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callsign-rogueone · 17 days

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alone with you - l.m.

Liam Mairi x reader part two of Liam and Spark's story. words: 3.0k 🏷: Fourth Wing spoilers (spark knows things that Violet doesn't lmao), sparring and a tiny bit of blood, reader gets injured but not to worry, someone takes care of you. no pronouns used for reader but Liam does call you a girl. Tuile being a bitch (wbk) and perhaps some answers about what happened in spark's first year at basgiath... I'm still not good at writing fight scenes, sorry lol

Another year, another round of challenges. Another opportunity to show the entire quadrant that you’re not here to fuck around, nor to make friends.

You loosen your muscles as Emeterrio discusses the rules of engagement, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms, taking mental inventory of all the weapons on your body -- even though it’s frowned upon to use them in these fights, you keep the array of knives at the ready.

“I see the general’s girl has survived the week,” Tuile muses. “I’m almost impressed.”

You cast a glance across the room, seeing her standing next to the cadet who was in front of her in line for Parapet, the one she’d traded boots with.

“It’s only a matter of time,” you mutter back.

Even though Xaden had convinced the two dozen of you to leave her alone, it’s likely that somebody else is going to see how fragile she is and walk right up and snap her in two, to thin the herd -- not that she has a real chance of making it to threshing anyway, not without some divine intervention.

But she’s a perfect little Navarrian citizen, so she must pray to their gods every night before bed. Maybe they’ll help her, because you sure as hell won’t; you have a reputation to maintain, and there’s no rational explanation you could give her for why you would want to help her at all, not without jeopardizing the entire revolution -- she might not take after her traitorous older brother, who as far as she and everyone else in this death trap of a college is aware, is dead.

She seems to notice you watching her, locking eyes with you for a split second and quickly averting her gaze. She’s afraid of you and all of your friends, unaware that your respect for Brennan is what’s keeping her alive right now.

Fear is a requirement for survival here. Maybe she’ll make it longer than you’d thought.

It’s not a surprise to you at all that your name is called first, nor that you’re matched with the largest cadet in the class. It became clear to you last year that the professors aren’t making these assignments randomly. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they keep pairing you with the best fighters -- but never with another marked one, even though you’re all at the top of the class.

No, they’re probably entertained by all of this, betting on you like racehorses or wild dogs, placing wagers on who would come out on top. If anyone’s putting money on you, you’ve made them a killing -- you’re undefeated.

But that would require someone else to bet against you, and while you may not respect all of the professors and leadership, or any of them, really, you don’t think they’re dumb enough to throw their money away like that.

“We meet again,” he says with a sick grin that makes the scar below his eye stretch and contort.

You don’t respond, taking one last survey of the seven blades on your body, but you’re not dumb enough to touch them, lest he see where they are and try to take them himself, like he did earlier this year.

He’d wrapped his fingers around the wooden hilt of the blade that Liam had given you before you left for Basgiath, intent on putting it through your heart, and you’d seen red.

“You should have taken his eye out.”

“I gave him that scar as a warning,” you reply evenly. “It’s up to him if he’s going to heed it or not.”

You’re at it as soon as Emeterrio says go, taking turns lunging at each other and blocking attacks.

You’re evenly matched, despite the size he has on you. He may be stronger, more intimidating, but you’re faster, and you know what you’re doing. You know where to hit and when, your strikes much more precise than his.

Still, Liam’s heart races.

It was one thing watching you mess around with Bodhi in the courtyard, but it’s another thing entirely seeing you fight as if your life depends on it -- and it does. There’s a very real possibility that one of you is going to be spending the evening in the infirmary, or the morgue, after this ends.

You fight like Xaden, like himself and Bodhi and Imogen and everyone else his brother had a hand in training, but with an edge he’s never seen from you before.

He hesitates to put a name to it, but there’s something in your eyes akin to a wild animal’s as the pair of you stalk circles around each other, planning your next attack.

“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Tuile chides.

Fine. You’ll finish this, if only so she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

The other cadet has the same idea.

You charge at the same time as he hurls a dagger in your direction, and you hit the ground at the last second to avoid being skewered. You start to press up to your feet, but he stomps a boot into your back, pain ripping down your spine. You swallow a scream, digging your nails into the sticky foam beneath you.

The mental wall separating you from Tuile crumbles, that familiar white-hot anger flowing through you. “Do something.”

You unsheath a dagger, reaching up and swiping it across his calf, and he hisses in pain, releasing you and taking a stumbling step back.

It’s easy enough for you to knock him off balance, landing three consecutive blows to his ribs and a swift kick to his stomach that sends him to the floor.

You’re tired of this already. It’s lost its novelty, and you really need to sit down -- there’s black spots clouding your vision, and the pain in your back has gotten impossibly worse.

“Do I have to kill you in front of the kids, or do you yield?”

“I yield,” he rasps, still clutching his leg.

You lean down, wiping each side of the blade on his shirt before you sheath it.

“Sloppy, but satisfactory,” Tuile comments — that’s high praise from her. Maybe she’ll give you the evening off from her snide remarks.

You slot yourself between Liam and Bodhi, leaning against the wall as casually as you can; every movement has pain spreading across your lower back and shooting down your spine.

You try to focus on rebuilding the wall she’d knocked down, brick by brick, taking deep breaths and forcing the anger out of your body.

Liam reaches for you, looking worried.

You speak under your breath, not moving your lips. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”

He pulls back without protest, understanding why you don’t want him helping you where the rest of the quadrant can see you, don’t want them to see the look of concern on his face and his hand on your arm and identify him as your weakness.

You may very well be the most hated person in the quadrant, being marked, bonded to one of Navarre’s nastiest dragons, and unafraid to draw blood in challenges. There are several cadets in this room who wouldn’t hesitate to go after Liam if they thought it would hurt you -- and it would.

You don’t care what they do to you, what pain they inflict or what scars they leave on your body, but if anyone so much as touches Liam, they’ll lose the use of their hands.

You breathe through the pain and keep your eyes on the fights unfolding in front of you; making note of who favors what side of their body, who gets sloppy after more than a minute, who yields because they don’t have the stomach to take things further.

Most of the cadets think this is the one class you don’t have to study for, but they’d be wrong -- there’s a reason you always come out on top, and this is it.

The class ends without Liam’s name being called, which is a relief, even though you don’t doubt his skill on the mat — it’s off the mat that you’re worried about.

Almost everyone heads straight to dinner, but Liam hangs back, getting your attention with a barely-there touch to your elbow. You look over at him, and he nods in the other direction, toward the dorms.

Of course he’s going to insist on checking your injuries himself, as he always did in the years you trained with him and Xaden. He doesn’t seem to think anything has changed between you in the year you’ve been away.

Sooner or later, he’ll realize he’s wrong.

You wait for nearly everyone to be out of the gym before you leave, leading him up to the second floor in silence and unlocking your door with a wave of your hand, gesturing him inside -- thankfully there’s nobody in the hallway to see you.

You haven’t been alone with him in a full year. A year and two weeks, if you want to be precise. The day you’d said goodbye, and nothing else.

You busy yourself with digging through your desk drawer to find the nearly-empty tin of healing balm, handing it to him before you turn away, gritting your teeth as you pull the shirt up over your head.

If you weren’t pouring every ounce of energy you have left into keeping yourself upright, you might have it in you to be embarrassed about the amount of skin you’re exposing to him, the history of your first year at Basgiath on full display. But it’s Liam. Liam isn’t going to judge you, isn’t going to pry; he’ll just keep giving you that soft, concerned look -- which is somehow almost worse.

There’s a moment of quiet as he takes it in; the dark blue, nearly-black silhouette of Tuile that spans your shoulder blades and continues down your back, disappearing into the layers of thick linen wrapped over your chest, the full extent of your rebellion relic, winding down your arm to your wrist…

Then he sees it, the nasty bruise starting to form on your back, below the hem of your bindings. The other cadet had hit you square in the spine, a blow that could very well have been paralyzing had it been delivered at a slightly different angle with slightly more force. That’s probably what he’d intended.

Liam isn’t particularly religious -- none of you are, which was a major reason why your parents had wanted to secede from Navarre -- but he still sends up a silent thank you to the powers that be that you’re okay, standing in front of him mostly unharmed.

You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut and gripping the shirt tightly as Liam’s hand rubs over your back, working in the healing balm.

There’s something about the feeling of his skin on yours that is more uncomfortable than the aching bruise or any of the other injuries you’d sustained in that fight.

You can handle the brush of your hands, a touch through layers of clothing and armor, eye contact and whispered words and smiles — all things that are acceptable behavior between friends — but the tenderness of this whole thing is overwhelming; being alone with Liam in your room, his bookbag on the floor, standing behind you rubbing a hand over your back, the other on your waist to hold you steady because you’re fucking trembling.

Maybe you are a little embarrassed after all.

The skin feels warm and tingly, a sign that whatever healing herbs within the sticky paste are working, soothing the aching muscle. Your entire body feels warm. It’s unbearably hot in this room, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind, still dressed in his flight jacket and full uniform.

He moves his attention from your back to your side, murmuring a soft apology when you startle at the feeling of his hand smoothing over your ribs.

You take a breath, letting him work more of the balm into the spot where the other cadet’s fist had landed.

He finally pulls back, letting his hand linger on your waist until he’s convinced you won’t fall over. “Anything else hurting?” he asks gently.

“My head,” you admit to the wall. “But that never goes away.”

You pull the shirt back on as quickly as you can, done feeling exposed, and fight to maintain an unaffected expression as you turn back to face him.

He looks at you for a few seconds before it dawns on him -- the persistent headache, the flatness of your skin and your constantly racing heart, the way you’re bracing yourself with a hand on the desk, how tired you look and feel… “Spark, when was the last time you had water? Or anything to drink at all?”

Liam has always been too observant for his own good.

You take a moment to think about it, another definite indicator that something is wrong. “Yesterday,” you answer quietly. “At dinner.”

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It’s been a full twenty-four hours -- you’re supposed to be at dinner right now. It’s a miracle that you hadn’t passed out on the mat this afternoon.

He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t tell you how bad that is; he just squeezes your hand gently, taking the water bottle out of his bag and uncapping it. He can see you hesitating, knows something is wrong -- it takes a lot to rattle you, but you’re looking at the thing like it’s going to bite you.

“Three sips?” he asks softly.

That seems doable.

You take the bottle from him, holding it for a moment, feeling the weight of the metal and the energy flowing through the water inside it. It’s clean, calm, not murky and angry like the river water that Carr had made you practice with last year, but that doesn’t matter; in your hands, it’s the most dangerous substance on the planet.

And as fate would have it, it’s necessary for your survival.

You’re just grateful Tuile is off doing gods-know-what and not making her usual smug commentary -- she’d left after you’d won that challenge match, but she’ll be back soon enough.

You raise it to your lips and drink, wanting to get it over with. The water is cool and crisp, breathing life back into your mouth and soothing your throat as you swallow, your body singing in relief as you give it what it’s been deprived of for months now.

You take a moment to breathe, comforted by the air that continues to flow into your lungs and back out. Liam is standing in front of you. You’re okay. Two more. You can do this.

You bring it back up for another sip. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, how much better it would make you feel. You take the next one in quick succession — that’s three. You’re done.

You hate to admit it, but you feel better already.

Liam is still watching you with that soft, worried expression, though it’s less severe now than it had been earlier. You can see the gears turning, knowing he’s wondering why this was such a big deal for you; but there’s no judgment there, just genuine concern for your well-being.

You decide to tell him the truth, or part of it.

“I almost drowned when I channeled for the first time,” you say quietly, gazing back down at the half-empty bottle. “It was fucking terrifying. I couldn’t shower alone for a week. I needed one of the girls to come into the bathroom with me and face the wall, just talking to me the whole time. Then we realized Bo can counter signets. He’s been helping me control it, but…”

So that’s what Xaden had meant when he said that Bodhi was helping you deal with things. He wonders if there’s anything else his brother hadn’t told him, anything you aren’t telling him, but he won’t demand an answer from you -- he knows how difficult it must have been for you to tell him what you did, and he won’t push you further.

He takes the bottle back and caps it, gathering you into his arms silently, the way he’d wanted to back in the gym. He’s careful not to put any pressure on the injury, keeping his hands well above the bruise -- one between your shoulder blades and one on your ribs, on the side that you hadn’t been hit.

You rest your head on his shoulder, speaking in a whisper. “Thank you, Li.”

His lips brush over your hairline, where the ache is the worst. “Of course, sweet girl.”

You don’t want to let go of him yet, but you’ve already been holding each other longer than is appropriate for friends -- and that’s all you are, for the time being.

He finally pulls away, and you could nearly cry at the loss of contact.

“I need a minute,” you manage. “You should head down.”

You’re reminded again of why you love him so much as he nods in understanding, shouldering his bag and giving you a soft smile before he heads out your door.

All good things must come to an end.

“Sweet? He must not know you at all.”

“He knows me better than you ever will,” you snap back.

At least she waited for him to leave, for you to be done with the water, or you would have some serious explaining to do.

You build up the wall again before she replies, and though it isn’t strong enough to block her out completely, she doesn’t push against it or knock it down -- she must not feel like getting into a pissing match with you right now.

Good. You don’t either.

You notice he left the bottle on your desk. You manage another three sips before you finally head down to dinner, where you slide into the open seat beside Liam, silently pushing the empty bottle toward him.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention from the group around you, who are all immersed in hearty conversation.

You haven’t heard those words from anyone in a long time. They mean more to you than he could ever imagine.

#liam and spark #liam mairi x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #liam mairi #mine

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fruitbasketball · 4 days

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Why have your best player play off ball i don’t get it

i’m hella confused at this too but i have a couple thoughts

1. wbk that chen was probably going to end up a husky, and considering her position at princeton, this was going to be the lineup. i’m frustrated at this because to me, chen is a scoring pg before she’s a facilitator (just looking at her atr), which is fine! but when our best scorer is off ball… it raises some concerns

2. geno’s plan IS to have paige be a more aggressive scorer. if i have one critique of her game, it’s that she deadass just isn’t assertive enough sometimes on that end of the court. when she isn’t worried about facilitating, she has more room to do that.

3. obviously, the tendency is that the player with the best court vision and the highest basketball iq is at the 1. it’s how they’ve always done it, it makes sense. but the fact that paige is so cerebral with her play is not just limited to her spot at the 1, yfm? like her court vision has shown tremendously in her defensive game this year, and her ability to facilitate/communicate even from her spot at the 4 is astounding. even if she is not RUNNING the floor, trust that paige will impact everything that is going on, regardless of whether or not the ball is in her hands

4. i do not think geno planned to play paige as a point guard ever again in her college career. i think he feels that it limits her game, and i think he’s right about that.

5. it’s really, REALLY not about what paige CAN do, it’s about what other people can’t. i know i’ve said this a million fucking times, but you put paige at any position in the floor and you will NEVER be at a disadvantage. put her at the 5 - she’s boxing out kamilla fucking cardoso. i’m so deadass rn. was nika a better pg than paige? fuck no. was paige a better pf than every other option on the team? yes. obviously with sarah available and even aubrey/yanna? back healthy, she’ll be contributing more from the 3. but look at the options available. is chen a better pg than paige? no fucking shot. but can paige play the 3 better than her? ashlynn? azzi? carol? q? kk? it’s not even a fucking competition.

#wbb #wcbb #uconn wbb #uconn #uconn huskies #paige bueckers #kaitlyn chen #geno auriemma #ask #ncaaw #transfer portal

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ichorai · 1 year

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blueberries ; four.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with break ups, sex dreams, and hospital waiting rooms. wc ; 10.8k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, goodbye to connor :( , ross is a loser but wbk, hospitals, carol gives birth in this one !!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

“And that’s why mustard is the best condiment to go on hot dogs,” concluded Chandler, swinging Monica’s fridge open to grab a carton of orange juice.

You tilted your head, about to reply with a counter-argument, when the bathroom door creaked and Rachel stepped out.

Only, she was naked from the torso and up.

Immediately, you threw your hands over your face, blurting out a string of apologies as both she and Chandler screamed in surprise. She grabbed a loosely knit throw blanket on the back of the sofa to cover her chest.

“What are you guys doing here—you don’t knock, you don’t call, or—! Ugh, this is ridiculous, do I have no privacy at all?”

“I’m sorry!” exclaimed Chandler. “But, uh, that blanket is, uhm… rather holey. I can still see your, uh, your nippular area—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Rachel groaned in frustration before crossing her arms and rushing off to her room.

“Can I look now?” you asked, peeping through the thin gaps between your fingers.

Chandler pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long swig of orange juice straight from the carton. “It’s just me in the room—fully clothed, by the way.”

“Do you guys want anything else to eat?” queried Rachel, pen and paper in one hand, and the other propped up on her hip.

Chandler raised a hand. “Yeah, can I have—”

“Nope, sorry, we’re all out of those,” snapped the brunette. “Anybody else?”

Phoebe’s new boyfriend, a rather eccentric shrink named Roger, tilted his head. “Did I miss something here?”

“She’s just upset because we saw her boobies,” said Chandler.

Rearing back, Ross began tripping over his words, appearing troubled by the newfound information. “Wh-what? What were you doing seeing her boobies? And what do you mean we?”

Shrugging, Chandler began explaining, “Well, it was an accident! It’s not like I was across the street with a pair of binoculars and a box of donuts! Besides, Y/N was there, too.”

You tutted, lifting a finger, leaning against Connor on the couch. “I didn’t see anything. I covered my eyes—like any decent person would’ve done.”

“Thank you,” said Rachel, smiling at you genuinely, before rounding her glare back to Chandler. “Can we change the subject, please?”

Nodding emphatically, Phoebe gestured vaguely to Rachel’s torso. “Yeah, because, hello, these are not her boobies, these are her breasts.”

Connor’s chest rumbled with laughter and you had to hide your own amused smile behind a cup of coffee.

“Okay, Pheebs, I was hoping for more of a change, here.”

“I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed!” Chandler piped up. “They were very nice boobies.”

Lips parting, Rachel sat down beside you, fists clenched. “Nice? They were just nice? That’s it? A pair of mittens can be nice!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rach, I think you’re very beautiful,” you said, patting her knee consolingly.

Grumpily, Chandler uttered, “Okay, rock,” he gestured with one hand, “hard place,” he gestured with the other. “Me.” He stuck his head between his palms with an exaggerated scowl.

“Heh, you’re funny,” said Phoebe’s boyfriend. “I wouldn’t want to be there when the laughter stops.”

It took you a moment to fully register his words.

“Woah, back up there, Sparky, What do you mean by that?” Chandler said.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the shrink began to explain, “Well, it just seems as though you maybe have intimacy issues, you know—you use your humor as a way to keep people at a distance.” At Chandler’s mildly offended expression, he raised his hands defensively. “I mean, hey. I just met you! I don’t know you from Adam, you know what I mean?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re an only child, right? Parents divorced before you hit puberty?”

Genuinely spooked, Chandler gritted out, “Uh huh. How did you know?”

Roger bit into his egg salad sandwich. “It’s textbook,” came his stout reply.

It was then that Joey came into Central Perk, his father in tow. He waved at the entire group. “You guys know my dad, right?”

“Hey, Mr. Tribbiani, long time no see,” you greeted with a warm smile, getting up from your warm spot beside Connor to give him a hug. There was a time a couple months ago where you had given him a ride back home because Joey had an important audition he couldn’t miss and you offered to take him, and the two of you hit it off fairly well during the car ride. “How long are you in the city for?”

“Bah, just a couple days. I got a job in midtown! I figured I’m better off staying with the kid than hauling my ass back and forth on a ferry. That’s a new face, eh?” He pointed at Connor, who also stood up to give him a firm handshake. “And who might you be, pipsqueak?”

“Connor Berne—I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, sir.”

Joseph Tribbiani’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Nice to meet you, pal. Break their heart and I’ll break your spine, you hear?” The older man burst out into laughter when all the color drained from Connor’s face, cuffing him on the shoulder. “I kid, I kid. No, I’m not. Oh, another new face! Who’s this, now?”

“That’s my friend, Roger,” Phoebe chimed.

“Ah, what happened to the puppet guy?”

Phoebe made a discontented, garbled noise at the question.

“Dad,” warned Joey, shaking his head.

The sofa sank beneath your weight as you sat back down, this time making space for Joey and his father on the other side, which meant that you were tightly sandwiched between the actor and your boyfriend.

“Oh, my apologies,” said Mr. Tribbiani. “So, Ross, how’s the wife?”

Your friend muttered incoherently under his breath and rested his head on Chandler’s shoulder.

Wincing, Joey’s father nervously laughed. “Zero for two, eh? Uh, Chandler, quick, say something funny!”

Stone-faced, Chandler firmly shook his head—he didn’t want to give Roger more ammunition to fire at him.

Joey tossed the pillows onto the couch, grinning when he saw his dad on the phone.

“I love you, but it’s gettin’ real late now—”

“Let me say hi!” he exclaimed, grabbing the phone from his dad. “Hey, ma! Listen, I made the appointment with Dr. Bozita, and I—wait. Excuse me?” Shocked, Joey pulled the phone away from his ear. “Dad, did you know this wasn’t ma?”

Joseph winced, sitting up straighter on the couch, before nodding.

Disgusted, Joey immediately hung up the phone, huffing out a long sigh. There wasn’t much that he could think to say—should he be angry? Should he yell? Should he call his ma and tell her what was going on?

Numb, Joey made his way to the kitchen and resumed chopping up mushrooms for the nice dinner he had planned—you know, before he found out that his dad was a cheating scumbag.

“Her name’s Ronni,” said his dad. “She’s a pet mortician.”

Joey frowned. “How long have you been…” He trailed off, shivering at the thought.

“Remember when you were a little kid, I used to take you down to the navy yard and show you the big ships?”

Blanching, Joey barked, “Since then?!”

“No! It’s only been six years. I just wanted to put a nice memory in your head so you’d know I wasn’t always such a terrible guy,” assured the older man. He walked up to Joey and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Have you ever been in love before, son?”

The memory of Ross telling him that he knew Joey was in love with Y/N flashed into mind. He swallowed uneasily, practically turning the mushrooms into a paste with how much he was dicing them.

“I don’t know,” replied Joey, uncharacteristically somber.

“Then you haven’t,” his dad said. “Joe, your dad’s in love big time—and the worst part of it is that it’s two different women.”

The chopped mushrooms crackled as he tossed them into the hot pan on the stove. Joey hung his head, eyeing his father. “Oh, man, please tell me one of them is ma!”

“Of course one of them’s ma, what’s the matter with you?” his dad barked.

Joey sighed, plating a hefty amount of the dish for himself. He didn’t really have the heart to eat anymore, but he was going to, anyway—he’d worked hard to make that food, and his grumbling stomach could definitely attest to that.

“Food’s on the stove,” he sullenly said to his dad, trudging to his room with his plate in hand. “G’night.”

“It’s like if you woke up one day and found out your dad was leading this double life! He’s, like, actually some spy working for the CIA!” complained Joey, seated beside you on Monica’s couch before smiling at the thought of it. “Hey, that’d actually be kinda cool. Ugh, but this blows!”

You snaked your arm around him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Joey, that must’ve been really hard to hear.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel,” added Connor, across from the two of you. “My dad left my mom for another woman when I was a child. I haven’t seen him in nearly a decade.”

Rachel gasped. “That’s terrible! You know, why can’t parents just be parents? Why do they have to become people? Why—Chandler, stop staring at my breasts!”

You snapped your gaze to said man, who unsurprisingly had his eyes trained to Rachel’s chest.

“What?” he asked, as if snapping out of a daze, clearly not paying attention to whatever was said for the past minute.

“Did you not get a good enough look last time?” hissed Rachel, crossing her arms with a scowl.

“Alright, alright,” Ross placatingly said before an argument could break out. “Since Chandler saw her boobies, I think it’s only fair if you show her your pee-pee.”

Cackling, you clapped your hands together. “That’s a great idea, Ross.”

“No, yeah, I don’t see that happening,” he protested.

Rachel seemed to enjoy the thought of that, as well, nodding. “Come on, he’s right, it’s only fair! Tit for tat, you know?”

“Well, I’m not showing you my tat—that has to be earned,” said Chandler, sticking his nose up in the air and harrumphing.

Before anybody could say anything else, the buzzer rang, and Monica got up to answer it.

“It’s Phoebe!” it said. “And Rog!”

Chandler scowled. “Oh, great. It’s Rog.”

“What’s the matter with Rog?” Joey questioned.

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a tiny, little thing—I hate him.” Chandler grinned sarcastically.

Shrugging, Ross added, “What, so, he was a little analytical! That’s what he does for a living, you know. It’s not that bad.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” yelled Ross, pointing a finger at Phoebe’s boyfriend. “Why would I marry her if I thought on any level that she was a lesbian?”

You tried to smother your laugh into a cough, but failed miserably, earning yourself a glare from him. Not wanting to make it worse for yourself, you left the table, heading over to the couch to watch him hash it out with the shrink. Soon, Monica joined in on the arguing as well, under the impression that Ross thought she was a failure.

Not even half an hour later, Roger was talking to Rachel, and had somehow had her dissolving into tears and blubbering recounts of her childhood trauma of falling off of a cruise ship when she was a child.

When you attempted to comfort her, Roger turned his attention to you, much to your dismay.

“Why are you always doing that?” he asked bluntly.

You furrowed your brows. “Doing what?”

“You’re always rushing to make people feel better or fix the problem, even though they might just be overreacting or when there’s no problem to fix at all.”

Almost immediately, Rachel halted her sniffling. “I’m not overreacting!”

You cocked your head, frowning. “It’s called being a good friend,” you retorted.

“Really?” countered Roger. “Because I’m not always seeing it reciprocated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying your friends don’t like you—I’m saying you’re not letting them reciprocate it. It just looks like you have issues with opening up and telling the people closest to you bad things that’s happened to you, so you overcompensate by trying to fix their problems for them. But, heh, what do I know?”

“I—”

“Oh, and you omit important details about your life from some of your friends because you don’t want to taint the perfect image they have of you, right? You don’t want to be a burden to them? I mean, it only makes sense that you have a perfect partner who lets you walk all over him—”

“Hey!” Joey interrupted, bristling. “Don’t you talk to Y/N like that. What’s the matter with you?”

As if he hadn’t just spewed out the most hurtful psychoanalysis you’ve ever heard, Roger stood up, nonchalantly checking his watch. “Oh, Phoebe, sweetie, we’re gonna be late for our movie!”

“Oh, we should get going, then!” the blonde chimed from the kitchen. “Bye, guys!”

Right before Roger slipped out the door, he pointed a finger at Monica. “Remember to go easy on those cookies, alright? They’re just food, not love.”

The door shut just as she chucked a handful of biscuits in his direction. The rest of the group groaned in relief at his departure.

“Are you okay?” asked Connor. “That was… harsh.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “Harsh, but true. Sometimes I don’t tell you guys things because I’m ashamed of it.”

“It’s okay to have secrets, honey,” Rachel reassured sweetly, eyes still red and puffy from her sob session a few minutes ago. “We don’t have to know every single detail of your life, even though we’d be happy to hear it.”

You blew out a shaky breath. What Roger had said really didn’t sit well with you. “Thanks, Rach. And you, for sticking up to him, Joey.”

The Italian saluted, before shooting you a genuine smile. “It was uncalled for! He’s a real jerk.”

“I hate that guy!” exclaimed Monica.

Chandler snorted from the corner of the room. “Welcome to the club.”

“Stop kicking,” Chandler admonished his roommate.

The two of them were lying down on the pull-out sofa bed they had, because Joey’s dad’s girlfriend, Ronni, had shown up and taken Chandler’s room for the night. Joey had forced his father to sleep in his own room—that way he could be sure there’d be no shenanigans going on while he was asleep.

Only, he wasn’t sleeping.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tryna get comfortable,” huffed Joey. The blanket was too short and his feet were poking out the other end. The sofa bed was lumpy and something was digging into his back at an awkward angle. “I can’t sleep with my underwear on!”

“Well, you’re gonna,” snapped Chandler warningly.

With a resigned sigh, Joey gave up trying to find a good position and sat up. “I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a first,” his friend snorted.

Joey glared at him, before continuing, “I don’t know, this whole ordeal with my dad’s got me thinking about how I’m always going out with all these different people. I always figured that when the right one comes along, I’d be able to be a stand-up guy and go the distance, you know? Now I’m looking at my dad and I’m wondering if that’ll be me.”

Landing a soft punch on his shoulder, Chandler sat up as well. “Hey, you’re not him, Joey. You’re you. When they were all over you to go into your father’s pipe-fitting business, did you cave? No! You decided to go into the out-of-work actor business. And that wasn’t easy, but you did it! See, I’d like to think that when you’re married to the right person, you’d have the courage and the guts to say, ‘no thanks, I’m married!’ to whoever makes a pass at you.”

“You really think so?” Joey mumbled. “Hey, you wanna hear something funny that happened a while back?”

“Shoot,” said Chandler, intrigued.

Chuckling slightly, the actor said, “Ross thinks I’m in love with Y/N.”

“That’s…” Chandler was about to laugh as well, before his brows furrowed, and he jerked upwards, eyes widening. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

Quick to backtrack, Joey began shaking his head vehemently. “No, no, not you, too! I’m not in love with Y/N! It makes no sense at all, that’s why I said it was funny! You know Ross, always talking about made up things, like aliens and the jurassic era—I mean what the hell is that?”

“No, it makes complete and total sense! That’s why you’ve been so weird around Connor! Why the two of you used to sleep over in each other’s beds all the time despite having your own places! It’s all so obvious!”

Joey began shushing him, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I’m not in love with Y/N. Besides, even if I was, they’re with Connor, remember? I wouldn’t want to get between them.” His hand fell away from Chandler’s face.

“Y/N loves you, Joey,” his roommate said, uncharacteristically serious. “In a romantic or a platonic sense, they love you—and I think that if you love them, too, you need to tell Y/N how you really feel.”

Joey raised his eyebrows. “Since when did you become all shrink-y?”

Chandler grumbled under his breath. “Roger’s had a bad influence on all of us, okay?” he snarked, before lying back down and turning around. “Good night, Joe.”

“Night,” he replied.

Joey didn’t get any sleep for the hours to come, plagued by the idea of watching you fall in love with Connor from the sidelines.

“And Rachel just tore the shower curtain open, and saw everything!” Joey retold the story, whilst sipping on a mug of coffee. A smile slipped across his face when you doubled over laughing, nose wrinkled with amusement.

“Gosh, that’s funny. Why don’t any of you lock the bathroom doors?”

Joey rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “Duh, in case of an emergency, how am I supposed to unlock the door with my wet, slippery hands? And I thought you were the smart one here.”

“Where’s Connor?” asked Chandler, side-eyeing Joey.

You waved your hands dismissively. “He’s out of the city for today—has a big work event. Offered for me to come with him, but I had an important class to teach this morning, and I couldn’t miss it, so I had to decline.”

It didn’t miss Chandler’s notice when Joey seemed to brighten at that.

“That’s a shame,” chimed Monica. “I really like having him around—you’ve got a great boyfriend, Y/N. He’s a keeper,” she said, genuinely.

Flushing, you smiled into a mug. “I really like him, too. Though… ugh, we had a disagreement right before he left. I wouldn’t call it a fight, because we didn’t really have time to let it escalate, but we definitely had differing opinions.”

“Oh, no, what happened?” Ross queried from beside you.

“Well, we just got to talking about the future and all and he mentioned that he never wanted to get married or have kids—ever. He seemed pretty firm about it, too. And… I don’t know, that just kind of threw me for a loop, you know? It’s not like I ever really thought about having kids or getting married—I’m definitely not ready for either at the moment, but I don’t want to completely take those options off the table,” you explained, twisting your hands in your lap.

The group fell into an uncertain silence.

“I’m really sorry, sweetie,” said Rachel, resting a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hopefully you guys can talk it out! If not, then… well, there’s always more fish in the sea.”

You looked uncertain, but nodded along anyway.

It was then that Phoebe marched into the cafe, jewelry noisily clacking against one another as she strode towards the group. “Hey, guys!” she exclaimed. “Roger’s having a dinner thing and he wanted me to invite you guys!”

Awkwardly, none of you responded. Chandler whistled under his breath, pretending not to hear her.

“What’s going on?” the blonde asked, confused.

“Nothing,” said Monica. “It’s just…”

“We hate him!” piped Rachel.

Wincing, you shook your head. “Sorry, Pheebs.”

“Okay, don’t you think that maybe he’s so perceptive that it freaked you guys out?”

“Mm, no,” Ross bluntly confirmed. “We hate him.”

The next night, pizza boxes were spread over Monica’s coffee table as the entire group chowed down on dinner together. You’d just finished your second slice, wiping the grease away from your fingers with a napkin before curling up beside Connor. Neither of you had had the chance to be alone yet and talk about the mini-argument you’d had before he left for work.

“So you talked to your dad?” Monica asked Joey, reaching for another slice from the pepperoni box.

“Yeah, he’s gonna keep cheating on my ma like she wanted, and my ma’s gonna pretend she doesn’t know, even though she does, and my little sister, Tina, can’t see her husband anymore because he got a restraining order! Which has nothing to do with anything except that I found out today,” Joey said around a mouthful of Hawaiian.

Sympathetic, you tilted your head. “You sure you’re okay, Jo?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just… you know, they’re parents. After a certain point, you gotta let go. Even if you know better, you gotta let them make their own mistakes!”

The rest of the group chuckled at his words.

“And just think, in a couple of years we get to turn into them!” exclaimed Rachel.

Snorting, Chandler remarked, “If I turn into my parents, I’ll either be an alcoholic blonde chasing after twenty-year-old boys, or… I’ll end up like my mom.”

Ross choked on his pizza slice as he laughed.

Phoebe walked into Monica’s apartment then, shedding her large coat and taking a seat next to Chandler.

“Hey, Pheebs, how’s it going?” greeted Rachel.

“Oh, okay—except I broke up with Roger.”

You suppressed the urge to cheer, but cooed in disappointment with the rest of the group.

Rachel placed her plate full of uneaten pizza crusts on the table. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I mean… he’s a good person, and he can be really sweet. And in some ways, I think he’s so right for me. It’s just… I hate that guy!”

The rest of you nodded your agreement, before offering Phoebe some break-up pizza.

Once the pizza was gone, you, Monica, Phoebe and Connor moved to the kitchen table to talk some more. Joey and Chandler and Ross had retired to their own apartments, while a sleepy Rachel claimed that she needed to take a shower, but went to her room to pass out anyway. Phoebe was telling the three of you a story about the time she got stuck in the trunk of a car, before you gently excused yourself to the bathroom, meaningfully glancing at Connor.

He took the cue and got up as well, smiling charmingly at the two women. They seemed to understand and shooed him off.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said, catching up to you in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “Wow, this bathroom is really organized,” he commented, admiring the neatly laminated labels on the cabinets and drawers.

“Yeah, that’s Monica for you,” you hummed, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “Sorry for pulling you away—I just wanted to talk to you about what we discussed before you left.”

Connor took a seat beside you. “No, yeah, uhm… I just wanted to apologize for not telling you about me not wanting to have kids and get married before. I guess that’s the catch with me, you know? I just—I really like you and all my previous partners have broken up with me because of this very reason and… you were different, you know? I should’ve told you, and I’m really sorry. If you want to break up now, I completely understand.”

A part of your heart splintered at his words, and you lifted your face to cup his hands gently. “Oh, Connor, you not wanting to get married or have kids isn’t a catch, it’s very valid to feel that way. Sure, you should’ve told me, but it’s not like we’ve been dating for that long, anyway. I’m not mad at you.”

He winced. “But…?”

“But…” You sighed, retracting your hands from him so you could bury your face in them. “Argh, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be. I really like you, Connor. It’s hard letting go.” Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your nose stung as you staved them away.

Arms winding around your waist, he brought you into a warm embrace. You wiped away a stray tear, locking eyes with his big, brown ones. Then he kissed you, hard and desperate, pouring every bit of unvocalized emotions into the exchange. His fingers dug into your side and you whimpered against him, just about melting into his hold.

Momentarily pulling away, you whispered over him. “I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other—maybe if one day I find myself okay with never marrying or having kids, then I’ll come find you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he muttered, before slanting his lips against yours once more. You knew you shouldn’t be kissing him—it would only make the inevitable goodbye much worse. But you just couldn’t stop. One of his hands began snaking beneath your shirt, his cold fingers skimming over your stomach and ribs made you gasp involuntarily. With a muffled noise grumbling in the back of his throat, he hoisted you up, pushing you against the wall, slotting one of his thighs between yours and kissed you rough—rougher than he’d ever kissed before. With one hand fisted into the collar of his shirt to tug him all the closer, the other slithered to the back of his neck, where you pulled at his dark, slightly curled hair. He nipped your bottom lip in response, nose bumping into yours.

It was hot and heavy and definitely the last thing either of you needed right now for a breakup.

All of a sudden, the door slammed open, and the two of you whipped your heads to the entrance, wide-eyed and puffy-lipped.

Joey stood at the doorway, horrified. His eyes roamed over the two of you intertwined in a rather compromising position. “Oh—uh—sorry, I was looking for Rachel’s boobies. I was getting back at her, since she saw my… I’m gonna go now.”

He scurried away without closing the door, and you reluctantly let go of Connor, straightening your clothes.

“We should, uhm…”

“Yeah.” He nodded, exiting the bathroom, and rushing to the door with you hot in his heels. You could feel both Phoebe and Monica’s stares burn into you as the two of you left her apartment and into the hallway for some privacy. Joey was nowhere to be seen.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, dimly reflecting the flickering light by the stairs, like snow on a wintry tree branch. Connor cradled your face in his palms. It hurt you even more to see a film of unshed tears warble in his own glassy eyes.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he whispered. “I know we’re breaking up, but if you ever need anything… I’ll always be there for you.”

“Okay,” you croaked.

He dipped down to kiss you one last time, but you turned your head away just in time, and his lips landed on your cheek. You didn’t want to let him kiss you properly again, afraid that you’d just cave and immediately take him back.

“Bye, Connor,” you mumbled, pressing a swift kiss right beside his nose.

And with that, the two of you let go of each other. He walked backwards slowly, before turning and jogging down the stairs, wiping his damp cheek with the sleeve of his shirt.

You leaned against the wall, biting into your bottom lip as it quivered uncontrollably, wrapping your arms around yourself. After about three seconds, you began crying, silent sobs wracking your frame.

The door opposite you creaked open, and you were greeted with a concerned Joey, who immediately wrapped his arms around you, stroking the back of your head soothingly.

No words were exchanged—none needed to be.

He led you into his apartment, passing by Chandler, who had put down the newspaper he was skimming over to unabashedly stare at the two of you, heading into his room.

This time, Joey didn’t ask if you wanted him to sleep on the couch, knowing your answer would be to stay.

You slipped beneath the covers as you cried, furiously wiping away at the tears, only for more to fall in their stead. The actor lied down beside you, and you immediately turned to face him, burying your sodden face into his shoulder. Joey held you close, wishing he could drown himself in your lovely blueberry-scented shampoo, and stroked your head until the thundering sobs subsided into easy, deep breaths of sleep.

It took you around a week of holing up in your apartment until you started going out to see your friends again. They were all worried sick about you, constantly calling and dropping by to give you homemade baked goods, or offering to take you out to the movies or to the arcade or something that’d cheer you up. Phoebe had given you about a dozen dreamcatchers that she had crafted herself, Rachel came by to watch cheesy romance movies with you while cuddling up on the couch, and Monica had given you tupperwares full to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. Chandler and Joey dragged you along to a hockey match, and Ross took you to the science museum. Really, you were eternally grateful for every single one of them.

Though the thought of Connor still hurt, you were feeling much better, and ready to slowly start moving on.

It did, however, take you by surprise to learn that Joey and Chandler had bumped into Ursula, Phoebe’s estranged twin sister, and Joey had taken a rather keen interest in her and asked her out on a date. Chandler had asked him if he was overcompensating and trying to prove that he wasn’t in love with Y/N by getting together with Ursula, but Joey brushed his friend off with a scoff and stuffed his face with food so he wouldn’t have to present him with an answer.

Phoebe clearly wasn’t happy with the predicament either.

“Are you seeing her again tonight?” asked Rachel, helping Monica unwind a ball of lavender yarn as she worked on knitting together a scarf.

“Yup,” said Joey. “Taking her to the Ice Capades.”

Chandler crossed his arms. “Wow, this is serious, huh? I’ve never known you to pay money for any kind of capade.”

Almost defensive, Joey shrugged. “I don’t know, I like her. She’s different, you know? There’s, uh, something about her…”

Phoebe bristled. “That you like—we get it, you like her! Great.”

“Pheebs, I asked you, and you said it was okay!” retorted Joey.

“Maybe now it’s not okay!” she replied.

Joey frowned. “Well, maybe now I’m not okay with it not being okay.”

“Okay!” huffed Phoebe. “Can I just ask you one question, though? Have you two… you know… like—you know?”

Cocking his head, Joey responded, “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but no, we haven’t.”

“Good,” retorted the blonde. “Don’t!”

“Well, maybe I will!”

“Okay!”

The two attempted to storm out of Monica’s apartment at the same time, stopped to glare at each other by the doorway while gesturing the other to go out first, before squeezing through simultaneously and going their different ways.

You exhaled lowly, not realizing that you’d been holding your breath the entire time they were fighting. “Remind me to never date one of your siblings,” you remarked, which earned you a murmur of agreement from the rest of the group.

It turned out Phoebe had left her bag at the apartment, so she came stomping back in about an hour later. She sat beside you on the couch, and you reached up to pull a leaf out of her hair.

“You okay?” you asked her.

“Yeah, I just… it’s this stupid Ursula thing. I’m sorry, I know I’m like complaining about something stupid when you just went through an awful breakup, but it’s just driving me up the wall!”

“My breakup wasn’t that awful,” you replied, laughing nervously.

Phoebe arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t leave your apartment at all for the first three days. All you ate were stale Ritz crackers.”

Waving her away, Rachel queried, “Can I just ask, though, Pheebs—so, Joey’s going out with your sister. Is it really so terrible?”

“Well, yeah,” Phoebe bluntly answered. “I’m not saying she’s evil or anything, she’s just, you know, she’s always breaking my stuff! When I was eight, I wouldn’t let her have my Judy Jetson Thermos, so she threw it under the bus. And then there was Randy Brown, who was like—have you guys ever had a boyfriend who was like your best friend?”

All of you shook your heads.

“That’s what he was for me. And obviously, she kinda stole him away and broke his heart. And then he wouldn’t even talk to me anymore because he said he didn’t want to be around anything that looked like either of us. I mean, I know Joey’s not my boyfriend or my thermos, or anything, but…”

“Oh, honey, you’re not gonna lose him,” you assured. “Joey may be an idiot but he’s not that much of an idiot.”

“You gotta talk to Joey,” chimed Monica.

“Yeah, right,” sighed the blonde. “You guys all saw how he reacted when I tried.”

Ross shook his head. “Come on, I mean he doesn’t know this stuff. If he knew how you felt—”

“He’s falling in love with her!” Phoebe exclaimed.

You stiffened. Joey was falling in love with Ursula?

Suddenly, it felt as if there was a rope tied around your throat, and it was getting tighter by the second, slowly constricting you.

“Oh, please, they’ve been going out for a week! They haven’t even slept together yet, I mean, it can’t be that serious,” Rachel reasoned.

“Fine, alright,” Phoebe relented. You squeezed her hand reassuringly before she got up, and headed to the door, knocking on Joey’s apartment across the hall. The group craned their necks to watch from inside, not bothering to be at all secretive about it.

Your stomach dropped to the floor when it swung open to reveal Ursula behind the door—wearing nothing but Joey’s shirt.

“Suddenly, I’m downfield, and I realize that I’m the one who’s supposed to catch him! Only, I know there’s no way I’m gonna get there in time, so I’m running and running and that’s when I woke up. See, I am so not ready to be a father,” said Ross, paling at the mere thought of having a kid.

Chandler shook his head. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. You’re one of the most caring, responsible men in North America!”

“Which doesn’t say much,” you whistled, flipping the page of the book you were reading. When you looked up to see the two glaring at you, you were quick to reiterate, “You’re gonna be a great dad, Ross.”

Joey nodded. “Yeah, Ross! You and the baby just… need better blocking,” he concluded. “Oh, have either of you ever been to this restaurant, the Rainbow Room? Is it expensive?”

“Only if you order stuff,” quipped Chandler, sardonic as ever. “Why?”

“I’m taking Ursula there—it’s her birthday today,” the Italian exclaimed, grinning widely.

You placed a napkin into your book as a makeshift placeholder, before setting it down on the coffee table. “Woah, what about Phoebe’s birthday? We’re throwing her a surprise party, remember?”

Joey blinked. “Well, when’s that?”

The three of you regarded him with sharp glares.

“Tonight,” said Ross.

Joey dragged a palm over his face. “Oh, man. What are the odds of that happening?”

“What are you gonna do?” Chandler queried, clearly not happy with the entire situation, either.

“I mean, what can I do? I don’t want to screw it up with Ursula!” Joey replied defensively.

“Well, what about Phoebe? You can’t just blow her off on her own birthday,” you argued, crossing your arms. “Really, Joey, I don’t understand why you’re acting so weirdly with Ursula—you guys have barely known each other for two weeks! You’re never this way with all the other women you’ve dated before.”

Both Chandler and Ross looked at each other knowingly.

Brows furrowing, he snapped, “Well, maybe I just really like her. Is that so bad?”

“No,” you sighed, deflating. “I just don’t want you hurting your friendship with Phoebe over something that may not even last.”

“Well, if she’s my friend, hopefully she’ll understand,” Joey stiffly replied. “Wouldn’t you?”

Chandler rolled his eyes. “If you tried something like that on my birthday, then you’d be staring at the business end of a hissy fit.”

Phoebe’s party was ready—all you needed now was the birthday girl. You hid behind the couches, ready to spring up and surprise her as Rachel and Monica opened the door.

They screamed, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” right into a shocked Ross’ face, which made the custom cake he was picking up from the bakery fall straight onto the floor.

You all stared at the cake on the ground with disdain.

“You scared the crap out of me,” huffed Ross as he bent down to pick up the box. “Thanks a lot, guys, I got a lemon shmush.”

A faint grin befell your face. “Phoebe loves lemons—maybe she won’t notice its shape because it tastes so good.”

“Come on, she’ll be here any minute,” said Monica, ushering everybody to get back into position. Ross placed the cake box on the coffee table, opening it up to take a look at the damage.

“Happy Birthday, Peehee,” read Chandler, peering over your shoulder.

“Close enough,” you surmised.

Monica pointed to the decoration. “Why don’t we just make a B out of one of those roses?”

“Yeah, let me just break out my special cake tools,” Ross sarcastically bit back, jiggling the box in an attempt to make the lemony smush look more like a cake than smush.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Phoebe asked, which made all of you flinch at her unexpected appearance.

“SURPRISE!” you all yelled in an uncoordinated fashion.

The blonde seemed genuinely shocked, and she began hopping up and down, grinning widely. “Oh, thank you guys! This is so great! Oh, my god, thank you!” She gave Chandler a side-hug with one arm, and you with her other. “This was not at all scary! Oh, wow, look at everyone—hi, Betty! I can’t believe you found Betty! Oh, gosh, this is so great! Everybody I love in the same room…”

Your stomach curdled at her words, dreading when she’d ask—

“Where’s Joey?”

The smiles melted off all your faces and you lapsed into an awkward silence. Chandler was the one to break it, exclaiming, “Hey, look, it’s Betty!”

Phoebe smiled again, but this time it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Later that night, when all the party guests had gone, and all that was left were the close members of your friend group, you all gathered on the couches, watching Phoebe open the last of your gifts. She had gotten a lovely brown watch from Ross, a book on origami from Chandler, a thrifted pair of overalls from Rachel, a sleek hair straightener from Monica, and a set of new paint brushes and oil colors from you.

As she was thanking you profusely with a bright smile, the door opened and Joey trudged in, dragging his feet along behind him.

“Trouble in paradise?” Phoebe snarked, rolling her eyes. Despite this, she gingerly wrapped her arms around him when he approached her and gave the blonde a quick, brief hug.

He sank into the couch beside you, crossing his arms. “Happy birthday, Pheebs. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party—your sister stood me up tonight.”

“Oh, no,” she said, not at all surprised. “Don’t you just hate it when people aren’t there for you?”

“Did you try calling her?” Ross asked from his other side, tapping a pen onto his knee.

“Nonstop!” huffed Joey. “When I tried the restaurant, they said she was too busy to talk! I can’t believe she’s blowing me off. I guess I should’ve listened to you, Y/N—this never was going to last, anyway.”

Sympathetic, you shuffled closer to him, rounding your arms over his wide shoulders and pulling him into an embrace, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m sorry she didn’t show, Jo. She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

Phoebe had told you about her little plan before she went into the cafe—she was going to pretend to be Ursula and properly break up with Joey so he wouldn’t be left hanging. She’d already talked to her sister and the identical twin was clear on having no intentions to talk to him ever again, so Phoebe decided to take matters into her own hands so as to not utterly devastate her friend. Though you were fairly doubtful that Joey would be able to tell apart his ex-girlfriend and her sister, you wouldn’t really put it past him.

You spied on the two talking it out from the couch on Central Perk, sipping on a large mug of hot chocolate.

“Yeah, so it’s not gonna work,” Phoebe, pretending to be Ursula, tried to calmly explain as she side-stepped Joey’s hands reaching out for her.

“Why?” asked the Italian. “Is it because I’m friends with Phoebe?”

“If it was, would you stop hanging out with her?” the blonde rebutted.

Without hesitating, Joey shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I couldn’t do that. She’s one of my closest friends.”

Phoebe cleared her throat. “Then, yeah, it’s because of Phoebe! So, you know, it’s either her or me.”

Surprise filled your expression when Joey bowed his head. “Then… then I’m sorry,” he said.

Phoebe’s facade faltered for a moment. “You know… you’re gonna be really, really hard to get over.”

“I know,” he said, nodding solemnly. “I don’t know if it’s just us breaking up, or what, but—you’ve never looked more beautiful.”

Something twisted in your stomach when he leaned in to kiss her goodbye one last time. Phoebe’s eyes widened and she glanced at you, hunkering down on the couch, before shutting them tightly.

When Joey pulled away, he tilted his head, holding Phoebe away at an arm’s length.

“Phoebe?” he asked.

She pried one of her eyes open. “Yeah?” she winced. Sheepishly, she grinned apologetically, before beginning to explain everything to him.

Once she was done, Joey nodded in understanding, roping her into a hug.

The two walked to the couches, and Joey did a double take upon seeing you there. “Oh, Y/N! Were you, uh… were you here this entire time?”

“Yup,” you chimed, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Did you see—”

“You sticking your tongue down Phoebe’s throat? Yup,” you responded in a jesting manner, punching him in the bicep. “A sibling a day keeps the doctor away, right?”

He wrinkled his nose, prodding a tickling finger into your side, which made you squawk unattractively, squirming away. “Oh, shut up.”

The group filed into your spacious office, marveling at the rows of organized books on the shelves, the plethora of calculations on the whiteboards, and the miniature models of your work propped up on another shelf.

“You know, up until today, I never really realized that you actually worked,” said Phoebe, poking a bobblehead Einstein on your desk. “I just thought people gave you money because they liked you.”

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment, but thanks, Pheebs,” you chuckled, sinking into your seat and watching the rest of your friends mill about the office. “You guys don’t have to stay for long, it’s just bring your kid to work day but—seeing as I’m the only physicist who’s not an old white man with a wife who hates me and two robot children, I decided to bring you guys instead!”

Joey stood in front of one of the whiteboards, his hands on his hips. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, those are just some calculations for the concept of quantum gravity—see, if we wanted to do an experiment with a particle accelerator of that caliber in real life, it’d have to be larger than our entire galaxy, which is why we can’t test anything out and have to rely on pure theory. Gravity becomes a really tricky thing in a relativistic-quantum sense, which is why we have famous theories like the String Theory and the Loop Theory,” you explained, promptly shutting your mouth when you realized you were rambling.

Joey stared at you, dazed, a small smile forming over his lips. “I didn’t understand a single word you just said, but you’re hot when you talk all smart.”

Scoffing, you cuffed his shoulder fondly, before making your way to Ross.

“You know, I really respect you for being such a renowned person in science,” he said. “Folks like us have to stick together, right?”

Rachel laughed. “You guys are such nerds!” This earned sharp glares from the two of you, and the brunette was quick to add on, “Which is a good thing! It’s very, uhm, very cute.”

“Cute? Just cute?” Ross bristled. He began berating Rachel for reducing his work to just cute, and you rolled your eyes at both of their behavior.

“Gosh, guys, it’s not that serious. Don’t make me send you home,” you warned, wagging your finger at the two as if they were children. Ironic, because it was bring your kids to work day.

Monica propped her hands on her hips, looking at the sorted array of books on your shelf. “Looking at all these gives me a headache. I don’t know how you don’t drive yourself crazy in here,” she said.

“I love working here.” You shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I mean, I know I do very different things than all of you, but it’s what I love doing.”

Joey, sensing that you were a little downtrodden, wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Well, I might not understand anything you do, but I’m very proud of you,” he stated, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You playfully pretended to gag and wiped the kiss from your cheek, before pulling away from him.

“Alright, guys, since none of you are actually my children, I should probably kick you out now. Wouldn’t want the other guys in my department to think I have six fully grown kids at my age!”

“Tell him!” urged Monica and Phoebe, which prompted Rachel to roll her eyes in exasperation. “Look at you, you won’t even look at him!”

“Tell me what?” asked Chandler, setting down the magazine. “Come on, Rach. I could use another reason why women won’t look at me.”

Huffing, Rachel hooked her hands on her apron. “Alright, alright! Last night, I had a dream that you and I… we were—”

“Doing it on the coffee table!” Phoebe blurted out, smiling brightly.

“Wow!” Chandler exclaimed, clearly impressed by his dream-self.

Joey nudged his friend’s arm with his elbow. “Hey, excellent dream score, buddy!”

“Was I any good?” the mousy-haired man asked.

Rachel chuckled, cheeks burning a faint shade of crimson. “Well, I’d say you were pretty damned good.”

“Interesting, because in my dreams, I’m surprisingly inadequate,” he quipped.

“You know what’s funny,” you commented, nonchalantly flipping through your book. “I had a, uhm, a dream with Rachel in it last night.”

The rest of the group looked at you, interests piqued.

Joey grinned teasingly, prodding your side, “Ooh, Y/N had a sex dream, Y/N had a sex dream!”

“Oh, yeah? What was I doing?” the brunette asked.

“We were, uhm,” you scratched the back of your neck and cleared your throat, rather embarrassed, “doing it on the kitchen counter.”

The group burst out into a frenzy of exclamations and questions.

“Oh, my God!” Rachel clapped her hands together, clearly excited. “Was I good, was I good?”

Heat crawled up your skin and seeped into your cheeks. “Well, I can’t really say—I was the one going down on you.”

Rachel made a surprised choking noise in response, about to ask if anything else happened in your dream, when all of a sudden, Ross stood up, swinging his arms back and forth. “I love it when we share!” he exclaimed shrilly, before heading over to the cafe’s counter.

Rolling your eyes, you stood up to follow him, Chandler hot on your heels.

“I can’t believe you two had dream-sex with her!” Ross spat out.

Chandler did a double-take. “I’m sorry, it was a one time thing, and I was very drunk—and it was someone else’s subconscious.”

The taller man crossed his arms like a petulant child. “Okay, fine, but Y/N actually dreamt it themself!”

“Okay, Ross, jealousy is a really ugly color on you,” you said, arching a brow. “It was just a harmless dream, can you relax? Besides, I’ve had weird sex dreams with practically all of you!”

“What?” Chandler asked, butting his head between you and Ross. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Have you had any dreams about me?”

Laughing, you patted his shoulder, before making your way back to the couches.

“Come on, you told me about the last dream!” Chandler pestered Rachel after she had fessed up to having another wet dream about him.

Crossing her arms, Rachel hotly replied, “No, forget it!”

“Why’d you tell him you had another dream if you didn’t want him to ask about it?” you chimed from across the pair, looking away from your book, an amused glint to your eye. “Seems to me that, deep down, you want Chandler to know.”

The brunette glared at you whilst Chandler nodded emphatically. “Yeah—was I doing something particularly saucy?”

Huffing, Rachel shut the fashion magazine issue she was reading, placing it on Monica’s coffee table. “Alright, fine. But, first, lemme preface—you weren’t the only one there.”

Ross suddenly lifted his head, interested.

“Joey was there, too.”

The Italian grinned widely, rubbing his hands together. “Ooh, lemme hear it!”

Chuckling nervously, Ross interjected, “Was there, uh… anybody else there?”

You snorted at his obvious jealousy, hiding your smile behind your mouth when Rachel innocently shook her head. Then, she jumped slightly from the couch. “Oh! Wait, no, Y/N appeared for a bit, I think.”

With a teasing grin, you arched your eyebrow at her. “Oh, really? Four people in a sex dream—man, that’s wild.”

“You sure there weren’t five people there?” persisted Ross. “Because, you know… four and five can be easily mixed up—was there nobody like, I don’t know, handing out mints or anything?”

“So what was it like?” Joey leaned forward, grinning. “Was it like you and Chandler, and then you and me, and then you and Y/N, or was it like all four of us at the same time?”

A mischievous smile crossed Rachel’s face. “You know what? There were times… when Y/N and I weren’t even there.”

The two men laughed at her statement, before slowly turning to each other in horrified realization.

“Gross!” exclaimed Joey, pulling a face. “Chandler’s like my messed up older brother. A mentally unsound uncle, even!”

“I’m not old enough to be your uncle!” protested Chandler.

“Didn’t you kiss him on New Years?” you put forth, grinning at him.

He scowled, huffing, “That’s beside the point.”

“Okay, okay, let me spell it out for you,” interjected Rachel. “Really, most of it was just Chandler and I again, and then Joey showed up, and then Y/N showed up, and then Joey and Chandler went at it, then it was me and Chandler again—”

“Alright, we get it!” squeaked Ross, standing up and marching away from the couches and to the kitchen to sulk.

Rolling your eyes, you pressed on, “And then?”

“Well… that’s kind of it. Chandler and I took most of the runtime—though, I think you and Joey left the dream together at some point.”

Phoebe cooed, “Ooh, they were off to have their own personal dream-sex!”

Joey’s cheeks turned red and he waved their teasing comments away, before slapping his palms on his thighs and getting up. “Well, if any of you want to recreate whatever you saw in your sex dreams… I’m all ears.”

“Ditto, but I do have to say I’m quite averse to some things,” you added, getting up as well and grabbing your coat. It was getting pretty late, and you were looking forward to going home and crashing.

“I don’t know what averse means.”

You smiled at him. “Things I don’t like.”

“Oh, yeah, and what would those be?” asked Joey, offering his arm to you as the two of you walked out together.

“Watersports would definitely be one of them,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the thought.

Evidently confused, Joey’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head. “What, like surfing and stuff? I don’t know how you’d have sex while surfing, but—”

“Oh, god, Joey, not those kinds of watersports!” You burst out laughing, shoving him in the shoulder. The two of you stopped by his door. “Well, I’d love to continue sex-ed with you, but I should get home now.”

Flirtatiously, Joey grabbed onto your hips, biting into his lip in an overly-lustful way. “You know, there’s gotta be a physical component to sex-ed, too. I think a demonstration is in order.”

It’d been a long time since Joey was flirtatious with you—neither of you had really been single or emotionally available up until now, since you’d so recently broken up with Connor and he’d finally gotten over Ursula. It was nice to have your old friend back just the way things used to be before your relationship had gotten so complicated with other people in the way.

“You’re gross,” you chuckled, leaning forward to quickly press a kiss to his cheek, before pulling away. “Bye, Joey.”

“G’night,” he said, smiling brightly. “Get home safe, okay?”

His hands slipped away from your hips, and a part of you was surprised to find that you wished he’d pull you back.

You’d already showered, changed, and snuggled beneath your warm covers and on the very brink of slumber when your phone rang. When you answered with a grumbly tone, you were surprised to hear a panicked Ross on the line, yelling that the group was taking too long to get ready to go to the hospital and you needed to meet them there as quickly as you could because Carol was due to give birth any second now. Shocked, you shot out of bed, haphazardly yanking your pajamas off and tugging on your day clothes once again.

“I’ll be right there!” you answered, before clamping the phone down and rushing to grab your keys and a bag.

Fifteen minutes later, you were at the hospital, greeted by Ross running around like a headless chicken, and the rest of the group anxiously sitting in the waiting room.

“Hey,” you greeted, giving the taller man a hug.

“She’s not here yet!” he screeched, face red as a tomato and slickened with nervous sweats. “She’s having my baby, and she’s not here!”

Placatingly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, but pulled them away with mild disgust to find that he had soaked through his button-up shirt. Absent-mindedly, you wiped your palms on your jeans. “Ross, I’m sure she’s fine. Has her water broken?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” He was quaking, voice trembling with every word. “But when I spoke to her, she said she’d already passed the mucus plug!”

Joey made a noise of disgust from the seats, gagging. “Damn it, Ross, do we really have to know about that?”

Glaring at him, Ross ran out of the hall to call his ex-wife once more, blubbering incoherently under his breath.

“Look what you did, you made him all weepy!” you hissed, moving to sit next to him.

“Joey, what are you gonna do when you have a baby if you get grossed out by things like that?” scolded Monica.

Shrugging, the Italian responded, “I’ll be in the waiting room, handing out cigars.”

“Yes, Joey’s made arrangements to have his baby in a movie from the fifties,” Chandler sarcastically remarked, playing with the strings of his large hoodie.

Sprinting back into the room, Ross buried his face into his hands, frustrated. “I don’t believe this! I mean, she could be giving birth in the cab!”

“Oh, relax,” Rachel said, lighthearted in an attempt to calm him down. “It’s probably only two dollars for the first contraction and then an additional fifty cents for each one following that!”

The group stared at her silently.

“What, it’s okay when Chandler does it?” she gruffed, crossing her arms.

“You have to pick your moments,” he explained, wincing at Ross’ broken expression.

Phoebe ran in at that moment, asking if she’d missed the birth.

“She’s not even here yet!” Ross cried out, looking ready to yank his hair out of its roots.

As if on cue, Carol was wheeled in, sat in a wheelchair.

“Where the hell have you been?” barked Ross, rushing to greet her.

“We stopped at the gift shop! I was looking at stuffed animals, and Susan wanted one,” she explained calmly, as if she wasn’t in literal labor.

“Stuffed animals! God, you’re having a baby, there’s no time for that!” he fretted, disappearing into their designated hospital room with the two women.

Four hours later, you were still lounging in the waiting room, falling in and out of sleep. You muffled a yawn behind your palm, blearily blinking your eyes open to see Monica longingly stare after a couple walking past, holding a little baby carrier.

“I want a baby,” she huffed, flipping through the same magazine she’d been reading for about an hour now. Chandler, who had his head on her shoulder, groaned at the sudden jolting movement.

“Not tonight, honey, I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” he joked, already drifting back into sleep.

“Ugh, get up, let’s go get some coffee,” Monica admonished, tossing the magazine back onto the table.

Rolling his eyes, Chandler lethargically got to his feet, dragging himself behind her. “Okay, sure, because we never do that!”

From beside you, Joey was yelling at the television hanging in the corner of the room, eyes glued to the basketball game on the screen. Your head fell forward as you fruitlessly staved away sleep, shocked awake by the sound of Chandler and Monica trudging back in, fresh coffees in hand.

“I just saw a couple with twins,” she told you, grumbling. She handed you a steaming cup of joe and you murmured your thanks. “It’s not fair! I don’t even have one—how come they get two?”

“You’ll get one,” you assured her, righting yourself up by leaning on Joey so you could sip on your coffee.

“When?” she asked, crestfallen.

Too tired to provide her with an articulate response, you just pursed your lips and shook your head.

“Tell you what, when we’re forty, if neither of us are married, what do you say you and I get together and have one?” proposed Chandler.

Oh, how sweet, you thought.

“Why won’t I be married when I’m forty?” questioned Monica, crossing her arms.

Panicked, Chandler was quick to backtrack, “Oh, no, no, I just mean, like, hypothetically!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Okay, hypothetically, why won’t I be married when I’m forty? Is there something fundamentally unmarriable about me?”

This left Chandler blundering for words, and he spat out a lousy excuse to check in on Ross, before scurrying out of the waiting room.

“He said if, Monica,” you snorted, drinking down the rest of the coffee to keep you awake. “He was just trying to be nice—which is something you know very well he does scarcely often.”

The woman pursed her lips to the side, before nodding, and getting up to go after him.

Joey turned to look at you, tilting his head, and jokingly said, “Hey, what do you say we get together if we’re single when we’re forty—”

“Shut up and watch the game, Joe,” you scoffed, pushing his face away with a grin. His day-old stubble scratched against your palm. Clearing your throat, you retracted your hand and swung up onto your feet, hastily saying, “I gotta go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right back.”

When you came back to the waiting room, having dropped by the hospital’s cafeteria for a stale croissant because your stomach was rumbling loudly, you were met with a crying Monica, a stressed Chandler, and Phoebe playing her guitar.

“Where’s Joey and Rachel?” you asked, before adding on, “And what did you do to make Monica cry this time, Chandler?”

Offended, Chandler shook his head vehemently. “It wasn’t me, I swear! She just saw another couple with a baby and burst into tears! Then Phoebe started singing to try and cheer her up, but then she just started crying harder! Also, I have no idea where Joey is, and Rachel went off to chase some hot doctor guy.”

Sighing, you grabbed hold of Monica. The watery film of tears over her eyes warbled as she fixed her gaze on you. “Alright, Mon, I promise you’re going to be just fine. One day you’ll meet someone who wants to have a baby with you, and you’ll have the baby! You’re only twenty-six, you have so much of your life ahead of you! Now quit crying, there’s enough of that here with all the newborn babies around.”

She ceased her cries into minute sniffling, and you wrapped your arms around her comfortingly.

The rest of you lounged for another hour, Rachel appearing again, draped over Carol’s doctor’s arm. He told the rest of you it was probably going to be a couple more hours, and you buried your face into your hands.

It was then that Joey walked out of one of the hospital rooms, sweaty and mildly traumatized.

“Joey? Where the hell have you been?” you asked, scooching over on the couch so he’d have room beside you. He sank down with a groan, draping an arm over you.

“I just had a baby,” he said. Eyes widening, he looked to you and clarified, “Obviously not mine—I just held her hand as she gave birth. It was gross—and really beautiful.”

The rest of you stared at him, shocked.

“Mazel tov!” exclaimed Chandler.

“Alright, there’s too many people in this room, and there’s about to be one more,” the nurse barked. You glanced at Ross, who had his damp eyes trained on his ex-wife. “Anybody who’s not an ex-husband or a lesbian life partner, out you go!”

You patted Ross’ shoulder and murmured your old friend good luck, before getting ushered out by the nurse.

About an hour later, Monica knocked on the door again, peeking her head in. “Can we come in?” she quietly asked, and Carol nodded with a smile.

The group filed in slowly, gently cooing upon seeing the little bundle in her arms. Carol passed the baby to Ross. He looked to the rest of you with watery eyes, before saying, “Guys, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Ben.”

As if on cue, the little thing let out a small cry, wiggling around in his blanket.

“Oh, hi Ben,” all of you replied, faces twisted with adoration.

“Susan, he looks just like you!” chimed Phoebe, which earned her a small laugh.

Rachel reached out to touch the baby’s feet through the blanket. “God, I can’t believe one of us actually has one of these,” she breathily said, mesmerized.

“I know,” agreed Chandler. “I still am one of these.”

The group watched with bated breath as Ross passed the baby to his sister. “Hi, Ben,” she whispered, sniffling. “I’m your Aunt Monica. Yes, I am.”

You peered over her shoulder, smiling. The corner of your eyes began to sting, much to your own dismay. You just couldn’t believe your old friend Ross had a son now.

As the first tear fell, you furiously wiped it away, and Ross roped his arms around you, hugging you to him tightly. It took you another moment to realize that he was crying against you. That only had you holding him all the tighter.

#joey tribbiani x reader #friends fanfiction #joey tribbiani fanfiction #joey tribbiani fluff #joey tribbiani angst #joey tribbiani smut #rachel green x reader #rachel green angst #rachel green fluff #rachel green smut #joey tribbiani imagines #joey tribbiani drabbles #rachel green imagines #rachel green drabbles #friends x reader #friends joey x reader #friends rachel x reader

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greatpestilenz · 10 months

Text

Come Back - Miles Morales x Reader

-Just a lazy little fanfic i wrote bc i was bored wbk

-I just love miles sm, he looks like my bf and im so so so in love on goddddd

In the days following the breakup with Miles, you tried to avoid him at school. One day, while walking in the halls, a student accidentally knocked into you, sending you towards the ground. Without hesitation, Miles caught you in his arms. “You okay?” He asks. Despite the breakup, the care and love between you two remained evident, making it difficult to move on completely. However, he felt compelled to end the relationship, citing his reason as being for your safety.

You aggressively pull yourself away from him and dust your clothes. "I'm fine." You reply curtly and turn to leave. Miles grabs you by the hand to stop you.

He’s surprised by your aggressive reaction. “Wow… I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay!” He looks a bit hurt, but tries his best to hide it. “You can try being nicer, y’know.” He still sounds mostly playful, but there’s a slight edge to his tone.

He doesn’t let go of your hand.

"I'll be nicer if you hadn't broken up with me for no reason." You furrowed your brows and try to pull your hand away.

He gives a little huff in annoyance, still smiling. “This again… I didn’t break up with you for no reason. I did it for your safety, and you know that.” He still holds your hand, though he doesn’t tug at it. His eyes are calm with slight annoyance.

"Safety.." You roll my eyes. "Yeah right." His smile fades, and there’s a slight twitch of annoyance at your tone.

“Oh come on, I told you already. Me being Spider-Man was putting you in danger, and I needed to protect you.”

He still refuses to let go of your hand, and in fact tightens the grip a little.

"What does that protect? If someone already knew you were dating me, what would stop them from getting to me? It doesn't matter if we're still together or not, I've locked my fate." You try to pull away again.

“I can’t believe I actually have to explain this again…” He pulls you closer as much you try to pull away, then takes a deep breath and looks at you directly in the eyes. “It’s about the risk. Sure, someone will always find a way to hurt you if they really want to, but if they know we’re still dating, it’s one more reason for them to go after you…”

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever." You say quickly and try to pull away once again.

“No. Not ‘whatever.’” he says, still not letting go. He holds onto your hand, and looks at you intensely.

“I get that you’re angry with me, and you have every reason to be, but at least just try to understand me. For me, okay?”

"Sure." You say and escape from his grasp and walk away without another word.

He lets you go, and starts to follow you. “You know… the least you could give me is a thank you.” He calls out to you, though his tone is a bit annoyed. He catches up to you quite quick, and stops in front of you. “Seriously, you don’t get how annoying it is when you won’t listen to me.”

You turn to him abruptly. "Fine. Thank you. For breaking my heart." You turn away again and Miles follows.

He’s still annoyed, of course, and lets out an annoyed chuckle at your ‘thank you’. But he follows closely, getting closer to you. “I still love you, you know.”

"Good for you." You say without looking at him, still walking along the halls of the campus.

“I’m serious.” He says sternly. “Why do you think I broke up with you?” He’s walking alongside you still, keeping a close distance. He’s trying to get you to look at him.

"Because 'you want to protect me'." You say mockingly. "Protect me my ass. Only thing you protected me from is not getting heartbroken."

The edge he was trying to hide before finally shows. His eyes narrow and his teeth grit. “You’re really selfish sometimes… I’m just trying to help you…” He says, still trying to mask the annoyance in his voice.

"Selfish how? Miles I loved you! And you leave me just like that?" You turn towards him aggressively, tears pouring out of your eyes and your voice quivering.

His eyes widen, and his gaze softens again. His face is still annoyed, but you can see guilt in his eyes, and his lips form a slight frown, trying to hold back his words. “I know. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, but… I thought it was best for you. You knew how dangerous my life as Spider-Man was. I didn’t feel right about putting you into more danger.”

"Well you got what you want. I'm out of trouble now. Leave me alone." You glare at him, wiping your tears. "If you're gonna break up with me then you might as well keep your distance from me." Miles takes a deep breath.

You can see Miles’ face fill with emotions. Anger, confusion- but it’s replaced by surprise. As he brushes your arm, his gaze immediately shifts to his hand. His fingers slightly close onto your arm, and once again he grabs onto your hand, unwilling to let go again. “I… I’m sorry, but…” he trails off.

"But what, Miles? What more is there?" You huff, tears still pouring out unable to stop.

“I love you.” He says, not even bothering to keep it hidden, and it shows on his face. “I love you, and…”

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but he wants to say more.

You stay quiet, waiting for him to finish.

His voice is soft, but you can still hear the emotions in him. “I’ve been stupid, okay? I thought I was doing it for your sake, but it was for me, and I know it was selfish of me, but… I just couldn’t stay away from you.”

"And you call me selfish." You furrowed your brows at him again.

He sighs, and his grip on your hand tightens even more. “It’s not just because I love you.” He says. “It’s because I can’t live with myself, knowing that I’m not there to protect you, okay? I feel like if we try again, then someone will come after you again. Someone will hurt you.” He looks at you intensely.

"Then let's not." You finally say. "Let me go, Miles. If you're not willing to stay with me despite the circumstances, then let me move on." You wipe your tears away.

He doesn’t let go, and his voice is still soft. “No. You don’t understand, if anything happens to you, if you get hurt or get captured… I can’t forgive myself.” You can see genuine worry and fear on his face.

"We've broken up. Isn't that enough for you? You can keep me safe or whatever from a distance and I'll try to move on and meet other people." You swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening to fall again.

“No it’s not enough. I can’t stand it.” There’s desperation in his voice. “I know you’re only trying to do what’s best for both of us. But I just can’t do it. I won’t be able to stand it if something happens to you.” He tries to move closer to you, but you’re holding your ground firm.

"Miles." You said, your voice stern. "You broke up with me to 'protect me'. You broke my heart. Let me go. It's over."

His voice cracks. “I don’t care,” he says fiercely. “I still love you, and I’m not letting you go just because I broke your heart.” Once again, he tries to move closer. He looks at you intensely, his grip on your hand tightens.

"If someone after you sees us, I'm just gonna get in trouble. Let. Me. Go. I want to move on."

“I’m sorry, but…” There’s no doubt in your mind that Miles could just take you, if he wanted to. He’s still not letting go. His voice still soft, with desperate glances through his eyes.

He’s not budging.

"But what?? What do you want from me??" You say, anger starting to rise. "Miles, you're confusing me! What exactly do you want??"

“I… I want to get back together,” he whispers desperately, refusing to let go of you. “I want a second chance. I want you. I want to be with you.”

"S.. Second chance? Second chance??? I begged for you to stay and you still broke my heart!"

There’s a slight hint of panic in his eyes, but he still refuses to let go of you. “Okay, look, I know I broke your heart, and I messed up badly.” He takes a deep breath. “I just realized too late that breaking up with you wasn’t what I wanted, okay? Even if there’s still a chance that someone comes after you, I want to be there again, with you.”

"Give it up. I want to move on." Tears start falling again. "You're confusing me. I'm scared.."

The words and emotions hit him hard. “Scared? Of me?” He says, and his grip slackens a bit. “But why?”

He stops trying to force you to look at him, and it’s clear to you that he’s trying to calm you down.

"I don't know what you want... You break up with me but keep chasing after me.. Now you want to get back together? What do you want, Miles? What happens if we get back together and something happens? What then? You're gonna break up with me again?"

“No.” The answer’s immediate. “No, no way. Whatever happens, I won’t break up with you ever again.”

He’s quiet for a second, looking at the ground and thinking. “I can’t promise that you won’t get involved with my hero stuff still, but… I’ll be sure to protect you a lot better.” He then looks up again. “I won’t break up with you ever again, no matter what.”

"You promised me you'll never leave me. But you broke it. And now you want to come back and hurt me again?"

It’s clear that your words sting him. He wants to argue, to tell you that it was for your own sake, but he remains silent for a bit. “I was stupid, okay? I thought being with you was putting you in danger, and not gonna lie, I still think that. But…” He sighs. “I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

“I don’t know what else to say except that… I love you.”

"Give it up.. Please... I don't want to do this anymore." You pull away and crouch down, your hands cover your face as you cry.

His lips curve down, and his jaw clenches tightly at the sight of your tears. “Come on, no, you can’t do this to me. You can’t just ignore me after everything we’ve been through. We can’t just be strangers after that, I refuse.” He puts his hands on his knees to get closer to you again, wanting to comfort you.

"I can't do this anymore, Miles. I can't take it.. I can't deal with the pain."

He takes a deep breath. “Then let me help ease the pain.” He doesn’t take time to think, and he pulls you into a hug. He doesn’t say anything, but his arms close around you, and you can feel his heat close to you.

“I can’t let you go, I just… I can’t. I love you.”

You sob into his chest, unable to contain the emotions. His heart races. He knows that you’re struggling, and he doesn’t want that for you. His arms squeeze you tighter, and he doesn’t know what else to do besides stay quiet and let you take your time. “I’m sorry it had to be like this; I’m still not sure what to say, but my words won’t change how I feel.” He strokes the back of your head and whispers in your ear, his voice gentle.

“I love you.”

"I l-loved you.. s-so much... And you hurt me... You don't know how many nights I spent crying over you!" You cry and softly hit his chest with your fist.

He closes his eyes tightly, knowing that his words won’t ever mend what he did. In fact, he’s unsure if he should even say anything. But he decides it’s best to be upfront about it. “I know I broke your heart. I know I hurt you. I’m sorry, okay? But please,” he starts to choke with emotion. “I need you to understand that I thought I was doing it for your benefit. It broke my heart knowing I could never come back.” He pulls you closer again, holding you tight.

You continued to cry in his chest not saying anything. You were tired.

He rubs small comforting circles on your back. “If you can’t forgive me, that’s okay, but I can’t let go of you. I love you too much for that. We’ve been through so much together, and I don’t want all of that to go to waste when I’m still so in love with you.” His voice is calm and quiet again, despite his emotions. “So, please…” His eyes look up at you. “Stay with me.”

You don't reply, only your sobs echo through the now empty halls. The bell had rang long ago leaving the both of you alone. His grip still hasn’t loosened. He’s never felt so desperate than right now, his emotions clouding his judgement.

“You’re still crying. Can you at least look at me?” he asks softly, wanting to see your face.

“Look at me.”

You shake your head no in his chest, refusing to look at him.

“Then at least touch me back. Please.” Again, his tone is soft and calm, as if he is in complete control but there is desperation in his voice. Desperate to be with you again. Desperate for any chance you’re willing to give him, to take him back. All the same, he doesn’t push you away again, waiting for your next move.

You grab the shirt on his shoulder and say nothing, only your sobs resounded.

His arm wraps around you, holding you close to his chest once again. The hug’s much tighter this time around, almost as if he doesn’t want you to escape from his grasp. “I need you to know,” he whispers into your ear. “I still love you, and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

"We have to get to class..." You whisper and try to pull away.

“Class can wait.” He sounds more confident when he says that, and even as you try to pull away, his grip’s strong, and he’s not letting you go anytime soon. “I’m not letting you go, okay? I’ll come to your class with you.” You’re almost certain he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble right now as long as you agree to stay with him.

"Miles, we’re late for class.." You whisper softly, sobbing quietly.

He sighs, his grip loosens and he finally lets you go. “Fine, I’ll come to class with you.”

He stands up and offers you a hand, but his eyes are still glued to your face. “You’re still coming home with me tonight, right?” Again, he’s not trying to hide it—this time, he’s desperate you say yes.

"Why..?"

“Why? Why do I want you to come home with me tonight?” He scratches his head. “Hmmm… I wonder why.”

He chuckles softly to himself. “Because I’m lonely. Because I miss your company. Because there’s someone I want to see tonight. No one else understands me the way you do. And I don’t want to be lonely tonight.”

He looks at you intently. “I have no one else but you.”

You look away, tears glistening in your eyes.

“Please, say yes… I can’t be alone tonight.” He looks almost helpless, like he needs you to come with him. “You’re the only one who understands me, and that’s why I need you.” His voice sounds desperate, but the look in his eyes is sincere, like he isn’t manipulating you to feel this way. Or perhaps, that’s what’s making you think twice.

You don't reply and continue avoiding eye contact.

He takes a step closer to you, and for a second, you think he’s about to take your hand again. But instead, he places it under your chin, slowly turning your head towards him. “Please. I… I care for you. I love you, and… I just.” He stares at you, lost for words. “Don’t you think I need you as much as you need me? If you say no, then… I don’t know what to do with myself.”

There was a quiet pause between the two of you until you finally speak up.

"Okay.." You say and look away again.

Miles breathes a sigh of relief. He’s glad that you’re even willing to consider it at this point.

“Then let’s go.” He holds your hand this time, and starts walking towards class, still not taking any chances.

He doesn’t say anything else, and for a moment, neither do you. But eventually, he breaks the silence.

“I won’t break your heart again, okay?”

#fanfic #fanfic writing #x reader #spider-man: across the spider-verse #miles morales #miles morales x reader

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jayrlz · 2 years

Text

STACY’S MOM – JAY

( but it’s actually her dad )

warnings : u literally crush on ur bffs dad, jay + daddy issues wbk, very suggestive

listen to : stacy’s mom by fountains of wayne

part 2 !

your phone binged and the screen opened thanks to the notification received.

“ wanna come over and sit by the pool? ”

it wrote under stacy’s contact.

how can i make this about her dad without making it about her dad, you thought.

well, you obviously couldn’t. what were you gonna do? ask if mr. park was going to be there? that’s the weirdest thing you could possibly ask over text.

so instead, you called her.

“ what’s up, you can’t make it? ” her voice spoke on the other line, clearly confused on why you couldn’t text her.

“ i’m getting ready right now, is mr park gonna be there? ” you asked, trying to make it less weird, causing it to be a lot weirder.

“ as in my dad? ”

“ how many mr parks do you know? my dad wants me to give him something. ” okay, that was a valid excuse which came in a record time; without the need of ‘um’s or ‘er’s.

“ oh, that makes sense. yup, he’s probably gonna join us in the pool for a bit, if you’re cool with that. hurry up, we wanna order take out! ” she said, and quickly hang up on you.

after putting on your swimsuit and a short summer dress, you rushed over to your friend’s house.

she probably saw you while she were sitting outside, since you didn’t even have to knock before the door opened.

except behind it, it wasn’t stacy.

of course, since the world hates you, and since stacy’s too lazy to get up herself and open the door, there stood her dad, smiling at you.

“ hey y/n, good to see you. ” he spoke, and you smiled back at him, hoping your face hadn’t turned fully red.

“ hi mr park! ” you said as he stepped aside, and playfully rolled his eyes.

“ i’ve already told you, there’s no need to call me ‘mr park’, you’re nineteen now. just call me jay. ” he said with a sly smile and you nodded, chuckling at his words.

you both walked to the pool, where the dark haired girl run up to you and gave you a hug. “ what’d you want to give to my dad? ”

okay, you totally forgot about that! great job!

both stacy and jay looked at expectedly for a good two seconds - that seemed like a year - as you tried to come up with an excuse.

“ ah, it must have been that screwdriver i let him borrow. i already told him he can keep it, sorry for the extra effort y/n, but you’ll have to take it straight back. ” he laughed and you nodded, as he then walked to the side.

before you knew it, stacy was dragging you to get in the pool, and you almost did, before you looked at mr park’s side.

there he was, slowly - or, it must have been your brain playing it at 0.5 - taking his shirt off, letting you see his ripped body.

you swore your mouth watered on the spot. he threw his shirt to the side, as he in a very model-like way pushed his hair back.

the sun which was previously hidden by some clouds appeared, causing the perfect golden hour effect to land on his beautiful face, highlighting all his angel-carved features.

your eyes shifted lower, and that’s when the clear lining on his swimwear made you gulp.

how big was this man’s dick exactly? you swore you’ve never seen-

“ y/n! ”

your friends voice caught you off guard, as you turned to look at stacy who was covered up to her neck with water by now.

“ are you daydreaming about my dad? ”

your heart dropped on the stop and you immediately opened your mouth to defend yourself, but it had gone dry.

“ geez i’m kidding, why’d your face drop? ” she laughed, “ come on in, what’s taking you so long? ”

and so you walked towards the small stairs, yet since you took ages to get in, mr par- jay had caught up with you.

he softly placed his arm on your waist as he looked at you, “ what’s taking you so long, y/n? scared it’s gonna be too big? ”

your eyes went wide and your cheeks got red at his words, “ s..sorry? what did you j..just ask me? ”

“ whether you thought it’d be too cold? ..did i say something wrong? ” he asked confused at your reaction.

you quickly peaked at stacy, scared she’d be able to tell something by your reaction as she knew you too well, yet luckily for you, she was practicing an underwater handstand ( which wasn’t going too well ) .

“ no, ” you nervously chuckled, “ i must have misheard you. ”

he chuckled with a small smirk,

“ you didn’t. ”

and with that he went in the pool.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen crack #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen humor #enhypen smut #jay enhypen #jay imagines #jay smut #jay x reader #jay fluff #jay crack #jay fic #jay headcanons #jay drabbles #jay daddy issues

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tartigglez · 1 year

Text

"perhaps you should test the theory?" (pt.1)

kaeya x gn!reader

genre: friends to lovers (idrk how to categorise it. too wholesome to be smut too suggestive to be fluff)

word count: 700-ish

summary: truth or dare?

tags: first kisses lol, spoiler alert: they're secretly in love with eachother, basically just reader putting ninety per cent of their energy into comebacks to kaeyas flirting ngl

tw/cw: itsy bitsy bit suggestive, esp towards the end but that's kinda it

a/n: i was gonna write this prompt with childe and i still might but wbk im a kaeya main and i just n e e d e d to,,, i just h a d to

for someone with a cryo vision, kaeya alberich was surprisingly good at turning on the smoulder, making you feel warm inside, making your cheeks heat up, maybe making you feel a little hot and bothered in other ways, but that is something you would never admit to. he was someone you considered your best friend on earth, and he thought the same of you. you’ve been inseparable for years, to the extent where the citizens of mondstadt have often questioned you on the status of your relationship, were you friends? or something more?

you would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t ask yourself the same question quite often. you loved kaeya, no doubt about that, but was it just platonic? and despite the fact the man has flirting skills which are arguably unmatched in all of teyvat, he seemed to always be single, which made you wonder if it was something to do with you, but you knew that deep down, that was simply a fantasy.

a loud, disruptive knock on your front door tore you away from the pages of your book, a romance novel, coincidentally enough…

you opened the door to find a tall man carrying copious amounts of snacks in his arms, and wearing the standard tilted grin on his face.

“kaeya…?”

“that was me the last time i checked. open the door, we’re hanging out”

“alright…”

despite the fact the man had an entire house to himself, it felt like he was rarely away from yours. after welcoming himself into your home, and making his way to your room, he dropped the snacks on your bedspread, analysing his choices, and secretly praising himself because he remembered to pick up your favourite snack.

“dare to tell me if there is any reason for your sudden visit, mister cavalry captain?”

“nope”

“try again” you said sternly

the man cannot resist the questioning look on your face (secretly he found it adorable), and therefore offered his reasoning

“my shift finished and i was bored. after all, i haven’t seen you today, that's all”

the sudden confession from the captain was enough to arise butterflies in your stomach, but you decided it best to simply ignore his flirtations for the time being, swiftly moving on to a new topic of conversation.

“what do you want to do?”

“you” he mumbled, under his breath

you could've sworn your ears were playing tricks on you, as well as your stomach, which you could practically feel doing a backflip. after all, kaeya was flirty, but he was generally quite chivalrous, as is to be expected from such a well respected knight of favonious.

“excuse me?”

“lets play truth or dare”

“uh huh…”

after about ten minutes, you are laying on your back on your bed, next to kaeya, who is doing the same, whilst quietly munching on some sort of new snack a friend in liyue had sent to him.

“okay truth” he opened, “what is the weirdest compliment someone has ever given you?”

“hm, let me think”

after about 10 seconds of silence, you answer, not expecting anything to rise, of course…

“probably that my lips look very soft? i’m not sure, sometimes people talk about me having nice eyes but i think the lips one has gotta be up there”

“right… now that i think about it, your lips do look... really soft” he said quietly, so quiet it was almost a whisper, whilst never breaking eye contact.

from pure reflex, a sharp breath drew itself into your lungs. quite frankly, its hard to know how to feel about having something like this said to you, especially by such a close friend, but somehow, you happened to find the perfect response somewhere in the back of your mind.

“perhaps you should test the theory?”

within a split second, the cryo user was hovering over you, his arms planted on the mattress at either side of your head, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin.

“may i?”

you simply nodded, having suddenly realised that you have never wanted anything more than this.

and so, you finally felt the contact of kaeya's slightly cold lips upon yours…

part 2

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaeya #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich

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thelastattempt · 6 months

Text

Okay okay, so the set list gods were not with me tonight (cause he didn’t sing every single song ykwim) but you know what? Doesn’t even matter because the atmosphere and the quality of sound and production in that room is incomparable to the grainy livestreams we’ve survived on all year. He sounds so damn good in person. If you’re um-img about going to a show, y’all, stop questioning and just do it. ‘Cept the streets are saying the O2 is sold out so 🤭

He purposefully didn’t sing Holding on to Heartache to punish me (doesn’t even know I exist) and I now have a healthy re-appreciation for this 505 cover (nearly died an actual death right there) and sliding on in there with High In Cali as a little *kiss kiss* apology for slaughtering my hopes and dreams of Lucky Again in person (absolutely ensuring I’m going to have to see him again, my bank balance is crying and he’s out here practising deprivation as a marketing technique). Silver Tongues is that bitch, and has always been, and will always be; she’s been a favourite from the beginning and ahhhh… yes. ahem. What a song. Copy3 my love, my darling, I’m beyond buzzed that I’ve heard this live 🖤

And wbk but he’s so charming? I’m at the back and I can barely see and the strobes are strobing and the light show is showing, and he’s so… engaged and charming and forgetting his pictures and chatting up the barricade like that’s totally normal? I’ve been to plenty of gigs with much less crowd engagement and I adore him.

Have been, have seen, have had a cracking night. ✌️

#TLDR; get a ticket it’s worth it #I’m shattered after a full day and I’m up at 5 for tomorrow and I still have to get home and I wouldn’t swap it #and you wanna know a secret?#I love the original Catfish 7 and the cover is actually everything #I thought that was one I’d never hear so - win some lose some ig #imma gonna drive #home now #bye 🖤✌️#fitfwt23: cardiff

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outro-jo · 8 months

Text

masterpiece (18+)

pairing: hwang hyunjin x amab reader

type: smut (minors and ageless blogs dni)

warnings: established relationship (hookup but not rly dating), kinda non-idol au, the reader’s gender is never explicitly mentioned just that they have a dick, hyunjin is called nicknames like pretty boy, sort of sub/dom dynamics, hyunjin is a brat (wbk), masterbation, mlm, anal, hand job, descriptions of readers cock and body, they come on a canvas idfk, implied second round

notes: wrote this for my friend’s birthday and thought i’d post it bc there are so few mlm and wlw kpop fics on here. when requests open up, please don’t request smut. i’m still not super keen on posting it 😅 but i hope y’all enjoy 🤍

please read info before requesting!

masterlist | info

————————————

hyunjin was thrilled about his new apartment. he loved after so many years of living in a dorm with a bunch of other guys to have a place he could finally call his own. finally he was able to decorate the way he wanted and fill the fridge with something other than plain, unseasoned chicken breasts. he could put flowers on his dining room table for the sun to cascade early morning light on. he could hang up art form other artist that inspire him and have furniture other than a couch left on the street and a weight lifting chair. most of all, he was thankful for a comforting place he could call home.

he had invited said other guys and some friends to a house warming party because he was just so excited to show the place off. you were surprised to get an invite but in all fairness, you would be getting invites to his place more often.

the two of you met at his usual cafe, when he was getting this third americano of the day and it unfortunately ended up on your shirt. what was less unfortunate was you choosing to wear a white shirt that day and the dark coffee soaked through, showing your toned torso. you were thankful you started seeing that new hot personal trainer at your gym once you saw the glint in hyunjin’s eyes and smirk he was unsuccessful in hiding as he took the flimsy napkins to your shirt. when he gave you his number, he intended to take you out as an apology but the both of you ended up liking staying in a lot better and it became bit of an occurrence to meet up at your place since he had roommates.

now you were getting a look at his place. you showed up only slightly late, (you couldn’t seem too eager) the door was open displaying the party going on inside. everyone was standing around talking with glasses full of red wine. hyunjin was mid-conversation with felix when he noticed you and rushed over.

“hey, you came!” he kissed you on the cheek.

“that’s what i said last week.” you mumbled in his hear, earning a playful smirk.

“cheeky… come on in!”

your gaze trailed the expanse of the apartment’s main living area, trying not to think about how good he looked. unbeknownst to you, hyunjin was doing the very thing you were avoiding, taking every inch of you in, sipping on his wine to seem less obvious to everyone else in the room that he was eye-fucking you. his interior design skills should be praised, finding the right balance of comfort and beauty, much like the man himself. neutral colored furniture appropriately accented the pops of color that came from the art on the walls and shelves. he had an artists eye, that much was obvious.

tonight there was something different. maybe it was something in the air or the way he dressed or something about the ease of which he carried himself in his own place, but even as the two of you parted, each respectively mingling with the other guests, you couldn’t help your gaze from landing on him. he looked damn good. half of his hair was loosely tied up on his head and a dark green linen button down was loosely tucked into a pair of slacks. a few of the buttons had been undone to show the tank top clinging to his body. thinly framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, raising slightly when he inevitably scrunched his nose in laughter. even when he was being cute hyunjin was driving you absolutely wild.

as the night progressed, you noticed the tightness in your pants having to tuck you dick up in your waistband when you excused yourself to the bathroom at one point. but it was no use and while you didn’t plan on anything happening that night and you had not received any indication of hyunjin hoping to hook up that night, you couldn’t help yourself. some of the invited guests slowly started to filter out and the host was ushering them out when you snuck off to a side room. you chose to leave the lights off, not bothering with them as you stumbled in the darkness, ripping off your belt and tugging you pants and boxers down your thighs just enough to pull your painfully hard dick out.

you slowly began to tease yourself, thinking of the way hyunjin had done it before, tracing the pronounced veins similar to the way his tongue had. he had looked so good on his knees for you, eyes wide and round to plead innocence while hardly performing an innocent task. a hard shudder ran down your back as you collected the wetness that had leaked from your tip to spread it across your girth—something you remember hyunjin commenting on when you first met up.

“i’ve never been with someone as thick as you before.” he breathed out in anticipation, his cheeks burning at the confession.

what he himself lacked in thickness was well made up for in length. you two were the perfect pair, completing what the other lacked. you thought about his long, pretty, pink dick as you stroked your own. wet, sloppy noises filled the room and you couldn’t help but moan softly. as good as your hand felt, you knew he felt so much better, thinking of when he had you in his mouth and once stretching out that cute little asshole. the way it gaped open from your size—

“ah, fuck… hyunjin, fuck!”

your ministrations didn’t come out as quiet as you hoped but thankfully it was sounding more quiet beyond the four walls of the dark room. stumbling back, lost in your pleasure, your hand instinctively landed on the table behind you and suddenly felt a little wet. if you had more of your wits about you, you might have notice the faint smell of paint that filled the air but you were too far gone in your bliss.

just a bit more. you were so close. the tightness in your stomach was building as the muscles contracted beneath you. your groans were coming out more strangled now as you felt yourself starting to tip over the edge. suddenly as you began your descent, the door opened and the light was flicked on. hyunjin propped himself up on the doorframe with an amused smile playing at his plush lips.

“i see you found my art studio.”

the newly lit room allowed for you to finally see where exactly you had stumbled into. different mediums, pallets, and tools scattered across the tables and a large canvas stood on an easel in front of you, dripping with… not paint. the wet you had felt before when you gripped on the table was a lovely shade of blue as you looked down at your hand to inspect it. your cheeks burned a nice crimson to compliment the color nicely.

hyunjin pushed off the doorjamb and stalked towards you, “if you wanted to paint all you had to do was ask, baby.” his tone was light and playful with a slight edge of condescension.

he leaned forward with both hands grabbing your jaw to inhale you into a rough kiss. without thinking, your blue stained hand reached up to grasp at the back of his neck. the force of hyunjin’s body against yours sent you back into the table but this time your opposite hand landed to support you and picked up a bit of green paint. without breaking the kiss, hyunjin removed his glasses and tossed them on the table behind you before pulling off his button down (not bothering to undo the buttons individually). your paint stained hand found purchase on his waist, turning the white tank he had tucked into his pants blue and green respectively. he moaned wistfully against you as he deepened the kiss, with his tongue searching for yours in your mouth. he tasted of the red wine he was sipping on earlier and smelled of his usual cologne that had you weak in the knees. his hand tucked in between your bodies, blindly reaching for your cock that began to quickly harden again at his touch.

hyunjin chuckled, breaking the kiss slightly with a smirk, “getting hard again, baby? i thought you just came.”

“thinking about fucking that tight little ass of yours again,” you told him, sliding your hand down to grab it with a light squeeze to make him jolt in your touch.

“well,” kiss, “what are you waiting for?”

god, this fucking brat. you groaned internally and externally before spinning hyunjin around. your hands made quick work of his belt and slacks as you reached around in front of you, letting the fabric drop to the floor. your wet cock teased his ass crack making his head fall back in your shoulder as he moaned. he was so fucking pretty. spit pooled in your mouth before you filled your hand and spread it between his cheeks, two fingers plunged into his right hole. hyunjin whimpered and rutted his bum into you, the ample mound of his cheek rubbing against your hard on.

“fuck,” you hissed.

“please, baby… i need you inside me.” hyunjin whined as you stretched him out.

you hummed, “i have to stretch you out, pretty boy,” you felt him clench around your fingers, “don’t wanna hurt you.” you placed kisses on his open mouth.

“please… i can take it.” he could feel his mind already going fuzzy as your fingers brushed up against his prostate.

“hmm, if you say so.”

you pulled your fingers out of him slowly, making him groan then placed a hand on his thigh, making sure to graze his hard, bouncing dick, before grabbing a hold of your own to slowly push into him. a frenzy of moans left hyunjin’s lips as he felt himself stretch around your girth. his walls welcomed you warmly as you bottomed out, his bum fully pressed against your hips. you hum, feeling fully content and pressed kisses to hyunjin’s exposed throat column as his head was resting on your shoulder. waiting just a moment for him to adjust to you, you reached your now free hand around to stroke him gingerly, earning another chorus of wanton moans.

“baby… please move,” he begged desperately.

slowly you complied, starting to match your strokes to sync with each other causing hyunjin to bury his face into your neck. his arms reaching up to grip a fistful of your hair and tugging. you hiss at the action. his whines get more high pitched as he pants warm breath on to your neck, raising goosebumps on the delicate skin. your thumb grazes over his sensitive tip which results in a jolt from him.

“fuck, i—, ugnnhh” any attempts hyunjin made at speaking were thwarted by your thrusts that began to increase in speed.

“what’s the matter, gorgeous? feel too good? my cock has you too dumb to speak… huh? that pretty head of yours all empty?” you teased him, watching the way his chest turned crimson.

“yes… yes, god!”

you could feel by the way he clenched around you and the way he throbbed in your hand that he was getting close, your own high not too far behind. your thrusts lost their precision as his hips rocked to meet yours. the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.

“my beautiful artist…” you mused, pressing your lips to his shoulder. “you wanna paint with me? mix your cum with mine on that canvas? c’mon, pretty boy, i know your close. let go for me.”

with that, hyunjin’s hips stilled as he tensed up and pitifully grunted out. you held his dick up so that his release splattered all across the canvas over your own from before. when he finished, you pulled out of him, he instinctively cuddled into your side, as he usually does, and you came on the canvas once more. hyunjin in his post coital daze, was pressing kisses all over your neck almost in gratitude. as much as you loved the act of sex with hyunjin, you almost loved his afterglow more. he was always so cute and cuddly, wanting to be close to you and kiss you as much as possible.

you came down from your high with heavy pants, looking down at hyunjin with a lovesick smile that he easily returned then kissed off your lips. after a few moments, he separated and turned to look at your masterpiece.

“i’m glad i gessoed it black. you can see it better.” he mused softly.

you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “i think it’s your best work, baby.”

hyunjin playfully rolled his eyes, lightly slapping your chest as he finally reached down to grab his pants, exposing his ass to you, making you gasp and your eyes go wide.

“jinnie! i got paint…”

hyunjin threw his head back and laughed at your horror, “it’s ok. it’s a water based paint so it’ll wash out. wanna help me?”

“lead the way, picasso.”

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