you. It’s written all over her face, the twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and the fact that her lips are so incredibly close to yours.

You lean in, and so does she, but it’s like something quickly shoots through her body, as though she’s suddenly being brought back into the room. She does a quick scan of the café, and she collects herself before she lets you both get carried away.

“We can’t kiss in here.” She tells you quietly, and you frown at her as you pull yourself back.

“Why not?” You ask, doing your own quick search to try and find what she saw to put her off.

No one seems too interested in you, though there’s admittedly a couple of people discreetly watching her. She is very beautiful, so it’s not surprising, but you do sort of wish they’d stop their gawking. This gorgeous woman is here with you, and you’re not really in the mood for sharing.

“There’s not another bloody homophobe about, is there?”

“No!” She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I don’t know, actually. I haven’t asked around, but we just ..can’t kiss in here.”

It’s curious. She didn’t have any issues kissing you in front of people before. Spanish people are very famously more physically affectionate with each other than British people are. So, it seems unlikely that the two of you would turn too many heads just by kissing.

“Okay..” you accept reluctantly, pouting a little at the rejection, “so ..should we just quickly nip outside to do it then, or?” You joke cheekily, pointing to the door with your thumb.

She chuckles with you, resting her forehead to your shoulder. “You’re still as straight as ever!” She grins, as she wraps you back up in her arms.

It’s quite nice just losing yourself in her embrace. Burying your head in her neck and holding her tight against you. Having her arms back around you, her perfume overwhelming your senses. The rest of the coffee shop fades into a blur with her in your arms. She’s comforting, reassuring. She’s real, and she’s here.

“Ale!” Is called out by the barista not a minute later, and you’d have very happily paid it no attention at all. The immediate flinch from the woman that you’re holding, in response to it, however, tells you that you might have just found out a very valuable piece of information indeed.

You repeat it under your breath, as she pulls away from you and goes to collect your coffees from the counter.

She says a quiet ‘moltes gràcies’ to the barista, and she narrows her eyes with a small grimace as she returns to you. There’s still a clear reluctance in her to give too much away, she’s not entirely grateful to her little coffee friend for unknowingly revealing slightly more to you than just her first initial.

Ale. It must still be short for something, you figure. You start reeling off name possibilities at her in quick succession. Alessia, Alex, Alexis, Alexa. You’re like a dog with a bone, because she makes it clear that you’re getting closer, but she still shakes her head at every guess.

It’s very frustrating, as she offers you absolutely no assistance with your guessing, but it can’t be as convoluted a mission as trying to discover Rumpelstiltskin’s ridiculous name. Thankfully, it isn’t. It’s on only your 5th attempt that you cause the same small flinch in her, and she smiles softly at you before looking down very quickly. You’ve struck gold.

Alexia.

It’s a beautiful name. Your favourite name, you’ve decided. It rolls off your tongue with so much ease, you want to repeat it again and again.

“Now you know too much.” She sighs whimsically, handing you your coffee as she walks past you to collect her bag from the table she was previously sitting at.

She gestures for you to follow her and leads you to a quieter area away from the other customers right at the back of the shop. She pulls out your chair for you to sit down, and you can’t not smile at the tiny act of chivalry. She really is very sweet. It’s a shame that she won’t let you kiss her.

You reveal your own name to her, as she joins you on the other side of the table and she repeats it back to you quietly. Whether it’s the sexy Spanish accent, or just the fact that it’s her saying it to you for the first time, you’re not entirely sure, but your heart skips a few beats after hearing it.

“Now we both know too much.” She tells you, and she takes a small sip of her coffee.

There’s the tiniest level of nervousness, that blankets itself over you both as you sit together. It’s a little absurd, you’ve seen this woman naked. She’s seen you naked. It isn’t technically a first date between you, neither of you asked the other to be here, but you both clearly have the little jitters of being on one, coursing through your bodies.

You find yourself just watching her a few times as you talk over your drinks together. You still can’t really believe you found her so quickly. So, you don’t want to risk taking your eyes off of her for too long, in case she just disappears into thin air while you’re not looking.

She’s also the most beautiful sight in the café. So, why would you want to waste your time looking at anything else?

You’re not being very discreet about your staring at all, and neither is she, really. You keep exchanging shy smiles over your cups as you catch each other looking. Both of you blushing and quickly averting your eyes as they meet, and then gradually repeating the whole thing all over again. You’ve definitely caught her gazing a few more times than she’s caught you. So, maybe she’s even more tragic than you are.

The little coffee you ordered by chance, is Alexia’s usual order, so she tells you. It’s not the most life-changing piece of information for her to share with you, but it’s something else for you to know about her, and you’re absolutely sure to make a note of it. It probably keeps you on an even tally too, she already knows that you enjoy drinking a tequila.

You’re still not allowed to kiss each other, for whatever obscure reason, but she has reached for you hand under the table. Interlacing your fingers together isn’t a new thing between you both, and neither are those tingles that immediately shoot up through your arm at even the most innocent of touches from her. She really does have an incredible effect on you, it should probably be more terrifying to you than it is.

“Why are you really here?” She asks after a moment, as she strokes her thumb over your knuckles.

“My sister dragged me here.” You answer. “It’s a very important football match tomorrow, apparently.”

“The one against Chelsea?” She asks, with an unmistakable look of interest in her eyes, that has you rolling your own lightly back at her.

“I think she’d say against Barcelona,” you point out with a sigh, “but yeah, that one.”

You had managed to work out that Alexia was probably a bit of a football fan. She has a little stick figure tattoo of a footballer on her leg, the outline of a baby being given a ball on her back, and you have exceptional detective skills. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

So, it isn’t a surprise that she’d be excited by your footballing interests, but it is unfortunate that you really don’t share the same passion for it as her.

“Unless you’re a very daring rebel,” you start, “I assume you’ll be supporting Barcelona tomorrow?”

“Mhmm,” she murmurs, with a small twinkle in her eye, “and you’ll be supporting Chelsea?”

“Not emphatically,” you admit with a smile, “but I’ll be in that section of the crowd, yeah.”

“You don’t really care about football at all, do you?” She asks knowingly, with an edge to her smirk that’s intriguing, as you shake your head at her in apology. “Maybe you should introduce me to your sister instead, then!” She winks, and you very quickly remove your hand back out of her hold.

“Don’t.” You tell her. “Please. Don’t even joke about it.”

It’s admittedly a little cute that she finds herself quite so hilarious for her disgusting little joke, but you are very unamused by the idea. If the childish look of mischief on her face wasn’t so entirely endearing to you, you may very well have got up and left her right then and there.

She rests the back of her hand on your thigh with her palm outstretched, and you roll your eyes at her before placing your own hand back into it. She raises it to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, leaving you with the faintest of blushes across your cheeks. So, maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive her just this once.

“I have a sister.” She reveals. “Her name's Alba. She’s a few years younger than me. I’m the older sibling, like you are.”

“Uh oh!”

“What?”

“Well, now I really do know too much.” You tell her with a wink.

“My sister’s Emily.” You inform her rebalancing the tally of facts you keep sharing with each other. “Though she’d kill you for calling her that. I think she’d change her name completely if she didn’t think it would upset our Dad so much. She just goes by Em these days ..so ..she probably would have enjoyed your silly little initial idea, actually,” you admit thoughtfully, frowning a little at the realisation, “maybe I really should introduce you to her instead..”

“Por favor.” She says quietly, quickly shaking her head at you and raising your hand to her lips once again. “Don’t even joke about it.”

“Will you be going to the game tomorrow?” You ask, a not-so-subtle attempt at finding out if you might be getting to see each other again so soon. “We’d be like star-crossed lovers in the stands. Very Romeo and Juliet of us!”

“I don’t know that we want to be comparing ourselves to those two! I don’t remember it ending very well for them.” She reminds you, narrowing her eyes at you as her intriguing little smirk returns to her face. “And no. I’m working tomorrow, I won’t be in the stands.”

“Boo. You can’t be that big of a fan, then!” You tut in disappointment. “I’ve come all this way to support my team!”

“Your team!” She chuckles. “Will you be there in a Chelsea shirt?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be in very neutral colours.”

She smiles, nibbling at the inside of her mouth as she lowers her eyes to look at the table. She knocks her hand gently on it a few times before turning her attention back to you. It’s impossible to know what she’s thinking, but she’s definitely debating something silently in her head.

“I could give you a Barcelona one?” She suggests a little cautiously, and you have to smile at the idea. Your sister would certainly disown you if you took one of those back home with you. It’d be worth it, just to see the look on her face.

“You have a very weird habit of offering me your clothes.” You tell her slyly.

“Mhmm. I really like seeing you in them.” She admits sultrily, and your breath catches as her eyes darken looking at you. “I think I have one in my bag, if you want it.”

It’s a surprisingly sexy little offer, and you do quite like having her clothes on your body. It’s hard not to laugh at her peculiarity, though, even your sister isn’t that crazy of a football fan.

“You just ..carry it around with you at all times?” You ask, furrowing your brow as you chuckle at her. “That’s really weird of you! Do you sell them? You go round offering them to unsuspecting tourists? Is that your job? Is it a fake? Are yo—”

“You need to stop trying to know things about me.” She interrupts softly, shaking her head as she chuckles.

“And just ..blindly accept that you always have a football shirt on you?”

“Mhmm.” She giggles, and you narrow your eyes at her.

She really is very curious.

She pulls it out from her little duffle bag from under the table and hands it to you with a gleam in her eye as you take it from her. You push your empty coffee cup to the side and spread the shirt out over the table to study it.

They’re not exactly your colours, but you can probably make them work. You hold it up against you to check that it will suit, and she bites her lip as she watches you. There’s a name printed on the back of it, you realise, and you smile a little as you read it in your head.

“Don’t most adults keep it blank? Or just go for their favourite player?” You ask smirking. You turn the shirt around and rest it over yourself, and she gently bites at the skin around her fingernail as you trace the lettering over your chest. “I thought it was just little kids that got their own name on the back. Do you quite like pretending you’re also on the team?”

“Mhmm ..maybe.” She mumbles, stifling a giggle as she rests her head in her hand. She smiles at you fondly, as she continues gazing at your little shirt inspection.

“That’s really very cute of you.” You tell her, placing the shirt back on the table and leaning over it as you trace your fingers over the number. “Why ‘11’?”

“Hm?”

“11. You have it tattooed on you. You’ve chosen it for your shirt.” You point out. “Is it your birthday? You were born on the 11th? You were born in November? Born on New Year’s Day? Is it just your lucky number? Is it—”

“Stop, trying to know things about me.” She interrupts again quietly, reaching for your hand and meeting you across the table to rest her forehead to yours.

“But I want to know things about you.” You whisper. “I want to know when your birthday is. I’d like to know your surname. I want to know what you do for a living, how you got those scars on your knee, how much you weighed when you were born. The name of your first crush, where you went to school, the meaning behind your tattoos. I want to know each and every incredible milestone you’ve ever achieved, and all the unfathomably boring things that you got up to in between each of them. I want to know every single detail about you, and your life, Alexia. I really, really want to know you.”

It’s quite the thing for you to confess to the poor woman after only meeting her on two separate occasions, but the way her grip on your hand kept tightening as you spoke, the slight clenching of her jaw, and the fact that her lips are dangerously close to yours once again, probably means you haven’t just completely scared her off with it.

“We’d have to spend a lifetime together, trying to learn all of that about each other.” She whispers to you, her lips lightly brushing against yours.

“Is that a proposal?” You chuckle, gently bumping your nose to hers. Your eyes trail to her lips, and it’s really very hard to not act on your impulses. “Am I really not allowed to kiss you in h—“

It seems that you are allowed to kiss her in here, when it’s right at the back where no one’s watching. Or she’s allowed to kiss you, at least, because there's no doubt which one of you instigated this. Her lips move against yours, and your pulse reacts to her immediately.

It's a kiss harbouring an awful lot of emotion, for two people who still hardly know each other. It's slow, passionate, careful, and every confusing little worry that's been plaguing your brain since the last time you kissed, instantly melts away into nothing as her tongue slips back into your mouth. You're the only two people in the world when her hand's pulling you in by the back of your neck, and you’re tugging her closer by grabbing at her shirt.

It’s probably a good job she did decide to take you further away from everybody else, because it doesn’t stay an entirely family-friendly kiss for very long. It’s not wildly inappropriate, you’re not animals, and the bastard table’s in the way of you doing too much with each other. Thank goodness it is, because it’s been over a month, after all, and you’re both clearly quite a bit needy. You really can’t be doing that in public.

“I’ve missed you.” She murmurs against your lips, pulling you impossibly further into her.

“I really missed you too.”

Hours feel like minutes, in Alexia’s company, as you spend the afternoon roaming Barcelona together. She still refuses to tell you everything about herself. You don’t learn her surname, and she still won’t tell you what she does for a living, but you do both share other things about yourselves with each other.

It doesn’t matter how insignificant any of the details probably are. Every single one of them still feels important to you, because it’s another little glimpse into her. Every single fact, story and secret that she shares, is what makes Alexia, who she is, and she was absolutely right, you do find yourself falling more for her, with all of the little things you keep discovering.

She eventually agrees to tell you her birthday. Which makes the whole ‘11’ obsession even more intriguing to you, because the 4th of February ’94 does absolutely nothing to clear that little mystery up. It does tell you that the man in his twenties that you were looking for the night you first met, didn’t even turn out to be a woman in her twenties at all. She turned 30 nearly 3 months ago. She’s absolutely decrepit!

She gives you a tiny tour on your stroll together, bringing some clarity to the Catalonian streets you’ve been carelessly walking down. Explaining the extra confusing writing on the menu board, and casually revealing to you that she can speak 3 different languages. So, your drunken boast about your GCSE level German, probably wasn’t very impressive to her at all.

You’re both approached a fair few times by people asking for directions. You can never understand what it is that they’re saying, and you're not really of much use to them just standing there being awkward. So, you hang off a little to the side taking in your surroundings, waiting for her to help them out, before she excitedly returns back to you. You’re not at all bothered by the interruptions. Your patience with it keeps earning you a quick discreet kiss from her as she wraps her arms around your waist, and you return the same display of affection, for her unrelenting kindness to strangers.

Alexia insists that she isn’t a tour-guide, and she’s also not an actress. So, you are very slowly whittling down the options of what it is she could possibly do for a living. She asks you about your own career, which is incredibly cheeky of her, considering. So, you simply refuse to tell her.

Maybe it’s that competitive streak in you, but if she wants to play it secretive, you can absolutely match her for it. You only agree to give her the corresponding facts to the one’s she’s willing to give to you. That way, if she’s falling for you with each new piece of information the same way that you’re doing for her, at least you’re both crashing down for each other, at exactly the same speed.

There’s slightly less careless abandon with being too physical with each other, walking hand in hand around Barcelona. It’s arguably tame compared to how you both were back in London. Whether it’s the lack of alcohol that’s keeping her more reserved, or maybe just because it isn’t yet nighttime, you’re not entirely sure.

You’re still stealing kisses as you waltz along the streets, but you’re not pushing each other up against the walls of buildings out in the open. Maybe that would be a little indecent of you both. You’re pulling each other down quiet alleyways, instead, pressing yourselves together in secret coves.

It doesn’t feel entirely necessary, the streets you’re exploring aren’t particularly packed with people, but you don’t question it too much. You’ve really just missed having her lips on yours, and whatever capacity she feels comfortable doing it in, you’re more than willing to oblige.

You couldn’t really care less who sees you kissing her. You all but forget that they exist when she's pulling you into her and leaving her mark on you. It is arguably far more exciting, however, trying to be sneaky about it with each other. You're both almost actively searching for places that you're unlikely to get caught in. Finding hidden areas and seeing how much you can get away with together.

Your hands find their way under her shirt on more than one occasion. She really does have the most beautiful body. She jokingly reprimands you for it each time, but she doesn’t really discourage you from doing it. She does continually tease you, for your ever-decreasing signs of straightness, though.

Each newly shared kiss with Alexia, is somehow even better than the last. Whether she’s passionately throwing caution to the wind with you, by kissing down your neck, or trapping your bottom lip between her teeth. Even when she’s just being painfully frustrating, by giving you the quickest of pecks before skipping away. Every single one of them still sets your soul on fire, and they still manage to pull all the air right out from your lungs, every single time.

Alexia waits with you, as it turns to evening, on a bench by the road for your taxi back to your hotel. You try not to let the mild burning in your eyes ruin your final moments with her, but you can feel yourself starting to break.

She pulls out the football shirt from her bag again and holds it out for you to take with a shy smile. “I really hope you enjoy the game tomorrow.” She says, and you try to allow yourself to chuckle a little while nodding your head.

“Mhmm. Thank you, I’ll try.” You tell her, throwing her shirt over your shoulder and quickly rubbing the corner of your eyes. “I’ll have to get Em’s permission to wear this, first. She’ll be very unimpressed with me.”

“Just don’t let her burn it!”

“I won't.” You promise, interlacing your fingers with hers and placing a kiss to the back of her hand. “The other fans might throw tomatoes at it, mind!”

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, and there’s that familiar sense of dread in your stomach, as you watch the road, knowing your time together is quickly running out again.

You catch her gazing at you as you turn to her, and maybe there’s a little butterfly or two in your stomach as well, at the way her eyes are watching over you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Mhmm. You haven’t even gone yet,” she tells you smiling, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “and I already can’t wait to see you again.”

“You’re really that certain that you will? You’re still sure you don’t want us to swap numbers?”

“We’ve already bumped into each other a couple of times now. I have no doubt we’ll manage it again.”

It’s nowhere near as reassuring to you as it seems to be to her, but there’s a certain level of romance in her conviction in fortuity. Maybe you are beginning to believe in the possible existence of fate, though you're not completely enamoured by continuing to leave your encounters with Alexia, entirely up to chance. She cradles your head in her hands and gently wipes the tears that are threatening to spill from your eyes with her thumbs.

"I'll never forgive you," you warn her weakly, "if this ends up being it for us."

"Trust me." Is all she asks of you, and she pulls you back into her, resting her head against yours as she runs her fingers over your back.

It feels like an unspoken promise from her, to keep at least trying to find you, and there's a power in her certainty that has you desperate to believe in it too.

It’s still a little hard for you both to say goodbye to each other, but she’s already told you she has a busy day tomorrow, and you can’t really bring her back to your hotel when your sister’s already sharing the bed with you. You share another long hug, and a few more secret kisses before your taxi pulls up, and you finally hesitantly agree to part ways. She places a kiss to your cheek, by way of goodbye as you clamber yourself into the back of the car, setting off without her once again.

You try to reassure yourself, on the taxi ride back to your hotel. You've ran into each other twice, in two separate countries, by pure dumb luck. It can't be impossible for it to happen again. Maybe there’s something connecting you both, an invisible string, an intangible little bungee cord, that's making sure that neither of you is ever able to truly stray too far away from the other. Alexia has ‘no doubt’ that you’ll manage another meeting again, and you take some comfort in knowing, that you still have 2 days left in the city, to do exactly that.

________________

Collapsing back down to lay on the bed in your hotel room, you have a sneaking suspicion, that you’ll have a far better night’s sleep than you’ve managed to have in a long time, tonight. Your mind isn’t spiralling with confusion anymore, and there’s no longer a gaping hole inside of your chest.

There’s an excitement in you, a warmth. An encouraging little hope that you really have found something special. Someone special. That once-in-a-lifetime connection with another person who’s also trapped in this world along with you.

It definitely isn’t the someone you expected to intertwine your soul with. Any younger version of yourself would be very confused about where she’s ended up. It isn’t a connection you want to keep questioning either. It’s not one you really have any doubts on the existence of at all. She’s just it for you, and maybe it’s okay that that’s all you can say to justify it.

You don’t need to be attracted to other women; you don’t really care about your weakening attraction to men. It just makes sense when you’re together with her. There’s no confusion, no uncertainty, there’s no warning alarms ringing out in your head. There’s just Alexia, and the existence of anything and anybody else, will always pale in comparison to her.

Your sister arrives a little after you, plodding back into the hotel room, clearly wiped from whatever individual Spanish adventure she got up to today, and she flops herself into one of the armchairs with a very heavy sigh.

“Long day?” You ask.

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, frowning at you suspiciously. “You look very happy?”

“I am very happy!” You tell her with a smile. You excitedly roll over and reach down the side of the bed to retrieve your souvenir of the day from its hiding spot. You launch it right into your sister’s face and she grunts a little under the impact. “Will you hate me, if I wear that tomorrow?” You ask, trying to contain your newfound enthusiasm.

She pulls it off from where it’s wrapped itself around her head, and she gives you a very unimpressed look. “You bought a Barcelona shirt?” She asks, clearly disgusted with your choice of fashion.

“I was given it.”

“By?”

“..a woman.” You tell her, gently biting your bottom lip as you smile up at the ceiling.

“Mm.” She mutters with a sigh, moving to join you over on the bed. She thwacks the shirt down over your stomach and lets out a huff next to you. “Well, at least she has good taste.” She tells you. “Or she’s just a bit basic.”

That’s a little rude ..and very confusing.

“What do you mean?”

“Going for the best player on the team.”

That’s less rude ..but even more confusing.

“..What do you mean?”

“Are you joking?” She asks, with a very clear tone of annoyance to her voice. She grabs the shirt and thwacks you with it again. “A woman gives you a shirt with a name on the back, and you don’t even care enough to ask who the bloody player is?”

Maybe your head is racing again. That’s incredibly confusing. It really doesn’t make any sense. It’s her name, not a player’s name. Maybe they just share a name. It’s not an incredibly rare name, that’s not impossible.

Your Alexia has a mild interest in football, she’s not playing it professionally. Who would keep that a secret? She’s reticent with sharing information, that’s for certain, but she’s not a bloody liar, and she told you she wouldn’t even be there tomorrow.

No.

She said that she was working tomorrow, and that she wouldn’t be in the stands with you.

Your mind has started racing, and so has your little heart.

“What. do. you. mean?” You repeat slowly, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Alexia Putellas.” She tells you, very nonchalantly, and your brain all but short circuits at the name.

“Who is Alexia Putellas?”

She thwacks you again with your shirt in dismay, and you’ve really had just about enough of being treated like a piñata. You sit up, pull it from her hands and thwack it across her face as you ask her to explain herself.

“She’s a footballer, for fuck’s sake!” She shouts, rubbing the palm of her hand against her eyelid. “She’s Spanish. She plays for Barcelona!” She pulls out her phone, to search for her Instagram and bonks you on the head with it. “That’s Alexia Putellas, you twat.”

You look at the profile, and the hotel room blurs around you. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, hear the blood pumping around in your ears.

Your Alexia, is Alexia Putellas.

She doesn’t sell shirts for a living, she’s not an actress nor a tour-guide, she really isn’t even a spy. Though she’d probably make a pretty good one, the way she never gave this piece of information away.

Your unexplainable connection with another human being, and she plays football for a living? Clearly very well too, as 2 of her pinned photos have her holding a massive award for it right next to her face. Every other post on her page is about football. She’s Barcelona, through and through.

She’s verified, she has over 3 million followers. She’s been out here, existing on the world’s stage, all this time, without you ever knowing. Your own sister’s been privy to more information about her than you have.

She was in London a month ago for football, according to her Instagram posts. The cryptic little ‘business trip’ she was on, was a quarter-final match against Arsenal. An embarrassingly easy win for Barcelona, she must have been out celebrating it when she found you in that club.

She was back in London again last week for football. You could have seen her then. You missed a chance at an earlier reunion with her, because you refused to go with your little sister to watch her in the first leg against Chelsea.

Your breathing’s very shallow as you scroll through the endless stream of photos. Your mind is absolutely spinning. It’s all a bit much to take in. You lock your sister’s phone and place it back on her chest as you try to collect yourself. You really don’t want to risk learning too much about her. You want her to tell you everything, you don’t want to find it all out behind her back.

You’ve been waiting with bated breath all afternoon, savouring every little piece of information she’s given you, and your smart-arse little sister could probably tell you loads about her if you asked. Lots of the details you’re so desperate to know about Alexia are probably only a quick google search away, but you feel guilty enough just knowing her surname without her having been the one to tell it to you.

She hadn’t been super willing to even give you her first, and no wonder! It’s the single name that’s plastered on her shirt, it’s the name she’s known mononymously as. She’s women’s football’s answer to Beyoncé, Adele.

Of course, she didn’t want to kiss you in front of people in the café, out there on the streets. It’ll be why she only kissed your cheek in front of the taxi driver. She probably is a little liar, because she almost certainly wasn’t giving directions to people when they approached you both. She presumably isn’t old friends with the two men who wanted a photo with her. They all just know who she is. The whole damn city of Barcelona knows exactly who she is.

Maybe she was testing you, waiting for you to crack, to confess to knowing everything about her. How couldn’t you know about her? How unbelievably rude of you.

She’s a celebrity footballer, and you’ve treated her like she’s one of the most normal people in the world. You’ve flirted with her, teased her, kissed her, slept with her, and she’s welcomed it all with that adorable little smirk.

So, maybe she’s liked that you didn’t know, that you really had no idea about who she was at all. You can’t have had any preconceived thoughts about the woman when you’ve had no prior knowledge about her. Perhaps it’s been part of the fun for her, just being with someone who really couldn’t care about the noise surrounding her. Maybe that’s the reason she didn’t really want you knowing about it. Her fame could have changed things, pushed you away.

It wouldn’t have. She’d have to do something intrinsically evil to frighten you off. Especially now, after the afternoon you’ve just spent together, learning more, and falling deeper for her. She’s still just the woman that baffled you with a lime in a nightclub, wound you up by kissing someone else. Rescued you from a night of undeniable regret, and turned it into the start of something magical.

She’s your once-in-a-lifetime connection, your confusing, and frustrating, perfect one-night stand companion. She’s the woman that's turned your whole world on its head, and it just turns out, that she quite likes to kick a ball around, with a bunch of other women for a living, and people from all over the world, have been watching her excel at it for years.

She has to know that you’ll have found out already, you’ve told her your sister’s football obsessed. Even if your sister didn’t know who she is, there’s bound to be other people wearing her name on their backs tomorrow. Probably not many of them were given their shirts by the woman herself. There’ll be even less of them with one of her sweatshirts in their bag.

Maybe she’s excited for you to connect all the pieces together. Giving you her shirt was far too bold a move for her to still not want you to know. She’d have just talked you out of going to the game, if that was the case.

She wants you there, being a very daring rebel, with her name boldly resting between your shoulder blades, rooting for her and Barcelona, right in the middle of the Chelsea fans. You’ll probably stand out like a sore thumb with your red stripes in the sea of blue you’ll be standing in, and maybe that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. She had ‘no doubt’ that you'd see each other again, after all.

“She’s the best player on the team?” You ask your sister dreamily, collapsing back down on the bed and clinging to the shirt in your hand as you hold it against your body.

“Mhmm. Best in the world.” She tells you, and there’s that exhilarating little thrill shooting right up through your body.

“Oof. I’ll tell Sam Kerr you said that!”

She scoffs to the side of you and flicks your forehead playfully. You lift Alexia’s shirt, holding it out in between your fingers to study her name again in disbelief.

You're falling in love, with the ‘best in the world,’ and she seems to be falling for you, too. A little nobody from London, who’s spent the past month pining after who she thought, was a little nobody from Spain. She’s once again turned your whole damn world on its head.

She really is absolutely everything.

“I will hate you if you wear that thing tomorrow.” Your sister warns you, as she hits the shirt with the back of her hand. “I offered you a Chelsea shirt and you gagged at it!”

“I’ve not gagged at this one.” You point out with a grin. “It’s a shame you won’t be friends with me tomorrow.” You tell her, resting the shirt back out over your torso.

“You can’t wear it!”

“I bloody can, and I very much will.” You inform her. “You should rethink wearing a Chelsea shirt. You’ll be very disappointed when we beat you tomorrow.”

“‘We?’ You really are a twat. You’re Barcelona’s biggest fan all of a sudden?”

“Too bloody right, I am!” You tell her decidedly, hugging the shirt against you. “I’ve always loved football, me.”��

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine

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staytinyville · 5 months

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Kiss a Girl

↣ Summary: When Bang Chan is finally over a break up, he comes across someone that seemed to make things feel like he was a high schooler again.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

↣ Genre: fluff

↣ AU/Trope info: idol!au, webtoon artist!reader, foreign!reader, post break-up, song inspired fic

↣ Word Count: 2.9k

↣ Warnings: none

↣ A/N: I am from Texas where country songs are just a must. I grew up on like 2000s country songs and will always go back to them lol. But I heard Keith Urban while I was in the store the other day and was like. This is giving Bang Chan. Could it be because they are both Australian? Quite possibly. But TBH I do wanna hear Bang Chan sing one of Keith Urban’s songs.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @cultofdionysusnet , @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You have been in Korea for the past month doing some things for a work project you would never have thought to be possible. You were just a simple college kid a couple years ago who enjoyed making comics about a couple OC you created years ago. When the story became a hit around the world it garnered a lot of attention.

Especially TV companies that were asking you if they could create your story into a series.

You, being someone who was studying in the entertainment industry, agreed they could use it so long as you were allowed to work on the project with them. Your credits in college really help to put them along for the ride. Now you were going to be living in Korea for a bit until production finished and the whole series came out on the TV.

In the past month, you had made some good friends with the people you worked with. There were A-list actors who enjoyed your company and sometimes would invite you out to go drinking with them. While you did enjoy going with them, you found yourself attached to your translator a lot more compared to them.

It was easy to find people who spoke English, especially in the area you were working in. But the way your translator had to stick closer to you than others, you both found yourselves becoming close friends. And for them, as someone who worked closely in an industry that called for a lot of high ends, they were the ones who often took you out to fancy places where normal people would only wait years to get reservations.

“This is a very classy spot.” You told your friend as you looked around the club.

“It's a very high end club.” Your friend/translator told you. “Like only a select few people can get in.”

You laughed out loud. “How did you pull it off then?” You asked.

“Did you forget where it is that we work at?” They laughed. “Of course we are going to get the best stuff. Just gotta be careful because they will make us sign NDA.” They deadpanned at the end.

You laughed even louder. You glanced around for a moment to find where the bar was, easily spotting it along with a crowd. Just as you were about to head in that direction, you froze for a moment just as someone passed in front of you.

You let out a polite excuse me, bowing your head just a bit. The person looked at you oddly for a moment before giving you a small smile and telling you it was alright. When the man began to walk away, you tried to keep a neutral face, but were secretly panicking inside over you had just ran into.

“Bro!” You gasped quietly, smacking your friend’s arm. “Did I just see Yugyeom? Like the idol?” You gushed.

“Probably.” They looked over your shoulders, frowning as they nodded. “This is a popular club for idols because it's so exclusive.”

“Why would you bring me here?” You looked at them wide eyed, feeling like you were going to make a fool of yourself and risk a lot of things.

“This is where a lot of people in the entertainment industry come when they want to experience normal things. Like a club.” They explained to you. “This place is also really popular with the younger generations. You’ll probably come across a couple of people winding down from promotions and stuff.”

You did in fact see a couple of more idols. Your friend was the one who explained to you who was in attendance at the club for the ones you weren’t able to pick out right away. There was a good amount of older people as well, at least at the bar.

Once you got a drink in, you dragged your friend out to dance, laughing as songs you weren’t able to make out the words to blasted on the speakers. WIth how much your smile seemed to stretch across your face, other people began to notice you. Many of them were much to shy or reserved to go out and dance along with you but there were a few who wanted to feel your excitable energy.

“Hello.” A girl smiled while talking in English, coming into your closer circle.

“Hi.” You beamed, holding your hands out to grab onto hers. “Come dance!” You swung her arms around as you tried your best to not look like a fool.

But it seemed the more others drank and the night went on, you didn’t have to worry much about that. Things would never change once people had alcohol in their systems to make them let loose just a bit.

With you dancing along with the girl, a lot more came to join your side as your contagious positive attitude had an effect on others around you.

“Like this.” The girl laughed, trying to copy your silly jumps.

“Yes!” You laughed, trying to get others to dance as well.

Just as a large crowd was beginning to form on the dance floor, there were others going around and enjoying their time with friends. There was an idol who had just arrived after finally getting out of his post-break-up slump. He was ready to get back out there and mingle with new people after being in a mental blockage when it came to friends.

His bandmates had gotten him to agree to going out with his closer friends that weren’t any of them. They had other things to do, which did make him a bit upset but as they had told him, he had a life outside of them as well.

“Chan!” Yugyeom hugged the man’s side. “Look at you! Finally out.” He said, showing him towards where the others of the group were.

“I don't know.” Chan nodded to himself. “I'm ready to be out.” He said.

“For once and it's not in the studio.” Another one of their friends teased, lightly punching Chan in the arm.

The Australian laughed, looking around the club he had not been to in a while. He took in the large crowd that was going on around the dance floor.

“There's a foreigner?” He furrowed his eyebrows, turning to the others.

“She's cute!” A friend called out. “Been dancing and getting others to join. Seems social.” He added.

“I'm going to go ask her to dance.” Yugyeom called out, going to join the crowd.

Once others saw the boy coming down to stand next to the floor, everyone else seemed to join as well, having you get sucked into the crowd that was chanting as songs continued. Yugyeom came up to you giving you a smile as he caught your attention.

“Dance?” He asked you.

“Oh, sure!?” You nodded your head, moving to turn and face him as his song started to play. You laughed watching as he tried to explain to you the dance moves that came along with it.

You kept laughing, cheeks hurting from the fun you were having. You hadn’t really gotten the chance to experience something like this back home. You have been to bars but the energy isn’t the same as a club that was meant to pump people full of adrenaline. You enjoyed the atmosphere, it helped your need to be social.

“Yes.” Yugyeom gushed in English that had an accent. “Like that. Good!” He gave you thumbs up to show that you were correct.

You laughed at his way of trying to speak to you. You waved him off, telling him thank you in Korean which made him laugh even more. He tried to have a conversation with you, but you laughed most of it and tried to explain to him he needed to speak slowly in order for you to understand just a bit more.

When a new song came on, you hadn’t noticed someone else coming up to your side. All you did was turn to face the DJ stand as you began to sing to Stray Kids TOPLINE. You laughed as those around you began to do the same, in your own world. You turned to the person next to you, shouting out lyrics as you both gave off the same energy.

You started singing louder when you noticed it had been Bang Chan singing along with you. The chorus came around and you fully turned to give him your attention, trying to keep up. Bang Chan felt something in his chest as he danced with you to his own song. It wasn’t that he was proud, it was just that he seemed to be content with how you didn’t seem phased with who he was.

When the song came to an end, you clapped for Bang Chan, giving him a dazzling smile that made him turn his lips up.

“You know Stray Kids!?” He asked you, shouting over the speakers.

“No, who are they!?” You shouted back, face looking serious.

You almost laughed at how Bang Chan’s eyes went wide and he looked at a loss for words. “I'm just kidding. It's really nice to meet you.” You gushed, bowing your head.

“Oh, you don't need to bow.” Chan awkwardly giggled. “It's okay.”

“I got used to it here!” You told him, coming to stand up straight.

“Would you like to sit with me?” He asked you after a moment.

Your eyebrows raised, eyes wide as you took in his question. Looking just around him, you noticed your friend quickly nodding their heads, telling you to accept the offer.

“Am I allowed to?” You laughed.

He thought about it for a moment, looking over at his group of friends. “Ah, if you don't tell anyone.” Chan chuckled.

“Sounds like a risk.” You hummed. “I'll take it.” The smile you had made Chan a bit dizzy.

It had been so long since he had seen someone look at him that way. He had a ton of people look at him that way actually, but never to someone who made it seem like they just wanted to be friends. Chan had no problems with hookups, but it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t over him because they knew him.

You did know him–sure–but you were taking into account who he was which made you a bit cautious. While it was normal for others to be that way, you weren’t scared of talking to him like you had been friends for years.

When he showed you where his friend group were, you laughed a little at how they seemed to begin hollering when Chan brought you over.

“Don't listen to them.” He shook his head.

“Even if I did, I don't think I'd understand much.” You told him honestly.

“Are you visiting then?” Chan asked, allowing you to sit down first before he sat in front of you.

The music was much quieter in the area, but you figured it had to do with the fact that the table was sectioned off in the VIP. They had their own bar as well, classy stuff.

“It's for work. I'm going to be here for a few months.” You answered him. “I did study what I could but I still need people to talk slowly.” You explained.

“Ah, I see. I see. Lucky you, I speak English.” He laughed.

“Even if you didn't, I'd try my best.” You nodded your head. “Miss the chance to speak with Bang Chan? Mega producer who’s part of 3RACHA?” You gushed, making his face turn red.

“I wouldn't say mega.” Chan shrugged, getting bashful.

“I mean I don't know.” You pursed your lips in thought. “The Scoville scale is out here close to blowing up.” You laughed.

Chan bursted out laughing, cheeks hurting from how much he was stretching them. “You're cool.” He told you.

“Why thank you!” You waved him off. “I pride myself on being cool.” You said.

“Han would like you.”

“Just going to drop bandmates on me as if I'm not freaking out on the inside.” You suddenly said, making him laugh.

“You and I both.” Chan answered truthfully.

“No! Please don't! It's all cool!” Your eyes went wide hearing his confession.

You both spent a good hour sitting at the table laughing about stories that would come up or just things about the other’s life. Chan hadn’t noticed when his friends would get up to get more drinks or when they would go out to dance. And they didn’t want to disrupt you two either, eyeing each other with smirking as they teased the poor boy behind his back.

Before you knew it, you were telling your friend that you would be heading back to your temporary home with Chan as company. They gave Chan a thankful smile, bowing down in respect for someone of higher standard. But they told you to be careful, having gotten used to you always telling others that whenever they would leave.

You found yourself outside some plaza eating Tteokbokki from a small restaurant outside on the sidewalk. The night was nice and cool, leaving you in a refreshed feeling after having danced in the hot club. Chan was laughing at you struggling to get the rice cake on your chopsticks.

“Why would you eat it like that!?” He laughed, covering his mouth.

“I can't pick it up with the chopsticks!” You exclaimed, stabbing the rice cake treat with both chopsticks so it looked like you were at least eating them correctly. You managed to put it in your mouth before looking up at Chan who was pursing his lips.

“Don't look at me like that!” You gushed, smile on your face.

“It's like this.” He moved closer to you, trying to get you to hold the chopsticks correctly.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to use them, it was just that trying to pick up slippery food proved to be harder than you cared to admit.

“I'm trying!” You exclaimed, moving closer to him as he kept trying to put some food on your chopsticks.

As you were moving to place it in your mouth, the slippery cake fell from your utensils and onto the floor. “My Tteokbokki!” You cried out.

“Ok fine. Keep stabbing it.” Chan laughed, giving up.

Next thing you knew the night had come to an end and Chan had walked you to the building you were staying at. He had his hands in his pockets, looking up at the tall apartment building before giving you a kind smile.

“This is me.” You told him. “I had a great time.” You confessed.

“Me too.” Chan smiled softly. “Thank you for coming out with me.” He added.

You laughed as your face flushed red. “Of course. Thank you for inviting.” You told him.

“Ah. I guess I'll see you.” Chan nodded his head, shoulders dropping for just a moment.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, soft smile on your face. “I had a really great time. I mean it—thank you for taking me out. Only could ever dream of something like that.” You told him honestly.

“Yeah.” Chan thought about something for a moment, which made you stop from going in completely. “Ah, is it okay if I ask for your number?” He asked you.

“I mean for me it is but is it for you?” You joked once more.

“Sounds like a risk. I'll take it.” He mocked you from earlier.

“You know though, I really don't want to make you sign an NDA.” He quickly added after you both traded numbers.

“To kiss and tell is just not my style.” You sang off, grinning from ear to ear.

Chan laughed for a moment, understanding your joke. “But the night is young and it's been a while.” He played along.

“Ah, you know it! Wasn't expecting you to honestly.” You told him.

“I'm a music producer—I listen to a lot of things. Besides, it's kinda relatable.” He smiled a little, looking down as he took in a calming breath.

You weren’t going to ask about it, it wasn’t your place. You knew what the song was about–it was one you had heard since you were a little kid. Besides, Chan was an idol who had secrets to keep from the public. That was one of the first things you had to get used to when moving to Korea and working in the entertainment industry.

“Then I'm happy to be that girl you wanna kiss.” You joked, thinking about the rest of the song.

“I wouldn't go that far.” He laughed, shaking his head.

You gasped, eyes going wide at the scene you had just made. “Making me sound like a fool then. Ah, forget about it.” You said in a rush, face red from actual embarrassment this time.

“No, I don't think I will.” Chan hummed, stepping closer to you.

You watched him step closer, feeling your heart stop for just a moment as he placed his lips against your cheek. “Goodnight, (Y/N).” He told you softly.

“Goodnight Chan.” You smiled.

You waved him off, turning around when a cold breeze blew past you. He continued on his journey towards his car parked in the front of the building.

“I wanna kiss a girl. I wanna hold her right. Maybe make a little magic under the moonlight.” You sang to yourself, nodding your head along to the nonexistent beat you were playing in your head.

“Don't wanna go too far just to take it slow. But I shouldn't be lonely in this big ol world. I wanna kiss a girl.” Chan quietly sang to himself as he walked home.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz , @puppyminnnie , @marvel-potter-1d-korea , @smilingtokki

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laikabu · 2 months

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re: my thoughts on laios’s sexuality (long post ahead lol)

let me start this post with this. first, this contains a lot of references to the new adventurer’s bible world guide book released last february. i can read japanese, but i’m sure they’re translated somewhere. general spoiler warning in case. also… i am ESL, so sorry for any grammar errors

second, if you��re on the team that insists laios doesn’t care about humans enough to form relationships, either read the manga again or at the very least read this thread.

last, please don’t chime in with your acearo headcanons on this post. there’s already a majority of posts here that insist laios is acearo and that anything else is impossible. i don’t like it the same way i don’t like when someone declares they hc marcille as bisexual to a poster who reads her as lesbian. i already have enough people here who declare he’s ace on my own art. at least people on twitter of all places don’t do this sort of thing to me. nothing in this manga is canon, you can headcanon anything i won’t get mad if you hc him as bi or something. just. don’t be weird on my post.

okay. trust me, i love women, and i love the idea of making my favs women lovers but the idea of laios being gay really appeals to me because of his background. this isn’t fueled by yaoi since i don’t even ship the only m/m relationship i bring up here, i just think it adds a nice layer to his disconnect with his own humanity

i do think laios has a very abstract relationship with his sexuality for a multitude of reasons. he grew up in a very conservative backwater village. he has a hard time recognizing his own feelings towards others just as much as vice versa. i don’t really care for the “laios is a monsterfucker” agenda people are pushing but i do think he’d engage in sexual thoughts in his own weird way, i won’t deny his deviantart fetish shit

as an autistic person myself, i relate to how he’d prioritize his special interest over social interactions. after all, he was fixated on monster food so he’s distracted from dark thoughts. he’s not an actual glutton

he’s shy around women, but i don’t think it’s out of attraction. i just think it’s because he’s awkward and doesn’t want to be seen as a threat. there’s a couple of times when, out of armor, he deliberately tries to make himself look smaller and nonthreatening.

he didn’t show any interest towards ashivia (the hubby hunter girl marcille replaced) and just humored her because she wouldn’t leave him alone. his other party members thought he was giving her special treatment so he had to tell her he “doesnt want to give her special treatment anymore”(even though he never did), so she left

ashivia did her best to butter herself up to laios and he didn’t care, but laios thought shuro was his bestest friend in the whole world because he was too much of a pushover to reject him. ironically… what ashivia did to him parallels what he was doing to shuro

also… yeah sorry i keep bringing up that one comic of laios saying if he were falin he’d marry shuro and then begging him to take him back to his country, or that comic of laios wondering why he doesn’t like him(and then the first two questions he asks the magic mirror was what if he or shuro were women). i don’t even ship them! but it’s not a reach to assume that he likes men because of this, even if it’s kinda played like a joke(after all,a lot of people like chilshi even though their ‘shippy’ interaction was played as a joke)

of course, given the setting, i don’t think knows he’s gay, he wouldn’t have the vocabulary to label himself. i do want to dance around with the idea of him forcibly confronting his own sexuality after years of yaad pressuring him to produce heirs lol. laios might not be cishet but he’s a king so he rdgaf about that right now. i’m open to him having female consorts for political reasons, but i don’t think he’s into women, is all.

before anyone brings up his succubus… god forbid an author makes hetbait. a part of the plot twist was that not-marcille wasn’t the only succubus enticing laios, his other party members were copied too. she was the only one who approached him. also… succubi aren’t always inherently romantic. once it realized marcille didn’t work, it switched to appeal to his desire to be a monster.

#laios isn’t even in my top 3 fav but i gotta throw this out to the void #dungeon meshi meta #laios touden #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #kabru sexuality is easy cuz that dude is capital B Bisexual but laios has layers to it i feel

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undeadcortez · 1 year

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LOVE IN A TIME OF JEALOUSY

kai anderson x fem! reader | 6.3k words

!! SMUT BELOW THE CUT !! do not read if you are not eighteen or older | oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex, anal fingering, mentions of anal sex, no aftercare, degrading (kai calls reader a whore, a slut and a bitch), pet names (kai also calls reader baby and baby girl), very hot and cold mixed signals, kai is a warning all on his own

not gonna lie, this one took a while to complete, and the ending is definitely not it’s strong point, but i wanted to leave it open ended in case there was anyone who ached for a part two where kai has feelings and loves on the reader. tumblr gave me a heap of issues trying to get this ready to post so if things don't make sense or if there was a warning i missed, let me know!!

Kai was pissed, to say the very least.

Sitting in his leather chair, elbows rested upon his thighs, hunched forward and legs spread open with a subtle bounce to the left, it was like they could almost see the smoke rising from his ears. The frown that pulled at his lips, the furrowed eyebrows, the tightness in his jaw — yeah, Kai was pissed. And they all knew the reason.

You were late. However, it wasn’t just that you were late. This was the third meeting that they’ve all waited in silence for thirty solid minutes, sitting on the floor in the uncomfortable anger that radiated off of their leader. It was almost suffocating, the awkward silence. Meadow swore she could choke on it, and Beverly seconded that theory.

“Maybe she’s just not coming, divine ruler,” all, but Kai’s eyes fell on Ivy as she broke the stillness, “I mean, she’s so hot and cold about this whole thing anyway, do we really want her here? Is it safe to have her here?”

Kai didn’t answer, and Meadow felt the need to speak up, “yeah, what if she’s out there, blabbing about everything, divine ruler? She’s nothing more, but a liability at this point, and I’m sure everyone here agrees.”

Then others murmured, and Harrison nodded his head. Kai’s gaze focused straight ahead, unwavering on a seam between wooden panels, but he took it all in. He knew you were a weakness to the cause, to everything he built. He thought about it nearly everyday — when he ate breakfast, when he was busy with the city council, when he watched you sleep peacefully beside him in his own bed.

Truth was, though, you never would. Kai had you wrapped around his little finger, and months of manipulation was to blame. If Kai said jump, you’d say ‘how high, divine ruler?’, and he knew it, too. Which is why whenever the thought of you spilling the cult’s secrets to someone crossed his mind, it wasn’t there for long. He knew you never would.

You were strong. The hardest it took to break down into submission, into a mere shell of your previous self. Kai enjoyed it, honestly — seeing you digress from complete independence to someone who lives, breathes, and adores him. And because it took so much to make you like that, because of all the time he poured into creating a woman devoted to him as a leader, he knew you wouldn’t crumble at the simplest of questions.

But, it was only that; him as a leader. You loved Kai, and he knew you did. He trusted you, loved you back in ways only he could. There’s no label here, though, and Kai couldn’t trust every man in the world to respect that you were untouchable, entirely his for the taking.

There were several opportunities to close the door, but Kai never would. Not until you were swollen with his kin, and even then, he debated the idea of getting a ring. What would his men think about him marrying? But, then again, who cared what they thought when he was their ruler? He ruled, made the rules, and if he married, so be it.

That’s not what he wanted, though. He simply just wished for your devotion, spiritually, physically, and emotionally. And though he’d broken you past the first, maybe even the last, that second wish would only be granted the moment he made it official. His girlfriend, or better yet, in your eyes, wife and possible mother of his messiah.

“Kai,” Winter broke him out of his thoughts, and touched his arm with her infamous gentleness, “they’re right. We should really consider cutting her off. Whether that’s kicking her out or killing her—.”

“Would you guys just shut the fuck up already?!” he snapped, standing up from his chair, and lost the staring contest between him and the wall. His eyes were nearly black as they peered down at his sister, and they only seemed to darken as he spoke, “you’re all dismissed. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from any of your goddamn mouths until morning.” He turned around to head upstairs, and slammed the door behind him.

Winter was the first to follow. She didn’t attempt an apology, but simply disappeared up to her room. Ivy was next, passing by Kai as she hurried out the door to her home, followed by Meadow, Harrison, and then Beverly who all, but ran to her car a few moments later. They left Kai alone, sitting on his sunken living room sofa, in the same position he started: waiting for you.

It would be another thirty-eight minutes before the headlights of your car peeked through the curtains, illuminating Kai’s face. The anger written on his face was gone now, and his expression laid flat— the only way one could tell were his eyes, and how they held nothing, but rage within them. Pitch black.

The jingle of your keys rang in his ears, and he grew angrier at the sound of each of your steps, nonchalant as they patter on each concrete stair. The lock turned and the door flew open before him, revealing you with a bright smile and smudged mascara. He remained sitting.

“Good evening, divine ruler,” you greeted as you tossed your keys into the bowl and shuffled off your coat. The casualness of the whole thing only made Kai’s anger worse. “What are you doing up here?” you questioned, and it was clear you had forgotten about the meeting entirely as a smirk pulled on your lips, “I was expecting you to be downstairs, tending to your—.” Kai’s speciality tonight was cutting people off.

“Where the fuck were you?” his tone matched his eyes, angry. The teasing smirk you adorned faded immediately.

“Kai, I—,” you rushed, but stammered to quickly correct yourself, “divine ruler, I told you last week I was going out to visit friends tonight.” You had. At dinner as Kai was stuffing his face full of the grilled chicken you had prepared. You should’ve known better then that the man doesn’t listen while he’s eating, just as much as you should’ve known better than to remind him of mentioning it before.

He stood from the sofa, greasy, blue waves framing his stern features. He towered over you, always did, and you hated it, especially like this. It made you feel incredibly small. His strong cologne, one that wreaked of tobacco, assaulted your nostrils, and a heat radiated off of him that you once found comfort in. A comfort that you knew you weren’t getting any of tonight.

“I’m sorry, Kai,” you whispered, doing all you could to avoid eye contact with the rageful, black globes that peered down at you, “please, don’t be mad.”

He was silent, and as he stepped forward, you found yourself stepping away. It was your natural instinct to flee, and you had hoped you may just be able to, until your ass was flush with the end table, and Kai’s hips were pinned against your own. There was no escape.

His hands rested upon the flat top of the table, completely enclosing you in his aura. It was thick with rage, almost suffocatingly so. Your chest was pressed against his own, rising and falling rapidly with every rushed breath. Breath that was intermingling with his, as his lips hovered above your own. This closeness wasn’t foreign in the slightest, but the goosebumps crawling up your arms it created in its wake were. And no matter how hard it was, you maintained eye contact.

“My people think I’m a fucking idiot because of you,” he spat, and his tone was harsh, but the volume was low, which was something you were entirely grateful for. “They look at me, waiting for you,” he paused and his grip on the table tightened, “for hours!”

You flinched. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Kai frustrated, nearly red in the face over the littlest of things, but it was something you could never get used to. Especially when you were on the receiving end. Maybe a few months ago, you would’ve bit back, stood up for yourself in some capacity… you were too far broken now.

“They think I’m some pussy-whipped bitch, YN!” he continued, “they think I’m risking this whole movement for some goddamn, sloppy pussy! Do you know how fucking dumb that makes me look, huh? Do you know how that makes me, their leader, look? When I’m waiting around for some whore to arrive home before I can spread my word?”

The fear you felt was boiling into rage, nearly matching Kai’s beneath your skin, but there was no fighting back. And if you were honest, Kai had said far worse things than this. So, you stood, breathing in his anger and bottling it up before murmuring, repeating for the third time, “I’m sorry, divine ruler.”

“Who were you with?” he asked, completely ignoring your apology once again. Suddenly, you knew it wasn’t just about you missing a gathering. Kai was jealous.

You were devoted to Kai. Even without the label, your fidelity was unwavering, despite whatever Kai believed. There was opportunity, and it was hard, but you’ve rejected each and every advance. And sure, you craved the exclusiveness, but maybe a part of you enjoyed Kai like this. It showed he had weakness. It showed he was human beneath that thick skin. Not to mention, the primal, possessive sex it resulted in was otherworldly. So, you kept Kai believing he didn’t have you entirely in his clutch, though he very much did.

“Just a few old friends,” you answered honestly, and it only pissed Kai off more. His left hand fell from the tabletop and rather held your waist. His thumb pushed up against the bone, pushing in, and you felt a whimper crawl up your throat. You promptly swallowed it down.

“Their names, YN,” he nearly growled, “what are their fuckin’ names?”

The look on his face made your cunt ache, the anger in his voice ran through your veins, and that rage you once felt in return was burning into lust. You didn’t know why it turned you on so much when Kai got so possessive. It was toxic, and you knew it as much as anyone else. It’s just the way he held you, his strong grasp on you and the closeness and the heat and his musk, it’s all overwhelming and it’s all so hot.

Debating on whether to tell the truth, or to speak at all, you finally opened your mouth, “why does it matter?”

A strong, irritated sigh left Kai’s nose, “you know why it matters.” You did, but you remained silent. “Answer the goddamn question!” he commanded after a moment of silence.

The grip on your hip was gone. He had dropped his hand back on the table, and rather pushed his hips against yours, sandwiching you further between him and the wooden surface. You squirmed. Kai was hard — you could feel the outline, the heat, of his angry cock pushed against your stomach. “Answer the fucking question, YN!” he yelled, and a thick wad of spit landed on your cheek.

“Ethan!” you answered, “I was with Ethan and Maggie.”

They were a couple you were friends with since middle school. It was always Ethan, Maggie, and you, even when the pair decided to hook up in high school and date in college. It had been years since you’d seen them, but it didn’t matter to Kai. No explanation could have mattered to Kai at that moment. You felt his cock kick beneath his layers. “You’re such a fucking whore,” he spat before pushing himself away, leaving you cold and trembling against the table.

There was no way Kai was done with you, and it would have been foolish to think so. As he paced along the length of the living room a couple of times, you remained, watching his every move like a hawk with blown pupils and glazed eyes. He brought a hand up, pushing back his hair from his face, and you could tell a million emotions had washed over it. Jealousy, anger, sadness… You opened your mouth to say something, but were cut off by his hands engulfing your cheeks, and his lips were smashed onto yours.

Gripping the table until your knuckles were white, you kissed back as well as you could muster. Kai’s lips were sloppy, moving against yours in a rageful lust, entirely passionate with emotions you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Instead, you simply basked in your own desires, your own lust which had clouded your mind the second his palms met your cheeks.

His tongue soon wiggled its way past your lips, immediately establishing dominance, and you let him. Smashed up against the table, smothered between it and his muscular body, you let his tongue roam around in every inch of your mouth, moaning. The heavy feeling of his erect cock was back on your tummy, the warmth of it all had returned, and though he was angry, it was everything you needed.

When he pulled away, you swallowed down a disapproving whine. A thick trail of spit connected your lips, dangling between the two of you until it ultimately broke when he opened his mouth to speak again, “did he kiss you like that?”

It took all of your strength not to yell, to not roll your eyes to the back of your head and groan. It was so frustrating, confusing. On one hand, you liked the jealousy. You loved the heat of it all, the tight grip on your body, the furrowed brows, the bruising kisses. On the other, you hated your fidelity being questioned. You slept, ate, and thought only of Kai. It wasn’t fair — after all you’d done for him. “I didn’t kiss him, divine ruler,” you murmured, “I promise, it’s not anything like that.”

Somehow, that’s not what he wanted to hear. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, YN?” he started, “do you think I don’t know when you lie to me? I know you like the back of my hand, better than anyone ever will. You fucked him tonight. Maybe you fucked that dumb bitch, Maggie, too. You’re a whore, it’s what whores do. Now admit it, or suffer the consequences.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Kai,” you stated, and you felt the tremble of his cock beneath his jeans at your words, “and I’m not about to start tonight. I didn’t fuck Ethan, I didn’t fuck Maggie, and I’m not a whore. Give me whatever punishment you see fit, but let it be known that I am devoted, and that devotion to you, divine ruler, is unwavering. You’d be punishing the innocent.”

His lips were back on yours with no further words. Bracing yourself on his shoulders, fingers curling against the muscles there, you kissed back. Bruises were sure to appear in the wake of his hands as they gripped your hips. The kiss was nothing short of passionate, as his tongue slipped past your puffy lips and made itself at home again. You whimpered into it, giving up whatever strength you had left tonight, and completely submitted there.

His taste was overwhelming now. You couldn’t quite place your finger on just what flavors were dancing on your tongue — it was just Kai. And it was intoxicating all in itself. As tongues rubbed along each other, his harsh while yours simply just ached to be against his, he groaned. His nose was smashed against your cheek, lips moving with fever that you just couldn’t keep up with. He pulled away again.

“I’m sorry, divine ruler,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, your own still glazed over, “please, forgive me. I promise, this won’t happen again. I’ll never be late again. I’ll never leave your side.”

His cock twitched, you felt it again against your tummy. He didn’t say anything in return, but he didn’t need to. You knew he wasn’t satisfied with just an apology, he never would be. His hands began to guide your hips, away from the table, and headed towards the stairs. You obliged.

Your steps were wobbly, stumbling as a strong hand left your right hip to open the door to lead the both of you downstairs. Another whimper crawled up your throat as his second hand fell to his side, waiting for you to make the trip to his bedroom first. You loved his hands, his powerful grasp. It made you dizzy, and made your cunt ache. Whenever it disappeared — didn’t matter if you had it for a while or just a few split seconds — it left you feeling like a newborn deer.

You could feel his gaze on your back as you gripped the handrail and made your way to the all too familiar den at the bottom of the stairs. His steps were heavy behind yours, and it was something about just hearing the solid step of his boots growing closer and closer… Once he reached the bottom, his hands were back on your hips, this time from behind. His hips were pressed firmly against your ass, and you could feel the thick outline of his cock again, pushing between your clothed cheeks as he walked with you to the bedroom. You didn’t know if it was for the better or for the worse that he still hadn’t said a word.

Once you were at the foot of the bed, his hand left your hip. Rather, it settled just below your shoulder blades and pushed, causing you to crash face first on the spring-filled mattress. Your lips trembled as a whine went tumbling through them, turning your head in hopes to see Kai. It didn’t work. With his other hand still grasping your hip, and his pelvis pushed snug against your bum, he was out of sight — at least his face was. His other hand had slid from your upper back to your lower, forcing you into an arch, and he moaned. That’s when he finally spoke back up.

“Prove it then.”

Your brows furrowed, “wh— what?”

A heavy sigh passed through his nostrils, and you swear you felt the warmth of it wafting against your back. “I said,” he paused, leaning forward and further pushing his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, “prove it, bitch. Prove that you’re sorry and devoted to me.”

You failed at your attempts to swallow down your moans. Letting another slip past your lips, you asked, “yes, divine ruler. How can I prove it to you?”

“You can’t be that devoted to me if you have to ask how,” he bit back through clenched teeth, and suddenly, his warmth was gone. His strong grasp was still present on your hips, and his cock was still situated between your bum cheeks, but he stood up straight. You whimpered and clenched around the painful emptiness, shivering as your pussy began to weep into your panties.

“Lay down,” he commanded, and then his whole presence was gone. Taking a step back, he was no longer holding you, rather observing as you did as you were told. And when he found a problem with it, he clicked his tongue, “nuh uh, with your head at the foot of the bed.”

You obeyed, and had nothing to say in response. With your neck bent over the curvature of the mattress, you watched with an upside down lense as Kai looped his fingers under his shirt and pulled it off. Your fingers clutched the cotton sheets beneath you, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to stop the ache between them. It was no use.

Kai was beautiful. Even as those hurtful spats left his mouth, even as he made you feel so small he could crush you, he was still beautiful. Ethereal — with abs that could cut diamonds, and blue hair that fell in waves and perfectly framed his face. That’s why he was so dangerous, you’ve figured. Draws in the innocent with his Godly features, just to turn against them the moment they see beyond his looks. You watched his hand graze over his tummy.

Calloused fingers ran over the brown, thick hair that kissed his lower belly until they were met with the hem of his jeans. With a watering mouth, you watched as he popped the button and unzipped, allowing his jeans to fall to the floor. The blue, plaid boxers he adorned left little to the imagination. A little wet spot of precum staining the front, and the perfect outline of his hungry cock. They soon met the floor as well.

He stood before you, naked, which wasn’t a sight you were unfamiliar with. Wrapping a hand around the length of his dick, and tilting his head back as he gave it a few warning pumps, you couldn’t do much, but carry on watching. So, you did just that, watching as he inched closer to your mouth, and finally felt the warm tip of his cock hit your lips. It smeared precum across your mouth like lip gloss as Kai spoke, “open.”

Once you parted your lips, your mouth was invaded by his girth. A harmony of your whimpers and his moans flooded the room as he sunk his cock further and further into the abyss of your mouth, right until his tip was kissing the back of your throat. You gagged around it, which was met with a stinging slap to your cheek. “If you’re gonna act like a whore,” he started, voice raspy and lustful, though still harsh, “then you’re gonna be treated like one. No gagging; this isn’t your first time here.” You whined as he slid in further.

The hand that just slapped your cheek moved to your throat, gripping it as he bottomed out in your mouth. His thick bush of brunette pubes tickled your chin whilst his balls sat heavily on your nose. You didn’t have any choice, but to take a deep breath, and groan at the smell of his musk invading your every sensation. You closed your eyes — there was really no point in keeping them open when your vision was blocked by his length anyway — and braced yourself for the raw experience you were about to endure. Kai was right, though; this wasn’t your wasn’t your first time here.

Blowjobs were more popular than sex in your relationship with Kai, especially when he felt you didn’t deserve to get off. Your throat was trained to adorn Kai, so while you’ve never had him like this before, it was better than a virgin throat. He began to move.

A long, stretched moan left his parted lips as his hips pulled back. You took in another breath just as the thick of his dick slid out of the tight confines of your throat. You pushed your tongue against the tip of it, collecting the precum and swallowing it down. Your throat was already on fire. “Atta girl,” he praised, which may seem surprising, but wasn’t rare once you were in the thick of it with Kai. Add it to the many reasons why you love a good, jealous fuck from Kai.

You groaned as he slammed back in, and it stung, but you loved it. Hearing the filthy, guttural noises Kai was making, mixed with the feeling of his strong grip on your throat… you pushed your legs tighter together. You were sure there was a wet spot where your thighs met, staining your pants in humiliating fashion, but you couldn’t care. Right now, you were just for Kai’s use, and you knew it. You kept your hands to your sides, gripping the cotton sheets, and got Kai off.

His thrusts were sloppy. No pace seemed to stay for more than a few mere seconds before he was speeding up, fucking into your throat. His free hand ran down his neck, over his collarbones and down his chest while his head remained tilted back. He was heavenly, if only you could see it. Instead, when you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of his flushed, shiny dick sliding out of your throat, and you watched as he pushed it back with vigor. You whimpered around his length.

A few more thrusts in and his hand released your throat. You relaxed a bit, relishing in the feeling of his hand traveling to the scooped neckline of your top. Rough fingers slipped beneath the soft material and fished your tits out from the confines. He watched them bounce as his thrusts carried on, and you closed your eyes as calloused fingers had begun to brush over your nipples. They hardened beneath his touch in seconds.

“Good girl,” he praised, and his balls tightened, both indications of his oncoming climax, “taking your leader’s cock down your throat like it’s butter… with the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. They’re all for me, right?” You hummed in agreement. “That’s what I thought,” he responded before pinching your left nipple roughly. You arched your back, moaning at the sensation coursing through your body, so overwhelmed by the simplest touch, you didn’t wrap your head around Kai cumming down your throat until after he was pulling out.

Your throat ached at its newly found emptiness. Cum connected Kai’s tip to the back of it as your mouth hung open for a few moments, attempting to catch your breath, but you merely choked on the thick juices as they threatened to climb up your throat. You hurriedly swallowed it down, whimpering as you opened your mouth to catch some air once more, but were met with Kai’s lips instead.

The position was awkward — Kai craning above you, a hand under your head to aid you in closing the space. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t something you were about to complain about. Kai’s tongue was slipping past your lips, tangling with yours, and that’s simply all you could think about. Well, that and the ever growing desire between your legs.

Your hands have Kai melting between them as they reach up and cup his cheeks. His body language, once stiff and angry, softened beneath your fingertips. The only harshness was his stubble, ticking at your palms, but it was nothing compared to the rage that was, just moments ago, filling the room with its hot and stuffy feel. You could bask in that moment for eternity. To bathe in that gooey scene, where Kai’s only concern was to love you, and yours to love him. It’s moments like these where you remember why you do exactly. Love him, that is. And you do love him, just as much as he loves you. All too soon, though, Kai is pulling back, the moment is ending, and the air feels thick again.

“On your hands and knees,” he commanded, a hand wrapping around his dick once again, “now.”

Once in position, Kai pulled down your pants and frilly panties until they hit your knees. Then, he didn’t wait another second to harshly spit on your asshole. You shuddered, moaning as it soaked your rim and dripped down between your drenched folds until it landed square on the sheets below. A firm hand gripped your bum cheek, pulled it to the side and left you further exposed to the man behind you. His other hand remained stroking his, once again, hardening cock. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at the overwhelming emptiness.

“Hmm,” he hummed, and you swear you could feel his gaze burn against your cunt as he pondered, “which hole do I fuck first?”

Your ass was let go, but only for a moment before a harsh slap landed across it. A groan slipped past your lips, and the blood was surely rushing to the surface in the form of Kai’s large hand, ready to bruise into the shape. “I asked you a question, bitch,” suddenly, you missed the loving Kai you had a moment ago, “which hole do I fuck first?”

It didn’t matter what you said here. Kai would choose whichever hole he desired more despite what you say. You didn’t mind that, though — you were just aching to get fucked wherever. An answer was all he was looking for, whether he thought it was right or wrong. “My pussy!” you cried out, “please, divine ruler, I want you to fuck my pussy first.”

Somehow, that was the right answer. “Good girl,” he repeated and without another moment to waste, his swollen tip was passing through your folds. He groaned, hand returning to the globe of your ass to spread you open. The sound was unholy — you were so wet, enough to continue to drip onto the sheets, and as Kai lined up with your cunt, it squelched. “Holy shit,” he uttered breathily, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby girl. You really do love being treated like a whore, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you hummed as the fat head of Kai’s dick pushed into you. A soft gasp pushed through your parted lips, followed by a moan slipping right past them. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, gripping them as Kai bottomed out. You could feel the heat from his balls on your clit and whimpered at the prickly sensation.

He stayed like this for a moment, simply relishing in your warm, plushy walls, and you swore you could feel the tip of his dick in your stomach. His hand was now on your hip, and the grip was sure to leave bruises in the shape of Kai’s fingertips. His other hand remained on your ass, practically kneading the fat of it between his fingers as he admired what was all his for the taking. You whined as he pulled back.

His thumb grazed against your spit-soaked rim just as the swollen, pulsating head of his cock rested at your entrance. If the grip wasn’t so tight on your hip, you would’ve thrown your hips back, pushing him back into the depths of your cunt. Instead, you waited in near agony, relishing in the little friction you were getting on your asshole. It wasn’t enough, though, far from it.

When Kai slammed back into you, you saw stars. Moans filled his room, both yours and his creating a beautiful harmony in the sex-filled air. Immediately, Kai found a rhythm he was satisfied with, nothing short of rough. “You like that, baby?” he asked through his teeth, and you could hear the smile on his lips.

“Yes… divine… ruler!” you answered immediately, each word strained between his thrusts and followed by a smacking sound from his hips slamming against your own. His heavy balls hit your clit, over and over without fail. The sensitivity had you whining, and it didn’t help when Kai began to push against your rim. When his thumb finally breached, you nearly screamed at the stretch.

It sank in and stopped at the first knuckle. You threw your head back, chin resting upon the pillow beneath you. Struggled moans and whimpers left your lips like a never ending fountain. They were loud, but Kai, like in any other aspect of your relationship, overpowered them. Deep growls, grunts, and groans rumbled from his chest as he sped up. He finally pushed his thumb in its entirety into your pretty asshole.

His hand left your hip, and you could already feel the ache that took over in his place. He leaned forward, and rather groaned a handful of your hair. He growled as he pulled on it, yanking you up from pillows, the only comfort you found that evening. He didn’t let go once your back was firm against his chest. He held on tight as the back of your head hit his shoulder, receiving bruising kisses along your own. All the while, his thrusts were growing faster. His trusts were growing sloppy.

With a dropped jaw and wide eyes, you whimpered as Kai had his second orgasm of the evening. Pumping you full in a matter of minutes, leaving you with nothing, but only the subtle building of a coil in your tummy. He let go of your hair, and suddenly, your face crashed into the pillows once again. His cock left your achy cunt, and his thumb slipped out of the warm, plushy walls of your asshole. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs as he spoke up, “flip around, baby girl.”

Once flat on your back, he tugged your pants and underwear completely off. You worked to take your shirt and bra off until you were both completely bare. His eyes devoured your body, pupils blown so wide you would have thought this is the first time he’s ever seen you naked. His cock was already hardening again, but you could tell his Godly stamina was running a bit thin. The tip was nearly purple, and the head had just a subtle bead of white decorating the top.

“You belong to me,” he stated, and no matter how much you wished for those words to be a lie, no matter how much you craved independence, freedom… you knew they were true, “say it, slut.”

The contrast between his caring ‘baby girl’ to the harshness of his ‘slut’ had your head spinning with whiplash. “I belong to you, divine ruler,” your voice was raw, fucked out, and even though your pussy was begging for release, you would’ve been content stopping there.

You were exhausted. As Kai inched closer, hovered above you, you could tell he was, too. Sweat decorated his forehead, causing the blue strands framing his face to curl just the slightest. His breath was hot as it hit your face, “tell me all of your holes belong to me.”

The wet, heavy tip of his dick rubbed against the rim of your asshole. You shuddered. “All of my holes belong to you, Kai,” you repeated, and every muscle in your body tensed as he prodded at the hole with the head of his cock.

“Don’t you fuckin’ forget it,” he murmured, and suddenly, his cock was disappearing from your bum. Rather, he quickly re-entered your cunt, leaving the hole sticky with precum. You couldn’t complain one bit, though, because his cock was buried deep against your cervix, and his thick bush of pubes was hitting your clit just right. You knew you wouldn’t last more than just a mere few thrusts. And he wouldn’t either.

Your hip fit snug in his hand, and his thumb pulled at the hood of your clit as he began to pound into your puffy cunt. You whimpered, now further exposed to his bushy pelvis as it hit your clit with each and every thrust. His other hand grasped your own, tangling your fingers together and pushing it down against the pillow beside your face. You squeezed, hard.

Your free hand was finding refuge on his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. He growled. There wasn’t a moment devoid of eye contact. His were nearly black while yours sparkled beneath him. Both held immeasurable lust, and maybe even a little love. His tip hit that plushy spot inside of you.

“Oh!” you moaned out, finally closing your eyes in hope to just relish in the pleasure.

Kai sped up his motions, attacking your g-spot over and over. “Look at me,” he commanded immediately, and your eyes fluttered open while your cunt wept around his cock.

It was all so hot. His breath as it wafted in your face, your own intermingling with it and steaming up the room. The coil in your lower tummy was burning, tightening and tightening with each thrust of his hips, each hit to your clit, each clench of your pussy. Sweat dewed on your skin, and the beads pearling on Kai’s forehead began to run down his temples.

He groaned, and you could feel his balls tighten just slightly. “Repeat it, baby girl,” he asked, an almost whine to his voice, though it was still gruff and raw.

The coil was close to snapping. Your clit was tensing up, your cunt was tightening — all you needed was a few more thrusts. “‘m yours, divine ruler!” you cried out as Kai rubbed the hood of your clit a few times. It was over; the coil snapped.

Your orgasm hit like one big wave. Your pussy fluttered around his dick, thighs trembled against the mattress. You moaned, too blinded by the climax to realize Kai was finishing off, too, pumping you full of his cum for the third time that night. You hadn’t even realized you closed your eyes once more.

When you opened them, you were met by the two hands, still interlocked with white knuckles and sweaty palms. You hummed, trembling still from the intense climax, as you moved to look at Kai, whose head was dipped between the both of you, blue waves dangling in front of your eyes. And suddenly, a droplet fell onto your tummy.

It was water, a tear to be exact, wept straight from the eye of the man on top of you. Before you could speak, or even move your hand to wipe anymore that threatened to spill over, Kai was pulling out. And it was only a moment where you caught a glimpse of those glazed eyes before he disappeared from the bedroom. He left you in a flash, the cum spilling over your folds still dewey and warm. You shivered.

Kai’s jealousy was a tricky little thing, but you had never ended an envious fuck like this. He loved you, he wanted you despite all the shit he’s put in motion to keep it from happening. You knew you had to talk to him about what just happened, but perhaps that was a chat to bring up in the morning. Instead, you pulled the covers over your shivering body, breathed in Kai’s scent that riddled the blankets, and thought about the one thing you knew for sure now:

He loved you.

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gyutopia · 3 months

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dried flowers | park jongseong

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: it’s always been jay, even all those years ago when you were fresh out of a relationship with your first love hueningkai. it was jay who was always there, the man who helped you find yourself again and showed you your worth, the man you could clearly picture a future with, the father of your twins. so why are you now having doubts about your marriage? it’s always been jay...hasn’t it?

ꕤ GENRE: fluff, nsfw, angst….

ꕤ WORD COUNT: 13.3k

⟶ WARNINGS: mean dom!jay, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse, no protection, degradation, possessiveness, jealousy,, jay gets his heart broken, the park family is in shambles, mentions of cheating, slut shaming, knets hate u lol, mentions of depression and therapy.

❥ 𝑎/n: she’s been in the drafts for a while, decided to post while i work on my jake fic!

12:39am

There was a time in your life when you felt free and the world was full of possibilities...and him, especially him. You love your husband, you always have and you always will but a part of you can’t help but wonder if your life would be different had you given your first love a second chance. The circumstances surrounding your relationship with Hueningkai were far from ideal, an overly busy boyfriend who could never seem to make time for you and a short stay for your study abroad program. The odds really were never in your favor.

It also didn’t help that the two of you had completely different ideals and aspirations. You wanted to settle down at some point and have kids, you wanted the big wedding and the house at the end of the cul de sac but Kai wanted you and his music, nothing more. He didn’t believe in marriage, claiming he didn’t need a piece of paper to show you just how much he loved you.

He also wasn’t big on kids, coming from a somewhat big family himself and seeing how his parents marriage didn’t last and the pain he and his sisters endured when the divorce was finalized, he came to the conclusion he wouldn’t ever want to put someone he loves through that and swore off kids for good. His focus was his music career before anything else and he expected you to simply adjust to his hectic life and be content with being kept in the shadows. Your relationship really took a turn for the worst when he brought you to a party his label mates were throwing, everything went to shit that night.

The party resulted in a broken relationship, bloody nose and bruised knuckles and you pulling out of the SNU study abroad program the following week and returning back home to the states.

You don't even know what you’re doing thinking about Kai, it’s been years and you’re content with the life you lead now. You’re married to an amazing man who shows you each and every day just how much he loves you and the children you have together. Jay has never given you any reason to not trust him or even doubt him. So why are you now?

Jay is the kind of guy who actually enjoys dinners with your mess of a family, he stands on the train no matter how many seats are empty and somehow manages to be the most handsome yet humble man in any room. He’s your all time favorite person and you want to live a hundred years and die at the exact same moment so your souls can find each other on the other side as soon as possible and fall in love all over again.

So maybe you don’t regret picking Jay, you’re glad you did. Really, but you just can’t help but think: what if it had been Kai?

Would you be as happy as you are now? Would you have kids? Would you still be his dirty little secret or would he have told the press about you eventually?

You sigh in frustration and rub at your forehead. “It’s too early for this,” you mumble to yourself before standing from your bed and exiting the room.

You slide on your bedroom slippers and slip out of the master bedroom to head downstairs. You stop by the twins room and open the door just a bit to make sure they’re still sleeping. You smile softly when you find them passed out in their respective beds.

You shut the door and continue to pad down the hall and stairs into your kitchen to grab a mug and tequila. You pour yourself a cup and head into the backyard to sit on the hammock chair Jay had set up a month prior to you giving birth to the twins.

You place the tequila bottle by your feet and cradle your mug to your chest as you overlook your backyard. It’s a mess, there are toys scattered about and the play set Jay had installed with the help of his members sits proud and tall right smack dab in the middle of the mess.

You lean your head against the wood of the hammock and pull your phone out of the pocket of your robe. You can feel your eyes water as you scroll through your contact list searching for one specific person. Yujin.

The phone rings for a few seconds before she picks up.

“Hello?”

You let out a shaky laugh, “oh. Hi, you’re still up?”

She laughs. “Do you know who you’re talking to? My sleep schedule doesn’t exist. But I will say I’m surprised that you haven’t passed out yet. You know, being the mother of one year old twins can be very tiring.” You hear some commotion in the background before you hear the gentle shut of a door. “Why are you still up?”

You bite down on your bottom lip and play with the rim on your mug. “I can’t sleep.”

She hums, “hey, has Jay ever choked you? Because if he hasn’t he really should.”

You let out a scandalized gasp, “oh my gosh! You were with heeseung weren't you?”

She giggles and sighs into the phone, “he might have spent the night.”

You kick your feet and allow the hammock to swing, “oh wow. Was it that good?”

She hums eagerly, “yes it was. Maybe we should get married? Then he could do it for the rest of our lives.”

You nearly choke on the sip of tequila at her words. “I love that it takes asphyxiation to get you to settle down.”

She laughs as well, “please, you’re acting as if you didn’t marry Jay because of his, your words not mine, ‘monster cock’,”

You shrug your robe off and place the mug down, finally getting comfortable. “I don’t recall.”

She snorts, “of course you don’t. But moving on, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

You clear your throat and stare off into the distance. “I’ve been doing some...thinking..?”

You trail off as you try and think of how to phrase your next sentence. “A lot of thinking actually. About...him.”

Yujin hums in amusement, “ouu, who?”

You sigh and place your head in your hands. “Come on Yujin, you know who.”

Silence follows after your statement and you hang your head in shame.

“Are you kidding me?” Yujin takes a seat at her dining table and reprimands you. “Do not fuck up your gorgeous family.”

You shake your head adamantly, “I’m not.”

“You better not! Jay is such a good guy, _____!”

You sigh, “I know that!”

Yujin scoffs, “then appreciate it for a second, how lucky you are to have found him. Do you know how many millions of women would kill for what you have with him?”

“Look, I know that. B-but I just can’t stop thinking about how different things used to be!”

Yujin lets out a confused hum, “with Kai?”

“No...with me. I was different...I- I don’t know what happened.”

Yujin sighs, “you said yes, moved to the suburbs and had kids. This is what you wanted, _____. It was your choice.”

You groan in frustration. “I know that, Yujin! But I just, I-I need to feel it again!”

“Feel what?”

“Some small piece of that interconnected love rush you know? It was just-- it was such a high!”

“_____...I get it, Kai was out of this world for you but that kind of love is a fickle bitch. It hurts, it betrays and is ultimately unsustainable but what you have with Jay will go the distance. He really is the one for you.”

You close your eyes and lean back in the hammock. “I know.” You softly say, “I know it with everything in me.”

Yujin nods, forgetting that you can’t see her. “So what are you gonna do?”

You open your eyes when you hear Jay’s car pull up in the driveway. “I don’t know.” You properly sit up and collect your mug and tequila off the floor, “I have to go. Jay’s home.”

You don’t give her a chance to respond before hanging up and entering the kitchen through the back just as Jay walks in through the foyer. You dump the remaining liquor and place the bottle back in your drink cabinet.

“Hi, my love.” You feel Jay wrap his arms around your waist from behind and place a kiss on your collarbone. “Why are you still up?”

You finish washing up the mug and place it on the drying rack. “My mind won’t shut off.” you turn in his arms and wrap your own around his waist. He smiles at you and leans down to place his lips on yours for a quick peck but you pull him back in for a longer more meaningful kiss.

Loosely, his hand moves to grip your neck, as you lift your chin higher - so you can press your lips harder into his - while your hands fist into his shirt. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his. Gasping at the motion, Jay uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. Indolently, his soft appendage swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it.

Electrified by his kiss, you moan into his mouth, your chin lifting higher as you press your lips harder against his. Mouths moving in tandem, you lose yourself into the intoxicating feel of his lips against yours. The soft petals of his mouth are soft, and as pillowy as you remember; albeit a little chapped, but you don’t mind so much. No - because the slight abrasion only adds to the feel of your kiss.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. Further and further, you sink into Jay: his body pressed flat against yours, his saccharine taste coating your tastebuds, and his warm breath wafting over your face. You can’t help but find yourself drowning into him - his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Both of you lose track of time, your tongues gliding and sliding against each other, both of you consumed wholly by the other. Lost in your own selves, you feel nothing but each other - want to feel nothing but each other - and soon, the rest of the world fades into the background. There’s a soft ache in your lungs - your chest aching from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. No - right now, breathing is the last thing on your mind. In fact, the only thing you can think of is Jay, and the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours.

Nonetheless, eventually, your lungs begin to burn - the lack of oxygen searing through your chest. When the sweltering ache grows too much to be ignored, the two of you pull away - breathing harshly against each other. Your eyes stay closed as you gasp for air, both your breaths mingling together and circulating the air. Your lips are slightly swollen, and as you flick out your tongue to soothe them, you can’t help but whimper at the aftertaste of his essence on your mouth: the flavor only deepened by his breath fanning your face.

With your eyes closed, you still feel him linger around you - his calming presence washing over you and soothing your earlier hurt. Swallowing thickly, the two of you gradually open your eyes - coming face to face with each other. You’re still only a hair's breadth away, his mouth ghosting against yours in tender brushes. Gaze meeting his, you search his eyes for something - anything - even just an inkling of the emotions you feel for him. And as usual, Jay doesn’t disappoint.

He smiles gently at you, the soft tip of his nose brushing yours as he repetitively presses affectionate kisses to your lips. “Not that I’m complaining but, what was that for?”

You place your head against his chest and lowly whisper into the night, “I love you.”

You wake up with a headache and the muffled sound of voices echoing from your living room all the way to the master bedroom. Groggily, you push yourself up off the bed and stare at the empty space beside you, realizing one of the voices belongs to Jay.

You vaguely remember him coming home last night after his meeting with his producer, your moment on the kitchen counter. How he carried you back upstairs and tucked you into bed beside him.

You hoist yourself off the bed and throw on the silk robe you had in the bathroom as you begin your morning routine of brushing your teeth and taking a shower. Trudging along the hallway to the living room after freshening up, you stumble upon a woman rounding the corner and walking up to you.

You think your eyes are deceiving you when you finally recognize who the jet black hair pulled up high into a sleek ponytail belongs to. “Oh sweetheart! You’re awake! Good morning.”

It’s Jay’s mother.

She pulls you into a hug and you blush. “I-I didn’t know you were visiting today.” You return the hug, “If I knew, I wouldn’t have—“

“Don’t be silly! We’re all allowed to drink once in a while!” Her eyes sparkle with her words, making you smile. She’s always been fond of her and was quite vocal about it. “Let’s get you some coffee, okay?'' Jay's mom leads you down the hallway, past the living room where you see Jay and his father engaging in what seems to be a serious conversation, and into the open kitchen where she ushers you to sit down. “The twins haven’t woken up yet, I was about to get started on their breakfast” She informs you when she catches you looking around. You hum and stir your still hot coffee.

Before you get to take a sip of the morning brew, you feel someone kiss your temple.

“Good morning, baby.” Jay whispers, placing his phone by your coffee mug, “Are you okay? Do you need aspirin?”

“I’m fine.” you sigh, stretching your neck to kiss his cheek before he straightens his back. His mother sets down another plate, filled with eggs and bacon, before ushering the men to sit.

“Let's eat!”

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

Brunch goes by fast, small talk about your father in-laws' business is shared and pictures of your kids go around the table before goodbyes are bid with promises of lunch sometime soon. Retreating back into your home, Jay takes a seat on the couch and massages his temples with two fingers.

“Jay?” You worriedly ask, sitting beside him and placing your hand on his knee. There’s something unsettling about how it takes him a second to reply, staring at the glass coffee table with a stoic expression. You begin to retract your hand until he sighs and grabs it gently

He closes his eyes and smacks his lips together, “This morning… your previous relationship was broadcasted all over the news. I don’t know how they got the information but I’m doing everything I can to take it down.”

“Oh.” You blink, unsure of what to say or how to react. If anything, the headache you woke up with starts acting up again as you try to process what your husband had just said. The world knows about Kai. Even more, the world knows about your past relationship with him. You can only wonder how the media is painting you.

You think it’s something along the lines of a gold digger. First you get swept up in a whirlwind romance with an international superstar just to break things off and marry the son of one of South Korea’s biggest chaebols who just so happened to not only be friends with your ex but work with him as well. There’s definitely no saving your image now.

“I’m sorry.”

He frowns at your apology, tilting his head to the side. “What for?”

“About this mess, I’m sorry this is interfering with your image.”

“You did nothing wrong, love. I just hate how even after all these years Kai is still associated with you. It’s almost like you won’t be able to ever fully leave him in your past where he belongs.”

You want to reassure him that while yes, Hueningkai played a major role in your life, he’s the past. You want to tell him that it doesn’t matter because he’ll stay in your past but you can’t bring yourself to lie to your husband.

The truth is you don’t know where Hueningkai stands in your life at the moment and as sick and twisted as it sounds, if he were to show up at your doorstep right at this moment….you don’t know what you would do.

Jay turns to face you. “I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, _____. That isn’t it, I swear. I just...I guess I just need the reassurance that Kai isn’t coming back. I’m secure with our relationship and I just want to know what you’re thinking, please don’t shut me out.”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, “u-uh...I-'' You're soon cut off by the wails of your twins over the baby monitor. You close your eyes and thank God for the distraction. “-I should probably go get them ready for their day and feed them. They have a playdate with Chaeyoung’s kids''

You abruptly stand and turn in the direction of the nursery. “You should get dressed for work, I’ll stop by the studio with lunch later for you and the guys.” You hesitate before turning back around to place a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

After dropping off the twins and making a quick trip to the grocery store, you’re talking to Yujin over the phone about her taking her relationship with Heeseung to the next level when your phone chimes with a message from a number you should have blocked and deleted a long time ago. It’s Kai.

You block out Yujin’s words about her current issues and shakily reach for the device, scared to read the contents of his unprompted message.

2:33pm [hueningkai]: i’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now and i really am sorry if it put you in a difficult position with jay. i know you told me to delete your number and never reach out again but i don’t want you to hate me anymore than you already do _____.

2:33pm [hueningkai]: i’m not the one who sold the story to the press, i don’t know how it got out and i’m working really hard to get them taken down so please be patient and wait for me a little longer.

2:35pm [hueningkai]: i’ll make things right.

“I don’t want you to hate me anymore than you already do.” Your ears ring and your breath hitches as the phase catapults you into the past.

“_____.” he called in a breath.

He felt the panic rising. He wasn’t ready to confront you. From what Yeonjun had told him, you weren't doing great when you left the party last night. He told him how you had cried your eyes out on your way back home. Hueningkai had never seen you cry - apart from that time the two of you watched All The Bright Places together - you were always so cheery all the time, always in a good mood. In the past months you’ve been together you’ve never had a fight - you bickered continuously, yes, but never fought. You were always in sync, as if you could read each other’s minds. Hueningkai never felt such a connection with anybody else.

You were still looking at him. you looked at him and you saw the beautiful man you fell in love with tremble with fear. He was afraid of you. And in some way, you were scared of him too. you were scared of who he was, who he really was - because last night you had come to one conclusion: you don’t know Hueningkai. You thought you did, you thought you had learned enough of him in these past months, but you were wrong. He wasn’t the great, responsible and loving person you thought he was - because the man you thought you knew wasn’t capable of breaking your trust.

If there was something you were sure about it’s your worth. Your pride and tenacity were the qualities that allowed you to be where you were. You're intelligent, independent and determined. You had your moments, but you were strong, and you knew it. You knew that you didn’t do anything wrong to deserve his deception. You had cried your tears and felt the pain, but no more.

“I just want to know why.” you said, your voice a little bit too shaky for your liking.

Hueningkai closed his eyes hard, his head pounding. “_____ …”

“how long?” you pressed on.

The boy shook his head and took another shaky breath. He stood up and walked to her desk, trying to get some space between the two of them. He couldn’t think clearly.

Your eyes followed him without wavering. “You’re not going anywhere until you speak.”

Hueningkai was biting hard on his lower lip in the hope to cover up the pang in his chest. He didn’t want this. He cared about her. He loved her. But he knew, deep inside, that there was no going back from what he had done. There was no turning back from this terrible mistake.

“I ended things with her.” was all he could say.

“You clearly haven’t.” you responded in almost a clinical manner. “How long?” you repeated. “How long were you seeing her behind my back?”

The boy shook his head again, letting himself fall on the chair. “I wasn’t.”

The girl sighed, slowly getting angrier and impatient. “I saw you kiss each other yesterday. Please, be honest.”

“I-” he mumbled, struggling to find the words. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Very cliché of you to say.”

“It really wasn't,” Hueningkai exclaimed, finding the courage to look at you before cowering back, seeing the disdain on your face. “It- It was after your first day back to classes after winter break.” he finally admitted.

You furrowed your brows, going back with your memories. “The day I learned I failed my bio final?”

He looked up to the ceiling, wishing he could turn back time. “Yes.”

You thought back to that day, the same day you noticed Yeji for the first time. They hugged, you remembered that day too. You didn’t think anything of it when it happened. It didn’t seem important to you.

Were you too naive?

“Did you have sex with her?”

He shook his head. “I...I don’t remember, I was drunk.”

“You were drunk.” you repeated. “Does it sound stupid only to me?”

“No.” he gulped. “It was stupid.”

You suddenly came to a realization. “The day after my math final,” you remembered. “You weren’t yourself …”

“You told me you fought with Bahiyyih.” You murmured in recognition.

“I didn’t.” Hueningkai responded, fingers through his hair. He wanted this torture to end.

You were feeling slightly nauseous. You were worried about him that morning, but he was fine only hours later. He had laughed with you during your lunch break. “And you decided it wasn’t worth … it wasn’t important enough?” you asked, your anger rising.

“I didn’t want to ruin anything!” the boy exclaimed in fervor, looking back at her again. “You still had three more finals to take and I didn't want t-”

“So you went on with it.” you interrupted. “As if nothing had happened.”

“I didn’t want to-”

To what?” you raised your voice. “To what Hueningkai? To lose me?” you laughed a cold laugh that made the boy quiver. “That’s bullshit and you know it. And then what? You continued seeing her? Those weeks we couldn’t see each other because of your schedule, you were with her, weren’t you?” you accused him in one breath, thinking about how distant he had been.

Hueningkai was petrified. He was unable to speak against your claims, he wanted to but his throat was constricted. He could feel you slipping away by the minute and he was unable to stop you. He was losing something important, and it was all his fault.

Your breath had turned labored with the realization of how foolish you had been. Four months of lies. You couldn’t believe you fell for all of it, that you fell for him.

What was it _____? Was it his looks? Was it his personality? What about him rendered you so stupid?

Hueningkai couldn’t stop looking at you now. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your head down and your hands on your knees, your knuckles taught. He wished he could avert his gaze again but something inside him wanted to masochistically remember this moment. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his own hands trembling inside the pocket of his jeans, where he had hidden them. If he didn’t know himself better, he could swear his eyes were starting to sting. What happened to him?

You finally take a trembling breath, as if you were trying to compose yourself and not cry. You looked him in the eyes with all the courage you could gather and finally spoke the words he had been secretly preparing himself to hear. “I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hate you. I hate you, Hueningkai. With all my heart.”

“_____? Are you even listening to me?”

You shake your head as the memory comes to pass, trying to get your head out of the daze. “Y-yeah, sorry. Chaeyoung sent me a video of the twins but I promise you have my complete undivided attention.” You lie. Why did you feel the need to hide this from your best friend?

“Oh, it’s okay. I have to go anyway, gotta wrap up my thesis.”

You bid her goodbye and wish her luck with her thesis for her PhD program before hanging up. You stand in silence in the middle of your kitchen as your mind cooks up every reason why texting Hueningkai back is wrong and downright disrespectful to Jay but a part of you itches to see what would happen if you did. Would the part of you you feel is missing come back?

2:40pm to: [hueningkai]: i believe you.

You quickly exit the messages app and shut off your phone to finish packing the boys lunches. You individually wipe down each lunch box and place them neatly in the large lunch bag you had found at Costco a while back. You make sure to pack a few snacks and a sealed platter of fruits for them as well.

You’re back in the car with a few minutes to spare from the time frame you gave yourself, the members warmed up tteokbokki perched on the passenger seat as you pull out of the driveway to your destination. You’re there in no time; there wasn’t much traffic around 4PM.

You park the Mercades in the assigned spot for workers and their family members. You make sure to grab your purse and lunch bag before you enter the elevator to head to the main floor. You greet the security guard; who had remembered you from your previous visits, greeting you as ‘Mrs. Park.’

Bashfully, you bow to him as he lets you pass and make your way to the elevator and ride up to the 10th floor.

Jaebeom, the group's manager, recognizes you the second you step out of the lift and stands up from his seat, “_____! Perfect timing! The boys just wrapped up their dance practice.”

“amazing!.” You beam as you follow him down a corridor. Some employees look up from their work to glance at you; recognition in their eyes.

Enhypen’s practice room is such a large space with multiple glass windows allowing you to see all over. He’s sat on the floor beside Jake, fingers supporting his forehead as he reads something off a piece of paper.

Jaebeom knocks on the open door and pokes his head in, “boys, you have a visitor.”

You watch as their heads snap up simultaneously to see who has stopped by.

Jay puts whatever he was reading down and stands up, “_____? What are you doing here?”

Jaebeom quietly excuses himself and you whisper words of gratitude as he leaves before stepping further into the dance room.

“I promised to drop off lunch,”holding up the lunchbox you made for them. “I can’t have my husband and dear friends starving.”

The boys all cheer and abandon their previous work to come crowd you by the door. Sunoo takes the heavy lunch bag off your shoulder and happily skips to the middle of the practice room with the members following behind. Jay walks up to you, kissing your forehead, “You really didn’t have to. We could have ordered-”

“But you weren’t, were you?” You scowl, “Come on, let’s fill that belly up.”

He leans forward to whisper in your ear, “I’d rather eat you.”

You gasp, instinctively reaching your hand out to hit his shoulder, but he catches it instead and interlocks your fingers together. “Stay and eat with us?”

Your heart melts at the gesture and you inwardly chastise yourself for even ever thinking about someone else when you have a husband as caring and loving as Jay.

You shake your head gently, “I already ate, plus I have to go pick up the twins soon.” You stand on your tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you should go join the boys before they eat your half as well. I’ll see you at home?”

He whines and leans in for one more kiss, “at least let me walk you to the car?”

You shake your head firmly this time. “I can walk myself to the car, Jay. Go enjoy your lunch, I’m sure your body’s dying for some nutrients. I’ll call you as soon as I get back home.”

You kiss him goodbye and say your farewells to the members before exiting the large dance room. You walk down the corridor not paying attention to your surroundings, you’re in your own little world thinking about how your life has seemed to turn to shit overnight when you hear the faint calling of your name.

Your eyes wander about until they fall onto a lone male standing in front of the lift. Blinking at him, you couldn’t believe your eyes when his profile registers in your head.

Your lips have parted in a mixture of dread and astonishment. You haven’t seen him in almost a decade since you left and returned to Korea. All at once, the memories you’ve shared together come flooding back and you don’t notice you’re staring at him; not even when your phone starts buzzing in your hands.

Your eyes meet and in those few seconds you’re able to see that he’s out of his awkward puberty stage; that he’s finally matured into a man his label had been shaping him up to be. He wasn’t scrawny like before, but he wasn’t ‘soft-looking’ either; he looked lean and in good shape. The faintest shadow under his eyes tells you that touring and practicing must have been shit to him but he was still handsome as ever.

“_____?” The way he says your name hits you with nostalgia. He’s still soft-spoken, but you can’t really imagine him having such a stern voice.

Finally coming to your senses, you take a deep breath and fake a chuckle. “Kai,” You gulp, “Hey.”

“It’s been so long! Wow, you look great.”

It takes a second for his compliment to register in your head as you’re still in shock at seeing him again. “Y-yeah, you too. H-how are you?”

“I’m good, the group’s doing well so not much to complain about.” his eyes shift a bit as he clears his throat. “Congratulations, by the way. I saw on the news, and overheard the other members talking… about your wedding and twins.”

Instinctively, you look down at your hand; to your wedding band. “Ah, yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, _____.”

Not knowing what to reply, you nod your head, “Uhm, so what about you?”

He lets out a sad chuckle, “No luck. Touring the world doesn’t really give me that much time to socialize. I’m always on the go.”

“Not even groupies?”

“I guess I'm just not interested in them.” Kai shrugs with a half smile on his face, displaying how chiseled his face was. “Still caught up on an ex.”

You shiver at his words, “still caught up on an ex.” were you by any chance said ex? You slightly shake your head. It shouldn’t matter if it’s you. You’re married and a mother, you can’t betray your husband like that and put your family at risk. Whatever lingering feelings you’re holding on to need to be dealt with and put aside. Kai isn’t someone worth losing your family over.

Before you can reply, suddenly, someone steps beside you, pressing a kiss on your temple and wraps their arms around your waist tightly, making your blood run cold. Looking up, Jay smiles sweetly at you but gives the complete opposite glance at Kai. “You dropped your wallet, love.”

You clear your throat and nod, “thank you.” You unravel his arm from your body and take your wallet from his free hand. “I should really get going now. It was nice seeing you again Kai.” You offer him a tight lipped smile and move to walk past him but Jay grabs onto your hand and intertwines your fingers. “Let me walk you to the car.” You turn to look at him ready to tell him it’s not necessary but the way he says it makes it sound like a command and the way he stares at you shows there’s no room for disagreement. He nods his head in acknowledgement at Huening before walking past him, purposely bumping shoulders with him. You outwardly cringe at the clear jealousy in his eyes and show of masculinity. The two of you enter the elevator in silence, you hate how tense the atmosphere has become. Jay squeezes your hand one last time before releasing it.

He lets out a deep sigh, nodding, “do you still love him?”

You blink up at Jay, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Do you still love Kai? You always thought you did during your freshman year, but never really thought about it again when you left. When Jay came into the picture, you knew you loved him - probably more than you did Kai, but were you just going to disregard your entire past with Kai?

“He only meant something to me before, you know that.” You could hear your own heartbeat thumping from your chest as you anticipate his next words.

“You look at him the way I look at you.” He turns his head to face you, “you look at him the way I wished you would look at me when we first started dating. Like he holds the whole universe in his eyes.” He gulps as he clenches his fists, “you look at him like you’re in love with him.”

You wipe your clammy hands against your jeans as Jay's words ring in your ears. Do you really look at him like that?

“You’re not even going to deny it?” he scoffs and glares down at your shorter figure. “This morning you couldn’t even tell me that he’s a part of your past, G-God! I should have known!”

You shake your head, “Jay..”

He only speaks over you. “Why are you still hung up on that piece of shit? Are you forgetting everything he put you through? Why aren’t I enough for you? No- fuck that, why isn’t the life we’ve built together enough?”

You reach out to grab his hand, praying he doesn’t pull away. To your relief and mild shock, he doesn’t. “It is! It’s more than enough, Jay! I-I love you, and the twins. I can’t picture my life without the three of you!”

He nods and grips your hand back with the same ferocity you’re holding on to his. “Okay, then look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t love him anymore.”

You lick your lips and look down at the ground. You know what your answer should be yet that’s not what it is and you’ve never lied to your husband. You’re not going to start now.

“I-I don’t know what I feel for him.”

You’re heartbroken by your own admission, but even more so with how Jay releases a deep sigh and your hand; brows meeting at the middle of his forehead as he rips his gaze away from you. You could see his hands ball up into fists against his sides. His breathing is deep and slow; his tongue slowly licking across his bottom lip.

You should say something; explain it further to him. “J-”

The elevator dings and the doors separate. You sniff to hold in your tears as new people enter the lift.

“You should go. The twins are waiting.”

Your head snaps to look at Jay but he makes it a point to avoid your gaze. “B-but you said you would walk me to the car.”

He slowly shrugs. “It’s not like you wanted me to. Besides, being around you right now is too painful. I’ll see you at home.”

The elevator doors close with one last ding and your husband is whisked back up to the 10th floor leaving you all alone in the middle of the reception area crowded by HYBE staff. You try your best to contain your tears as you rush back to the parking garage. You shoot Chaeyoung a text to let her know you’ll be late to pick up the kids, when she lets you know that it’s alright you toss your phone and book it out of the parking lot.

You know you shouldn’t be driving while so high on emotions but you can’t stay anywhere near that fucking building.

Not wanting to go home to silence, you drive to your second safe place. Where you know you won’t be judged and your worries seemingly just melt away.

You frantically knock on the door to Yujin’s home, wondering what the fuck was taking her so long to open the damn door.

“Who is it?”

You choke on a sob and seize your rapid knocking, “i-it’s me”

“_____?”

You nod and resume your knocking, “just let me in!” You hear the click of the lock coming undone before the door swings open and Yujin steps aside to let you in. She takes in your frantic appearance and takes cautious steps towards you, not wanting to set you off even more.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You place your right hand over your chest as you wheeze, finding it hard to breathe. “I really fucked up.”

You slap a palm over your mouth when a loud sob comes out of your mouth.

Before your body starts to fold as you fail to control your sobbing, Yujin’s arms are around you, encasing your frame against her chest. There’s no point in pushing her away. You’re tired in every aspect and it feels like the only thing to relieve you of that stress is to cry it out.

Your knees give in so suddenly, catching her off guard that she stumbles back a little; balancing your weights until she has both your bodies settled on the floor with her back against the white wall.

“It’s going to be okay,” she shushes you gently and strokes at your back as you sob into her clothes. She allows you to cry to your heart's content and calm down before asking you if you’re ready to speak on what’s caused you to break down.

“I should have listened,” you whine, shaking your head in disbelief. “I should have listened to you when you told me to leave it alone, I-I don’t know why I didn’t!”

“What happened, _____?”

You look up at her with watery eyes. “I really fucked up Yujin…” She sighs and adjusts the way she’s sitting.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, love.”

You sniff and play with the hanging thread on your shirt. “I...I saw Kai today.” You timidly look into Yujin’s eyes, searching for any judgment in them but her face is passive. “I went to drop off lunch for Jay and the boys and ran into him on my way out.”

“Was that...the first time you’ve seen him since what went down?” Yujin softy asks.

You nod, “it was too painful to face him when I came back and Jay just hated me being near him so I guess I always made it a point to avoid him at all functions I knew he would be at.”

Yujin nods, “did something else happen?”

You close your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip, “an article dropped this morning about my past relationship with Kai and Jay asked me if Kai really was in my past but I dodged the question...he also saw Kai and I together and asked me privately if I...if I still love him.”

Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up, “...and what did you say?”

You scratch your neck and open your eyes, “I told him I don’t know what I feel for him.”

A heavy silence falls over the two of you as Yujin goes over your words. “What the actual fuck, _____?”

You sigh. “I know, I know I fucked up, okay? But Yujin these past few months I haven’t felt like...like myself.” You wipe your nose and try to find the right words. “I’m not saying I don’t love Jay, because I love that man with everything in me but when I think back to Kai-before everything went to shit it feels like everything’s normal again.”

“When I saw him today, it’s like something clicked. I felt like the old me again, for a brief second everything seemed clear and like the haze that I’ve been in ever since the twins turned six months just- vanished!”

Yujin waits for you to finish your rant before she gives you her opinion on the topic. “I don’t think this was ever about Kai.”

You look at her questioningly, “what..?”

Yujin sits up and reaches for your hands. “I should have paid more attention to you when you called me that night, _____. Everything you said then and now...it’s clear. This isn’t about Kai, you don’t miss him or your past relationship with him. You miss the person you used to be when you were with him.”

You shake your head, “n-no.”

Yujin cuts you off and goes on, “-Everything you’ve said- reminiscing on the past, who you were, feeling like a part of you was missing? _____, you’re so focused on Kai and what could have been because you never got the proper closure for what happened. He betrayed you in one of the worst ways and left you with so many unanswered questions. Now that you’ve moved on and experienced a new you, you’re finally having the chance to reflect on the version of yourself that you lost and never got to properly say bye to.”

She reaches for your hand, “...it also sounds like you might be dealing with postpartum depression. It doesn’t kick in until 6 months, maybe even a year after birth. And before you disagree, it’s not just not being able to bond with your kids, it’s feeling lost and hopeless, heightened anxiety...wishing you were someone else.”

You feel as if a weight lays heavy on your shoulders as you process her words. Postpartum depression? The way she gingerly explains it makes it easier to understand and process. It makes everything you’ve been dealing with more clear, your conflicting thoughts and feelings for Hueningkai finally seem to fall into place.

“I-I think you might be right, I definitely need to sort things out with Jay and schedule an appointment with my therapist but thank you for being here for me.”

Yujin softly smiles, “I hope you do actually schedule that meeting with your therapist. Don’t prolong this, and I’m sure Jay will come around. Just explain everything and be truthful. You know he can’t stay mad at you.”

You open your mouth to correct her but your phone buzzes in your pocket before you get the chance. You take it out and see a notification from Sunoo. You open the message and see a link to a website. The header for the article leaves you winded.

Hueningkai of TXT issues a personal letter regarding his past relationship stating he’s still in love with his ex.

You don’t bother reading the attached message Sunoo sent and slap Yujin’s arm to get her attention. She looks over your shoulder and gasps as she skims the article as well.

Hueningkai’s apology:

Moa~ recently it has come to light about a past relationship of mine. I’m sorry for belatedly relaying news of said relationship now but I can not apologize for being a normal teenager and wanting to experience the thrill of a relationship.

I don’t know how the media was able to get a hold of such private information and I sincerely apologize to those who were caught in the crossfire.

It’s true that my past lover is Park _____, the wife of my label mate. If there’s anyone who deserves a sincere apology, it’s her. She has done nothing to warrant the hate she has been receiving, people have been making attacks on her morals, character and parenting skills. All of which have nothing to do with the situation at hand, she is an exceptional being and an even greater mother.

We have not engaged in an affair of any type, I have only met with her once, today being the first in nearly eight years.

However, I can not lie and say I haven’t missed her. Seeing her in person today reinforced my feelings, I never once stopped loving her.

I’ve caused her an immense amount of pain and a lifetime worth of trust issues and I can only hope one day she forgives me. But until then, I’ll do everything in my power to right my wrongdoings.

-Hueningkai.

“What the fuck.” You whimper, how could he do this? His ‘apology’ did nothing but add more fuel to the fire. You can only imagine how Jay is reacting to this. You pray he hasn’t made any reckless decisions.

You scroll down to the comments to see how it’s being received by the public.

omo he’s so brazen 💀 +366

she’s a married woman with children...this is a bit…. +987

she’s really been passed around 😭 -217

i wonder just how many more hybe men she’s slept with +38

he’s only made her seem cheap ㅠㅠ -21

i wonder what her husband is thinking… +765

it sounds as if he cheated… +92

i wonder why they called things off if he’s still in love with her 🤔 +10

8...years..? (°_°) -65

“The internet thinks I’m a whore.”

Yujin reassuringly pats your back, “they don’t know anything and you don’t owe them an explanation.”

You shut off your phone, “that’s not the point, Yujin. i’m being slut shamed and vilified because my ex doesn’t know when to keep private information private and my husband’s pissed off with me and this probably made it worse!”

“Then talk to him, _____. He’s rightfully upset because you still don’t know how to properly communicate with him even after all these years. It’s not too late to fix things with Jay and this whole Kai situation will work itself out once you work things out at home.”

You sigh, maybe she’s right? “I should get going, I still have to pick up the kids and make dinner. I’ll let you know how things go once I talk to Jay.”

You say your goodbyes before leaving to go to Chaeyoung’s home to pick up your babies.

It isn’t until 9:30pm do you finish with your household chores. You made sure to feed and wash up the twins, cook dinner for both you and Jay, clean the kitchen and catch up on laundry. You even made it a point to clean Jay's home office for him.

He doesn’t get home for another three hours. He walks right past you and barely acknowledges your presence. He checks in on the twins who are fast asleep and gets himself ready for bed. You try and get him to talk to you, to say anything but he only tells you he’s tired and falls asleep facing away from you for the first time ever in your relationship.

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

Three days pass by of the cold shoulder from Jay. He makes it a point to wake up before you and leave early in the mornings for work. On the rare occasion you happen to wake up before him however, he takes his time in getting ready to avoid having to sit down for breakfast with you and simply kisses the twins goodbye before murmuring out an I love you in your direction and leaving.

Simply put, you’re over it. You want your clingy and loving husband back. Luckily for you, today’s Sunday The one day you know is promised for you. He doesn’t have studio time on Sunday’s because you all go to your in-laws to have a family brunch and come back home for a weekly reset. Granted he slept in today and you missed brunch but you still have a chance to make things right. You asked your parents to babysit for you so you would have the house to yourselves for a bit. That way all the pent up anger can finally come out without the fear of upsetting the kids.

“Where are the twins?”

You look up from your tablet where you have been outlining points you want to make during your conversation with him.

“I had my parents come get them while you were sleeping.”

He sighs, “why?”

You fiddle with the apple pen in your hands, “because we need to talk and we can’t do that if we have to censor our words because our kids are in the house.”

He stares at you blankly for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t have much to say to you, _____.”

You sigh and push aside the iPad, “yes you do. Just get it off your chest Jay! This marriage won’t work if you keep avoiding me and keep your emotions bottled up!”

He slams his hands down on the kitchen counter and huffs, “what the fuck do you want me to say, _____?” He looks at you furiously, chest rising erratically. “That I’m pissed off with you? That I feel like I can’t trust you anymore? That I feel like you never even loved me?” Your heart breaks as you listen to his rant but you don’t stop him, you need to let him get it off his chest in order to actually heal and move on from this.

“I was the one who was there for everything, I’m the one you came to when you returned to Korea! Hell I’m even the one who put everything on the line for you when I found out what he did to you! And yet, you were still in love with him. You couldn’t even pretend to be half as in love with me as I was with you when we first started dating. So yeah, I’m pissed off that now, years later- as my wife, you still can’t open up to me the way you opened up to him within four months of dating.”

You sniff and nod. “I do love you, Jay. I always have and y-yeah, maybe I wasn’t upfront with my feelings for you when we first got together but that doesn’t change anything!”

“But it does! It does change everything, _____! Do you know what it feels like to know you’ll never be enough for the person you love? It feels like fucking hell! And that stupid article didn’t make things any better!”

You stand from your seated position to embrace him but he only shakes his head and backs away. “J-jay, that article has nothing to do with what I feel for you! I’m sorry I keep hurting you, I’m sorry I’ve put us in this position but you have to trust me when I say that Huening really is in my past!”

“How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve given me every reason not to.” He blinks away his tears and clears his throat. “I need to work on some lyrics for our new album. I’ll be in my office.” Jay exhales, walking around the counter and past you.

“B-but it’s Sunday.”

Both of you promised each other that as much as possible, Sundays are days off. Unless it’s extremely urgent, neither of you are allowed to work.

“It’s still Saturday in Seattle.” And without another word he retreats to his home office

Confused and guilty, you don’t know what to do in your own home. It takes about ten minutes for you to gather your bearings and finish up the dishes from breakfast. You can’t even think of coherent thoughts, mindlessly doing the chore until you’re finished and feel lost again with what you could do. After another five minutes pass, you decide to head to the bathroom and sit in the bathtub for an hour.

Once you dry off from your bath, you apply your usual skincare and opt out of putting on any makeup aside from some lip balm. You spritz on a little perfume and get dressed in some gym shorts that hug your butt and a loose fitting top before heading back downstairs to the kitchen to make Jay a plate of food to bring to him, praying that by now he’s cooled off a bit.

As carefully as you can, you quietly walk over to where his home office is and peer through the crack. You want to roll your eyes at what you see; Jay slumped back on his couch, his game console controller in his hands, and an annoyed, but focused expression on his face as he stares at the fifa game he had going on.

“lyric writing, my ass.” You mutter, knocking on the door to alert him before opening it. “I brought you some lunch.”

“Thanks. Just leave it there.” Jay mumbles, still concentrating on his game as he nods his head towards his coffee table.

Your heart drops; he didn’t even spare you a glance. You set the plate to where he gestured and start making your way out until he grabs your hand. You flinch at his sudden action, turning your head to meet his piercing gaze.

He blinks up at you, anger clearly in his eyes, he slowly stands up and discards the controller on his seat. You’re starting to feel small when he’s towering above you. After a long stare-off, he breaks the silence, “Where’s your ring?”

You look down at your hand and it only hits you now that you forgot to put your ring back on after you finished your skincare. “In the bathroom; I took it off to do my skincare.”

He’s breathing deeply; the strength of his hand around your wrist varies.

You take this as an opportunity, while his attention is on you. “Jay please” You don’t know what it is you want from him so you do what seemed like the best choice; you step closer and kiss him.

He doesn’t respond though; just closing his eyes in response.

“Jay.” You whine, running your hands up his arms and tiptoeing to kiss him once more, but his hand comes up to your neck and holds you in place, making you gasp in shock.

“How far did you two go?”

You grow flustered with his question; wanting to run away but his gentle hold on your neck keeps you planted. “Jay…”

He dips his head down, ghosting his breath over your cheek. “Surely, you two kissed. Probably made out, right? Was he any good?”

“Not as good as you-”

Jay scoffs and pulls away, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip deliberately, “You don’t have to stroke my ego sweetheart so answer my question.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I-I don’t know. I guess?”

He purses his lips briefly before clicking his tongue. His eyes drag down your body, tracing a path with his palm, “Did you ever get touchy with each other? Any below the belt touching?”

You can feel your arousal growing as he applies a bit of pressure to your neck, “Jay, I-”

“Just answer the question, baby.” He hushes, racing his free hand up to your chest, palming one of your breasts. “Did he do this to you?”

“Yes.” You whimpered, arching your body towards him; desperate for more.

“And being the little slut that you are,” He pulls you closer to growl into your ear, “I bet you liked it, doll?”

He flips you around, pinning you to the door and presses his erection into your ass. He still has a hand on your right breast, kneading it a little more roughly now. You loudly moan at the sudden turn of events, putting your hands flat against the wall to stop him from completely crushing you against it.

His left hand begins to travel dangerously low on your stomach while his hips are still rutting against yours, “Did his hands ever touch you here?”

“No.” You resolutely denied, “you’re the only one.”

He hums in approval, but his hands are back on your breasts, which makes you whine again.

“Please touch me.”

Ignoring your request, he kisses your neck, “So that’s all you did?”

You moan and nod your head adamantly. Jay steps away from you, cold air intruding the warmth his body provided. You impatiently look back at him, wondering why he pulled away.

Jay releases you completely and kneels before pulling down your shorts causing you to gasp at the cold air that hits your clit.

Jay lets out a hum of approval. “Spread those legs for me, Kitten,” he says - though from the domineering tone, you know it’s more of an order. Without question you obey. The moment your legs are splayed wide. Large hands spread your thighs further before Jay presses his head between - then, he tentatively presses his tongue to your clit.

“Ah-” you gasp out, your hips automatically bucking into his face at the roughness of his tongue. Once again, he chuckles before licking a swipe from your cunt all the way to your ass. Your back automatically arched, pushing your hips further into his face. Jay teases you with a couple more kitten licks before pushing his tongue into your dripping hole, swirling his tongue around and collecting all your arousal on his tongue. He laps deep into you, thrusting his tongue in and out, palming his cock as you ride his face. Gently suckling on your clit, Jay presses his nose to your clit, expertly locating your g-spot and causing vibrations of pleasure to strum along them. Your vocal cords strained, voice cracking as you let out another cry. You feel your pussy walls ripple, abdomen twisting into a wrenching knot inside of you as he continues lapping your clit.

You simply can’t catch your breath, your head lolling helplessly to the side as your shoulders slump. You quickly feel your orgasm approach, the knot in your stomach twisting even further as Jay drives you to the brink of pleasure. Your hips move instinctively, grinding your pussy against his eager face as Jay buries it deeper between your thighs.

“I’m- oh gosh I’m going to cum” You warn, voice raspy and throat raw. You breathe deeper, gasps turning into low moans as your body seizes up, eyes rolling deep into the back of your skull as you come around his skillful tongue. Jay feels you gush around his mouth and lets up a bit to catch his breath before diving back as he licks and swallows up all of your cunt juice. You try to push him away, thighs still quivering as he continues eating you out. You squeal, the overstimulation of your orgasm paired with his continued ministrations driving you wild.

You feel him pull away, exhaling as your pussy finally has some relief. However, it doesn’t last long before suddenly Jay stands and grabs the back of your neck to pull you into a sloppy kiss, all wet from your saliva. You respond immediately; hands flying to his shoulders and hoisting yourself up on his body, prompting him to carry you by your thighs.

“You’re so fucking spoiled.” He groans. He reaches from below to push his pants down and slips his shaft in.

A moan erupts from your throat; his length slipping in easily with your arousal. You cling onto his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he starts pounding into you with immense force. You’re moaning in pleasure when his hands are practically clawing at your hips, ramming himself deeper and deeper.

Jay slowly makes his way out of his office making his way to what you assume is your bedroom but stops at the foot of the staircase and gently places you down on the first few steps, his dick not once leaving you. He puts you down to spin you around and enters you from behind; you’re convinced that your hips are bruised at how his fingers are digging into them to help him control the pace

“Jay.” You moan, barely holding yourself up by your forearms. You reach beneath you to try and stimulate your clit, wanting just a little more something to climax.

He stops you from touching yourself, grabbing both your wrists and holds them behind you. He’s pushing all of his weight up into you, practically lying on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, sliding against your back.

It’s almost too much - the pleasure, the emotions, and the love you feel. Your heart begins palpitating in your chest, beating so hard and fast that your chest begins to ache. “Jay,” you whine, the sound high-pitched as you squeal from his ministrations, “I’m cumming,” you whimper though, Jay doesn’t need the warning. He already knows your orgasm is impending, from the way your thighs begin shaking and the way your walls clamp around him.

“Ah. AH- AH! Jay!” you finally sob. Your peak hits a crescendo, and your orgasm ricochets through you with more force than you expected. Jay groans, feeling your pussy ripple uncontrollably around his cock before tightening. Your walls contract rhythmically, and suddenly, his hips still as he begins cumming.

Rope after rope of Jay’s cum slowly fills you. His warmth practically burns inside you, coating your walls white and claiming every single piece of you as his. His cum spills out of you once he pulls out and he rests his forehead on your shoulder as both of you catch your breaths, rolling off of you.

Soon, you’re turning to face him. You lean in and place a kiss on his lips, this time he responds to it; opening his mouth so you could slip your tongue in.

Without breaking off the kiss, he sits up and cradles one side of your face with his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He quietly says in between kisses.

“I’m sorry, too.” You curl up into his chest as he leans back on the bannaster. “I should have just been honest from the start. You deserve to know.”

Jay combs back your hair for you, “You don’t have to talk about it today.”

“No. I don’t want to put it off any longer.”

“Okay, let’s get cleaned and dressed first.” He kisses your cheek before standing, helping you up as well.

Jay helps you clean up and carries you up the stairs to bring you into your shared room, he wipes you down with a warm cloth and dresses you in his boxers and oversized graphic before leaving to enter the bathroom to clean himself up as well to get dressed.

Five minutes later, Jay is back and clothed; sporting another plain tee and boxers. Sitting beside you, he patiently waits for you, angling his body to face yours.

“When you asked me if he was a part of my past I should have told you what I was thinking instead of avoiding the topic,” You pick at the bedsheets, “Kai and I were always complicated, and I can’t say I miss that or him but I do miss who I was before I lost him.”

You sigh, “these past few months have been hard and I should have told you when I first started feeling less like myself. I guess I thought it was all in my head and I didn’t want you to think it was you… I love you and what I feel for Kai-”

Jay tips his head at your sudden pause.

“What I felt for Kai, is nowhere near what I feel for you. He’s a part of my past and..,” You shake your head, “and I’m sorry for being so shady about it. I don’t look at Kai the way I look at you, I never can because I don’t love him. And it’s something that’s taken me time to realize but, I don’t miss Kai. I miss who I used to be when I was with him, before he ruined that.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you in the process of trying to figure out my shit but I can assure you that no part of me is in love with him. I’ve been feeling differently and it’s not because of anything you did or said,” You nervously laugh, “I talked to Yujin about it and she totally went all psychologist on me, but she thinks this is all stemming from a larger problem… she thinks I might have postpartum depression..”

He lifts his hand to your cheek to wipe away a stray tear you didn’t even know fell from your eye. “Postpartum depression?”

“Mmmh. My issues are stemming from my inability to let go of who I used to be to allow myself to be who I am now.” You inhale as deep as you can and exhale with an awkward laugh, “I booked a therapy session with Dr. Lee for Tuesday, we’ll know more then.”

Jay pulls you to him, kissing your forehead, “I’m sorry for not paying closer attention. I’m even more sorry that I’ve been such a jackass to you recently.”

“I should have communicated better.”

“Yes, you should have but as your husband I shouldn’t have missed the signs. I’m so sorry baby.”

You lean into him, slinging your arms over his shoulders. “Are we okay?”

He smiles softly and nods. “Of course we are.”

He grins, nose scrunching at how you curl up like a cat to cuddle his chest. You run your fingers over his hair, slowly and repeatedly, reciprocating the little smile splayed on his face. His lips are on your shoulders and neck, softly sucking on patches of your skin and murmuring sweet nothings.

“I love you.”

You’re sat on the couch in your living room with Jay and his publicist with a random kdrama playing faintly in the background while the twins take their afternoon nap upstairs. It’s been a week since Hueningkai’s apology dropped and the press and fans are still raving over it.

There are protests outside HYBE demanding Hueningkai be pulled out of further TXT promotions indefinitely while some fans are still shading you and your integrity on Twitter. You never imagined your life would become such a hot topic yet here you are.

“We need to satiate the media,” Jay’s publicist, Jaemin, places down his coffee on the coaster in front of him and clears his throat, “I’ve talked it over with your manager, members and the CEO himself. We believe a statement from the two of you and the third party is a good way to clear the air and show to the public that there is no animosity or anything scandalous going on.”

You feel Jay squeeze your hand as he mulls over what has been said. “Why a statement? Where would it be posted? Is this really the best option?”

You pat his knee and chuckle at him, “what is this? 20 questions? At least let the man get a word in.”

Jay sighs and turns to face you. “I’m sorry, it’s just… the press has been slandering you all week and I don't want this statement to fuel that fire.”

Jaemin nods. “I understand your want to protect your wife from the malicious comments being made online and I can assure you that we will be reading all drafts and making edits as needed so it can’t be interpreted in a different way.”

Jay wearily looks at Jaemin before looking back at you. “I...I’m all for it only if you’re comfortable with it, love.”

You look at the two boys and ponder the possible outcomes. “I think we should do it. It’ll clear any and all tension and we can all finally move on.”

Jaemin smiles and stands, fixing his suit he says. “Great. I’ll leave you two then, send your final drafts to me and they’ll be revised, sent back over to you to read one last time before being posted on Weeverse. Your manager should be in touch soon, Jay.”

You and Jay stand as well to see him out. You thank him for his time and watch him drive away before going back inside.

“You’re awfully quiet… Do you want to talk about it?” You ask once you’re seated back on the couch. Jay spares you a glance before sighing and placing his hands on his knees.

“I know I said I would support your decision no matter what it was but.. are you sure you can handle this, _____? That it won’t be triggering for you?”

You purse your lips as you stare at his side profile. “I’m not on the verge of a mental breakdown, Jay. I’m stronger than you think.”

He turns to face you and takes your right hand in his. “I know you’re strong, _____. Your strength is a part of why I fell in love with you to begin with. I’m just thinking about what Dr. Lee said.”

You sigh as you think back to your joint therapy session with Jay two days ago. You opted to attend the first one alone, you didn’t think you could be completely upfront with your therapist had your husband been there in fear he would be disappointed with himself and blame himself for your actions and emotions. Once you had gotten the initial meeting over with, you scheduled a joint one with him for Thursday. It went better than you anticipated.

Jay takes a seat on the lounge chair beside you and peeks at you, letting out a sigh when he sees your face, “sweetheart, you being nervous is making me nervous.”

“I’m sorry.” You shake your head, “I just know things will be different once the hour is over.”

It breaks his heart more than it scares him that you think it’ll be that way. He squeezes your knee to stop it from bouncing. “Different isn’t always bad, I’ll better know how to care for you. This is what we need my love.”

There’s a knock on the door before it opens. A slender female walks in, wearing a black skirt and a baby pink blouse, and smiles brightly at both of you. “Ah, so this is the infamous Jongseong! A pleasure to finally meet you.”

He stands up to shake her hand and offers a smile, “likewise.”

She smiles once more at you as she sits down on the armchair and taps her finger on the clipboard she brought in. “So, shall we begin?”

You look at Jay and he nods at her, easing back in his seat.

She leans forward and crosses her legs.“How have you two been? The twins?”

“We’re doing okay, better than we were last week.” Jay answers, “the twins are good too. They’re spending the day with my mother.”

Dr. Lee nods her head at him. She turns to you, “You must be excited, I know I would be if I got some alone time away from my children.”

You feel your cheeks warm up, “the quiet home is nice, it’s been a while since I could hear a pin drop.”

She hums before looking down at her notes.“During our last session_____ explained to me feelings of loneliness and isolation, has she explained this in any detail to you Jongseong?”

You didn’t think she’d segway into your postpartum so abruptly; your mouth opens, but you shut it immediately. It’s not your turn to speak.

“She has, very briefly though. It was after we had an argument about her ex, I was upset and I also felt…betrayed. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just put him and their relationship to rest. I only really became more empathetic when she explained she might be dealing with a mental disorder.”

“I see. _____ did mention an argument during our last session.” Dr. Lee says as she makes some new notes in your chart before returning her attention to Jay, “I’ll get into her diagnosis in a bit but first, I’d like to know something. _____ explained to me the fight you had in the elevator and everything that followed..”

“It might be difficult for you, Jongseong, but I’d like to ask what you were thinking of from when you walked in on Kai conversing with _____, to confronting her in the elevator, until the night ended.”

“I tried calling her before I left to look for her but she wouldn’t answer and when I saw her holding her phone and talking to Kai, blatantly ignoring my call it just made me feel second place to him again. It didn’t help that she couldn’t be clear about her feelings, all I wanted to do after that was go back and punch the smug look off his face.”

“I see. Why were you so mad at Kai? He wasn’t the one who hurt you, so why take your anger out on him?”

Jay doesn't answer immediately, trying to properly think through his response. “He hurt _____ yet she was still hung up on him. I didn’t think it was fair that he continuously got a second chance with her when he never deserved it to begin with, all I ever wanted was for her to love me as much as she loved him...to open up to me like she did with him.”

“Hasn’t she?”

“No. It feels like I always have to argue with her before she tells me how she truly feels.”

Dr. Lee nods, “Well, what if I told you she has? She might not flat out tell you what she’s thinking like she did with Kai but you can’t expect her to.” She sits up straight and places her chin in the palm of her hand. “The one person she trusted enough to open up to betrayed her trust in multiple ways. It won’t be easy to do it again. While she might not be at the level of completely opening up, she’s doing it in her own way. When she feels as if she’s ready, she comes to you, she takes her time to think her thoughts through so as to not hurt you. There’s no doubt that she needs to work on her communication skills but at the very least, she’s trying.”

You look at Jay to see how he’s receiving the news but his face is blank.

Dr. Lee watches Jay as well, waiting for a beat to pass before she clears her throat, “I officially diagnosed _____ with postpartum depression, also known as PPD. It’s a continuous pattern of mood swings, restlessness and reduced ability to clearly think. People with PPD can go through very intense episodes of emotions, such as anxiety and depression.”

She pauses to let him process the information, seeing his brows furrow ever so slightly.

“Symptoms of PPD,” she continues, “are feelings of loneliness and loss of self. People with PPD will often seek out people or things from their past to prevent this from happening; along with this, because they’re so focused on their past and what feels like is missing they can’t allow themselves to focus on the lives they have now.”

You don’t say anything, even though you feel like you should. But still, you don’t comment on it and nod at her. “This can lead to a lack of bonding with their children. While _____ hasn’t shown much trouble connecting with the twins there’s still a chance it could happen if we don’t properly care for her.”

“Is this treatable?”

“Yes, there are many options such as medication, therapy and even self soothing measures but your wife has elected to not medicate. For _____, this is what we call cognitive behavioral therapy; a type of therapy that tries to identify and change negative thinking and pushes for positive behavioral changes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get closure and putting this behind us.”

Jay nods and leans in to kiss your forehead, “okay. If you feel you’re ready then I won’t push.”

Later that evening the two of you sit down to draft your personal statements regarding the current situation before sending them off to Jaemin to revise. The edits are quickly made that night before being sent to you to read. Once receiving the stamp of approval from the two of you both are posted to Weverse and the response is rather surprising. You’re met with sympathy and grace, fans understanding how hard you must have had it these past few days. Engene step up and start trending tags for both you and Jay and you feel relief all over your body.

While Jay wasn’t your first boyfriend, your first kiss nor was he even your first love, he was the only love for you. And that’s the only love that matters, the only one that’ll last and go the distance. It’ll always be him.

#enhypen imagines #jay smut #jay imagines #jongseong x reader #park jongseong #jay x reader #enhypen jongseong #jongseong smut #enha imagines #hueningkai #hueningkai imagines #enhypen jay #jay angst #jay park

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys.

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett x you #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett imagine #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

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is-the-fire-real · 3 months

Text

Another bit on the pro-Pal fandom, this one axiomatic

Being a good person is not the same thing as pretending as though you believe you are a good person.

Being a good person takes work. You have to do stuff. Doing stuff is hard. Doing good stuff is harder, because you have to put thought into determining what you think is good beforehand. That requires self-reflection, honesty, a willingness to challenge oneself, and taking in information from other people to verify that your concept of "good" is, well, good.

The nice part is that once you evaluate what is good and start doing good things, it becomes easier. You gain inner calm, peace, and even joy.

("Good" is not always the same as "necessary". Necessary work can be a slog, or it can be horrific. But there can still be a calming satisfaction at the core, the security that this is necessary and therefore worthwhile.)

Pretending to believe you are a good person takes less immediate work. You don't have to do anything that positively impacts the real world, and you don't have to do any of that annoying, time-consuming self examination. But in the long run, it's more exhausting. By far.

You are insecure about whether or not you are a good person. You're pretending to believe you are good. You can't feel secure in something you pretend to believe. That insecurity gnaws at you, especially when you engage in bad behavior--harassment, doxxing, posting gore, swarming tags, encouraging and promoting suicide among your fellow "activists", telling your opponents to kill themselves, stalking, spamming unrelated content with literal Nazi propaganda.

None of those are good things good people do. And you understand that. You would think someone was bad if they did those things to you. The cognitive dissonance between who you want to be and who you really are, as determined by your actions, is scary. It's painful. It rears up every time someone you have labeled a Zio colonizer scumbag asks you to please just stop and you remember a time when you begged someone--an abuser, a troll online, a 4channer, your parents--to just stop please just leave me alone.

That must feel terrifying, and again, it makes you insecure. It makes you question if you're doing the right thing.

So you do the work to pretend to believe you are good. And that's far more work than goes into being good.

You recruit others, and all of you agree that you will pretend together. Tabletop gaming has taught us how powerful this imaginative play can be. You all reassure each other that you are good and you are right. But since you're all lying to each other, that means you must spend more, and more, and more time every day telling each other that you are good, chasing that high, that feeling that you are a good person and your actions are justified.

You tell each other that your "opponents" in this "battle" are not people, so anything you say or do to and about them is okay. You look at lists of "dehumanizing tactics" and instead of internalizing what those lists are teaching you, you go: "Ah, so if I don't use the word 'vermin', anything I say should be fine!" And then you say it.

You do not smile over good news. You only smile when one of your opponents logs off Tumblr because you made the site unusable and unsafe for them. (The expression you make there isn't really a smile, but we'll call it that, since the corners of your mouth do turn upward.) You tell yourself you're just attacking Zionists and pretend you do not see how you're really going after Jews.

No self-examination; that would mean admitting that you're lying to yourself and others. Instead, you traumatize and exhaust yourself until you're psychologically incapable of self-examination. You watch snuff films. You stare at mangled bodies until you're weeping and physically ill (certainly, you're too ill to check whether the video is real, or if it was taken from this conflict).

You force your beliefs into your fandom spaces so that others, the bad people, cannot escape their complicity in genocide.

But more importantly, you do that so you can't escape.

You cannot engage in any fandom but the pro-Pal fandom because that takes imaginative energy away from your biggest pretense--that you're a good person.

You are NOT hurting people because you are striking a blow for Palestinians. You are hurting people, including yourself, because you do not want to do the work of becoming a good person. You are afraid that self examination, at this point, will reveal to you that you are exactly the sort of person you believe you are fighting.

That fear, that insecurity, that dread, that restless sense that if you ever rest or stop or think for just a moment, you'll discover something awful? That's your conscience.

I do not ask you to change your mind about your political opponents. Your defenses are already on your lips and in your mind; a thousand How Dare Yous for me hinting that you look at other people as people. What I will ask you is to consider this.

I came to young adulthood just as Bush was elected, and the Iraq War post-9/11 was the first war I really followed as an adult. I did what you're doing now. I forced myself to look at photographs of destroyed bodies. I looked at photographs of torture perpetrated by US soldiers. I blogged about it obsessively.

I told myself that I was Doing My Part to end the war. But really, it's that the anxiety of being an American during the war made me insecure over whether or not I was responsible for all of this, and therefore, a bad person. If I pretended my looking at snuff photos was activism, and that it was good, then I could pretend to believe I was good and shout "Not in my name" at protests. I could deny my responsibility.

What I really did was traumatize myself. It's been almost twenty years. I can still see some of those torture pictures in my head. In the end, that is the extent of the impact of my online activism. The blogs are all long deleted, and nobody remembers them.

Only my trauma remains.

I do not want this for you. I want you to be wiser. There is still time. You can stop.

Stop hurting yourself and other people. Do the hard work. Examine yourself and your actions. Consider what your own heart is trying to tell you whenever you start to get the shakes and your throat gets tight. Do not take that feeling out on random people online because they have a Magen David in their pfp.

Once you have done the hard work, it gets easier. You will be able to advocate and work for whatever causes you believe in because you know they are good, not because you're joining your friends in cosplaying goodness. You will still be traumatized, and you will still be sad, and you'll definitely still get angry. You will have to face how you've acted exactly like your own past abusers, and that's a real tough row to hoe.

But at the end, you will be able to advocate and work because you want to, instead of feeling as though you must in order to keep up the masquerade.

#free gaza #free palestine #palestine #politics as fandom #suicide #torture #trauma #worse than slacktivism #abuse #is-the-fire-real original #g-d damn it you've got to be kind #i understand you won't listen to this. it's okay if you don't #i may have addressed “you” but i was soothing my own conscience #because i think it's a good thing to tell people to stop harming themselves and others #and it's not my responsibility to change your behavior #it's yours #i'm also not addressing your antisemitic actions #not because you aren't doing that #but because that is between you and your dark night of the soul

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the-music-maniac · 1 month

Text

I just saw a take on zosan that was awful enough I had to block the person. They labelled their post "hot takes" and it annoyed me enough that I felt like hating on it from afar in a vague way would be less destructive than writing an entire essay in this person's comments section.

If you like treating Sanji like a babygirl - just say so. Nothing wrong with that. Don't act like uke-ifying him is accurate to his canon characterization though. If you don't like Zoro as a character, just SAY THAT. Don't act like your shitty understanding of him as a character should be common sense. Their premise was that zosan would work best as a non sexual relationship - sure I'm fine with that. Sounds like an interesting premise. Why tho?

The reasons were stupid.

1. Apparently bc Zoro is too much of a neanderthal and BC he doesn't shower frequently Sanji would never touch him blah blah (Sanji smokes ten million cigarettes a day, I assure you he doesn't smell good) y'all should stop treating him like a babygirl bc bleh Zoro stinky and likes drinking and where did that whole he's Nami's gay best friend thing come from, he isn't that, he doesn't deserve it. Okay??? First of all - last I checked babygirl didn't require certain qualifications - so fuck off? I've concluded that Zoro is the only babygirl and you can foam at the mouth all you want, I'm not changing my mind. Second of all, did you forget that NAMI can drink people under the table too?? Zoro does canonically have a very friendship/sibling-like dynamic with Nami. They argue and fight, but they care about each other. If there is anyone who would make sense as a headcanon of one of Nami's close friends? Zoro would be a candidate. Usopp I would argue would be a better option, but Zoro also makes sense. Third of all, Sanji spends all day cooking (often cooking SEAFOOD) in a three piece suit and then smoking like a chimney. He may shower more frequently than Zoro but I assure you he doesn't smell like a rose garden either. You also can't be a cook if you shy away from a little elbow grease and sweat. Getting dirty for your craft is something he understands. He also has atrocious fashion sense when it comes to clothes that are not suits and he's a lil crazy in the same way all the strawhats are but he hides it well. Sanji is a ridiculous man and I like him that way. Stop it.

2. Sanji isn't some fainting flower, and it annoys me that this person was trying to paint him that way as if it's a forgone conclusion. Their argument was that he screams at bugs, and they were using it as an argument on why Sanji is apparently a babygirl who could never top anyone (why in the world does sex position even play a factor here??). They also pinpointed that Sanji wears suits and swoons at women as a reason why he's likely not gonna top anyone and is gonna remain a virgin. Admittedly I stopped reading at that point bc I made the executive decision to block the person for my own peace of mind, so I perhaps misunderstood (I barely understood the argument in the first place) but I still don't see how any of these factors have anything to do with sex position, or a sexual relationship not working with zosan. I'm all for asexual zosan. But y'all need to stop treating Sanji like some frail twink. That man is badass. He has a strong enough kick to kill a man, his leg catches on fire, he can fucking fly, he gives as good as he gets when it comes to his interactions with Zoro, he survived years and years of abuse from his family and came out a kindhearted person with principles. He is strong af. Again. STOP. IT.

3. None of those reasons for why they wouldn't have sex make sense to me because they operate under an assumption that Sanji would find Zoro gross so obvi they wouldn't have sex. The person fundamentally misunderstood that most people who like zosan aren't there bc they want smut, they're there because Zoro and Sanji are equal and opposites and they understand each other in a very fundamental way from the moment they met. Yes, their relationship is antagonistic, but in the way that Brogy and Dorry are set up in that one episode. If you understand that, then you get that when it comes to rivals, when it comes to their competition and their interactions with each other, Sanji wouldn't give a shit about avoiding getting his hands dirty. That is not the type of person he is. Zoro is his one exception in that sense. He has etiquette and acts like a refined gentleman, and then Zoro issues a challenge and Sanji is there, IMMEDIATELY ready and willing to throw down. He swoons over women, Zoro says anything and IMMEDIATELY Sanji's attention is all on Zoro. I have to wonder if this person even fucking watched the show before deciding to pass a bunch of unfounded judgements.

Alright, rant done.

#zosan #sanzo #one piece #one piece nami #one piece usopp #roronoa zoro #blackleg sanji #cat burglar nami #god usopp #zoro x sanji #sanji x zoro

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dreamcubed · 11 months

Text

call it what you want | draco malfoy x reader

song; call it what you want [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x fem!muggle!reader genre; fluff, angst, forbidden love, s2l word count; 4,3k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; draco's daddy issues, low-key y/n's daddy issues, references to the second wizarding war (and draco's part in it), discrimination (of muggleborns) summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

suggested by @tendous-pretty-hair !!

masterlist

"my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new."

also i have fucking eras tour tickets!!!

—————————————————

Draco had found himself at an emotional stand-still ever since the Second Wizarding War - more specifically the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. After he had regrettably joined Voldemort's side in the mass fallout, only for him to lose anyway. He wasn't sentenced to any time in Azkaban, since it was deemed that he had been coerced into the situation, as backed up by his mother, who had been pardoned due to saving Harry Potter's life in the final moments. His father, however, would never feel the light of happiness again, caged away in the breeding ground of fear.

It wasn't that Draco missed Lucius all that much, in fact, quite the opposite. The time away from him had allowed him and Narcissa to grow closer, and also given him the opportunity to properly question and break down the beliefs that had been hammered into his head since infancy.

Eventually, he decided to step foot into unknown territory: muggle London. He had only ever been to the magic side of it before, but he had come to the realisation that living such a sheltered life was the reason he wound up another of Voldemort's slaves. That lifestyle would be no more.

He found himself stood outside of a small music store, displayed to have vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes inside - whatever they were. Draco did know what music was, however, and wanted to understand the way that muggles experienced it. So, he stepped foot into the shop with the tinkling of a tiny silver bell above him alerting whoever was working behind the tall overflowing shelves.

There were more people perusing the shelves than he had anticipated, so he ducked his head down and headed to an emptier area of the shop. As he began scanning the labels on the shelves, his confusion grew as he realised that he recognised none of the names.

"You don't look like a death metal fan," a voice to his left caught him by surprise, making him jump.

He turned around to have his eyes meet the gaze of a woman wearing an amused smile. You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his skittishness.

"Forgive me, but it's not everyday we have a man dressed in a perfectly ironed suit come and check out the works of Morbid Angel."

After his brain caught up to him, he said, "You work here?"

You nodded, "Family business - me and my mum."

Draco didn't reply to your statement, turning back to the shelves.

"You seem a little lost, first time in a music shop?"

"Uh- yeah," he said, "My family never played music growing up." That was a lie - the Malfoys had held many a musical event, however, they took the form of private orchestral bands.

"You're joking," your expression was that of shock, "How have you lived such a musicless life?"

He shrugged.

"God, I was practically raised on music- I mean, obviously," you gestured around you, "It's everything to me."

"My father was a very strict man," he said simply, making you hum.

"I see. God, I just can't believe you've hardly listened to music - we have to change that," you said, "Do you have any idea what sort of sounds you like?"

"I think I like classical music," it was all he had ever really known.

You grinned, "Yeah, that definitely suits the way you're dressed more than death metal. Come on, I'll set you up with some stuff. Vinyls, CDs or tapes?"

From what he could gather, vinyls were the larger circles, and he was pretty sure that Malfoy Manor had a phonograph with the large brass tube attached for the purpose of playing them. Like the one he saw at the Yule Ball all those years ago. "Uh, vinyl? The big black disc?"

You bobbed your head, "They're becoming less popular these days - people mostly want CDs," you then paused for a moment, "Although my mum said they'll probably have a resurgence in another twenty years. Making an aesthetic of past trends and all that."

Draco listened curiously as you babbled on about different musicians, bands, and albums, finding himself enraptured by the way you carried yourself. Salazar, his father would throw a fit if he found out that he was willingly talking to a muggle.

But his father wasn't there.

"So, do any of these interest you?" you finished, smiling at the ever stoic man before you.

"Uh, yes- all of them," he wasn't sure if he liked the music genre you suggested or the way you talked so passionately.

"All of them?" you tilted your head, "That's- like- hundreds of pounds."

He began digging around in his pockets for the money he had exchanged earlier before coming, and your eyes widened at the sight of all the twenty pound notes.

"Right," you said in a state of shock, "I'll... ring these up for you."

As you totalled up the price and packaged the vinyls into a bag over at the till, the man watched you, as if he was meticulously detailing your every move. Weirdly, it didn't feel creepy.

"Okay that will be... £404.39," you said, in awe of the fact he seemed unfazed by the number.

He began counting out the notes, before handing them over to you: £420 worth of twenty pound notes in your hand. You counted the change out and handed it back to him, placing the receipt in the bag.

"Thank you for shopping here, come again..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"Draco," he said, stopping himself before saying his last name. Although he knew that you wouldn't recognise it anyway.

You couldn't help but think that he had a peculiar name; regardless, you smiled, and said, "Y/N. Please come again."

He nodded, taking the bag and leaving the shop swiftly without so much as looking back once.

***

A week passed by and Draco found himself stood outside of the record shop, unsure of why he had returned. During his last visit he had purchased months worth of music, so really he had no need to be back.

Except, he did.

His social circle had been non-existent ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, not because Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott no longer wanted to be friends with him, but because he had isolated himself in Malfoy Manor with his mother. Draco was nearing being ready to owl them again, but reconnecting with them meant inevitably having to unpack the events of the war.

With a muggle stranger like you, however, there was no unpacking to do.

"Draco, you're back," you grinned, coming out from behind the till, "I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

His abrupt question caught you off guard, "Well, I- I don't know. You're an interesting character," that and you thought he was cute.

Draco stared blankly at you, making you shift uncomfortably on your feet. Eventually, you decided to change the subject.

"Here for more music?"

"Oh, uh- yes."

"Well, what were your favourites from last week's purchases?"

After he told you which ones he had enjoyed the most, you were able to develop some kind of idea as to specific kinds of music to indulge him into. Of course, you had a question burning at the back of your mind that you simply had to ask.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"It's just- vinyls aren't cheap, especially not in as large a quantity as you get them," you elaborated, "I assume you have a well paying job."

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "Family money."

"You mean old money?" you couldn't help but clarify.

He reluctantly nodded, "Yes, old money." He used to be so boastful and prideful of the Malfoy family legacy, but in that moment, despite you having no idea who he was, he could only feel shame when he thought of it.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy," you chuckled, "Let's continue your musical adventure."

Even as you proceeded to serve him with a chipper attitude, you couldn't help but be saddened by learning that he was old money. There was no way that you stood a chance, since old money families liked to marry each other and not someone who was simply the daughter of a small record shop.

At least you learned that piece of information about him early on, you reasoned.

***

"Back? Again?" you questioned incredulously, spying Draco stood in the doorway of your shop, "Hate to turn you away, but we're about to close."

"I know."

You paused, frowning slightly as you grasped hold of the door, "Uh, okay, then... bye?" You began slowly shutting the door.

"Wait."

Again, you paused.

"I need help."

Opening the door fully again, you placed a hand on your hip as you said, "With regards to what?"

You didn't know what to think when he presented a small battered flip phone to you on his milky white palm.

"A phone?"

"I found it. On the floor."

"Musta fell outta someone's pocket," you shrugged, "Happens - why do you need help?"

"Well, don't we need to do something about it?"

All you could do was look at him curiously.

"Is that not- is that not what you do?" maybe he was overcompensating for his past by trying desperately to do one small good deed, or maybe he was trying to prove to you that he was a good person even though you had no reason to believe otherwise. Either way, he wanted to return the muggle contraption to its rightful owner.

"I mean- I guess? If you're feeling nice," you said simply, "Can't lie, I'd probably leave it for someone else to deal with."

"How do I return it?"

You sighed, "Just call the last person they called."

"Right, okay."

Much to your confusion, Draco stared at the device as if he was trying to will it into doing what he wanted.

"You do know how to call someone, yes?" you asked, your arms now folded across your chest.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head.

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside, "Come in."

Once Draco was inside your shop, you shut the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Give it," you made a grabbing motion with your fingers, and the man before you immediately handed over the device, "It's really easy-" he watched in amazement as you flipped open the phone, "-just use the arrow buttons here to go to call history- and, oh, look! Last person they called was their mum- press the green call button and bam."

You presented the now dialling phone to him.

"They have been notified now?"

"Well, her phone will be ringing- hopefully she'll pick up."

"Pick up?"

"Hello?" a voice from the phone announced, "Cadie?"

"Hello, ma'am, your daughter dropped her phone and we found it."

"Oh, I see. Thank you- I'll let her know so she can pick it up. Where's a good place?"

As you told the concerned mother the address of your record shop, you watched Draco's intrigued expression.

You hung up, placing the phone on a nearby surface and beginning to walk to the back room, "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

He stared blankly at you for a few moments, before nodding, "Please."

"How do you take it?"

"No milk, one sugar."

You chuckled to yourself at his strange way of having tea.

***

Draco watched you as you chatted mindlessly while sipping your tea, almost entirely forgetting that he had his own cup sat to his side. Your topics were classically boring - yet so interesting to him. He was enthralled to learn about the different characters in your family, and the trials and tribulations of your school years. He hadn't even realised how little he had said until you pointed it out.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" he went, snapping out of his daze.

"I feel like I've just been talking about myself this entire time. Where did you go to school?"

"Oh- uh-" he desperately pulled together all his thoughts, "A private boarding school in Scotland."

Your mouth dropped open, "Wow, that's cool."

He shrugged.

"Did you miss your family while you were away all year?"

Again, he shrugged, "My mother, yes- my father... not so much."

"I don't see my father at all," you added, to make him feel more comfortable about sharing details of his own father, "I used to... but I realised it was always me reaching out and not him so I stopped. Haven't heard from him since."

Draco nodded, "My father is in prison."

He didn't know why he told you, only realising what he had just said when you froze for a few seconds with widened eyes.

"Can I ask what for?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh... terrorism, murder... that sort of thing," he had no clue why he was being so honest. Had you put veritaserum in the tea?

You cleared your throat, wanting to delicately change the subject but lacking a way on how to do it naturally. Draco observed you, and opened his mouth to say something more when a knock sounded on the door.

"That's- uh- that's probably the phone owner," you said quickly, rushing to your feet to run out of the back room and let them in.

You opened the door to be faced with a short brunette woman.

"Cadie?" you questioned.

She nodded, "You have my phone?"

"Yes, come in."

"Thank you so much- I really can't afford a new one right now," she sighed, "I'm always losing things."

You chuckled, "I know how you feel- I'm always breaking things."

Draco appeared in the doorway to the back and picked up the phone from the counter.

Cadie sighed happily, accepting the phone and thanking the both of you profusely.

"Seriously, you have no idea how appreciative I am."

"It's no trouble, Cadie, really," you assured her.

She paused for a moment, looking around. "Is this your shop?"

You bobbed your head, "Yes, it's family-owned."

"Oh, that's so cool," she looked towards Draco, "So this is your husband?"

You were so taken aback you couldn't even form a response. Before either of you could reply, the phone began ringing.

"It's my boss! I have to take this," she said, "Thank you so much again. You two are a cute couple." And with that final comment, she departed, leaving you and Draco in an awkward silence.

"I-" you began, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Go on a date with me," Draco hurriedly said, realising he had said it like an order rather than an innocent question. He was still in some ways his old bossy teenage self, socialised in a slightly abnormal way.

You took it in good humour, however, and smiled, "I would love to."

***

The following six months were filled with the fanciest and most luxurious dates that you could ever have possibly imagined: five star restaurants, weekends in Paris, and expensive gifts. It was heaven in all ways but one - Draco always had an excuse for you not meeting his family and friends.

For a while, you had ignored the itching feeling that he was ashamed of you and so kept you a secret, but your suspicions grew until you couldn't keep it in anymore. You had to confront him about it.

"...and I was thinking, we should go out for dinner with your mother," you said, flicking through a magazine as Draco sat on the sofa in your small but homely flat.

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever's good for her."

You heard Draco's breath hitch.

"What? Can't come up with an excuse to get out of this one?" your tone held evident bite.

Draco turned around to face you, but his expression was unreadable.

"Are you ashamed of me, Draco?"

His eyes widened.

"I know I'm not rich, let alone old money, but I'd like to think that I'm a likeable person."

He shook his head, "It's not that-"

"Then what is it, Draco?" you snapped, feeling tears fill up your eyes, "You won't even introduce me to your friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

He stood up and began shifting on his feet and fidgeting with his hands, "It's more complicated than that."

"What? You're engaged to someone else?"

Again, he shook his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" you waved your hands about, "Because I can't date someone who treats me like a secret."

"You wouldn't believe me!" he yelled, clearly unintentionally.

You were shocked: you had never heard him yell before. "Try me," you said, your voice low.

He sighed, moving around helplessly for a few moments before striding over to his bag by your front door. He reached his hand in - what appeared to be deeper than the bag's actual depth, but you dismissed it due to your blurred vision - and pulled out a blank piece of paper, tinged brown.

He came over to you and placed it on the kitchen island you were stood behind, and pointed at the bottom of the page. "Sign here."

"It's blank," you thought he was insane.

"Just trust me. Please."

You gave him a skeptical look, but wiped your eyes and picked up a pen nonetheless, writing your signature in the area he pointed to. To your amazement, the second you finished the last letter of your name, writing appeared on the paper. As you scanned it, you were increasingly confused.

- By signing this non-disclosure agreement, you agree that as a muggle you shall not disclose the existence of wizardry and witchcraft to anyone not already in knowledge of it. You understand that by doing so, you would be breaking the law and could face potential criminalisation. The wizard or witch of whom has vouched for your approval to know of magic shall also face potential criminalisation in such a situation.

It will no longer be a criminal offence for wizards and witches to perform magic with you as a witness unless there are unapproved muggles also present.

You will be granted access to wizard-only areas including but not limited to Diagon Alley and Platfrom Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross provided that you are accompanied by a wizard or witch. Please be aware that these permissions may vary in other countries depending on their laws surrounding muggle knowledge of magic and also their acceptance of the British Muggle Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Please sign your name below. -

"What is this?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

"An NDA."

"Yes, I- I gathered that- but- what does it mean?"

"It means... that I'm a wizard."

Part of you wanted to burst out laughing at Draco's insane words, but the way he said it held so much depth that you couldn't help but take it seriously.

"Prove it."

You didn't know what you had expected, but you certainly didn't anticipate your boyfriend pulling out a wand and muttering what sounded like Latin under his breath.

The pen on the table before you morphed into a feather.

There were really no words to describe how you felt in that moment. You asked him to do it again - he turned the feather into a sharpener. You asked him to do it one more time - he turned the sharpener into a fork.

"Oh my God," you said at the volume of a whisper, stepping back and falling against the counter behind you, "What the actual fuck."

"I know this may come as a shock to you..."

"Really?" you said, "No, actually. Not freaking out at all. Not even a little."

He pursed his lips, "My family is what is known as pure-bloods. We haven't mixed with muggles when it comes to reproduction at any point in our bloodline - allegedly."

You stared at him.

"Sometimes, a witch or wizard can be born of muggle parents - we call them muggle-borns. Half-bloods make up the most of wizarding society - their ancestors are a mix of muggle, muggle-born, pure-blood and half-blood."

At your lack of speech, he continued.

"There is a culture of supremacy among pure-blood families - choosing to reproduce only with other pure-bloods to ensure the pure-blooded line continues as they believe themselves to be the only true witches and wizards."

"You're pure-blood," you mumbled.

Draco nodded, "I used to think like that. Used to bully muggle-borns in school - the school I went to being specifically for witches and wizards."

"You don't think like that anymore?"

"No," he quickly said, "I've had a lot of time to question everything I was taught to believe - but, I- there's something really bad I have to tell you. It may change your opinion of me forever and it's the reason why I have kept you away from my family and friends."

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"Years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world..." he began.

***

You had never seen Draco in tears before, but when he reached the details of the final showdown between Harry Potter (a heroic celebrity in the wizarding world) and Lord Voldemort (a wizard terrorist), he broke down in sobs as he recalled him walking over to the latter's side. Tears were falling down your cheeks soon too, and you quickly brought Draco into your arms and felt him collapse into you.

"I regret it every single day," he said through sobs, "Why didn't I have more of a backbone?"

"You were just a boy, Draco," you soothed him, "You didn't want your family to be killed."

He cried harder.

"My opinion of you is not changed - by the sounds of it you never actually killed anyone yourself," you thought back to the Professor Dumbledore section of the story, "In fact, it sounds like you couldn't bring yourself to."

"I can never make up for my past, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "You dating a muggle is pretty solid evidence you're trying to."

"I'm not dating you because you're muggle," he pulled back from you and looked you in the eyes.

You chuckled slightly, wiping the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs, "That's not what I was saying. Young you would have never even considered entering the muggle world, and yet here adult you is."

He gave you a small smile, "I love you."

You beamed, but teardrops were still cascading down your cheeks, "I love you too."

"Let's have dinner with my mother on Sunday."

***

"Mr Malfoy, you may see your father now," the Azkaban worker said, who Draco couldn't help but think reminded him strongly of Filch. An old miserable man with long scraggly hair, an unmissable limp, and filthy dark-coloured robes. Then again, at least this worker had a reason to be miserable all the time: working in the breeding ground of fear and desolation. Filch was by all means in a much more cheerful environment.

Draco nodded at him, and followed his lead down shadowed narrow corridors, caked in dirt and dust. They turned a few corners and went up a few sets of dangerously steep stairs before reaching a cell block with moans and whines coming from every cell - except one.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't known what to expect when he came to see his father: he hadn't visited once since his arrest. But Lucius looked quite different than the proud man he once was, with his once well-kept long blond hair being knotty and entwined with filth, and his once healthy (albeit pale) complexion being overly skinny with sallow sunken features. He looked up at his son, still being able to produce a slight scowl.

"So, you finally decided to visit," he drawled, but his voice was too broken to hold the same threat it used to.

"Yes, father, I have some things I need to say to you," despite Lucius' weakened state, Draco still held some lifelong fear of the man, but he had to remain strong in front of him.

"And what would that be?"

"I have a girlfriend, and I plan to propose to her."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Your mother has not mentioned this," Narcissa frequently visited her husband.

"She didn't find out until last week."

After some seconds of silence, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Draco at the cell gate. "What is her name?"

"Y/N L/N."

"L/N does not ring a bell. Which bloodline is she from?"

Draco felt intimidated by his father's close proximity, but still managed a smirk, "She isn't of pure blood, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened, "You don't mean to say she's- half blood? Or worse- a- a mudblood?"

"Worse," his smirk grew, "She's muggle."

The ghostly shock that flooded over Lucius' face made Draco feel a triumph over his father he had never felt before, and gave him the confidence to feel as though he had the upper hand in their interaction. He stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice.

"And I'm going to marry her, and have children with her, and you will have to spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell knowing that the Malfoy pure blood line has been permanently tainted."

"You can't do this," Lucius said through gritted teeth, "After everything we fought for."

Draco hummed, "See, I thought it was time for me to finally fight for something good."

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masterlist

written; 02/06/2023 —> 17/07/2023 published; 17/07/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

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