#I hope you feel better and when I was fresh out of writing school

[repulsiveliquidation]

Scars || Alexia Putellas

Summary : you finally let Alexia be intimate with you. A little detail slips your mind but she soon uncovers the truth behind your hesitation to let her love you how she wants to.

warnings : smut in the beginning but nothing too explicit. angst. mentions of self-harm and bullying.

“Mm, amor you smell so good…” Alexia moans, kissing your neck. You smile and arch your back into her, biting your lip. She leaves wet sloppy kisses along your collarbones, nipping at them slightly. You giggle and tell her to stop tickling you with her blonde brunette hair, your hands tucking the loose strands behind her ears.

You hear her take a sharp inhale of your scent and feel your core throb at the deep sigh she lets out. Your hands cradle her head as she looks up at you, eyes darting down to your lips as she licks her own.

“Used that body wash you like,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss her. She kisses back immediately and you feel her melt, large hands pulling your waist closer to her.

“So beautiful,” Alexia whispers only for you to hear, the random assortment of rings on her hands leave cold shocks on your exposed skin.

 Her hands roam your build with determination as her lips nip and nibble on your chest. She pulls the tank top off you and takes a breast into your mouth, suckling gently. You shudder and moan her name unashamedly, chasing the feeling she left on your chest as she moved to the other breast. She kneaded the other and you could feel the groan in the back of her throat, strong thighs keeping yours wide open how she wanted.

The cold air in the room kept your nipple taut and hard, her fingers rolling them around as she rushed forward to kiss you.

“May I?” she asked politely, pupils dilated and full of lust.

“Please,” you beg and you see the look in her eyes darken.

But all this fun was about to be cut short.

You forgot one tiny thing.

But you couldn’t warn her before she pulled your sweats off.

“Cariño, what is all this?”

You take a split second to understand what she meant and when you finally realize it, she had seen most of it.

“No!” you yell, pulling the sweats back over your thighs and bounding for the bathroom almost tripping over yourself.

Your teenage years were not easy. Abandoned by your father and neglected by your mother, you ran away from home at age 7 hoping for a better chance at life. Two months on the streets, you were left cold and hungry, when a kind slightly elderly couple took you in. Sharon and Thomas gave you a roof over your head, hot food, and clothes; most importantly, a home.

They were both school teachers; Thomas taught PE and Sharon taught English. They were kind and gave you free reign in life.

Thomas taught you how to play football and while you were good, English was your passion. Writing came so naturally to you, Sharon was the one who suggested you write your first book. So you did. Poems came so easily to you, the words filling pages so fast, Thomas could barely keep up with buying you new ones.

Being an accomplished writer at 15 was unheard of, which gained you some local fame.

But with fame, came a price you wished you didn’t have to pay.

A local rival publishing team that had rejected your book was vengeful of the success it gained and did a little digging. They found your parents and your past, learning about your brief stint at homelessness and how you ran away from home at 7.

The headlines the next day were the topic of bullying from a group of mean kids at school. You didn’t remember their names now, years later but their words rang fresh in your mind if you allowed yourself to spiral.

Each word was one stroke of the blade over your perfect skin.

Each bloom of blood was the pain fading away.

Or so you thought.

Somehow the next day, their fresh set of insults doubled the pain. It made your chest tight, your head pound, your grades drop and your passion for writing evaporate.

“Nothing new in your notebook, peanut?” Sharon asked so sweetly, finding you sipping on tea in the sunroom. She brushed your hair back sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Nothing,” you lied. There were new things. They weren’t particularly parent-friendly.

“Tom and I are heading to a school meeting, dinner’s in the oven for you, okay?” she walks away, a knowing expression on her face. She can sense the pain like she was your own mother but kept her mouth shut.

“I love you,” she added and you looked at her, close to tears. If she could tell, she made no move to let you know she did but smiled when you said it back to her with a forced one. It broke her heart but she did not know that yours broke more.

You sat in your bathroom, hands clammy and shaking. The blade glimmered back at you like it was taunting you.

“It’ll take the pain away,” you convinced yourself, pressing the cold object over your mangled skin on your thigh.

The blood washed away but more pricked to the surface with each cut. Soon the water turned a dark red, and your head dully thudded against the glass wall, the pain fading into numbing nothingness.

The beeping of the monitors around you was what roused you. There were too many lights and lots of voices at once, but your mother’s sobs were instantly recognizable.

“Where did we go wrong, Tom?” she asked your father, “how did we not know?”

“I don’t know, Shar,” he said, sounding sad, “I don’t know.”

His next words broke you more than any bully's words could.

“I’m sorry we failed you, kiddo. Dad’s sorry.”

“You didn’t fail me, Dad. You saved me,” you mumbled, tears filling your eyes as they pulled away from one another and rushed to your bedside. Mom hugged you tight and thanked her stars you were okay while your father held your hand and kissed it over and over.

“There’s my little girl,” he said, looking teary himself.

“You saved me, both of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” you apologized but they were not hearing none of it.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to us, peanut. The best.”

You don’t know when you started to build the dam in your heart but it broke the moment your parents held you in their arms. The safety of their arms was something you didn’t know you craved. But when they gave it to you, all your pain went away.

You never felt that safety from anyone else. Until you met Alexia.

You were merely a fan in the stands, dragged to a Barcelona game by your friends at work who happened to have an extra ticket to a Liga F game. She caught your eye and you hers, shy smiles and a hastily bought jersey from the stands outside got you her signature and her number written below it.

It took two coffees and a single baked good to know you were marrying this woman. She was funny, kind, loyal, inspirational, and simply devoted to you.

But most importantly, her arms were a safe haven. For you and your thoughts that still lingered to this day.  

You explained every one of the scars on your legs after she had begged for you to let her into the bathroom. One thing about your relationship with Alexia was that you were sure she was too good to be true.

Part of you wanted her so badly, but the other part convinced you that she would leave the moment she saw the scars. the mangled skin from years of reopening wounds. The bumps and ridges that cheap blades from the corner store got you on a teenager’s allowance.

And when she didn’t leave, you hated that you felt her pity. This world-class football player felt bad for the girl she met in the stands at one of her games. But she didn’t. She sat with you and listened, eyes and mind solely focused on you.

“Show me your scars,” she asked.

“But why?” you answered, albeit through sobs.

“I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn’t there.”

It wasn’t long before you were back in her arms again, safe and sound, ready to be fiercely loved by her for the rest of your life.  

#alexia putellas #fc barca femeni #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagines #woso #woso one shot #espwnt #woso angst #woso fanfics #woso imagine

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics. #geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[hoshigray]

i fucking love ur writing sm mamas!

anyway. Toji making reader pregnant cause toji found out that reader loves kids <33333

It’s fine if you don’t want to. Anyway love you and your writing darling . 🎐

No, noonie, stop bc like, are you in my brain or smthn!!?? I was thinking about this exact prompt for a long while, and I see this appear in my inbox??! Well, well, *cracks knuckles* you've just given me the perfect opportunity mwahahahaha!!! This has been in my drafts for a minute, but I'm glad it's finally done! And omg tysm for loving me and my stuff, honey!! Hope I make ya proud with this one :') ilysm ♡

Also, I'm mixing in another request into this one since it's a pretty small request (reader sucking on Toji's Adam's apple as he pounds you), plus it makes things easier for me in terms of writing out stuff. Hope that's okay with the other requester; if not, my apologies!ヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞAnd btw, tysm for 1.6k followers, y'all!! Love every single one of you~☆

Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - mating press - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breeding - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up!!) - reader skips the pill - fluff at the end bc why not - pregnancy (test at the end) - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetie) - oral fixation/reader sucking on Toji's adam's apple - the reader has stretch marks on their body bc I said so - praise - overstimulation - clitoral play (sucking & swiping). Wc: 3.4k

Toji, by all means, was not a man deserving of children.

His terrible childhood and upbringing have molded him into an emotionless and reserved person who only feels as though the only person he needs to look out for and care for is himself.

So when the premise of children came to him, he wouldn't give it the time of day. That is until he ends up having youths of his own. Even then, he would do the bare minimum of taking care of them — food, clothes, shelter, and taking or picking them up from school. And to top it off, his job wasn't befitting of a father — a hitman going mission to mission for money that he used to spend for himself, now going to the needs of his kids.

Toji knew Tsumiki and Megumi were better off without a father like him. Fatherhood (or children in general, for that matter) is no easy task, and it's clearly one he's not good at.

But all that changed when you came into the picture.

Never had he seen his kids warm up to someone, an outsider, so quick. Even when he mentioned his children to you at the beginning of your relationship, you didn't falter and happily wished to meet them. And the day you finally did was the day everything became a lot brighter for the entire Fushiguro family.

Not only did Tsumiki and Megumi come to trust you with every visit, but their adoration for you grew tenfold the more you were involved in their lives. And all Toji could do was watch you do your magic, whether it be watching animal documentaries with Megumi, making flower crowns with Tsumiki, or playing with them and the other kids at the nearby park.

And the most impressive part about it all was you teaching and including him in how he could get more involved with his youngsters. Now, his kids are closer to him than ever, going so far as Megumi clapping back on his father's snarky comments and Tsumiki having the man play tea parties (to his dismay, but whatever to makes his little girl happy).

It wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't had you around. You were just such a breath of fresh air to him and any child that came your way. Attentive and caring to the young ones as if you were a natural at mimicking the maternal role. He knew you'd be a great mother to any child, especially your own.

It was that thought alone that made Toji think about you having children. Or better yet, having a child with him. Making you pregnant with his baby. Making you his.

Toji walks down the stairs after putting his son and daughter to bed, his heavy footsteps beating the wooden floor beneath him with every step. He then enters the kitchen area, where he sees you washing the dishes from today's dinner after putting the food in the fridge.

When you notice his presence, you look up and offer a charming smile in his direction, your face illuminated beautifully by the ceiling kitchen lights that the image almost blinds him.

"Hey there." Your voice is always sweet to his ears, still smiling even when you turn back to washing dishes. "The kids?"

"Just finished puttin' 'em to bed," your eyes stay at the sink, but you can feel his heavy footsteps come from beside you. "But they said I suck at tellin' bedtime stories."

Your giggle is heard through the noise of dishes clacking on the rack. "Well, maybe you're not using cartoon voices like I told you to. They like it."

"Yeah, no, I'm not doin' that shit." You chuckle some more at his complaint, and he grabs a dry cloth to dry up dishes from the rack.

It's quiet between you, but Toji will sneak glances at you while you work through the dirty plates. His thoughts from before return, and all he can think about is you with a swollen belly.

The mere idea of having you bear his child fogs his brain. Witnessing your body change and expand with the growth of your little one within you, it's too much for his mind to indulge in.

The more he thinks about it, the crazier and hornier his mind goes. Unable to function suitably, Toji sighs heavily through his nose and places the dish and dry cloth on the countertop.

You notice him make his way behind you, his hands traveling down to your hips as his chin rests atop your head. But you pay him no mind and continue with your task. "Hey, darlin'."

The nickname has you hum to him, eyes focused on the soapy sponge and plate in your hands while your ears wait for him to continue. "Yes, Toji?"

He doesn't reply instantly, roaming his large palms up and down your waist and hips instead. "Ya know I love the hell outta you, right?" He goes on when you nod. "Always takin' care of me and lovin' me. But that love also goes to my lil squirts." A smile creeps in on his scarred lips as you giggle at his way of referring to his children. "It's just crazy to me how you're able to have 'em follow y'r every step, yet I can't even get a hug or smile before they leave for school unless I remind them."

"Well, maybe if their father didn't always bully and call them 'squirts' and 'brats' all day, they would show you some love."

"Shut up," Toji flicks water from the faucet onto your face, forcing you to laugh more from your teasing. His heart swoons from your laughter, having you sway side to side with his body behind you. "But I mean it; you're so good with kids. Makes me wonder how come you never had y'r own yet."

"I just love kids." It was a simple answer. "Plus, I never really had time to care for a child. Got work and stuff, you know. And besides, I practically treat Tsumiki and Megumi like my kids."

"Mmm," he replies aimlessly.

"However," you resume while placing a wet bowl on the rack. "I wouldn't mind having a little one of my own. Now that I'm pretty comfortable with where I'm at in life, I'd love to have a little baby to share it with."

Toji lets your words sink in before saying anything. Now that he sees where you stand on the topic, finally, he can voice his opinion.

"Y/n..." he treads carefully with the words he's about to say. "I've been thinkin' about somethin'."

"Thinking about what?" You can't deny the uneasy atmosphere with Toji's mysteriousness, yet you listen as you turn off the sink faucet.

The two of you stop swaying your bodies with each other. "How 'bout we have a baby?"

Your body goes rigid at the question, and breathing subsides as your mind goes rampant with reflections too fast to comprehend. He wants a child—another child!? With me??!

"Like, right now?" The only question that escaped your lips, your voice hushed to a whisper. No one else is here in the space but you two, although the talk you're having right now feels virtually forbidden to the tongue.

"Doesn't have to be right now," Toji moves his head to your shoulder, his hushed, gruff voice clear to your ears. "But as long as it's with you, one more kid won't hurt, right?"

And your breath hitches when a hand finds its way to the surface of your stomach, his fingers lightly teasing with the flesh of your abdomen. He places his lips on your neck, and you bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. "Mmmm, why do you want more?" You still press him with questions despite almost dissolving into his kisses. "You already have a gorgeous girl—"

"I wan' have your girl." He murmurs softly to your ear before lightly biting the lobe, and a moan slips past you.

"A-And...a beautiful boy..."

"I want your boy."

"Toji, please," you surprise the older man by turning your body to face him fully, eyes surveying his. "This is no joke! Just because I don't have my own kid doesn't mean—"

You're silenced when Toji brings a hand to your cheek, cupping a side of your face. "I'm not jokin', sweetie. I know I'm not the best dad in the world — hell, I'm pretty lousy at it. But you," he leans forward while you instinctively go backward, hitting the sink behind you. "You're basically a mother to mine and a real damn good one, too. And since ya said things are good now, why don't I make you a parent fr' real."

"Toji—"

"Like I said: it doesn't have to be today or tomorrow. But as long as it's you," his thumb brushes your cheek as he looks deep into your eyes. "Let me give ya a baby, angel."

All you can do is look into his emerald orbs that examine you for a response. The silence between you two is accompanied by the ticking sounds of the clock on the kitchen wall. And after a few seconds, you sigh and place a hand on the big one caressing your cheek.

"If I say yes," your reply has his brows lifted. "Will you give me foot massages and a bowl of ramen at three in the morning and not be a bitch about it when I ask?"

Toji gives you a smile, his scarred lip tugged upwards. And you return one to him as he kisses your forehead.

"Works fr' me."

This is how the two of you end up in the bedroom; the ceiling lights toned down to a low shade, clothes discarded on the cold wooden floor, and the sound of lips smacking fills the silence.

"Mmmm, Daddy..." You whimper through the kisses, your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and you yelp when he bites your lip. His lips gradually embark downwards to your neck clavicle. Kisses and light suck to your nipples make you hum in pleasure, and a gasp prompts out when his teeth graze the bud of your soft mounds.

A hand sneaks between your legs and nestles in between the lips of your southern entrance, his big fingers enter inside with the use of the soapy fluid of your cunt, and you wail from the contact while he sucks on your breast.

"Such a good girl, angel." He lets go of your nipple to coax you, his mouth sucking your skin as his mouth continues its journey south. More licks on your body feel hot, kisses placed on every stretch mark he comes across. And he stops when he passes your tummy, coming up to see the view of his digits pushing to and fro inside your leaking chasm. "My fingers feelin' good, mama?"

"Yesssss," you hiss, eyes sewn shut to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation in your slit. He chuckles at your delighted expression before he leans down to suck on your clit, earning a shriek from your puffy lips. "Stoooop, I-I'm too sensitive—Ahhaaaannn!!"

He releases your tender bud from his mouth after placing a chaste kiss on it. "Sorry, baby, gotta have you nice and wet fr' me." He sucks and laps around on your wetness for a few more minutes before withdrawing his mouth from your leaky chasm, substituting his tongue with his big fingers to swipe on your clitoris. Broken sobs seep out from you. "Cummin' on my fingers and tongue, that's my girl."

The throbbing commotion between your legs has your ears ringing and your head pulsing. You've already come three times for thirty minutes. He's such a greedy man, but whatever it takes for you to prep for him.

Speaking of which, Toji props your legs onto his shoulders while aligning his cock to your folds, lathering the girth with your juices. Your heart beats irregularly with anticipation on the rise, a position you're all too familiar with. Toji sees you gawking at his glans kissing your folds, and he sneers salaciously. "Ready, sweetie?"

You give him a smile even through entering your lustful haze. "Skipped the pill and everything, Daddy." And with a kiss on your cheek, Toji wastes no time and pushes his length into you with every inhale you take. And the both of you moan when the cockhead slides right into your vulva. Every inch of his dick descends into you, making you full of his size, and whimpers fail to be suppressed as he scrapes your velvety walls deliciously.

After letting you adapt to him, his hips start with a slow rhythm for you to properly situate yourself with the mating press. However, with how you're gripping around him, it doesn't take long for him to quicken his pace. Soft wails soon become stifled squeals with the bite of your lips from the growing cadence, and your eyes begin to water when the underside of his shaft grazes your inner walls.

But when the tip of his cock finally touches your cervix, a choked scream sneaks past your restraint. And Toji chortles. "Mmmmm, that's what I wanna hear." He grinds his pelvis deep into your cunt, resulting in forced squeaks from your tongue.

"Ahhhnnn! Daddy, please—Oh, Jesus," It hurts to think when Toji accurately jabs your delicate cervix, tears streaming down your pretty cheeks. "Oh, God, it's too much, too mu—Oooohh!!"

"I know, darlin', I know." He comes down to your face, yet his pace does not falter. His speed increases and becomes harsher by the second, and your head pounds hard with every rut. You nibble on his neck, sucking on his Adam's apple as he drills his dick into you. "Nnnngh, so tight on me, mama. Gonna make me go crazy."

As if he wasn't going crazier already with the erratic rut of his hips. Driving his cock deep inside and the sound of his balls smacking your folds is all you can hear. Your face is now entirely hot, matching the tingling sensation of skin slapped together between your legs. You dare to peek down to see the union of your sexes, Toji's member now harboring a white ring near the base. Strings of your slick and his spit keep you two connected during this moment, and more incoherent shrieks are pulled from your throat.

"Nnnaaaaa, ahhhaaaa!!! D-Daddy, please!!" While there's uncertainty about whether your pleas will be heard, you still express yourself to him. "It's coming, it's coming! I'm gonna cum, gonna cummmm!! Nnnmmph!!" And when he comes down to you with his complete weight caging you in, the pressure of his body has you submit to him completely.

"Yeah, wanna cum on Daddy's dick." He says with his condescending, guttural tone that almost makes you melt onto the satin sheets beneath you. "G' ahead, mama—Hmmph! Make a nice mess while I finish here..." His strokes become ever intenser than before; his length brushes your inner walls, and continuous pokes to your cervix prompt your orgasm to climb faster. And you soon fall into a wave of pure ecstasy, your cunt clamping around him desperately while your body trembles.

And Toji is forced to fall into a release of his own when the walls of your slit contract around him, spilling into you with the flex of his abdomen. His sweaty body is on top of yours, and your breathing matches his as you two experience each crescendo.

Heavy exhales sync as you two calm down within your intimate embrace. Your mind slowly returns from its foggy state with the calm atmosphere soothing your body, and your quivers now subsided while the older man lays kisses and sucks on your neck. But it comes to a halt when a sudden yelp comes from your swollen lips because he thrusts into you again, even with your vulva being extremely sensitive.

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, and it's not to your surprise that he has a smirk on that dumb, handsome face of his. His lips curled to where his teeth peek from under his scar. "Ya know I gotta fuck you more than once, right, sweetie? Make sure you're all filled up 'n all."

You suck your teeth with furrowed brows, but a smile comes up with breathless giggles. "I'm telling you, Mr. Fushiguro, you're most definitely treating me to daily foot massages when I get pregnant."

"Whatever you say," he shuts your threats with a kiss on your soft lips. "My pretty darlin'..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Toji twiddles with something in his hand while you lay on his chest in the shared bedroom. The kids were taking a nap after coming from school, leaving the two of you to enjoy the leisure of each other's company.

But today was a different day compared to any other. Because even if you two are looking at the television with the old rom-com displayed, neither of you is actually watching. Too busy distracted with the smiles plastered on your faces to care for what's on the screen. The only thing corrupting your minds is a matter that has you two in glee after a week of anticipation and mutual work.

The man peers at his hand to look at the object between Toji's fingers. Nothing but a pink and white stick — a pregnancy test. And at the center of the device conveyed two red lines, the signature implication that you were indeed with a child. His child.

"Hey, Toji," the call of his name has him look down at you, still facing the television despite your attention not wholly on it. "What do you think they are?"

"Hmm?" It takes a few seconds for it to click until he notices your hand brushing around your belly. He chuckles. "I'm hopin' for a girl. Wan' 'em to look and act like you."

You hum aimlessly at his answer before you berate him with more of your thoughts. "What if it's a boy? I think it'd be cute to have another mini-you running around the house."

"Nah, one mini-me is enough, and he already talks back to me like he's a teen." You giggle at the light sour face he shows and his complaints about Megumi. "Besides, I don't want another me. I'm already a lousy dad, and I didn't have the best childhood. I wouldn't want you to deal with a child that's exactly like me..."

Silence ensues with the answer; it's the only response you deem appropriate. That was the case until you say what was next on your mind.

"Toji, I'm sure your upbringing wasn't the best because people weren't there for you when you needed them. And although that's shaped you into the man I love, even I wouldn't want you to go through all that for a second time." You can feel the weight of his green eyes on you while you speak, though you don't turn to face him. "Nevertheless, times are different. You have me to love and care for you now—you and your beautiful children. You might not be the best dad in the world, but you've done a great job taking care of them."

"Thanks to you." He interrupts you, and you laugh.

"Yes, thanks to me. And because you have me, this little one won't be going through what you went through. I promise you, you're not alone in this. Because I'm pretty scared as this is my first pregnancy. But that's okay since I have you to take care of me. I'll be there to help you, and you'll be there to help me. As long as that's true, we'll do just fine."

Taken aback by your response, the older man turns to the pregnancy test still in his hand. The more he looks at the device, the more he ponders what you said. And a small smile creeps up on him, coming to a decision himself. At this point, it doesn't matter what the sex of the child will be to him. What warms his heart is that you promise to be by his side, helping him watch your little one — his child — his family grow as the days and years pass.

"Now," your voice brings him back to the present, whipping his head back to you. "I can't say the same if we end up with twins. Because you'll just have to deal with one while I have the other."

Toji puts the pregnancy test on the nightstand and goes for your nose to pinch it. "Fuckin' kid, who told you were funny, huh?" Your laughter only fuels him to mess with you more, but that's okay. He's smiling at your silliness, and that's all you want right now.

Because, even if they're not here yet, no child should have a father who doesn't know how to smile.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk thirsts #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fic #toji x y/n #dilf toji #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji smut

[papercorgiworld]

Muffins and Fireworks, because I want your love

A Mattheo Riddle fluff

You are a kind and sweet person and you weird out Mattheo so much by being nice to him that you have him falling for you badly, turning our sour boy soft and sweet.

This was a lovely request but I feel like I screwed it up. I don't know but I feel like I could've done better, but it's really fluffy so I do hope it's to your liking. Also sorry for taking a freaking century to write this! For the cameo piece, Raven (@sunshineangel-reads) is your friend who listens to you talk about muffins and who ends up dating Blaise. They're very kissy. Thanks for sending in! I honestly feel like this story is more about muffins than Mattheo but yeeah, I love both.

My ending was inspired by prompt 4 of @thatdammchickennugget 's Hogmarch Challenge and since it’s still the 25th, I’m just in time.

Warning: fluffy fluffiness and kinda long for my standards

I. Kindness

You weren’t one for loud Gryffindor parties, but your friends had convinced you to come anyway. So here you were, standing outside the three broomsticks in need of some fresh air while looking up at the moon. After a few minutes you sigh and turn to head back to your friends. Just then a drunk figure stumbles through the door, almost bumping into you. You stop and he turns around looking even more drunk than he was walking. “Elloo, pretty thingy.” He flirts playfully pointing his finger in your direction, making you laugh as you had never seen Mattheo Riddle in this state. He takes two steps towards you and one step back, before focussing on you again. “Have we met?” He says leaning forward and stumbling closer to you. You chuckle and nod. “Yes, Mattheo, we’ve been going to the same school for several years.” A bright and toothy smile spreads on his lips and you find his drunk state almost adorable. “Then tell me, why aren’t you my girlfriend?” Mattheo tries to take another step towards you, but stumbles to the side and you reach for his upper arms to hold him steady. “Whoopsie.” Mattheo says, leaning closer to you again. You shake your head and get a little flustered at his flirtiness. “You. You are incredibly drunk.” You chuckle and his eyes just move from your sweet ones to your kissable lips. Your mind is freaking out as you catch on with Mattheo’s intentions, but it only lasts for a second because suddenly Mattheo tears himself loose from your hands, keeping him steady. 

You frown and scrunch your nose as Mattheo throws up a few feet away from. You hear his painful breath and bite your lip as you watch him, pitting him. You think quickly and conjure a soda for him. Slowly you move over to him, resting your hand on his back. “Here, have this.” You whisper as he still rests his hands on his knees, unable to look away from the ground. “No, no more. I think I’ve had enough.” He mutters and you chuckle. “It’s not alcohol, but I’m glad you’ve figured out that you’ve had enough alcohol for today.” You gently stroke his back up and down and his eyes move to the cup and then looks up at you. You take a step back when he takes the cup and he nods, clearly he’s partly sobered up. “Thanks.” He says, sounding confused, and you offer him a sweet smile. “Go sit for a moment.” You suggest and point to a nearby bench. Your hand brushes his biceps as you guide him to sit down and his eyes watch you darkly. He had never felt so uneasy, he just couldn’t wrap his head around your gentle touch and concerned eyes. You sat down next to him watching him with those sweet eyes of yours and he fell silent, drinking from the cup. “Better?” You ask and your soft voice gives him goosebumps. He nods as he stares at the drink in his hand. 

A few seconds pass in silence until a painful grunt leaves Mattheo’s lips. Again your hand rests on his back. “Do I need to walk you to the common room?” You sound genuinely concerned and Mattheo just doesn’t know how to behave around you anymore. “I’m not a girl. I don’t need to be walked anywhere.” You’re surprised by his snappy voice and you pull away, making Mattheo regret what he said, but it was too late now. He gets up and leaves, throwing the cup in a trashcan before shoving his hands in his pockets. You watch him walk away with his head low and you’re utterly confused at the way he left, but it was Mattheo Riddle after all. You knew he could act out, but you also knew that he didn’t always mean it that way. So you shrug and go back to your friends, not knowing that Mattheo would spend the entire evening alone thinking about you. Why were you so nice to me?

II. Sweetness

It was widely known around the school: you were always snacking. However, you also like to share. After a day in Hogsmeade you would bring your friends’ their favourite candy and you would pass a candy bag around before class to give everyone that well needed sugarboost. Mattheo found the gesture sweet, but also unnecessary. He was almost annoyed by your sweetness since he found it made you vulnerable to greedy people who would just take advantage of your generosity. Yet, you had noticed that on occasion he would take one of the really sour candies. Convinced that Mattheo only wanted one specific flavour of sour candy you made sure to get a small bag extra just for him.

Mattheo entered the classroom and immediately noticed the candy bag go around, making him roll his eyes as people that rarely talked to you suddenly pretended to be your friends, thanking you and saying you were amazing. You immediately noticed his mood get darker and you smile pleased that today you came prepared. Mattheo let himself fall next to Theo, but as soon as he sat you appeared in front of his desk. He shot you a curious look. “You lost?” He asked and Theo carefully watched the interaction between you two from the corner of his eyes. “No.” You say somewhat startled by his tone, but still smiling. “I noticed you rarely take any candy, probably because I never take anything you like, so I got you your favourite.” With a bright smile and shiny eyes you reveal the small bag of sour candies that you were holding behind your back.

Theodore can barely hide his smile as Mattheo stares with wide eyes. Due to a lack of reaction from the boy in front of you, your smile falters a little. “Not your favourites?” You whisper a bit embarrassed. Enzo’s hand reaches for the bag as he passes by. “I’ll take them, I love-” Mattheo’s eyes darken. “Paws off, Berkshire.” Your heart skips a beat at the harsh tone coming from Mattheo, but Enzo just laughs, raising his hands in defence. “They're good.” Mattheo nods and he feels himself melt as your sweet smile instantly returns. You hand them over and his eyes lock with yours for a moment. “Thank you.” Mattheo says, his voice a bit horse, revealing how weirded out he is by your kindness. “Sour candy for our sour boy.” Blaise says with a teasing smirk on his lips, while ruffling Mattheo’s hair, before quickly taking a seat next to Enzo far away from a clearly agitated Mattheo. “You don’t have to do this.” Mattheo says, inspecting the bag and you shake your head, but decide to ignore his statement. “Best to open it like this.” You say and your fingers reach for the bag in his hands. “I think I’ll manage.” Mattheo says tilting his head and you move away. “Right, sorry.” You chuckle and just then the professor walks in, so you quickly move to your seat.

Mattheo’s eyes stay on you as you grab your books while exchanging a casual word with your friend. He hated how you made him feel, how much you made him feel. Why couldn’t you just act like other girls flirty and none of this sweet and kind stuff. 

Boy is clearly weirded out by you, but also can't help but stare.

Mattheo didn’t learn anything during the hour that passed as he was only staring at you and thinking about you. What to do with you? What to do with himself and his growing feelings? However at the end of class he did learn one very important thing, considering cupcakes. Noisy students move through the classroom, quickly heading for the door, but you and Raven aren’t in a hurry at all and continue chatting while putting your quill and books away. “No muffins?” Raven exclaims in shock and you nod with a soft chuckle. “Rae, trust me. If they had any I would’ve bought them all. They have the best. Nothing rivals the sweet texture of Honeydukes’ muffins.” Raven frowns and slings her bag over her shoulder. “Out of muffins?” You follow her through the door. “Not a single one. So I have to wait for the weekend to restock.” You explain, voice pained with the lack of muffins in your life. “Will you survive that?” Raven laughs and you shake your head. “No, I’m in agony and it’s monday.” 

Your voice disappears in the hallway and Mattheo is still packing his books, since he was too focused on listening in on your conversation. Suddenly he’s in a hurry scrabbling his notes together and hurrying through the hallways, passing a confused Draco. “Potions’ that way!” The blond slytherin yells as Mattheo speed walks in the other direction. “Do we need to check on him and make sure he doesn’t punch anyone?” Theo just shrugs and heads to class. 

***

Your day had been exhausting and homework had just killed that last bit of will to live. You drop your bag on the floor of your dorm and walk over to your bed, noticing a rather large box and an envelope addressed to you. 

These are for the sweetest girl I know. Please don’t share, it’s okay to keep some things just to yourself. M.

You frown and flip the card, searching for a name. Disappointed that you don’t know who the card is from you move to open the box. An overjoyed yelp has your friends run into your room. “You okay?” You turn around to your worried friends rushing through the door. Your lips are already on the muffin in your hand and you nod, taking a bite. “I’m better than okay! I’m great! Look, muffins!” You take a step to the side and reveal the box with muffins on your bed and your friends laugh. “Who are they from?” You moan as you take another bite. “My lord and saviour.” Is the only answer you can give them.

III. Information is key

Mattheo could hear Raven’s giggling through the door, but as long as it wasn’t moaning there really was no reason to not walk in. Raven yelps and Blaise is quick to throw the sheets over her. “You’re early?” Mattheo smirks at Blaise’s question. “How are those tutoring lessons about magical creatures going? Learned anything new yet now that your tutor is-” “It got a little late so Rae stayed over.” Blaise explains before Mattheo said anything inappropriate. Mattheo nods in understanding. “She just stayed over. So if I pull the sheets you’ll both be wearing clothes, right?” Blaise’s tongue moves in his mouth and the hufflepuff girl in his bed pushes the sheets down just below her chin and gives Mattheo an innocent smile. “Hi.”

“What do you want, Matt?” Blaise sighs. “Chill, I’m not here for you. I’m here for the lady.” Blaise frowns and Raven’s brown eyes go wide. “Me?” Mattheo raises his eyebrows and nods. “Unless there’s another lady under those sheets…” Blaise groans and gives Mattheo a dark glare, urging him to move it. “I just need to know what’s up with that weird girl that you always hang out with.” Mattheo doesn’t mention your name in an attempt to sound uncaring and nonchalant about you, but the truth was he knew a lot about you. Raven’s eyebrows knit together. “Weird girl?” Mattheo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, the weird and always nice one.” Raven purses her lips as she thinks. “All my friends are nice.” She argues, getting up a little and Blaise wraps an arm around her to make sure the sheets stay around her body. “Well the pretty, weird and nice one.” Mattheo explains rather annoyedly, but this time Raven figures it out and sighs. “You mean (y/n).” Mattheo nods.

“What about her?” Raven asks and Mattheo rolls his eyes. “What’s her deal?” Raven frowns, why was Mattheo being so incredibly vague and weird about you. “Why is she always so nice?” Raven tilts her head at his absurd question. “Because she’s a nice person.” Mattheo sighs, not satisfied with the answer. “Yes, but there has to be something wrong with her?” Raven moves to sit up a little more and Blaise moves with her keeping the sheets close around her body, making sure not to reveal a single piece of skin. “Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s a sweet girl and even on bad days she makes the best out of everything. She likes snacking, either candy or any baked goods. She loves fireworks and chocolate milk. That’s it. Normal, sweet, happy (y/n).” Mattheo nods, finally making peace with the answer.

���Okay, fine. I’ll leave you two to it then. You have like an hour before everyone else returns.” Mattheo heads for the door, only stopping for a moment. “Thanks, Rae. And good luck with your new found idiot.” Blaise rolls his eyes and Raven giggles, turning her head towards Blaise. “He called you my idiot.” 

Now that Mattheo is gone, Blaise relaxes and falls back down on the bed. Raven rests on top of him. “What’s up with Riddle?” Blaise kisses her. “It’s Matt, just ignore him.” His hands roam her body and the kiss gets more passionate, until Raven pulls away. “Is he into her?” Blaise rolls his eyes. Damn, you Matt. “Yes, kinda, but he doesn’t know it yet.” Raven opens and immediately closes her mouth, confused by his answer. How does one not know that he likes someone? “Hasn’t (y/n) told you about what happened at the three broomsticks party a few weeks ago?” The hufflepuff shakes her head. “What happened?” Blaise can hear the curiosity in her voice and chuckles. “Matt got piss drunk and said some embarrassing flirty stuff before throwing up almost in front of her.” Raven’s eyes go wide. You had not told her any of this. “And like some princess in shining armour she took care of him and it freaked him out and he was a bit weird, but what surprised him even more was that she didn’t tell anyone about the embarrassing evening. So ever since that incident he’s getting softer and softer for her.” Raven huffs not believing what Blaise’s telling her. “Riddle soft?” She chuckles, but then something dawns on her. “The muffins! It was him wasn’t it? She gave him candy and he was so weird and rude about it and then those muffins showed up.” Blaise chuckles, but turns serious rather quickly. “Just promise me not to say anything to Mattheo about this, he’s struggling but he’ll figure it out.” Raven nods and kisses Blaise.

IV. Up to something

Annoyed in advance, Mattheo walked over to the Weasley twins sitting at the gryffindor table. “I need a favour.” He announced and both guys looked up, amused. “Why would we help you?” They sing in choir. Having anticipated this reaction, Mattheo coolly lays a few galleons on his end of the table, making both guys move their chin up in interest. Fred’s the first one to speak up with a bright smile. “Have I told you how big of a fan I am of Slytherin.” Mattheo raises his eyebrows, but before he can say anything George speaks up. “Your hair looks exquisite today.” Mattheo sighs. These guys, are they for real? “I need a favour not some shit ass compliments.” Fred tilts his head. “What do you want?”

You enter the great hall and spot Mattheo talking to twins. When you walk in their direction you hear them sing “A muffin?”, having immediately caught your interest you suddenly pop up next to mattheo. “Did I hear something about muffins?” You chuckle, but Mattheo just gives you a dirty look. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to eavesdrop? You didn’t hear shit, okay?” You nod, looking at him through your lashes. “I’m sorry.” Your sad apology makes Mattheo grimace. “Don’t let people be so rude to you.” Mattheo snaps and now you’re just utterly confused. “Sorry.” You blur out which makes Mattheo frown and walk away. “Pathetic.” He mutters and you look at the floor. Fred and George shake their heads. “Just ignore him, he’s just extra cranky. Don’t take it personally.” You smile and take a seat opposite of the twins. “What were you talking about anyway?” You ask and they look at each other for a moment. “You see that pile of money?” Fred asks and you nod. “That includes a fee to keep quiet.” George explains and you nod, knowing they won’t talk. 

Mattheo takes a seat next to Theo at the slytherin table, both guys watching him. Blaise is the first to speak. “Did I just really hear you tell her she’s pathetic?” Mattheo’s eyes shoot up to his friend. “What is it with people listening in on my conversations today?” Theodore chuckles and looks at his friend with a smug smile. “Look, you're gonna have to work on that flirting of yours.” Mattheo’s dead eyes move to Theo as he seriously considers if his face is worth the punch. “Let’s not forget that when Raven first complimented Blaise’s shirt, he laughed and said ‘it’s a guy’s shirt, you can’t like me’ and then walked away like she was the crazy one.” Blaise looked at his plate. “Thanks for bringing that up mate.” 

***

You really need to put an extra lock on your door, because when you got to your dorm you were surprised by another box and note on your bed. 

Allow me to take you to the Yule ball? Ps. if you say yes, you get to wear the dress. M.

You stare at the note for several seconds even though you had already read the message. Then you quickly open the drawer of your nightstand so you can compare the note you received with the cupcakes. “It’s the same person?” You whisper as you notice the similar handwriting. You sit down on your bed while a deep blush creeps up on your cheeks. Your heart goes faster and faster and you can’t hide your smile anymore, pressing your lips into a line. Your mind runs wild. Who is this person? After a second another thought creeps up. The box? You were laying right next to it, but had totally forgotten about it as your mind went wondering who the mystery person was. You jump up and study the box and the perfect ribbon around it. Without opening it you knew it would be perfect. Carefully you open it and gently you pull the dress out of the box, immediately holding it in front of you and checking it out in front of the mirror. Mystery person has taste… and has a date. You smile to yourself in the mirror.

V. Fireworks and love

Mystery dates are fun in theory, but in reality it had you stressing. Who is it? Where will we meet? Will he show up? How does this person even know I said yes? Well he did know I liked muffins so they’re spying on me for sure… 

Mattheo watching you enter the great hall, so in love you and so terrified of love.

The night of the Yule ball had been fun. You had danced with your friends and had gotten a million compliments about your dress, but as amazing as your night had been your mind was only concerned with one thing: your mystery date. Anticipation had filled your brain and heart the last few days and now you felt like you were going to explode. Standing alone you scan the room searching for any clue to who it could be, when Raven and Blaise join you. “Do you think he chickened out?” You wonder out loud and Raven wants to speak up but Blaise cuts in. “Maybe you should get a muffin at the buffet.” You frown, that was not even an answer to your question. With your eyes still scanning the people dancing, you turn down his offer. “Not in the mood.” You state dryly and Blaise’s face falls, but you don’t notice and neither does Raven. “She just wants the guy to reveal herself.” Raven says emphasising ‘the guy’ as she looks at Blaise, making you turn your head around in suspicion. Blaise chuckles nervously as he sees you narrow your eyes. “Just get a muffin, it will make you relax.” Raven sighs. “She-” Blaise kisses her to keep her from talking and your eyebrows knit together. “I already had a snack.” You sigh, eyes returning to the dance floor. “I saw there was only one left.” Blaise argues and Raven sighs. “Will you cut it with the muff-” Again Blaise’s lips crash on Raven’s to keep her from talking. When his lips finally move away from hers she huffs. “I feel like you’re limiting my freedom of speech with your kissing.” Blaise raises a sassy eyebrow at Raven. “Are you complaining?” A playful smile tugs on her lips and they close the distance between them, leaning in for yet another kiss. 

You groan and decide to go look for that last muffin anyway. When did they become so cheesy? And where in Merlin’s name is my date? You sigh, inspecting the table filled with all kinds of deliciousness, but nothing catches your eye as you're still occupied, wondering why your mystery date is keeping you waiting. A weak half smile tugs on your lips as you spot that last muffin and almost as a reflex you immediately reach for it. However it jumps away and you tilt your head. Did that muffin just jump? Again your reach for it, telling yourself that you did not just see it move away. Again it jumps up and you look around if anyone else noticed it, but everyone else was preoccupied with their date or friends. You narrow your eyes. I don’t have a date, but I will have this muffin. You move in as fast as you can but it starts to float. Whoever thinks this is funny is in the wrong. I’ll not chase a muffin around. You cross your arms. The muffin moves closer and you think this is your chance, but when you try to snatch it, it distances itself again, further from the table this time. You huff. Fine it’s not like I have anything better to do. 

Determined you follow the muffin until it brings you outside and you lose it in the darkness. “Lumos.” You whisper and move around the empty courtyard. “You shouldn’t chase floating food. Enchanted food isn’t that safe.” You spin around to meet Mattheo smirking at you with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning you. “How do you know I was chasing floating food? It could’ve had little legs?” Mattheo opens his mouth but your bizarre argument has him fall silent for a moment and smile. “I know, because I asked Fred and George to make it float.” Your eyes widen at his calm statement and Mattheo chuckles at your surprise, moving closer to you and you notice the courtyard light up as he moves. Your eyes adore the soft lights and you put your wand away. “I didn’t want other people around, when I asked you for our first dance. I didn’t want anyone to stare and judge. I wanted a moment just between us.” You feel yourself drawn to him, his soft voice and warm eyes making you fall in love with slytherin. 

Feeling safe around this gentle Mattheo you take a step closer to him, fingers entangling with the fabric of your dress to lift it slightly. “Did you buy this?” Mattheo smiled his sweetest smile and nodded ever so slightly, like he was almost embarrassed to admit he did all these things for you. “I needed something to convince you to say yes.” You blush, but bravely take another step towards him. “You already had a yes when you got me those muffins… or even before that.” Even though you whisper the last part he focuses on those words. Does she like me? 

You both look towards the castle as you hear the music change and a small smile tugs on your lips as you recognise it as one of the songs you had to learn by heart during those awkward dancing lessons in the weeks leading up to the Yule ball. Mattheo can’t help melting as he notices your soft smile in the dime light. “May I have this dance?” He says, bowing and offering his hand. You had always liked him. More than liked him, but you never dared or allowed yourself to act on those feelings, because he’s Mattheo Riddle. He gets into pointless fights and hangs out with a different crowd than you, different girls. But here he was, in front of you asking you to dance with him. It takes a second for you to reply, but you nod and instantly feel your whole body heat up as your hand touches his. 

It doesn’t even feel like dancing, it's more like you’re featherlight steps on a cloud as Mattheo guides you perfectly. His touch is gentle and yet firm enough to keep you from worrying that you’ll ruin the dance by missing a step. You drown in his eyes and his lips curl at your dreamyness. He didn’t even know how badly he needed someone to drown his eyes until you were in his arms. “Where’s your mind at?” Mattheo whispers curiously and you look away for a second, but you can’t keep your eyes away from his for long. “I- I was wondering… why me?” Mattheo fails to hold back a soft laugh at your silly question. To him it was obvious that it had to be you. You were simply perfect. He was in love with you. You were on his mind constantly. However, he didn’t dare say that, because that would be weird. With dreamy eyes you watch him and he feels himself get a little flustered as part of him wants to confess, while also wanting to run away and hide from you and his feelings for you. “I- I just-” 

Fireworks. Startled, you look up and Mattheo immediately pulls you against him as a protective reflex. You relax as you watch the wonderful fireworks, but hear Mattheo groan in annoyance, making you turn your head a little. Mattheo shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never trusted something so important with the Weasley's. It wasn’t supposed to happen yet.” Your eyes move between him and the fireworks. “Raven mentioned you loved fireworks.” Mattheo whispers, partly hoping you wouldn’t hear it. Which makes you again wonder: “Why me?” 

Students come running outside, crowding the courtyard and watching the fireworks, but your eyes stay on Mattheo, enjoying the sound of fireworks, as you wait for his response. “Because I want your love, only yours and I’ll do anything to have it… That’s why I did all these silly things.” Mattheo’s heart races as he confesses something so scary. “You have it, Mattheo Riddle, all my love, you have it.” You whisper as you lean towards him and he happily meets your lips for a soft kiss. Ignoring everyone around you, this was your moment and it was perfect.

Feedback is always welcome!

Word count: 4522

#slytherin #slytherin boys #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #papercorgiworldwritings #hogmarch challenge

[struggling-with-drivers]

No Red Flags - Oscar Piastri

⋗ Pairing - Oscar Piastri x Mechanical Engineering Student!reader

⋗ Summary - Oscar comes crashes back into your life, quite literally when he barrels you down on the paddock, bringing with him all types of unwanted feelings and a whole slew of problems.

⋗ Word count - 11.2k words, fluff, Oscar being emotionally unavailable

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, I hope y'all don't mind this long fic, this was a reminder to myself that I hate type-setting texting, feedback and reblogs are appreciated

Oscar has never been the type to keep a girl for long, a mix of not having the time, and focusing all his efforts on karting, which has finally turned fruitful and given him a contract in F1. 

A series of events has led him to exchange the girl on his arm just twice this year, one for another. His feelings just seemed to change, he tells you. 

And you? You aren't much better, never able to hold onto a relationship, never falling fast, but always falling hard. The havoc the last guy left you in is still fresh in your mind, even if the guy isn't. 

You're doing your internship at McLaren for their mechanical engineering department, and Oscar is in and out of the factory constantly to get ready for his debut next year. There aren't a lot of people around your age in the department, most are a lot more than a few years older. You would be as well if you managed to get a job when you're done with your master's. But that is years into the future, and you’re still writing your bachelor's. 

It leaves Oscar to gravitate towards you, still not used to all the people constantly trying to get him to do this, do that, stand here, stand there. You're asking none of those things of him, mostly because you're stressed out of your mind with the looming deadline, and that you know you're behind on your bachelor. 

But you get talking, a few words at first, which turns to exchanging weekend stories, turns to deep conversations when you're the only ones left in the department that one Tuesday afternoon. And you show him what you've been working on for your bachelor. 

Oscar is intrigued, seemingly asking the right questions, admitting he would probably have been an engineer if he hadn't become a driver. 

You mention offhand that you don't want to go home because you have to eat leftovers again, and Oscar pipes up with "I like food."

"What?"

"I like food, I can eat the last of your leftovers."

The already long Tuesday turns longer as you find yourself heating pasta and tomato sauce for this guy. Both are things that are definitely not on his dietary plan, but you're not complaining. Just happy to finally be rid of the last of your leftovers from the week before. 

Oscar starts to talk about himself and tells you he used to go to boarding school, and you slowly realise you have quite a few things in common as the evening progresses. You tell him about your own short stint at a boarding school while your parents lived abroad. When the topic comes to past partners, Oscar tells you of how he kind of met his current girlfriend while being with his past one, how that was a dick move that he broke up with her 2 weeks after telling his ex that he was up for the long distance. 

You tell him of the guy that fucked you up, how he had promised the world, only to go ahead and break your heart, and like a fool, you had taken him back when he apologised, only for him to go ahead and cheat on you, not just 1, not 2, but 3 times within the summer months. How he had wrecked your self-esteem, as he hadn't left quietly but wanted to tear you down as he left your world. 

Then you sober up a bit and ask Oscar "Does your girlfriend know that you're here?" 

Oscar shrugs, and goes "She doesn't have to if you don't tell her." The air shifts and it all feels wrong. He is sitting too close. You’re feeling nervous. A look of worry flashes on his face. You tell him he should get going.

“It's getting late, and I have work early in the morning.” 

Oscar doesn't understand why you're kicking him out, and why you've suddenly closed yourself back up. 

Once you've practically shoved him out of the door, you realise that you've fucked up. That was not what was meant to happen. That was not how you needed the last few weeks of your internship to be used. 

But here you are, with Oscar in your vicinity at work, and he’s not understanding why you're so curt with him, why you aren't having the same kind of conversations with him anymore. And then one day you're gone, and he's told that your internship is over. 

You become a passing thought in his head, and he becomes a distant memory in yours, something that happened during your internship. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

2 years later, you’re in the beginning stages of your master's degree. Oscar has had an amazing first year driving for McLaren and is still living his best life, although his relationships only seem to become even more short-lived than the last one. His current girl won't stick around for long, he knows this, it doesn't take an intellect to see that she's here for the travels and followers she gets on Instagram, and Oscar doesn't really care. 

But then he sees you in Silverstone, at least he thinks he does. He tries to unsubtly turn around and walk past the Mercedes garage again. Instead, he ends up turning around and just staring straight into the group of students who are talking to the engineers. And sure enough, right by the group of guys you stick out. 

"Oscar, what are you doing?" The PR manager asks, "We have places to be." 

"Uh, yes, coming." Oscar turns away and catches back up.

"If you're going to steal secrets, don't do it so obviously,” his PR manager jokes, before rambling on about all the interviews he has to do after free practice today.

Oscar doesn't get why he can't get the image of you out of his head. He had honestly forgotten about you, but here you are, wearing Mercedes clothes, and for some reason, it unnerves him. You had always worn your own clothes or something with McLaren branding back 2 years ago. But now you're sporting an ever-usual ponytail and Mercedes clothes. 

You stroll past the McLaren garage, hopeful to spot familiar faces from your internship. Instead, you find yourself halting, taking a moment to point out details on the car that you saw being worked on to your classmate – a reminiscent gesture from your internship at the McLaren factory. Unintentionally, your eyes briefly catch Oscar's. Witnessing a moment of hesitation, he pauses his conversation with Lando Norris, the first seater at McLaren. Choosing to move forward, you leave the scene as Patrick wants to see the Red Bull team before the qualifier kicks off.

Instead, Oscar comes barrelling out of the garage, yelling your name after you, causing you to flinch and stop. You turn around slowly, fully aware of the hundreds of eyes that have turned onto you.

"Hey." Oscar breathes out, his lips gracing a small smile. 

"Hi?" You question back before your classmate sticks his hand out.

"Hello! I'm Patrick," your classmate says, waiting for Oscar to take his hand, and a few seconds too long passes before Oscar does. 

"I'm Oscar, the driver for McLaren."

Patrick smiles wide, "I know! Can I take a picture with you? I'm sorry, I've just been a massive fan the last few years, tried to get in to write my master's degree but there weren't any slots open for our year and-"

"Yeah, sure." Oscar cuts him off, with a nod and a pr practised smile. Patrick fishes out his phone and quickly makes you snap a picture of the two. 

"Thank you so much!" Your last lifeline, says as he's hurrying down the paddock ready to brag that he got a picture with Oscar Piastri. 

"I thought you were a McLaren fan at heart." He tries to joke, as you shrug your shoulders. 

"You heard him, there weren't any spots for our year, and I was lucky to get a foot in the door at Mercedes. I wasn't going to turn that down,” you tell him, looking around awkwardly, fully aware of how it looks to have what looks like a Mercedes engineer talking to the McLaren driver. 

"You could have asked me?" The two of you aren't sure who's the most surprised by those words. Oscar for saying them, or you for hearing them. 

"What?" 

"I mean, you could have, eh, asked me?" Oscar realises how it sounds as he tries to defend his previous question. How could you even do that? You two never exchanged info, you were only friendly at work, and then you just stopped talking to each other. 

"I will... I will keep that in mind?" You say although it comes out as another question, the surrounding air is turning awkward, and you know you should probably leave. "I will see you around. I just have things to do, and you know, Mercedes... Yes." You make a weird hand gesture before hurrying off down the paddock. 

Oscar waves after you awkwardly, before stopping himself, realising that you aren't turning around to look at him.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

The next time you see Oscar, it’s a lot less you see him, and much more you barely hear him calling out your name before he rams straight into you, sending both of you tumbling to the asphalt of the paddock. 

“I’m so sorry!” Oscar is quick to apologise, as you’re trying to untangle yourself from the surprise attack. “Hello to you too.” You run a hand over your left elbow, you’ve scraped it. Oscar finally gets up on his feet, staring at you as you sit on the ground. “If I get blood on my shirt, I’m definitely sending you the invoice.” 

You crack a small smile at his dumbfounded look, nodding to his hand before he reaches forward and you grab it. You let him help you up. 

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you were gone,” Oscar repeats himself. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get the chance to give you my number.” He hands over a piece of paper. Chicken scratches in a surprisingly neat row, spelling out what you can barely decipher as a phone number. 

“Thank you… Oscar?” 

He smiles for a moment before the silence falls and his face seems to as well. He’s openly searching for a response, and you aren’t sure what it is. Apparently, thanking him wasn’t what he was hoping for. 

You bite your tongue, before sighing. “You shouldn’t hand out your number to other girls when you’re in a relationship.” 

Oscar blinks at you, “I’m not?”

“Then what about her?” You nod at the girl standing by the garage, wearing a hoodie with Oscar’s number on it. She’s looking more and more uncomfortable by the second as Oscar turns around and looks at her. 

“Oh that… Yeah.” Oscar shrugs. It sends a shiver down your spine, his dismissal tone mixed with his indifferent facial expression. All of it screaming to you, he’s a walking red flag. Don’t do this to yourself. 

You take a step back, your scraped elbow forgotten in the sudden surge of discomfort.

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, not wanting to linger any longer in this awkward exchange. You glance at the girl by the garage, whose eyes briefly meet yours before she looks away. It's clear she's caught in the middle of something she probably didn't sign up for.

"I... I thought..." Oscar stammers, seemingly at a loss for words.

You shake your head, deciding it is best not to delve into the intricacies of his personal life. "It doesn't matter. I have to go," you say, tucking the paper with his number into your pocket, the weight of it feeling surprisingly heavy.

As you walk away, you can't help but replay the brief encounter in your mind. It's a strange mix of nostalgia, irritation, and a newfound realisation that some things never really change. Oscar seems to be stuck in the same patterns, and you don't want to be a part of that cycle.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Days pass, and you find yourself torn between dialling the number and simply discarding it. The rational part of your mind screams at you to let it go, but there's a small, persistent voice that wonders if people can truly change. Another one telling you that you won’t be part of whatever cycle he’s going through if you just keep him at arm's length.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of you, and you type in his number. Chuckling to yourself at his contact name, before you decide to send a brief text. 

You: Hey finally deciphered your chicken scratches how have you been?

The response is almost immediate. 

Os🚗: Hey! I've been good. Any invoices I need to pay? You: Invoices? Os🚗: Yeah, for your team shirt, I know the first few ones are special. You:  Ah no got it out with cold water and soap You: Thanks for that btw

You wait a minute before sending another text.

You: My elbow is all healed up as well  Os🚗: Good to hear 👍 You:  You text like my dad Os🚗: 👎 You:  Skill issue

You laugh to yourself, before realising half your lecture is now looking at you. It pulls you right back to reality. You only texted him because it seemed slightly more fun than listening to a guest lecture on spring physics. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

The days pass, and your interactions with Oscar continue sporadically through text. The initial awkwardness fades, replaced by a casual banter that surprises you. It's almost as if the past is being overwritten by a new script, one in which you're just two acquaintances catching up.

Yet, in the back of your mind, the warning signs still linger. The memory of that awkward encounter with the girl by the garage and Oscar's dismissive attitude towards her. Then add on all those years ago in your apartment where he told you to keep quiet, it all sits as a constant reminder. You find yourself treading carefully, keeping the conversations light and steering clear of anything that could lead to future problems.

As you're scrolling through your phone during a break, TikTok seems to think you’ve found a sudden interest in the edits of Oscar. A notification pops up. It's a message from the man of the hour.

Os🚗: Hey, I have a weekend off, and Lando has me coming to the UK. Do you have time to meet for some time?

You hesitate, considering the invitation. A part of you is curious about how a casual meeting would unfold, but another part is wary. Oscar has been very clear in every single one of your interactions that he wants to get closer to you, in a way that’s intruding on all your thoughts, will only bring you trouble, unwanted complications, and unneeded problems. You know he will try to mask any advantages with the simple gesture of just wanting to be friends. 

But friends don’t look at each other the way Oscar looks at you, and it’s weird, you don’t want to find out why he does look at you like that.

You: Thanks for the offer but I've got plans this weekend. Maybe some other time

Oscar's response is swift.

Os🚗: No problem. Just let me know when you're free.

When you’re free? You really shouldn’t, you absolutely shouldn’t be considering it. 

As the days pass, you find yourself contemplating the situation. The cautious voice in your head warns against getting too involved, while the curious side wonders if people truly can change. It's a delicate balance, and you're not sure which way to lean.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The allure of a face-to-face meeting lingers, but so does the memory of that uncomfortable encounter at the paddock. Oscar keeps pestering you through texts as the months pass, you’re making up excuses as you go, yet your reasoning keeps running thinner until you’re left with nothing to justify your rejections.

You're sipping coffee and reviewing some notes, as your phone buzzes with a call from Oscar. Why would he be calling you, he never calls, he only ever texts in that dad-type of way. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you answer.

"Hey, it's Oscar."

A small laugh slips past your lips, "Yeah, I know, caller ID was invented half a century ago."

"McLaren has me in London, well, south of it, and I was thinking we could grab a coffee or something. Face-to-face, you know?"

“Oscar… Why are you so insistent?” The question blurts out of you before you seem to realise you actually said it out loud. 

“Because we’re friends?” It’s meant to sound like an answer, but to you, it sounds like he’s inquiring about the most obvious thing in the world. And for a moment you feel like an asshole.

A small moment of weakness shows in the way you say, “I don’t have the time to come to London, but if you find yourself in Brackley on Thursday.”

You never mention a time or a place, yet he agrees so easily, and you wonder if you’re going to regret this. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

Thursday arrives, and you’re nervously glancing at the clock as the appointed time approaches. Your work at Mercedes keeps you occupied, but there's a subtle anticipation building in the background. The decision to meet Oscar has left you in a state of conflicting emotions, and you're not entirely sure what to expect.

As the clock strikes the start of your lunch break, you're surprised to see Oscar approaching the entrance of the Mercedes facility. His casual demeanour contrasts with the high-security surroundings, but he seems unfazed. You meet him at the entrance, exchanging a brief nod.

"Hey," he greets you with a warm smile.

"Hey," you reply, feeling a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.

Oscar suggests grabbing a coffee from a nearby café, and you agree yet again. The conversation flows more smoothly than you anticipated. It's easy and casual, and you're reminded of the times when you first met at McLaren. The awkwardness seems to have dissipated, replaced by a shared understanding of each other's worlds.

As you discuss work, life, and everything in between, you notice a genuine interest in Oscar's eyes. It's a stark contrast to the distant look he had during your internship. Maybe people can change, you think, or at least, they can show different sides of themselves.

As the coffee date comes to an end, you both stand outside the café. There's a moment of silence, and you can sense a question lingering in the air.

"Look," Oscar starts, "I know things got weird back then, and I probably should've been more upfront. I just want you to know that I genuinely enjoyed our conversations, and I'd like to keep talking, don’t… run away again, please."

You appreciate his honesty, and for a moment, you contemplate sharing your reservations. But you decide against it, choosing instead to take things one step at a time.

"I appreciate that, Oscar," you reply, offering a small smile. "But let's just see where things go."

The two of you part ways, and you can't deny the subtle warmth that lingers. Maybe, just maybe, this time around will be different. As you return to your work at Mercedes, you can't help but wonder how the next chapter of your story with Oscar will unfold.

That voice in the back of your head is screaming that Oscar is going to cause you problems, yet you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. And as much as you know you should agree, you find yourself ignoring it. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

You're not quite sure how Oscar ended up in your apartment once again, however, you can not find it in yourself to complain. Nor do you want him to leave. The smile that rests on his lips has your heart fluttering, despite your mind knowing Oscar is nothing but trouble. 

The soft hum of a familiar tune plays in the background as you move around your kitchen, gathering ingredients for a simple pasta dish. Oscar sits at the small dining table, watching with genuine interest as you go about your culinary routine.

"Do you cook often?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder. "Well, I try. It's therapeutic, you know? I want to say it's cheaper, but we both know in this economy nothing is cheap."

Oscar smiles, appreciating the casual atmosphere that envelops your apartment. The aroma of garlic and tomatoes begins to fill the air as you start chopping vegetables.

"Need any help?" he offers, standing up and joining you at the counter.

You hand him a knife and a bell pepper. "How about you tackle this? Just chop it into small pieces."

Oscar nods, mimicking your chopping technique. The rhythmic sound of knives against cutting boards fills the kitchen, creating a comforting melody. As you work side by side, a gentle ease settles between you.

"So," Oscar begins, breaking the silence, "what's the secret ingredient in this pasta?"

You wink playfully. "That's a trade secret. But I'll give you a hint – it starts with 'herbs.'"

He laughs, and the genuine warmth in the sound makes your heart flutter. As the vegetables sizzle in the pan, you find yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment. The soft glow of the kitchen lights, the shared laughter, and the anticipation of a homemade meal create a cocoon of tranquillity.

Once the pasta is perfectly al dente, you drain it and add it to the simmering sauce. Oscar takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on the creation taking shape before him.

"Looks delicious," he remarks.

You grin, handing him a fork. "The real test is in the taste."

Together, you sit at the table, savouring each bite of the pasta. The flavours dance on your taste buds, and you can't help but appreciate the quiet joy of sharing a meal you have prepared together.

The dinner table is adorned with the remnants of the delicious pasta, and the two of you sit comfortably, basking in the warmth of shared food and easy conversation. The soft glow of the kitchen lights casts a cosy ambience.

Oscar looks at you, a gentle smile on his face. "This is really good, you know. You've got some serious cooking skills. It's even better than last time when I got to eat your leftovers."

You return the smile, appreciating the compliment. "Thanks, Oscar. I'm glad you like it."

There's a brief pause, and Oscar's expression becomes more contemplative. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

Oscar hesitates for a moment before speaking. "I've noticed that things have been a bit... different between us. You seem to be, I don't know, running away or avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?"

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "It's not that you did something wrong, Oscar. It's just that... it feels like you're set on making things complicated for me."

His brow furrows in confusion. "Complicated? What do you mean?"

You chuckle, a hint of irony in your tone. "Oscar, you're a walking enigma. You come into my life, seemingly wanting to be friends, and then there's this underlying tension, this feeling that you're here to stir up trouble."

He looks genuinely perplexed. "Trouble? I don't want to cause trouble for you. I just want to get to know you better."

You meet his gaze, sincerity in your eyes. "I appreciate that, but there are moments when it feels like you're intentionally making things challenging. Like you enjoy the chaos."

Oscar leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I genuinely don't want to complicate things for you. If there's something I'm doing that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know."

You sigh, realising the complexity of the situation. "Let's not dwell on it too much. It's just a feeling I get sometimes."

He seems about to press further, but you change the topic with a light laugh. "Anyway, did I tell you about the time I accidentally set off the fire alarm at University? We were trying to test out this new engine, but it caught on fire. Disaster in the garage, trust me."

Oscar chuckles along, as you make a point to ignore the way he's staring at you. You can feel his eyes searching for your face for something you won't give to him. Instead, deep inside of you, you realise that little voice in your head has been quiet the entire time Oscar has been in your apartment. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

You’re neglecting your book about fluid physics as you and Oscar are talking over Facetime. The idea of going clubbing has just been tossed into the conversation, and Oscar, ever the persuader, leans closer to the camera with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Come on," he says, a charming smile playing on his lips. "Even university students need a break, you know? It's all about finding the right balance between work and play."

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical but intrigued. "Balance, huh? I do have assignments due next week."

Oscar chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "And that's precisely why you should take a break. Trust me, a night of dancing and fun is the perfect way to recharge those academic batteries. Besides, Lando and I have been planning this for ages, and it wouldn't be the same without you."

He glances towards something out of the camera's lens, you aren't sure what, yet you can sense the anticipation in his demeanour.

"I'm not sure," you admit, considering the proposition.

Oscar leans in again, adopting a more serious tone. "Look, I get it. University life can be hectic, but you deserve to have some fun too. It's not just about the grades and deadlines; it's about creating memories and enjoying the journey. Tonight, let's forget about responsibilities and just live in the moment."

His words resonate with a certain truth, and you find yourself swaying toward the idea. Still, a hint of hesitation lingers.

"I promise it won't be an all-night affair," Oscar reassures, sensing your wavering resolve. "Just a couple of hours of music, laughter, and good company. You won't regret it."

You weigh the options, glancing between Oscar's earnest expression and your open book about fluid physics. A sigh escapes you, accompanied by a smile. "Alright, fine. But just for a couple of hours."

Oscar's face lights up with triumph, and he gives you a playful wink. "That's the spirit! Trust me; you won't regret this."

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the club as you, Oscar, and Lando immerse yourselves in the vibrant atmosphere. The dance floor is a sea of moving bodies, and the colourful lights create a kaleidoscope of patterns.

Lando, with his infectious energy, is already lost in the rhythm, leaving you and Oscar to navigate the crowded space. The bass thumps in your chest, and you sway to the music, caught up in the electrifying ambience.

Oscar, with his hand on the small of your back, guides you through the sea of dancers. The touch is subtle, but the warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but notice how close he is, the proximity making your senses come alive.

As the music intensifies, Oscar pulls you into a spontaneous twirl. The movement is fluid, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. The chemistry between you two on the dance floor is undeniable, a magnetic pull that defies logic.

You catch a glimpse of Lando, who's thoroughly enjoying the night, his carefree spirit infectious. But your attention keeps drifting back to Oscar – the way his body moves in sync with yours, the fleeting touches that send sparks, and the undeniable connection that lingers in the air.

Amid the chaos, you try to remind yourself of the reality. Oscar has a girlfriend, and this moment on the dance floor should be nothing more than a carefree escapade. Still, the pull between you two is undeniable, and your mind can't help but wander to places it shouldn't.

The bass drops, the lights flash, and the intensity of the music amplifies. Oscar's hands find their way to your hips, the touch sending a surge of electricity through your veins. It's intoxicating, and for a fleeting second, you forget the boundaries that should exist.

As the night unfolds, the three of you lose track of time on the dance floor. The chemistry between you and Oscar continues to spark, creating a tension that hangs in the air. Each touch, each movement, is a delicate dance on the fine line between desire and restraint.

Finally, as the music winds down, you catch your breath, the thumping beat still echoing in your ears. Lando grins, thoroughly pleased with the night's festivities, while Oscar's gaze lingers, a silent acknowledgement of the shared energy on the dance floor.

You step away, the cool air outside the club hitting you, offering a momentary respite from the heated atmosphere within. As you take a deep breath, you can't shake off the lingering sensations – Oscar's touch, the rhythmic dance, and the unspoken tension that hangs in the air.

You remind yourself once more, that you're just friends. You're just friends. You're just friends. You repeat this as your mantra.

You are not a homewrecker. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

You're engrossed in your studies at the university library, and your defence of your master's degree is around the corner. You need every moment you can get to study your thesis when a voice interrupts your concentration.

"Hey there."

You glance up, and to your utter surprise, there's Oscar standing right beside your table, a grin on his face.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, a mixture of shock and concern in your voice.

"Thought I'd surprise you," he replies casually.

You cast a wary glance around, acutely aware of the studious atmosphere in the library. "Oscar, you can't just show up here. People will talk."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Let them talk. What's the big deal?"

You lower your voice, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. "The big deal is that you're dating someone else, and it's not a great look for either of us if you're seen here."

He glances around, noticing a few curious stares. "Come on, it's not a big deal. Let's grab some coffee or something."

Despite your protests, Oscar leads you out of the library, and you can't shake off the feeling of eyes following the two of you. As you walk through the campus, people start recognising Oscar, and the camera shutters start clicking.

"Oscar, seriously. This is a bad idea," you insist, glancing nervously at the onlookers.

He brushes off your concerns. "Relax, it's just a few pictures. No one will care."

But you know better. You can already feel the whispers and stares, and you're caught in the uncomfortable spotlight of a situation you never signed up for. As you enter a nearby café, the buzzing of conversations seems to rise.

"This is not how I imagined spending my afternoon," you mutter, frustration evident in your voice.

Oscar, however, seems unfazed, ordering coffee as if everything is perfectly normal. "It's just people taking photos. It'll blow over."

You glance at the coffee cup he hands you, the whole situation feeling surreal. "Oscar, you're dating someone else. This is not fair to anyone involved."

He chuckles, dismissing your concern. "Let them speculate. It's not like we're doing anything wrong."

Despite his nonchalance, you can't shake off the unease settling in your stomach. As the two of you sit in the café, surrounded by curious glances, you realise that Oscar's surprise visit has turned into a spectacle – one that you would have preferred to avoid.

"Oscar, be honest. Why are you here?" you ask, watching his facade of nonchalance crumble.

"I missed your cooking?" he tries, but the way he winces completely gives away any chance that the lie might have worked.

"You're supposed to be, like, in the US," you say, your gaze making him squirm in his seat.

"Brazil, actually," he corrects, avoiding eye contact and glancing around at the spectacle he has unwittingly created. Phones around the two of you are noticeably pointing in your direction. "Maybe we should leave?"

"Oscar–"

He grabs your hand, tugging you along with him. Your coffee, still hot and now abandoned, sits on the table inside the store. As he leads you away from the prying eyes, you can feel a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling inside you.

"Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep pace with his hurried steps.

"Anywhere away from here. Let's find someplace quiet," he suggests the urgency in his voice betraying the fact that he recognises the magnitude of his misstep.

The two of you navigate through the campus, Oscar leading the way with a determination that seems at odds with the careless attitude he had displayed earlier. As you distance yourselves from the buzzing crowd, he finally slows down.

"I didn't think it would be this... chaotic," he admits a touch of regret in his voice.

"You didn't think? Oscar, you're dating someone else. This isn't just about me. What were you expecting?" you say, frustration lacing your words.

He looks genuinely remorseful. "I just wanted to surprise you. I didn't realise it would turn into this."

"Well, surprises come with consequences, especially when you're in the public eye," you reply, your tone firm.

Oscar sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I'm sorry."

You stop walking, forcing him to face you. "This isn't just about today. It's about everything, Oscar. You're dating someone, yet you keep showing up, making it complicated."

He looks down, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he meets your gaze. "I don't know what to say."

You take a step back, disentangling your hand from his. "Maybe it's time to figure that out. For both of our sakes."

The weight of the situation hangs in the air, and you realise that this unexpected encounter has unravelled more than just a quiet afternoon. As Oscar searches for words, you can't help but wonder how he thought this could have ever been a good idea. 

“Why can't you let me be your friend?” He asks. Oscar has the audacity to ask that? As though he didn't fly across the world to surprise you on a race week. 

“Because friends don't act like this, and I don't want to be a home wrecker.” You tell him, frustration bubbling in your blood as he seems to keep missing the point.

Oscar looks at you, a mix of confusion and perhaps realisation in his eyes. "Home wrecker? We're just friends hanging out."

You can't help but scoff at his apparent obliviousness. "Friends don't cause scenes, Oscar. Friends don't make grand gestures across continents when they're in a committed relationship."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "I just wanted to see you. What's the harm in that?"

"The harm, Oscar, is that you're not being fair to anyone involved. Not to me, not to your girlfriend," you reply, your voice carrying the weight of your exasperation.

He looks at you, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "She doesn't have to know every little thing. We can just enjoy our time together."

You shake your head, feeling the need to make him understand. "It's not about keeping secrets. It's about respecting boundaries, about being honest with yourself and the people around you. I can't be a part of something that feels like it's headed for disaster."

He seems to be grappling with your words, his expression shifting between frustration and a realisation that maybe this situation isn't as casual as he thought.

“I didn't mean to complicate things,” he finally admits, a rare vulnerability in his voice.

You take a deep breath, the frustration in your blood now replaced with a sombre resolve. "Oscar, sort things out on your end. I need to focus on my studies and my life. I can't keep navigating this uncertainty."

He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn't mean to make things complicated… For you."

“You keep saying that, and then… You– you do things like this.” You take a deep breath, “I'm going home, I have things to study, and you have somewhere to be across the– god, Oscar… You're supposed to be halfway across the world.”

You tighten the grab on your bag as you watch his eyes flicker over your face, before turning and walking away. Leaving him standing there. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

The world is cruel, horrifically cruel in fact. Your nerves are all over as you wait outside the set of doors that's going to decide the fate of your master's degree. You're about to go defend your thesis when your phone flashes with the words. 

Os🚗 is calling… 

You're quick to swipe it, the last thing you need is to talk to Oscar after 2 months of silence. Especially not right now, not before you're going to defend your thesis. 

Os🚗 is calling…

Flashes once more, you glance up at the clock. 15 minutes before it's your turn. 

You deny the call. 

Os🚗 is calling…

Fuck. 

“What?” You hiss into the phone. 

“I broke up with my girlfriend.” His voice is slightly chipper, as though the news is supposed to make you rejoice with glee. 

“Good for you? Oscar, I don't know what to say, what do you want me to say? I don't have time for this!” You're stressed, the clock reads 14 minutes till your defence. You're pacing the floor, unable to stand still, your nerves are eating you from the inside out. You wish this could all just be over with, you need it to pass you by in an instant. 

Oscar's voice on the other end remains unnervingly nonchalant, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions stirring within you. "I thought you should know. You know, in case you cared."

"Oscar, this is not the time," you snap, the urgency of the ticking clock amplifying your frustration. "I have my master's thesis defence in a few minutes, and I can't deal with this right now."

There's a brief pause on the line before Oscar continues, seemingly undeterred. "I just thought you should know since, you know, we're friends and all."

The word "friends" echoes in your ears, a reminder of the blurred lines that have caused so much turmoil in the past. You take a deep breath, attempting to centre yourself amidst the storm of conflicting emotions.

"Oscar, please. I appreciate you letting me know, but I can't handle this distraction right now. I need to focus on my defence," you plead, trying to convey the urgency of the situation.

"Right, right," Oscar says, the realisation in his tone belated. "Good luck with your defence. I'll, uh, talk to you later?"

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Later, Oscar."

As you end the call, you glance at the clock – 12 minutes left. The weight of impending judgment looms over you, but you shake off the distraction, determined to face the panel and defend your thesis with the focus it deserves. The world may be cruel, but you're not about to let it derail the culmination of your hard work and dedication.

The defence room is a blur of questions, explanations, and nods of approval. Somehow, you manage to navigate the academic minefield, answering each query with a precision that surprises even yourself. As the last question concludes, the panel members exchange satisfied glances, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. The defence is over, and you've held your ground.

Exiting the room, you're greeted by the smiles of your family, the relief in their eyes mirroring your own. You share a moment of celebration, the culmination of years of hard work and determination. The weight on your shoulders begins to lift, replaced by the joy of accomplishment.

Just as you're about to immerse yourself in the warmth of your family's congratulations, a familiar voice cuts through the air. "Congratulations!"

You turn, and there he is – Oscar, standing in the corridor, an awkward smile on his face. The shock of seeing him here, especially after the phone call just an hour ago, momentarily freezes your elation.

"Oscar, what are you doing here?" you ask, a mix of surprise and confusion in your voice.

He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. "I wanted to congratulate you. I mean, you just defended your thesis, right? That's a big deal."

Your family exchanges curious glances, and you can feel their unspoken questions. You take a deep breath, deciding to focus on the achievement at hand. "Thank you, Oscar. I appreciate that. But I'm with my family right now, and we're celebrating. Maybe we can catch up later."

His smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Of course. I just wanted to say congrats. I'll see you around, then."

As Oscar walks away, you turn back to your family, their expressions a mix of understanding and concern. The elation from your successful defence is now tempered by the unexpected encounter with Oscar. You push the lingering questions to the back of your mind, choosing to savour the joy of the moment with those who have been with you through thick and thin.

Your dinner out with your family is nice, but your mind is solely on Oscar. You didn't know he was in town, not that you wanted to know when he was. A headache works its way through your head, as you put on a smile and cheer with your parents and siblings. Brushing off questions about the cute guy who came to congratulate you, forcing you to call him a friend. That stupid word still doesn't sit right in your mouth, it never does when it comes to Oscar. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

You find yourself unable to think about anything but yesterday, your phone is in your hand as Oscar’s contact is pulled up. Why did he call you about breaking up with his girlfriend? Why did he then show up? What did he expect you to do? To say? To… You’re frustrated, pacing the floor once again, as you can’t figure out whether or not you should call him. Instead, the universe seems to decide for you, as his contact flashes on your phone, mirroring yesterday. 

Os🚗 is calling…

You stare at the screen, contemplating whether to answer or not. The events of the past 24 hours have left you emotionally drained, and you're not sure if you have the energy to navigate through another conversation with Oscar. However, a part of you, perhaps against your better judgement, decides to answer.

"What now, Oscar?" you answer, your tone a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

"Hey," his voice sounds through the phone, and you can almost picture the casual smile he might be wearing.

"What do you want?" you ask bluntly, not in the mood for small talk.

"I just wanted to check in. You know, after your defence and all," he replies, feigning innocence.

"Save it, Oscar. I don't need your checking in," you snap, the irritation is evident in your voice. "What happened yesterday was unnecessary. I was celebrating with my family, and you just had to insert yourself into the moment."

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before he speaks, his voice carrying a sincerity that catches you off guard. "I genuinely wanted to congratulate you. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Well, you did," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. "And I don't need your congratulations. I need you to respect my boundaries."

Another pause follows, and when Oscar finally speaks, his tone is more subdued. "I get it. I messed up. I'm sorry."

Sorry. It's a word you've heard from him before, and each time it feels less convincing. You take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. "Oscar, I don't know what you expect from me, but we can't keep doing this."

"I know, I know," he says, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to associate with his moments of frustration. "I just... I thought we were friends, and I wanted to be there for you."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Friends? Oscar, friends don't complicate each other's lives like this. We've been through this before. I can't keep playing this game with you."

There's a heavy silence, and you wonder if he's even listening or if he's already moved on to the next distraction. Finally, he speaks, his voice softer. "Then let me be more…"

"Oscar, let me be clear," you assert, the frustration evident in your voice. "I need you to get your shit together. This constant back-and-forth, the unexpected appearances, it's not fair to anyone involved, especially not to me. Figure out what you want, sort out your own life, and maybe then we can talk about what 'more' means."

His silence hangs on the line, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. This is a conversation long overdue, and the weight of the words you're about to say carries a gravity you can't ignore.

“But once you do…” You are already regretting the next words you are to speak. "I will not wait around for you, but... But I wouldn't be completely opposed to finding out whatever ‘more' means."

“Okay, okay I can do that.” Oscar sounds, not happy, but rather optimistic and hopeful. “Do you think you would want to… Maybe let me cook for once?”

“Yeah…” You breathe out, “I think I would like that.”

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The hum of machinery fills the air as you make your way through the bustling Mercedes factory, a stark contrast to the chaotic world you left behind. The engineering department is your sanctuary, a place where the precision of machines and the logic of design bring a sense of order to your life.

You sit at your desk, surrounded by schematics and blueprints, immersing yourself in the intricate details of your work. The rhythm of your routine is comforting, and you've come to appreciate the stability your job offers. As a mechanical engineer, your skills find their purpose in the assembly and improvement of high-performance engines, a far cry from the unpredictable whirlwind that was Oscar Piastri.

Today, a new intern, Gabbie, has joined the team, bringing with her a fresh enthusiasm that seems almost infectious. She approaches your desk, curiosity written all over her face.

"Hey there! I heard you're one of the seasoned engineers around here. Mind if I pick your brain a bit?" Gabbie asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

You offer a friendly smile, welcoming the chance for a break from the monotony. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

Gabbie hesitates for a moment before blurting out, "Oscar Piastri! Do you know him? The McLaren driver?"

Your eyes narrow slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected mention of Oscar in this professional setting. "Yeah, I know him. What about him?"

Gabbie grins, oblivious to any subtleties. "I heard he's a pretty cool guy. You know, being a Formula 1 driver and all. Any interesting stories or insights about him?"

You take a deep breath, contemplating how to navigate this conversation without delving into the complexities of your history with Oscar. "Well, he's certainly talented on the track. As for stories, you might want to focus on the engineering marvels we're creating here. That's where the real excitement is."

Gabbie seems undeterred, pushing for more details. "Come on, there must be something. What's he like in person? Is he as cool as he seems on TV?"

You lean back in your chair, trying to redirect the conversation. "Look, we're here to work on groundbreaking technology and push the limits of performance. If you want insights into the world of Formula 1, maybe you should visit a race or something. But around here, let's focus on the engineering challenges ahead of us."

Gabbie, slightly disappointed but still eager, nods and scurries off, likely in search of a more willing source of gossip. You return to your work, the hum of the factory providing a comforting backdrop.

As you refocus on your work, another colleague, Tom, strolls over, his friendly demeanour evident. He glances at Gabbie retreating in the distance and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What was that all about?" Tom asks, nodding towards Gabbie's disappearing figure.

You can't help but smile, the memory of Oscar and the whirlwind of emotions he brings resurfacing. "Oh, she just wanted to know something about a friend of mine."

Tom chuckles, sensing there's more beneath the surface. "Friend, huh? Spill the details. You've got that mysterious smile on your face."

You shake your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "Nothing scandalous, just Oscar she's curious about. You know how people get star-struck."

“Ah, Piastri, right? I forgot you know him.” Tom laughs, "Well, since you mentioned that you're friends with an F1 driver, you've got to share some perks with the rest of us, right?"

“Shut up Tom,” you roll your eyes at him, as he wiggles his eyebrows. “What did you drop by for anyways?”

He waves his iPad in the air. “I got the analytical data back from the stress test, and I need you to go over it before this afternoon.”

Your thoughts of Oscars are washed away in an array of statistics and equations. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Despite not being on the best speaking terms with Oscar for the moment, you truly can’t seem to escape him. Twitter has become obsessed with a recent interview with Oscar. You try not to follow his life through the media, an attempt to respect him enough to let him tell you what he wants you to know about him. That said, sometimes the internet makes that an impossible feat. 

In the interview clip circulating on Twitter, Oscar sits comfortably in the studio, a backdrop of sponsor logos and racing memorabilia behind him. The interviewer, armed with a charismatic smile, delves into various aspects of Oscar's life, from his recent races to his off-track interests.

As you scroll through the snippets, you can't deny the pang of curiosity that tugs at you. The dichotomy between the Oscar you know personally and the one presented to the world through interviews is stark. It's a reminder of the deliberate distance he maintains, carefully navigating the narrative of his public persona.

The interviewer grins, steering the conversation towards personal anecdotes. "And what about love, Oscar? Any new special someone in your life?"

Oscar squirms in his seat, as a blush spreads across his face. “Well…” His eyes flicker around the room. “No, not recently.”

“Oh really? That’s a surprise, you’re otherwise known for changing it up quite a bit.” The interviewer winks, as though that statement wasn’t wildly inappropriate. 

Oscar chuckles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. "Yeah, well, I've had my fair share of changes. But, you see, there's someone… someone I've known for a long time. And, uh, I guess I messed up. Big time."

The interviewer leans forward, sensing a potential scoop. "Care to share more about this mystery person?"

Oscar hesitates, glancing at his hands for a moment before meeting the interviewer's gaze. "We've been through a lot together. I've known her for years, and I can honestly say she's the one who knows me best. But, you know, life happens, and I've hurt her more than I care to admit."

The revelation hangs in the air, leaving an unspoken weight. Your heart skips a beat as the pieces click into place. The cryptic words, the veiled references – it's about you. The interview, unbeknownst to the public, has become a confessional, a subtle admission of guilt and remorse.

The interviewer, sensing the delicacy of the situation, shifts gears. "It sounds like a complicated story. Do you think there's a chance for reconciliation?"

Oscar's gaze falters, a mixture of regret and uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't know. I hope so. But I've got a lot to figure out, and it might be too late."

The vulnerability in his admission is palpable, and the internet, now buzzing with speculation, picks up on the emotional depth of Oscar's words. As you close the app, a whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, surprise, sadness, and an unexpected twinge of hope as your phone pings with a text message.

Os🚗: Don’t open Twitter.  You: Good morning to you too Os🚗: I’m serious. Os🚗: Remember that old picture from a few years ago? You: What picture? Os🚗: When I ran into you, and we both ended up on the ground, that one. 

You snort, you absolutely remember both the picture and that day.

Os🚗: I gave an interview, and I might have mentioned you by accident? You: You don’t sound sure   Os🚗 is calling…

You’re quick to accept the call, as you twirl your coffee. A long day of work ahead of you, and now a mess that Oscar has apparently dragged you into it seems. “Okay, so I just wanted the interviewer to change the questions, and I mentioned you, and I’m sorry, and then someone started digging online, and that you’ve been around me for years, and that stupid picture from back then got dug up, and someone else then found out that you’re still working for Mercedes, and please let me pick you up Friday?” All the words come rushing out of Oscar's mouth at once. 

“I’m sorry what?” Your head is already spinning. 

“Go out with me,” Oscar repeats. “Friday, I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, okay, okay, okay, I got that part. Now back up. What about the rest?” You suck in a deep breath, as you prepare yourself for what the hell Oscar just said. Oscar takes a moment to gather his thoughts, realising he might have split too much in a rush of anxiety. "Look, I messed up during the interview. I didn't mean to bring you into it, but then people started connecting the dots, and now it's all over social media. I didn't want you to be dragged into this mess, especially considering everything."

"Considering everything? Oscar, what did you say?" Your tone edges towards frustration. “I saw a few clips on Twitter.”

“I thought I said not to – never mind.” He sighs, "I might have hinted that you're someone important to me and that I've messed things up with you. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and I'm genuinely sorry for bringing you into it without your consent."

Your mind races, both with irritation at the situation and a surprising warmth at Oscar's unexpected admission. "Okay, I appreciate the apology, but fuck, I don’t need my job jeopardised because of something online. What if someone reaches out, I mean my supervisor is already not ecstatic about the fact that I’m good friends with you. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m dating you.”

“But –” Oscar starts before you cut him off. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” You tell him. 

“So you’ll let me take you out on Friday?” He asks, anticipation hanging in the air, a soft smile on your lips. One he can’t see, and one you would not admit to if he were to ask. 

“Yeah, yeah…” You breathe out, “I want you to bring the ugliest bouquet of flowers though, that’s the only thing I ask of you.”

“The ugliest?” 

You hum in approval. “We’ll figure out the rest later, I have to get back to work before I get too far behind on my assignments for today.”

“I’ll text you the details,” Oscar says before hanging up, you keep the phone against your chin as you take a long slurp of your coffee. You can’t believe you actually agreed to go out with him, especially in the middle of the mess he has just created. 

Oscar drives you insane, and it seems to be in the best way possible. You smile as you finally put away your phone and start up on your first assignment of the day. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The anticipation builds as you wait outside, glancing at your watch and then at the passing cars. It's Friday evening, and Oscar is supposed to pick you up. Your attire is casual, as per his instructions, but you can't shake off the lingering nervousness and excitement.

Finally, you spot his distinctive car approaching, the engine's low growl hinting at its power. Oscar pulls up with a confident smile, and you can't help but notice how his presence seems to fill the space around him.

He steps out of the car, wearing a simple yet stylish outfit. "Hey," he greets you, his eyes reflecting a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Hey," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nice car."

Oscar grins, clearly proud of his choice. "Thanks. Ready for an adventure?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Is this going to be an adventure?"

He chuckles. "Well, let's just say, it's a night of surprises."

As you get into the car, you can't help but wonder what exactly Oscar has planned. The tension in the air is palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and the promise of something new. The drive is filled with light banter, both of you carefully avoiding the elephant in the room – the mess created by Oscar's interview.

The car pulls to a night school, you look over at Oscar, a smile on his lips. Secrecy in his eyes, as he’s quickly out of his door. Walking around the car to help you out of it, a hand in yours. 

“I promised I would cook for you,” he reminds you, as he leads you through the hallways of the school, before reaching the kitchen, “except I would like for it to be edible, so I got us into a cooking class.”

He opens the door, and two other couples are already inside the kitchen, including what you’re guessing is going to be your teacher. 

“Oscar Piastri,” He tells the teacher, who notes it down before remarking on there still being a couple missing. She points you and Oscar to stand at the front right kitchen island. 

“You’re so stupid.” You whisper to him, as he eagerly drags you over to the island. Helping you get your apron on. 

He leans in, his breath hot on your neck as he’s tying your apron. “You haven’t seen the half of it yet.”

As the class begins, you find yourselves surrounded by the aromas of various ingredients and the lively chatter of the other couples. Oscar seems surprisingly excited about the cooking class, and you can't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm.

The teacher, a seasoned chef with a no-nonsense attitude, introduces the menu for the evening – a complex dish that involves a delicate balance of flavours and precise techniques. As the instructions are given, you exchange glances with Oscar, both of you silently agreeing to tackle this challenge together.

Oscar takes charge of the first step, expertly handling the knife as he chops vegetables with precision. You observe his focused expression, the playful glint in his eyes occasionally surfacing. The air between you carries a comfortable warmth, a stark contrast to the earlier tensions.

As you work side by side, the occasional laughter and banter with the other couples create a communal atmosphere in the kitchen. You can't help but be grateful for the distraction – the opportunity to focus on something other than the complexities of your relationship with Oscar.

The cooking process unfolds smoothly, and soon, the kitchen is filled with the enticing aroma of the dish coming together. Oscar steals a moment to glance at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are we doing so far?"

You return the smile, genuinely enjoying the experience. "Surprisingly well, considering your questionable reputation in the kitchen."

He mockingly gasps, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, right in the culinary skills."

The teacher makes her rounds, offering guidance and checking on each couple's progress. As she approaches you and Oscar, you brace yourself for scrutiny. To your surprise, she nods approvingly. "You two seem to have a good handle on things. Impressive."

You share a triumphant look with Oscar, the sense of accomplishment strengthening the connection between you. The dish is finally plated, and the class gathers to taste each other's creations. The blend of flavours is exquisite, a testament to the collective effort of the participants.

With the cooking portion complete, the teacher commends the class and invites everyone to enjoy the fruits of their labour. You and Oscar find a quiet corner, plates in hand, and sit together.

As you take the first bite, the rich flavours dance on your palate. Oscar watches you, anticipation in his eyes. You meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgement passing between you. Despite the chaos and unexpected twists, this evening has become a shared memory, a moment of unity amidst the complexities of life.

"So," Oscar begins, breaking the comfortable silence, "how would you rate my cooking skills?"

You savour another bite before responding with a playful grin. "I'll give you a solid eight out of ten. Surprisingly, you didn't burn anything."

He feigns offence, but the smile on his lips betrays him.

You lift your fork to let him taste a part of the elderly couple’s dish. You expect Oscar to take your fork. Instead, he leans in, keeping eye contact with you, as he eats from your fork. Your breath hitches, and his eyes are staring into yours intensely. Warmth spreads from your neck and up. Then he pulls back, finally chewing on the food.

He uses the back of his hand to dry off his mouth, still keeping his eyes locked with yours, as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “That was delicious.”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, as you look away. Why did he…?

Then the teacher claps her hands, telling everyone it’s time to start doing the dishes, and your small intimate moment is broken and forgotten as Oscar springs to his feet. Already holding his hand out to help you up, no need for you to tell him this time. 

The scene replaying in your mind as you’re going through the motions of washing up, it’s still fresh on your mind as Oscar is thanking the teacher for the great lesson. Even when he slides his hand into yours, and you walk out to his car.

He once again opens the door for you, helping you get into the car.

“Oh, before I forget.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts completely as a bouquet of the ugliest flowers you’ve ever seen is presented in front of you. Oscar smiles proudly at you, happy that he has taken you by surprise. 

“I didn’t…” You trail off. The flowers are horrendous to look at, an absolute horror show in floral form. “They’re hideous.” 

“Just like you asked.” He finally slips into the driver's seat, smiling at you, waiting patiently for a bit of praise, as you can’t seem to find the right words to describe the warm feelings inside of your heart. 

“Thank you.” You settle on, “Thank you, Oscar. You did good… You are good.” 

You look over at him, and the flowers in your hands are quickly abandoned and forgotten, when his face is right there. You place your hands gently on each of his cheeks. He leans in close to you, placing his own hand on your cheek. You close your eyes, as his lips finally meet yours. 

The car falls away, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the taste of rich food lingering on your lips. His lips move against yours with a tender rhythm, a silent language conveying emotions that words have struggled to express.

His hand, warm against your cheek, sends a shiver down your spine, and you tighten your grip on his cheeks, deepening the kiss. The connection is familiar yet different, a blend of shared history and the uncharted territory of something new.

Time seems to stretch, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips, the warmth of his touch. It's a kiss that holds the weight of unspoken apologies and the promise of something more. At that moment, the complications and uncertainties fade into the background, leaving only the raw, honest emotion exchanged between two people on the precipice of change.

As the kiss finally breaks, you find yourself breathless, a silent understanding passing between you. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, the vulnerability mirrored in both your expressions. There's a question in his eyes, one that lingers in the air, waiting for acknowledgement.

The taste of the kiss lingers, the sweet aftertaste of a decision made, of boundaries crossed. It's a moment suspended in time, a threshold crossed, and you can't help but wonder where this unexpected journey with Oscar might lead.

"Wow," he breathes, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "That was..."

You finish his sentence with a soft smile. "Unexpected?"

He chuckles a sound that resonates with shared joy. "Yeah, unexpected. But good. Very, very good."

The shared laughter dispels any remaining tension, replaced by a newfound ease. As you sit there, still holding each other's gaze, you realise that the evening has become a turning point. The kitchen adventure, the banter, and now this shared kiss – it's a series of moments that have rewritten the script between you and Oscar.

The reality of the situation lingers in the air, but instead of feeling weighed down, you find a sense of lightness, a subtle shift in the atmosphere between you two. The kiss becomes a symbol, a bridge between the past and a future that holds the promise of understanding and growth.

With a contented smile, you break the silence. "Well, I guess we've officially moved past the 'friends' territory."

Oscar grins, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Yeah, we have. And I'm looking forward to wherever this takes us."

Your worries about your supervisor and what it might mean for your job at Mercedes fade away as Oscar leans in again, capturing your lips once more. You can get used to this. 

Oscar might be someone who only brings chaos and problems into your life, but you’re all too prepared to deal with that now. Willing to deal with it all, and happy to have him by your side as you do.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, shout out to @pucksandpower for making me not kill Oscar, and for them to actually end up together. Also my beta readers Fari and @thisismeracing for editing this.

#Oscar Piastri #Oscar Piastri x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #formula 1 #op81 #Oscar piastri imagine #f1 fanfic #Oscar piastri x you #Oscar piastri fic #Oscar piastri fluff #f1 fandom #f1 fic #f1 x you #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fluff #delias own writing

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

#asks #not aurora

[sunkendreams]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax smut #house of wax fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #sunkendreams masterlist

[billlydear]

LIKE WE'LL NEVER HAVE SEX - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 1277 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: Billy's not used to getting less attention than the movie playing on the theater screen.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of sex, mentions of making out, light kissing

A/N: i'm sorry i've been MIA for a bit! school and work are very busy lately </3 but i hope you enjoy this! not me posting another part one with two outgoing series already... but this isn't a chapter of anything, it's a one-shot, and the other parts will be their own completed stories as well. it's a collection of stories, not a series, so you're welcome to read any of them without the others, it won't matter.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

The first time Billy realizes you're not using him for sex is during your first date. Movie theaters are prime date locations, at least on Billy's list, because it gets entertainment and a makeout session knocked out in the same two-hour window. He doesn't have to make small talk before fingering a girl if he's supposed to be silent watching the movie.

It's a pretty well-worn routine by now; the lights dim, and they're done with each other by the time the credits roll. It's efficient, he likes to think, it's easy.

When you'd expressed your enthusiasm about a sci-fi thriller playing in the little theater he frequented, he'd taken his shot. Five minutes later and your address was scrawled on his notebook paper, a smiley face beside it.

He picks you up at eight, and he even pays for popcorn.

You're resting back against the seat behind you, munching on M&Ms. He's neglected to kiss you thus far because the usher is prowling the aisles, on the lookout for anyone behaving... well, how Billy behaves every time.

When the guy stops flashing his torch at suspicious moviegoers and finally leaves the theater, Billy's eager to get on with his routine. He's sure the chocolate on your tongue will taste better than the popcorn dust on his own, but he's curious to see how they mix.

He reaches over to squeeze your hand first, and you tear your eyes away from the screen to shoot him an easy grin. Then you're back to the movie, eyes tracking the characters intently.

He leans over to butt his nose against your jaw, and you startle. You peer over at him with wide doe eyes, shining softly with the light from the screen. He grins and moves into a lazy kiss, one that he feels you sigh softly against his mouth for. It's sweet, but it's short.

"Wait!" You whisper, eyes wide as you tear yourself away from him to glance at the screen, "They're gonna-!"

An explosion rattles the sound system, and one of the characters gets slammed up against a cluster of rocks from the impact. She's dead on impact, and your mouth hang open.

When you settle back into your seat, a fresh candy in your mouth, he decides to steal it off of your tongue. He grips your cheek this time, tugging your face so that you're turned towards him, and pressing his lips to yours a little more firmly this time.

He manages to crack the melted candy on your tongue, spilling gooey chocolate into your spit. There's leftover popcorn butter residue on his lips, grainy and salty, but you don't seem to mind, sliding your hands against his chest.

But then you push against him, the same hands he'd thought were feeling him up nudging him away instead, and you shoot him a bashful smile.

"Sorry," You whisper, warm-cheeked and plump-lipped, "I... really wanna see this movie."

He sits back against his seat, eyes glazed over at the screen for five minutes. You're choosing to watch this shit movie instead of pay him attention? Shit, he could have rented a flick for you for seventy-five cents. Why did he pay for a ticket?

But then a new character steps on screen, and the theater goes up in cheers. He looks bewilderedly around, peering concernedly at you where you're clapping excitedly. You catch his confused stare, and lean in with chocolate-stained lips to whisper-shout, "He's from the original series! He was captain, and everyone was kind of speculating that they'd bring him back for the movie, but no one was really sure, and-!"

He watches your eyes sparkle with excitement as you fill him in on the series' lore, while also trying to keep up with the dialogue the characters have going. He realizes now that you're interested in the movie, you're not disinterested in him. He even laughs at a particularly clever quip, not that he'll ever admit it. The movie is clearly something more to you than it is to him, and he takes solace in the fact that he's not losing his game, you're just not playing it at the moment.

He fully intends to tongue you in the backseat of his camaro before driving you home, though. A man has needs, after all.

Instead, he nods along to the plot of the third episode of the sixth season of the show that the movie was based on, boots crunching against the gravel of the parking lot as he listens to you ramble. Apparently, that episode set up a villain for the movie, but he can't say he was paying attention enough to even remember what they'd looked like.

"-so they find out these guys are just taking it, but obviously they know they're not gonna stop until someone stops them. So they gear up and prepare for battle, but then they realize that there's a colony not too far from the planet they're trying to target, and they don't want them to think they're being hostile to them, so they have to run a team down to the colony to let them know they mean no harm. But it gives their enemies time to escape, and that's why it was such a big deal in the movie, because they were so close and never got to finish the job. But-"

Billy drives you home in silence, adding a few hums of acknowledgement here and there. He can't say he's interested in what you're talking about, but he likes the way you're saying it. Gushy, like the words have to get out now or you'll explode.

He lets you yammer his ear off all the way to your house, and there's lights on inside, which means he won't get away with a makeout session idling in the driveway. Parents don't like that, he knows.

There's disappointment lingering in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of going home without a proper kiss. One with wandering hands, muffled whimpers, maybe a quickie in the backseat. But when you realize he's not going to walk you to the front door, you rush around to the driver's side, ducking down to pop your face in his window.

He stares amusedly at you, surprised when you lean in to push your lips softly against his.

"Thank you," You hum, cheeks heated, "I had a good time tonight.I'm sorry I kind of talked a lot."

"It's fine," He chuckles, leaning in again to milk another kiss out of your waning time together, "You know a lot about that show."

"I do," Your laugh is bashful, and your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you take a deep breath before speaking again, "I was wondering if... you'd want to come over sometime and watch a few episodes? The first ones are a bit shaky but they're totally worth it once you get to the good stuff."

'No' Is on the tip of Billy's tongue. He is not the kind of guy that sits in a girl's living room to watch nerd shit with her. But your eyes are shining at him just like they'd been shining at the movie screen earlier, and the word 'Sure' tumbles from his lips before he knows it's even there.

"Awesome," You gush, your laugh bright and bubbly, "Does five o'clock next Friday work? We can order a pizza."

"Friday at five," He repeats, leaning in to steal one last kiss, "See you then, honey."

The smile you give him as he drives off is just as sweet and sticky as the pet name he'd coined you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove blurb

[sehodreams]

Pathetic people also fall in love

WC: 7.3K (I’m so sorry it feels like with every fic I write more)

S: Eunseok is busy enough with his life, he has an 8-year-old daughter and is overworked at his job, he didn’t need to add another thing to that list, so when he puts the unused room in his house for rent, he expects his life to become easier, not to wonder why his tenant is so hot!

TW and Tags: Singledad!Landlord!Eunseok x Tenant!Plussize!reader, aged up Eunseok for the story, all consensual, mutual pining, smut, p in v, use of condom (poor Eunseok is traumatized after his first daughter), fingering, mentions of dacryphilia, fluff (I think near the end, if you don’t think so please let me know and I’ll erase it from here), they’re just two losers falling in love.

Comment: Hey guys, sorry for not having post much lately, this was actually first a Sungchan fic because an anon asked me for a Singledad!Sungchan, but while writing I thought wth this is my baby Eunseok and changed it. I want to clarify that this is not dark at all, so be careful if you go through my other fics because most of them are, I’m all soft since 119, still hope you like it!

You were the best tenant anyone could ask for, and Eunseok knew that, so why was he acting as if he was desperate to drive you away?

When you moved to the room next to him in his house he had his doubts, you were younger than him, which usually meant problems, like drunk boys out of his house throwing up on his flowers at midnight, or loud music when he tried to work, but he needed the money and the extra help, and when he interviewed you, you were relatively fine, a young girl that moved away for school and was more than eager to help around for a significant discount on her rent.

You were so fresh, a 22 year old student with the character of an older sister, and he liked that, you always paid your rent on time and made cookies on friday night instead of going out, you also took care of his daughter when he needed to go out in an emergency at work, only asking for some food when he came back, so you were a good girl and the best tenant.

He couldn't lie to himself, he liked you a lot, which made him feel pretty much guilty, because you were just a sweet young thing who hadn't discovered how the world worked, while he, even if he was still young at his 27 years, had gone through everything in a rush, from heartbreak to disappointment and frustration, perfectly knowing he shouldn't look at you the way he did.

He had too many responsibilities to let himself be swayed your way, he had an 8 year old daughter, an overworking job and too many things on his shoulders, and your presence had started to bring him problems, especially at night, when he dreamed of fingering you in the kitchen before breakfast to thank you for making his coffee, or you receiving him in the entrance wearing nothing but an apron with flour stains, and after you gave him a taste of your freshly baked cookies, he dropped to his knees to taste something even better.

He dreamed all that and woke up feeling more tired than when he went to sleep, and with a painful boner that wouldn't leave him alone until he came over the bathroom titles when he took his quick morning shower, thinking of you with him there, taking his length like the good girl you were.

He couldn't look at your face when you said good morning, the guilt making him blush to his ears, wishing he could go back in time and not let his impulses win over him, because he was sure you would feel repulsed if you ever found out what he thought about you.

For you, he was just your landlord, the older guy with a daughter that worked in a restaurant and brought you leftover pasta every now and then, nothing more, and he had to come around that.

But you made it so hard, making breakfast with your pajama shorts and the thin t-shirts that showed your beautiful nipples, bending down with that gorgeous ass when you pulled the tray out of the oven, or with the sound of you vibrator that woke him up at 2 am, with your little moans going through his wall and making him gulp before he decided to wait for you to cum to go back to sleep.

He could help you, he thought that every time he heard you, he could walk the five steps to your room and fuck you like you deserved, nasty and rough, telling you how good you acted that day, making his favorite dish for breakfast, or playing with his daughter until he came back home, "Such a good girl, don't you want to be my little wife? Such a sweet thing should cum over a real dick every night".

His cheeks became red, he shouldn't be thinking that, not before work where he could do nothing to soothe the need.

He rushed to the door, with his coffee cup in one hand and his daughter backpack in the other, she was already waiting for him in the entrance when you ran to them, were you going to give him a goodbye kiss? He wished.

"I made too many of them yesterday, take them for lunch" you gave him a paper bag with two muffins, he felt the sweet aroma of them through the bag and his eyes followed your lips when you talked again, "I already put one in her lunchbox, these are just for you".

He wanted to kiss you so bad, he didn't care that your hair was still ruffled from your night, or that you weren't wearing any makeup at all, he thought you looked fucking gorgeous in that moment, and he wanted to kiss you to say thank you, thank you for being so good, thank you for treating his daughter with care, thank you for everything you do for him even when you didn't need to.

"Okay" he said, and left.

"Okay?" Sungchan asked when he arrived at work and told him what he did.

"Okay" Eunseok passed his hand through his hair, exhausted with everything, with his 10-hour shift, his daughter telling him she missed him, and his body not being able to sleep properly because it needed his tenant.

"What an asshole, that sweet thing just gave you two of the best muffins in the world for free, she made your coffee and helped you get your daughter ready for school, and you say 'okay', not even a 'thank you'? Man, if I was her, I'd leave your pathetic ass immediately, doesn't matter how cheap the rent is" he grabbed one of the little pastries and was about to eat it when Eunseok snatched it from his hand.

"Mine" he said and walked away, making Sungchan scoff.

He didn't meant to be so cold, it was like his body was in survival mode, trying to save his feelings from getting hurt before he even got a chance to do something about them, it'd be too uncomfortable if things didn't work out, you were precious for him, and he didn't want to lose you, but if he kept acting like that, he wasn't just going to drive you off, but you'd hate him in the process, and he couldn't deal with the thought of you hating him, not like that.

That night, when he arrived from his shift, he brought pizza and your favorite drink.

He left them in the counter and walked to his daughter's room, the house was in silence, his daughter already sleeping in her bed and after giving her a good night kiss, he searched for you, you were nowhere sight, so you must be in your room, right?

When he knocked no one answered, where could you be?

You came out of the bathroom seconds later, with just a towel wrapping your body, your tits were overflowing from the grip it did to not fall and he couldn't help but watch you from head to toe, your uncovered shoulders, your soft thighs, even your pretty feet with red nail polish.

"Hey Eunseok, you're early today" you proceeded to tell him about what his daughter had for dinner and how she was sleeping already, and that you were waiting for him before you went out. Almost everything got lost in his ear, he was too busy watching your back and the drops falling down your neck.

"I brought pizza" was the only thing he could say.

"Thank you, I'll eat it after I come back" you closed your door before he could say anything more and, not knowing what else to do, walked to his room.

He looked himself in his mirror, his boner was showing in the reflection and his face was red, he really had a problem, so he took care of it while listening your soft voice singing on the other side of the wall, feeling like a pervert when he finished over his hand.

He changed his clothes for something more comfortable and went to the kitchen to eat a slice of pizza before bed, he was tired and even if he came back earlier than normal, his body was exhausted from all the nights without sleeping well.

He was just finishing his portion when you walked down, looking like a fucking angel ready to take him to the afterlife.

You were wearing a white flowy short dress, showing your beautiful curves and the full of your chest through the cleavage that made you look even more angelic.

But where were you going dressed like that? It couldn't possibly be...

Your phone sounded before he could ask and you ran to open the door, a skinny boy with long black hair was there, waiting for you with the worst resting bitch face he had ever seen, so different from your excited ear to ear grin, "Hi Wonbin" you said with your pretty smile, and he only gave an acknowledged nod in response. Asshole, he thought.

He couldn't say anything to stop you from going out, to scream how you were his and how that lanky boy couldn't give you what he could, he wouldn't appreciate you like he already did, because he didn't know how special and amazing you really were.

Eunseok, still in the same place, heard the door close and then a car starting outside, driving away.

He felt fucking pathetic looking at you smile to another man and leaving the house with someone like him, but maybe that little boy was better than him, even if he didn't like the thought, he could be younger than him, and not have a daughter, just a normal boy for his age, without the weight of thinking about the future, because he didn't have anyone who depended on his actions, just himself.

He closed the pizza box and grabbed a beer, such a pathetic loser, he told himself, having the girl he wanted so close and stopping himself from getting her, blaming his circumstances instead of the reality of him being a coward.

The night felt longer than usual, he used to think that nights didn't have enough hours to rest, and now, with you outside, he thought it felt endless.

He just needed you back home, to know where you were, and what you were doing, with him steps away, to know you were safe.

Hours passed and when the eleven-news started and some traffic accident showed on the screen, he heard a car park out of his place, recognizing your steps to the door. When you opened the door he saw you alone, with a sad look and your pretty hair different from when you went out, as if you tried to brush it with your fingers to look put together before you walked in. His blood wanted to boil at the thought of him touching a single strand of your hair, but he was too preoccupied with your face, what could've happened in your date for you to arrive like that? Was he the jerk he appeared to be? He knew that boy didn't deserve you, but at the same time he wished he was wrong.

"Welcome back" Eunseok said, giving you a small smile. You dropped your purse to the floor when you saw him, looking too exhausted to reciprocate the awkward greeting smile. He felt bad for you, you continued with the disappointed air all over you and he didn't know what to do to cheer you up, "there's still pizza in the kitchen".

You denied his offer, walking to the couch he was sitting, letting your body fall on the other side of it, leaving a big space between you.

You watched the news together for a couple of minutes, in total silence. He understood you didn't feel like talking, you went out after such a long time, getting all dolled up with a dress he had never seen you wear before and such uncomfortable shoes. You almost never went out like that, more into comfortable loose clothes, and around the house you never used make up. He still saw you gorgeous though, but Eunseok was different, he thought that when you had your hair up in a ponytail while cooking, or when you left his daughter use her toy makeup on you, and he loved to see you wearing that swimsuit when you played on the child pool with her, your tummy showing through the clothing and your full chest covered with a top that wasn't your size, it couldn't be your size, he swore that because every time you used it your tits were too much for it and the fabric was hanging on for its life over your body, which to be honest, was incredible hot for him.

And you did all that for a boy that couldn't even walk you to your door at the end of the date, he can't imagine what else did he do that night to make you come back home with such a disappointed look.

"How was the date?" He asked and sipped his can of beer, trying to appear nonchalant, like he didn't care, but he was dying to hear about it.

"It wasn't what I expected" you answered while taking off your high heels, he saw a little blister forming on your feet and he wanted to grab them and give them a well-deserved massage, he was dying to do something for you, but he shouldn't, so he did the only thing he thought would comfort you without him touching you, he passed you his beer for you to take a sip, which you did, you grabbed it and drank a big gulp of it, looking a bit more refreshed after, making him feel good with his choice. "He made me pay for the movie tickets" you continued.

Eunseok opened his mouth, not believing what you told him, he knew the boy was going to be a jerk, but to such extent?

"Yeah, I know" you said when you saw his surprised expression, making you laugh but from embarrassment. "I... I didn't know how to say no, we were already in the que, and I thought that maybe it wouldn't be that bad, maybe it was going to be just that and then he'd pay for the popcorn, I-I don't know what I was thinking"

Of course you knew what you were thinking. You didn't go out with him for the movie, you wanted to get laid, and he was the only one who had offered to go out with you after so long, you didn't have another choice.

You weren't an easy girl, you knew you deserved more, but since you had moved to Eunseok's house you felt more and more needy, praying every day for him to not notice how your thighs clenched when he was around you, or how you touched yourself when he took care of his flowers under the sun, the sweaty look of him was too much for you to contain himself, and you had fallen for various reasons, how he always took a few of his precious creations to decorate your room, how he always brought you your favorite pasta when it was on the daily menu of his restaurant, even how he made sure you were always comfortable around him and his daughter.

How could you not fall for a guy like that? So caring and sweet, and you lived with him, it was like torture to have his smell around you, his body, his warmth, and not be embraced by him.

The only reason you accepted to go out with Wonbin was because your friends told you he was going to be a good fuck, but the only nearly good thing that night were his guitarist fingers playing with your pussy during the movie, "for the ticket" he had said, but you honestly would've preferred the money. It felt good for a second, the teasing was hot, and you told yourself it'd get better, but when he took you to his car and to that dark place instead of a nice room and a comfortable bed, fucking you in his backseat and coming after a few thrust, all that after he asked you to give him head, pushing his fingers on your well braided hair, making a mess of it even when you told him you didn't feel like it, everything got boring for him and he drove you home in an uncomfortable silence.

You felt disgusting when he dropped you off and immediately drove away, leaving you there in front of the house, not even checking if you walked in safely.

The only thing you could think while walking those few steps to the house was Eunseok would've never treated me like that.

So, when you opened your door and saw him sitting in the couch, in front of the tv, when he should be asleep after a long work day, waiting for you, you wanted to cry, because he hates the news, and he would never watch them willingly when he could use that time to sleep instead.

You contained yourself and sighed, biting back your lip from quivering and showing how weak you felt at that moment, you were a big girl, and you couldn't cry every time something went wrong.

But you couldn't deny that you were also more vulnerable because of him those days, and how he was pushing you away when you tried to get closer, just that morning, when you gave him those muffins, it hurt you to hear the 'okay' came out of his mouth, it felt like you were being too much for him and he didn't know what to say to your advances anymore, and perhaps that's why those days he seemed in a worse mood, troubled with your presence near him.

When he offered you his beer you feel slightly comforted, how pathetic, you thought, a girl feeling comforted just because the guy who was rejecting her gave her a sip of his beer.

Some pop star was in a dating scandal and you couldn't care less, but you didn't want to leave, you wanted to be with him for more time, as long as he allowed you.

"Did you want to go out with him?" He asked after a couple minutes. You denied with your head.

He finished his beer, so he got up and walked to the kitchen, coming back with two cans and opening one for you, sitting slightly closer this time.

"Then why did you accept?" Some politician was talking about being honest on his campaign, what a bullshit, he would lie, just like you, a normal human being, has being done since you came to that house, acting like you didn't feel anything for Eunseok, and that everything you did was out of your heart, it partly was, but you did it more eagerly because you wanted him to look your way, to maybe see you different, not the young girl that rented the room next to his in his house, and if not an equal partner, at least some kind of comfort from his daily life, something to come back after his tedious routine and that could give him the peace he needed, just like he and his home did for you.

You decided to not lie anymore, if he asked you something, the least you could do was to be honest with yourself and with him, you didn't have long until everything spilled out of the glass already full of your feelings, and it would kill you to move away from him, his daughter, his house, and everything that had become familiar to you those months, but if you were still going to get hurt, you should be honest before everything went to hell.

You drank another big gulp of your beer before talking again, to feel more confident, "I wanted to get laid". He almost choked with his drink, coughing and looking at your direction to try to find out if you were making a really bad joke or you were telling him the truth.

You didn't look at his direction, some festivity was about to start in a few days and the city was getting ready for a festival, it looks pretty, I should go with his daughter before I move out, you thought.

Every day you had contained yourself from going to his arms, kissing his lips and asking for him to pay you attention had come to that, and you had resigned to leaving when he asked you to, because if before he was uncomfortable, now he was going to find you unbearable, and it would kill you to stay and see the place you called home crumble in front of your eyes.

Still, you had never felt so free.

He saw the decision written all over your face, you knew what was going to happen next, and he was afraid of the outcome, of what was going to happen if you ever left him, what would he do without your coffee? Without your laugh filling his house, without the smell of your shampoo all over the room after you took a long shower, or with the way his daughter had started to depend on you for certain questions, just, what would he do without you?

He wanted to come home after his shift to be welcomed by his two favorite girls all over the world, and he was an adult, he would get over it with time, but he didn't want to, he had already compromised with many things, with leaving college, with not going to friend's parties anymore, with only drinking beer once a week, with not being the first place in his life never again, he had already accepted too many things, and you leaving wasn't one of them.

"Well, you didn't have to ask another man when you have me right here" he couldn't process what he said, he just said it, his lips moving before he could think twice. You stared at him taken aback from his words, you expected him to call you dumbass or anything along that, but he was making clear you had permission to see him not like your landlord or just an older guy, but like a man.

Your eyes interlocked and the tension got thicker, both of you were closer without any of you noticing, shoulders touching, and when you moved your face slowly towards him, waiting for him to tell you he didn't mean what he just said, he tenderly grabbed your face and made you kiss him, erasing all distance between you, finally.

Your eyes shut and you kissed softly at first, tasting the lingering bitter flavor of his cheap beer, enjoying every second of it, until you whimpered on his lips, and he, reacting to it, tapped twice with the palm of his hand over one of your thighs, to signal you that he wanted you to be over his lap.

You let your weight fall over him and he loved the way he felt your ass flushing with his knees, his hands roamed all the way from your waist to the softness of your legs and followed the same trail back, addicted to the way your body, even being bigger than normal and nothing like he ever had in the past, felt perfect on his hands, as if you had been designed for him and only him to touch and indulge in.

The hem of your dress had rolled with your movements and his hands didn't help neither, trying to lift it up as much as he could to feel the plump of your ass.

"To the movies with a dress like this one? Tell me the truth, did he finger you with people around? don't you feel any shame?" He asked, making you rock your hips over his boner. You sighed on his neck, not daring to look at him in the face, shame creeping your red cheeks.

"Why do you say that?" You asked curious of his remarks, they were true, but how did he know?

"Because he's no better than me, and I'd have done it too", he made you look at him, one of his hands still over your ass and the other on your jaw, admiring you over him, his glossy eyes were all over your face, from your flushing cheeks to your lips with the mild cherry color of your lipstick that was almost completely removed by his kisses "you're too pretty, no one would be able to resist" he said, lips finding your again, kissing you deeper, wanting to satisfy the part of him that had been screaming for your mouth every day until now, as if it was possible to ever calm it.

You started to blush even more, embracing him with your arms around his neck to kiss him better, and after a couple of seconds, when he let you breath and hide your face on his neck again, licking his lips and still making you bounce with the strength of his hands on your waist, moving you to his liking, his bulge perfectly touching your clit under your panties, you nodded to his past question, Wonbin did finger you, and you did feel shame, but with him, with Eunseok, you were sure you'd have let him take you right there in front of everyone and you'd have said thank you when he finished with you.

"I'm sure he fucked you, did he fuck you in his car? He doesn't look like the kind of boy who takes you to a nice room to give you what you deserve, I'm sure you couldn't even cum once with him, this sweet thing needs to be taken care of by someone who can handle it, someone like me" he whispered that to your ear, biting back his groans and making fun of you trying to hide your soft moans, adding to that the way you nodded to everything he said, he felt exhilarating, wanting to tease you even more, wondering what would happen, would you cry for him to stop? Or even better, would you cry for him to not stop?

The thought did things in him, and as a result, his thumb touched your pussy over the fabric of your panties, fumbling around it to feel how wet you were getting, making you moan louder than you expected, sensitive after being teased before but not finding the satisfaction you needed.

You supposed it was that, how Wonbin played with your pussy just hours before, you didn't think it was probably from all you went through for months, hiding the way you needed him, or how you played with yourself thinking of him behind your door, everything accumulating and being too much for you in this moment, the cathartic minute in which you finally were feeling his body against you, his aroma as close as you begged past nights, and his hands prying the place that suffered his absence the most.

"It hurts" you cried, begging for him to touch you directly with his hands. The air in the room was hotter and your untouched skin was burning. Your hips moved perfectly over him and he imagined himself making you lie on the couch to fuck you until you screamed, he was in pain too to be honest, too many nights needing you almost made him weak, but he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could, in case it was the only night he'd have the privilege of having you, to never forget you in case what you had decided for tomorrow didn't include him.

He kissed you again, he couldn't take you there, on his ugly old couch, he had to take you properly, like you should be treated, "I know baby, I know" he said, eyebrows frowning and breath hitching from getting closer to his orgasm, he had been too painfully untouched and sure you were the same, asking for each other at midnight, each of you in their own rooms, praying for the other to do something about their desire, "let's go to my room, okay? I know you can do it for me, I need to touch you more, and for you to be comfortable in every moment of it, my precious baby"

You wanted to tear up of how good he talked to you, giving and asking for compassion at the same time. For him, you had earned the right to be treated like that, to demand it from him, working hard and giving parts of you he didn't ask for and hadn't realized he needed until you came into the picture of his dull and exhausting life, making it brighter and more bearable every day you spent together.

You didn't want to move, so close of your first orgasm over his lap, but he clapped his hand over your thighs, telling you to move away from him "come on angel, I know you're a good girl, you heard me, let's go" you were a good girl, his good girl, so with the pain of your heart, and your clit, you moved out of his lap, letting him drag you by the hand to his room. The path was short, just the staircase and a couple steps to his room, but the way he was showing you his back, making you walk as fast as him to get to his bed, made your pussy throb. This was happening, really happening, and you smiled feeling content.

When both of you arrived to his room, a secret place you had never been able to set a foot in before, door always closed, you sensed the last line between you both blurring, because nothing, not even an earthquake, would make you get out of his bed tonight, you'd receive everything you had been yearning for, and you'd be grateful at the end, in case he only accepted you one time.

He kissed you again against his door, making you stand on your tip toes to meet his mouth. Your chest was touching his and you were dying for them to touch directly, without any fabric stopping your nipples from feeling his hard chest, even if he didn't train that much anymore, you had seen him come back sweating after a morning jog every sunday, waking up at 6 AM to come back with your favorite bread freshly baked.

While kissing he made you walk back to the bed, pushing you over it and taking off his shirt to then go back to his duty over you.

His mouth couldn't leave you alone, and groping everything he could with his hands and rutting his erection over your pussy, he made sure your lips, and your tongue, were focused on him.

"Please, I need more" you told him, tired of not feeling him on your skin.

He didn't answer you, two of his fingers found your clothed pussy and pressed your underwear, sensing how wet you were under his fingers, a big warm spot was formed, and he decided to not tease you anymore over it. His palm went under your panties, and if over your panties he felt you wet, now you were dripping. His hand was quickly covered on your juices immediately, making him groan, how could he tease his baby so much when she was suffering like that?

"Fuck, I’m sorry angel", two of his fingers found your hole and started to play with you, fucking you without problem because of how wet you were, and you received him like all the time, making him feel welcome with your warmth.

Your body was shaking under him, hands on his chest touching his skin, trying to grasp as much of him as you could, slightly pushing him away of how good he was working you with just with his fingers, but without the force to actually do it, it was just your body reacting to him, because you really wanted him to be closer.

"Wait-" strangled words wanted to come out of your mouth, he was so good with his hands your eyelids were fluttering and the only think you could see in the dark room, with the little light coming through his curtains, was his grin watching your pussy take his fingers, and his arm making that possible.

Two fingers became three and his hand started to fuck you more, like trying to find something inside you, fingers in and out on scissoring movements, until you started to cry louder and leak over his hand, making him feel proud of his work, "that's right baby, come on, cum all over my hand".

You had your first orgasm, making a mess on his hand and your panties, it was uncomfortable to keep wearing them, wet and sticking to you, so he took them off, making you lift your legs to take them. You didn't know if he could see you in that darkness, but he could, your pussy glistening was impossible to ignore, and the image in front of him was everything he had been dreaming of for months.

He took of your dress too, enjoying the view even more, you weren't wearing a bra, and your tits jumped in front of him, gravity making them fall a bit to each side of how big they were, so fucking hot.

His mouth went to your little buds, tongue flicking over one and grabbing the other, and exchanging the work between each of them after he thought it was enough attention to one. They were so soft under his hand, skin overflowing his grip and making him think maybe I should die here, because there was no place more comfortable than there over your beautiful chest.

"Eunseok, please don't tease me" You cried under him, you had watched him so concentrated on your chest you didn't want to distract him, but the pain on your pussy was becoming too much for you, and you were still leaking all over his grey sweatpants.

"Such a crybaby" He smiled, pulling down his sweatpants and his boxers, just enough to free his cock and put the condom he had on his nightstand, he wanted to fuck you, but he had already learnt his lesson, he wanted to take care of you for a long time, to fuck you many more times. He slapped your pretty cunt with his length, enjoying your little jolts. "Sorry, it's because you're the prettiest girl, I couldn't contain myself" he said, pushing his dick over you, simulating the way his cock was going to fuck you in just a second, you opening your legs even more without you intending to, all so he could be closer to you "I'll give you what you want, don't worry" he kissed your forehead to take your attention away from the tip of his dick sliding through your hole, but it was so long he still had you squirming under him, even with all the preparation, you felt him stretching you like no one had done before, "You're dripping all over my bed, it's because of me or him?" He asked after his cock made a wet sound when he finished pushing it into you.

"Uh?" You couldn't process his words, too lost into the sensation of his cock inside you, fucking your guts, so deed the only thing that went through your mind was fuck me, fuck me.

"Who made you like this, me or him?" He repeated his question and you realized who he was talking about, Wonbin, and even if he had fucked you, he was nowhere near Eunseok.

"You, Eunseok, just you" you cried, his hips had stopped for a second to hear your answer, and when he heard the desperation on your voice, he understood you weren't telling him just what he wanted to hear, but the truth. Your nails started to mark his back and he, because of the intensity of the moment, didn't feel it, too concentrated on the sensation of your walls accepting him so easily, something uncommon for him since his length was bigger than normal, but of course his little angel would do it without problem, you were made for him, and he had no intention of ever sharing you again.

His hips moved again, pulling as far as he could to dive all in, making your tears drop one by one of how good you were feeling, you felt high, like touching the sky, and with each trust he took you back to earth, to that room, demonstrating you how the only thing you needed to feel complete was him.

Your heart was racing, you could hear it beating on your ears, but you didn't know what was that you were hearing, his cock making you ignore anything else that wasn't him and his groans.

"Fuck, so tight, has no one been taking care of you since you came here? I'm sure your little toy doesn't compare" he asked and the rhythm of his hips increased, his cock pushing deeper with each thrust. "Were you thinking of me when you used it? Did you want me to hear it so I could go to your room and fuck you?" You shook your head, you used it because you were too horny after spending time with him, and just the image of him coming back home with his white shirt and his ruffled hair made you crazy, he always looked so stressed you had to resist the temptation of dropping to your knees to suck his cock when he told you your daily good night, your mind only repeated I'm here, please use me!, and without being able to receive anything from him, you had to rely on your toy.

You wanted to talk and tell him everything, but no coherent sound came out of your mouth, your insides were being so fucked any function in your mind had shut down, focusing only on your pussy and the pleasure he was giving you.

You couldn't talk and that frustrated you, making multiple tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing at this point. Your hands didn't want to let him go and you tried to hug him and get him closer to you, but you were crying so loud he had to stop to check on you one second, to make sure you were okay.

He looked at you worried "what's wrong baby? Am I being too much?" He caressed your cheek with his thumb and cleaned the strand of tears.

You denied, focusing all your mind into talking again "feels so good, please don't stop". He stared at you for a long time, appreciating your face and your body, trying to get all into his memory to never forget how beautiful you looked at that moment, crying for him and his cock, begging for him to not stop.

He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't fuck you again, if before he was deep into you, now he was in a place that had no escape.

You moved your body under him, trying to get the same feeling from seconds ago, making you forget everything again, making you forget who he was, who you were, and what would happen after you both finished.

"You have no idea of how much I fucking like you" you wanted to say me too when he talked, but his hips had started to work you again and you could only moan loudly when you tried to talk, so you decided to bite your lip to stop being too noisy instead. "I'm sorry baby, I know you want to be loud, but we'll get in trouble" you nodded, understanding why he said that. He put his hand over your mouth and kissed your temple while fucking you, pushing you to the same abyss he was in, needing more of your juices to make a mess over his bedsheets, to let your smell linger around him for more time.

The way he was looking at you was something you'll never be able to forget, something you had never seen before, no one, in all your life, had stared at you with such intensity, full of need and possession, like screaming mine, mine, mine, and you couldn't correct him, he was right, you were his.

Your walls clenched around him and he let your mouth free to kiss you again, his tongue had intruded into your mouth, stealing the little air you had and making you even more dizzy, mind scattered all around the room like your clothes, pushing his dick in a more erratic way, not calculating so much how and what to push, just feeling.

"I'm so close, cum with me angel, fuck" his hips were practically punching yours, making the sound of both skins clapping so dirty you felt yourself tightening just with it. You nodded, both of his arms were on each side of your head and your hands held onto them, trying to not fall wherever you felt you were about to, as if he was going to push you, with him, into some state of clarity you had never experienced before.

He did push you into something new, the orgasm was so hard you lost yourself for a second, mind becoming black and eyes rolling for a long moment, your heart and breath completely stopping and toes curling into the bed, feeling his cock throb inside you while some liquid leaked out of your used pussy.

He brought you back to reality with soft kisses. His hair was sweating over your forehead, and you felt his skin sticky against yours, but you felt complete, after so much time, you were where you should be, in his room, on his bed, with him and only him.

He let his body fall over yours, squishing you with his size, his cock was still inside you, and you didn't want him to move, he could stay like that all night if he wanted, you'd never ask him to move.

Sadly, he moved apart minutes later, when both of you had regained their breaths and your hand was caressing his broad back. He lifted himself, still between your legs, pulling his dick out of you to remove the condom, making you whimper a protest. He laughed quietly, looking down at you, such a needy baby.

He walked out of the room and you started to get doubtful, was he going to regret everything you had done? You loved every second of it, you didn't want to be apart from him ever again, but maybe... Maybe he just needed some release.

Your eyes started to get wet, you always thought you would be satisfied with one time, but you became greedy after feeling his touch, and one time would never be enough again.

He came back minutes after, you heard his steps, but you didn't turn back to him, afraid of what he would tell you.

"Angel, I brought you your tea, have some before you sleep" he touched your shoulder and made you look at him, when you did, he gave you the softest smile and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. You wanted to cry again, touched by his treatment.

You drank some of it, still fresh and cold, while he cleaned you with a wet towel between your legs, so you could sleep more comfortable.

Then, when you gave him the cup, he tossed the used towel away, and, after leaving your cup over a couple of his gardening magazines on his nightstand, he made you cover yourself under his bedsheet, lying next to you, accepting your hug into his arms and giving you a goodnight kiss on your forehead, erasing all doubts from your head, because he'd never be able to give up on his little angel again.

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #riize smut #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #eunseok scenarios #riize imagines #riize scenarios #plus size reader #chubby reader

[gyuvision]

riize as ur fav songs i think this would be so cute

+how are you i hope all is well🫂

you are so right this is so cute and i love it sm like now i have the urge to start a miniseries ab this (and im doing good, i hope you are too!) i love these songs sm

[cw ; none but its a bit angsty] wc: 0.6k

shotaro : as better for you (by siopaolo) - as a dancer and perfectionist you never feel like its good enough no matter how perfect. feeling this way can leak into how you feel generally about relationships so i feel like shotaro is most like this song because even though hes perfect, he doesnt always realize it.

eunseok : as japanese denim (by daniel caesar) - this song references to love that lasts a long time because japanese denim is meant to be durable and strong. eunseok is most like this because hes the type to cherish love and make sure it lasts as long as it can.

sungchan : as pink (by wave to earth) - sungchan is such a wave to earth boy idc what anyone says!! this song is refreshing and calming like beach waves, just like him! pink is about being free and looking back at a past relationship. i see sungchan as a nostalgic person, but also someone who makes you feel free, someone you could run away with.

wonbin : as winter (by se so neon) - this song is a little.. sad, but its good. its about longing for someone who you arent/cant be with, leaving you trapped with the thoughts in your head. wonbin is like this song because hes gives kinda rock band leader vibes, he would totally write something like this song to express his feelings when he cant say it to you himself.

seunghan : as strawberry soju (by jesse barrera) - a little similar to sungchans, but seunghan is like this song because it references how strawberry soju is intoxicating and sweet, just like love. it talks about not wanting to let go of someone left behind in the past. i see seunghan as this song because hes the type to fall hard when hes really in love.

sohee : as blue butterflies (by jhin) - its like a fresh breath of air, its cute and relaxing, very calm and lofi vibes (just like sohee<3). this song talks about falling in love and wanting to show deep affection to that special someone, and i feel sohees very expressive so this is just for him.

anton : as about time (by sarah kang) - this song is incredibly nostalgic and reminiscent. it means even though time continues to pass by, the memories are still there and will always hold its meaning. i think its like anton because it feels like a classic ldr relationship that didnt work out. like he meets you in the states, but after school is done he has to go back to korea. even though hes thousands of miles away and he may have forgotten about you, the memories are always going to stay with him.

#gyuvision #riri speaks! #riris inbox <3 #gyuvision - riize #riize smut #riize x reader #shotaro x reader #anton x reader #eunseok x reader #wonbin smut #sungchan x reader #shotaro smut #wonbin x reader #eunseok smut #seunghan x reader #anton smut #sohee x reader #sungchan smut #seunghan smut #sohee smut

[tinkerbelle05]

We are Done

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x black!fem!reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: Miles being a shitty bf & lying

Summary: Miles has been hiding things from you and after he leaves during your date, you have had enough.

Notes: first time writing Miles, might be a bit occ. Some cussing too.

You were sitting in your and Miles' favorite diner for over 20 minutes on a sunny Saturday afternoon. It was somewhat filled, mostly with teens on dates, like you are supposed to be. You try to drink some water and play a mindless game on your phone to distract yourself from the irritation you are feeling. But those do not help.

You had a whole date planned for you and Miles to catch up. Lunch at the diner, next catch a movie, and then go to an arcade. And Miles promised he would be here and instead, you were staring at an empty booth across from you.

When things were, it was so good. Miles is kind, funny, and he's everything to you. You two have been through a lot together in the last year and came out stronger. But when things were bad, they were downright terrible. He is constantly late to most of the dates you planned and you are trying to be understanding. School is hard and he is under pressure but you don't know how long you can keep giving your hopes up like this. You are reaching a breaking point.

You hear his voice before you see him. You hear him apologize for bumping into someone and watch as he hastily sits down. He looks frazzled; curls sticking out a bit, eyes darting around, and heavy breathing.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you say in a collected voice but your face says what you are feeling from his pained expression. He knows he's in deep shit. Good.

You have many, many things to say to this boy right now. Most are cussing him out and yelling at him, all is deeply inappropriate to say in a public space. So you leave. You exit the store without saying a word to him because it will get ugly if you do. You just need a cool down and things will hopefully be fine.

But of course, he follows after you with yellings of “Wait” and “Slow down a bit", and all they do is make you walk faster.

Maybe in the past, you would've stopped walking and waited for him. Listen to the pre-planned excuses he would have for why he’s so late and listen to his lies of doing better. Of being better. You don’t want to hear it, you won’t listen to it. Not this time.

Somehow Miles catches up to you and holds you to stop. He pulls you into an alleyway away from the public.

“Hey, hey, I’m so-“, he starts off.

“Don’t, Miles. Just stop talking.” You scowl up at him.

And he does. You look at him to see him looking at you with those brown eyes you love. They're deep and rich, you feel like you can fall in them forever. It looks like he’d gotten a fresh new haircut too.

“Why were you late, Miles?” You asked, calmly.

“Uh, well you see the train wasn’t working, you know how they are on the weekend,” he tells you and avoids looking at you. You couldn’t help the scoff you give him and breaks loose of his grip.

“You're lying,” you tell him and your voice becomes louder with every word. “You’re always late and you just keep lying to me, Miles! Is there someone else?” But at this question, your voice is quiet and on the cusp of breaking.

“What!” He asks, eyes wide and taking some steps back. “There is no-. Why would you even ask that?!”

“Because you keep lying, Miles. Lie, lie that’s all you seem to be doing these days. And you have the nerve to ask me that?” You rant at him and walk away.

“Woah, woah.” He grabs you by the arm again and turns you around. “I know I’ve been…distant lately and I’m sorry. But there is no one, I swear. I will-”

“Do better. I will be better.” you finished for him. “That's what you always say and you never deliver. So, not only are you lying about where you are, but you're also lying about doing and being better. I can't do this right now, Miles, I can't.” When you move to go home you notice that his hand's grip on your arm isn't as tight anymore, and when you look up to see his face, his eyes are distracted and he looks spaced out.

Tears are starting to swell up in your eyes, “Are you even listening to me, Miles?!”

"Yes, of course, I am," he answers but his eyes aren't even on you.

He looks at you and at the street, obviously torn between something. But he so clearly wants to leave. You ripped your arm from his loose grip and glared up at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you Miles, but if you leave me right now, we are done. I’m done, do you understand?”

He starts to walk closer to you, and for a moment your heart feels a bit light but the moment is gone as quickly as it came. He was hesitating, stuck in between movements.

You give a teary laugh and start to walk away. Feeling like a fool, “Goodbye, Miles. Don’t come looking for me after this and lose my number. You clearly have made your choice.”

See ya in the next one guys 👋🏿

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

Taglist: @justbeethings, @butterfi

My Reqs are open!!

#miles morales #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales x female reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales x f!reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles x reader

[obxologies]

𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘖𝘯 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘖𝘸𝘯, 𝘒𝘪𝘥  𝘑𝘑 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬

warnings: angst, unrequited love

requested?: no

author's note: this based mostly on like the first verse of the song. hope you guys enjoy this, been in a bit of a slump with writing lately. also i didn't know how to stop it so sorry it's so awkward at the end lmao

JJ Maybank may not have seemed perfect to most of the people around him, but to y/n he was everything she had ever wanted.

JJ was y/n's first friend. None of the other kids had bothered to talk to her, but the energetic blonde boy ran right up to her and asked her to join him and his friends soccer game so the teams would be even, and from that day on he would never let her sit alone.

It was almost inevitable that y/n would soon grow feelings for the boy. y/n had been alone for just about her whole life. Her parents rarely payed much attention to her, and no one bothered to make friends with the quiet girl, so JJ's kindness was special to her and she didn't want to lose him. She kept her mouth shut about her crush. It wasn't worth losing him over, but it still hurt to watch him fall in love with someone else. That someone else being their friend, Kiara.

y/n knew the moment JJ started to have a crush on Kiara. She knew him better than anyone and that boy was infatuated with the kook turned pogue. It crushed her the first time she figured it out and it hurts just as much two years later which is why the acceptance letter in her hand that stated she would get the chance to study abroad her senior year of high school felt like a breath of fresh air. Until JJ found out.

"You're leaving?" JJ asked making y/n look up from her phone over to JJ who stood by the desk on the other side of her room. He held up acceptance letter with a confused look on his face. "What the hell is this?"

"It's nothing, J. Don't worry about it." y/n said standing up from her bed walking over to him. She reached out for the piece of paper, but he moved it out of her reach.

"You're moving away." JJ said eyeing the paper again. "In a couple months." He looked back up at her. "Were you going to tell anyone?"

"Of course I was, J." y/n said. "I just got the letter yesterday."

"Where are you going?" JJ asked.

"London. They have a really good program and it would be a great opportunity for me, y'know?" y/n smiled softly.

"Yeah, that's great for you." JJ nodded. "Just leave us all behind and go start a new life." He said annoyed.

"JJ, it's not like that." y/n shook her head. "I'd come back before graduation, and I'll keep in touch with you guys-"

"Until you won't." JJ interrupted her.

"What?" y/n questioned.

"C'mon, y/n. Don't act stupid." JJ said making her frown. "You'd keep in touch with us until you find new friends and then you'll forget all about us while you're living it up in London."

"JJ, that's not true. You guys are my friends. You are my best friend. I'd never just abandon you guys." y/n insisted.

"Well, it kind seems like that's what you're doing." JJ scoffed. "Why did you even apply for this? Why didn't you tell anyone, huh?"

"I didn't even know if I'd be accepted." y/n said. "I just needed to," She paused.

"Needed to what?" JJ raised a brow. He rolled his eyes when she looked away from him. "Yeah, whatever. Have fun in London." He said spitefully. He crumbled the paper tossing it at her before storming out of her room.

Maybe it was for the better that he hated her, she thought to herself. This way it wouldn't be as hard to leave.

JJ hadn't spoken to y/n in three days. He was avoiding her like the plague. It didn't help that he had told all the pogues. Fortunately, they were more supportive and understanding than he was.

"He'll come around, y/n/n." Pope patted her back.

"Yeah, hopefully." y/n gave him a small thankful smile. Her eyes trailed over to JJ who stood with Kiara running the keg. "I think I'm gonna head home for the night though." She said finishing the rest of her beer before tossing it in the trash bag.

"Okay, see ya later." Pope waved her off which she returned.

y/n glanced at JJ one last time before heading up the beach. She sighed to herself, shoving her hands into her pockets grabbing her phone out of her pocket to check the time seeing she had only been at the party for an hour. She stopped with a huff trying to decide if should go home.

"y/n!" She heard his all too familiar voice call from behind her. She turned around seeing the blonde boy jogging towards her.

"Hey." She said walking a few steps closer.

"Are you leaving?" JJ asked stopping in front of her.

"I think so." y/n nodded looking around avoiding his eyes. "Do you need something?"

"No." JJ shook his head.

"Okay." y/n trailed off. She slowly turned to leave, but JJ spoke again.

"Did I do something?" JJ asked. "To make you leave. I, I just wanna know why you didn't tell me about anything." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's really complicated, JJ. I don't wanna make things worse." y/n said.

"I don't think it matters right now." JJ stated making her frown.

"Look, JJ. I don't have anything here for me, and I just want a fresh start. I wanna go somewhere where I'm more than just a kid from the cut." y/n explained.

"You have us." JJ scoffed. "Unless we don't mean anything to you."

"You guys mean more to me than anything else in the world, JJ. You mean more to me than anyone or anything." y/n paused staring at him sadly. "I'm in love you, JJ. I know you don't feel the same, okay? And that's fine. I know you and Kie like each other and that's fine because all I care about is that you're happy."

"You're leaving because of me?" JJ frowned.

"I'm leaving because of me." y/n said. "Because I need to get out of this stupid town or nothing good is going to happen for me. So please don't make me leave on bad terms with you, J." She said as tears started to fall down her cheeks.

"You're in love with me?" JJ furrowed his brows.

"I always have been, JJ." y/n gave him a small smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." JJ looked away.

"It's not your fault, J." y/n shook her head. "You've always been the best friend I could ask for."

tags: @thejuleshypothesis @jjmaybankswifes-blog

#obxologies #outer banks #obx #outer banks x reader #imagines #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfics #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank oneshots #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x pogue!reader

[strgrlxox]

pretty little thing.

✟ ꙳ original request here ! i've been so excited to write for college!james and this was the perfect chance 😘💋❞¸

+ ¸ ❞ this is literally just be not knowing how sports/college sports work for abt 800 words ꙳ ✟

he was so nervous beforehand, of course he tried to pretend like he wasn’t but he knew him better than that. it was the first game of the year and james, who got a scholarship for playing this very sport, felt like he was the worst on the team.

when he was still in school, playing against other teenagers, it was easier to be better than everyone else. now, he felt like all his talents were nothing short of average. 

you tried to comfort him as best as you could and it helped most of the time, but right now as you watched james pace around his dorm room, you weren’t even sure if it would work.

“james, it’ll be fine, love.” you smile at him from your spot on the edge of his bed. “you’ll do great, know you will.”

he couldn’t even process your words, his nerves eating at him. so you try a different method, standing from the bed and smoothing down your glittery skirt. you stand in front of him and he doesn’t even look your way until you grab both sides of his face and pull him towards you. lips meeting his because he could always kiss you and make you forget everything––how to stand and how to breathe. sometimes, he’d kiss you and you’d forget about all the air in the world except for what was in his lungs. he filled you with his love and got you drunk off his tender kisses. you only hoped you could provide him the same comfort. you place a hand on his chest, smiling into his mouth when you feel his heartbeat calm down. you release his mouth, still smiling at him, “you’ll do great, jamie.”

and he did. he scored at the last seconds and they won the game. you were so proud.

you had hugged and kissed him afterwards, “i told you so’s” dripping from your lips. he kissed you again, making you feel all dizzy.

he took you back to his dorm room after you promised to stay the night. he’d put you on his bed, the still-fresh adrenaline leaking from his veins––––too enraptured with you and your body to care about the aching in his bones. 

“you were so good out there, angel.” he kissed up your neck, letting his hands trail up your skirt. you laugh at the fact that he was praising you for your cheers when he was the reason the team won the game. 

“no, you were so good.” you try to hold back moans with the way his lips felt trailing on his skin panting out loud instead. “i barely blinked so that i could watch the whole thing.”

he shoots you a look, his eyebrows raised. “oh, yeah? what’d you think?” 

“took everything not to drop my pompoms and kiss you when you scored those points at the end.”

“hmm, maybe you should have just done it.” he smiles into your flesh and it’s contagious. “would’ve loved it if everyone knew that i got so lucky to be able to call the prettiest cheerleader mine.”

he looked at you with lust blown eyes and you couldn’t help but grow excited, even if you knew he was worn out already. “james, you’re probably exhausted.”

he laughed, “not yet.”

which is how you ended up with your legs on his shoulders while he pounded into you relentlessly.

“s'like this is my reward for doing so well, hm?” his tone is so condescendingly sweet. “best prize in the world.”

he told you to leave your skirt on, opting to just pull it up instead of removing it completely. his eyes are trained to the way the shimmering cloth moves as he thrusted into you…seeing you in his colors especially after he won the game did something to him.

“tell me how good i did.” he’d pant above you and you can barely fucking a reply, it’s more of a moan actually…something akin to “so good, jamie.”

“say it again.” he moaned out, the sound making you clench around him. “come on, pretty little thing. one more time, please? needa hear it.”

‘so fucking good, jamie. you did s––oh shit.” your words get caught in your throat when he thrusts into you deeper. “fuck, james you’re doing so good.”

he can’t help but chuckle at how far gone you are, loving how only he could get you like this.

“you like being my prize, don’t you?” he’s teasing and you love it. he’s fucking you out of your mind so you can’t even answer his question so instead you just moan louder while he fucks with every once of his remaining energy.

“god, i love you. my little cheerleader.”

#ꗃ%jamieˑ༄ #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #college!james #ꗃ%jos library⤷✰

[koorminii]

COLLEGESLUTS.COM — IDEA 686 | HHJ

Part one of the CSC series. You can find this series’ masterpost here. This can be read as a stand-alone, but you may have questions that will be answered in future installations. Keep in mind this is the intro.

There are three things you hate more than anything: 1. Your english Lit. professor, 2. Frat parties, and last but most definitely not least, 3. CollegeSluts.com and their founders. There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything: 1. College, 2. Back alley blowjobs, and 3. The frustrating desire to fuck you silly.

PAIRING: hyunjin x f!reader

GENRE: enemies to lovers; smut; crack; angst; college au

WC: 17k…. fear me! (also broke my record!!)

WARNINGS: reader is going through it and will continue to go through it. there’s no development for them at all in this installment i apologize (😭) reader calls skz sex-crazed demons, she’s very confused but not irrational, there’s not many warnings besides for the smut— profanity, alcohol consumption, mentions of alcoholism, annoying characters, insanely inexperienced reader, bet making, one-sided hatred, hyunjin wants to figure you out & thank god for that otherwise this series wouldn’t exist, sexual tension bottled up as hate bc yn is stupid. virgin/corruption kink, loss of virginity, overstimulation, dirty talking, unprotected sex…, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, teasing, breast play, and i think that’s it…

A/N: hi angels, i finished this in three days somehow and even though i didn’t plan on this being my post for 400, we hit it recently so this is it! and it’s fitting since a lot of people are waiting for this series <3 I hope you enjoy the first installment, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, my ask box, or in a reblog! & lmk if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic or my permanent one which is linked below! i hate writing the introduction to a fic and if you feel like this entire one-shot is pointless i promise it’s not 😭 there’s a lot of drama to come soon but i had to establish some things first!

i managed to make a playlist for this series! please enjoy 👩🏾‍💻

mlist; taglist; navi; | ⇦ previous | next ⇨

There are three things you hate more than anything.

Your english lit. professor

Frat parties

last, but most definitely not least, collegesluts. com and it’s founders.

It’s the literal bane of your existence, the reason why it’s so hard for you to sleep at night, and the one thing that makes your skin itch even more than the fuzzy sweaters your grandma knits every winter season.

Maybe if the creator of the site wasn’t such a douchebag, and maybe if the site users weren’t even worse, you wouldn’t abhor it as much as you did. But that’s a lot of maybes— ones that create a reality much different than your own and don’t make you feel much better.

You were first introduced to the hellsite in your second year of college— only made a year before. After you found out, age twenty hanging high over your head and no longer a fresh face in the school system, you’d tried and failed to get it shut down. Multiple times.

Happy, carefree people, would just ignore its existence— get on with their life, allow people to be college sluts in peace, but you couldn’t do that. Only you saw it for what it was, right? A sex site for college-goers to ruin their lives before it even started. Everyone else was too blissed out, a hand shoved in their pants every night as they watched their classmates fuck each other without fail. Only you could really see—

“Hello, can you hear!?”

Your eyebrows furrow at the voice behind you and your shoulders tighten when a finger pokes harshly at your skin.

“What?” You groan, rubbing the section of your arm that was unjustly abused. “Can you just be nice like a normal person?”

“Well, you’re an asshole so why would I be nice to you?”

“Fuck off Seungmin. What do you want?”

The only thing that betrays the fact that he heard you at all is the laugh that echoes behind you. Your chest tightens in response, and you fold your arms over your chest.

Kim Seungmin. A close fourth on your list of things you hate more than anything else. He was one of the users on the-site-that-must-not-be-named. A platinum member actually, a fact that always made your skin burn even in the coldest of weather. He was even friends with the site creators, and you wouldn’t doubt he had a hand in making it completely. He’d never been shy in supporting his use of the site, because nowadays regular cam sites were somehow uncool. He even had shirts with the college sluts logo in big, bold, letters. He was a part of one of the things you couldn’t stand. A big part of it even, but you ignored all that so you could call him your best— and one of your only— friends.

Kim Seungmin is first on the things you love, and that automatically removes him from the list of things you hate. When an arm slings itself across your shoulders you barely react, simply steering you both in the direction of your first class. It’s too early to deal with your best friend, and especially his toothy remarks and sarcasm, but you don’t say so and simply allow him to talk your ear off while you concern yourself with more important things.

Things like Hwang Hyunjin and Christopher Bang. The admins of College Sluts and the cause of the twitch in your brow. Sometimes the amount of hatred you felt for the two amazed you. To others, they were college boys— hotter than most, smart, talented, promiscuous. They had a good personality, a future, and were people a lot of other people got along with (and their other friends but you won’t get into that lest you pop a vessel).

To you, it’s agree to disagree. In short, they’ve got everyone totally fooled. Only sex-crazed low lifes actually managed to create a porn site. It’s one thing to think of it, sprawled around their dorm rooms knocked off their ass and barely sober, but it’s another thing to actually do it— work hard on it, execute such ideas— it’s completely baffling to you. How can no one see how perverted that is? You don’t even know what to call it, but the fire that erupts in your gut is enough to tell you that it’s bad.

There’s a bunch of girls and guys crowding around them, laughing and hugging and touching. Touching as if they were in the privacy of their home and not outside where others could see. It makes your chest heat up, and makes weird maggots swallow up your stomach, leaving a tingly feeling in its wake. You hate it. They’re demons. Sex-crazed demons.

“God, I’m starting to think you’re like anti-sex or something.”

You grunt.

“Literally we’re just walking by and you look like you’re contemplating murder.”

You hum.

“Jesus,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head before waving over at his friends. More like his sinner acquaintances. Don’t get it wrong, you’re not overly religious or particularly shameful— despite how you might seem— but it’s something about that entire group (Seungmin sometimes included) that makes you feel like breaking something. Choking something? Crying? Screaming? You’re not sure anymore.

When you catch Hyunjin’s eye he smirks and you frown. Just the sight of him is enough to make your head hurt and your knees weak. At least, that makes sense to you. The rest of the student body? Not so much.

You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and tear your gaze away from him. Your building isn’t much farther and if you squint really hard you can pretend you don’t see Hyunjin approaching from the corner of your eye. It’s a hot day and when he sidles up to you, shoulders almost touching, it gets much hotter.

“Hey,” he greets, slapping palms with Seungmin and holding one down low for you. Your hand hesitates, almost greeting him in return before you slap his arm and send a glare his way.

“Bye,” you grit, turning your head away from him and grabbing at Seungmin’s arm. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Loosen up!” He calls, his long legs easily catching up to your fast pace. “I just wanted to say hi to my favorite girl.”

Your breath stutters the tiniest bit but you ignore it, not bothering to grant that remark an answer. Hyunjin is flirty. Too flirty. Stupid flirty. The kind of flirty that gets girls like you all riled up even when you’re supposed to be hating him, even when you’re supposed to curse the very ground he walks on, and it just makes the dreadful maggots in your system start up their annoying fluttering.

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, even when your grip on his arm tightens at a painful rate. You will your heart to stop beating so damn hard and for your entire body to stop reacting so easily to him. You don’t even know him so why does he hold so much influence over you? Someone like him? Someone who spends their time and their intelligence on a haphazard college porn site? No. No way.

“What do you want, Hyunjin?”

The devil with the long brown hair, and soft cheeks, and cute dimples takes the chance to lean close to your ear, making sure you hear whatever it is he has to say.

“Don’t be too mad at me, bug. I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous today.” Hyunjin pats your cheek, smiling before he leans away, turning back the way he came.

“See you later.”

And that’s that. The sex demon comes to set your cheeks ablaze and leaves once he’s done, letting you deal with your muddled feelings on your own. Once you start walking again, ignoring the stare boring into your cheeks and the confusing pounding of your heart, there’s only three words on your mind.

Fuck Hwang Hyunjin.

There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything:

1. College

2. Back alley blowjobs

3. The frustratingly clear desire he has to fuck you silly.

Hyunjin isn’t sure when he realized it exactly. He doesn’t even know why he reacts to you so strongly. If you were anyone else he probably wouldn’t give you a second glance. He’s sure of it. Maybe it’s the desire to want something you can’t have, or the fact that you aren’t groveling at his feet.

It’s not like Hyunjin has any idea of why exactly you’re so hellbent on hating his guts, nor does he really care all that much. So you don’t like College Sluts, that’s your right as is anyone else’s, but it’s not like he’s shoving the damn shit in your face. He minds his business, manages his porn site, and does it all with a smile on his face. You, though? It’s a miracle he’s seen you smile once. And that was when he wasn’t paying attention and knocked into someone carrying a full tray of food.

Chan laughs at him all the time and so does Minho, wondering if he has some weird kink for wanting people who clearly don’t want him back, but more and more he’s thinking that isn’t the case. He’s always been bold, always been a bit flirty even when he wasn’t trying, and he knows he’s easy on the eyes. It’s not a secret, but your reaction to him isn’t one of disdain or clear attraction, but rather confusion, and that confuses him.

He flips the mic in his hands, switching between cradling it and flinging it every which way. The speakers of the karaoke system effectively drag him from his thoughts as the music gets louder and Jisung spins Felix around on their makeshift stage. Whoops and hollers echo from around them, the rest of their friends cheering at the performance in front of them. Hyunjin can’t bring himself to laugh even as a smile threatens to take hold of his features.

“Yo, what’s up with you?” Jisung plops down beside him, slinging an arm around Hyunjin's shoulders as puffs of breath leave his lips. “You’ve been sitting here brooding. What’s going on?”

“I don’t brood,” Hyunjin argues, though he maneuvers his body so he can tell Jisung exactly what has him brooding. “It’s just— I’m still thinking about Y/n.”

“Bro.”

“It doesn’t seem weird to you?”

“Weird that she’s just not interested? This is a new low, Hyunjin. Not everyone is gonna be attracted to you—”

“I know, but that’s not what I’m saying. Doesn’t her whole attitude towards us seem a bit excessive? All over a website.”

“It’s not your typical website.”

“Sung, it’s probably one of the safest porn sites out there because of how exclusive it is. No one but students here can get on it.”

“Does she know that?”

“That’s my point,” Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair before starting again. “If she doesn’t even know the full details of the site, how can she possibly hate it? Hate us?”

Jisung pauses, looking back towards the stage. It’s true that all eight of them have thought about this at least once. They know there’s people who hate the website, who steer clear of it in all instances, but none who have made petitions and gone to the superintendent requesting an audience about it. No one who’s actively been so hateful to them specifically, refusing to look in their direction unless it’s to send a glare their way.

“Maybe there's another reason?” Jisung offers, sending Hyunjin a sideways glance. “I mean, maybe she just hates porn.”

Hyunjin snorts at that. How can anyone hate porn?

“You’re laughing but I’m dead serious. Has she ever even had a partner?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“You think about her 24/7. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew what she ate for breakfast.”

“Not fucking funny.”

Jisung barks out a laugh, falling over into Hyunjin’s space. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over it soon.”

Hyunjin isn’t so sure but he nods anyway, allowing Jisung to go back to the stage for the next song. Hyunjin knocks back his drink, throat constricting barely at the bitter taste. He doesn’t care. He really doesn’t, but there’s something weird about your behavior and he’s more than determined to figure it out. Maybe he needs to just mind his business but fuck that, he thinks, no one is gonna hate him for no reason. Maybe he’s a little too riled up at that, maybe Jisung is right and this is a new low. Maybe he just really can’t deal with rejection well. Maybe.

Minho’s screeching into the mic does it’s hardest to ruin Hyunjin’s night, but the way the rest of his friends tackle him and attempt to steal the mic just makes him laugh, leaving a warm feeling in his chest. This is all he needs— his friends and a good drink to put a smile on his face. And the college porn site he worked very hard on, of course.

The group only gets through a few more songs before they decide to leave, deciding to ignore the fact that some of them have classes in six hours or that they’ll be nursing a bad headache for the entirety of it. Hyunjin is one of them. He laughs along with his friends as they walk, and he watches them from where he stands in the back.

Jisung has his phone out and is making a concerned face, typing furiously on the device. Either they’re having technical issues or his girlfriend is getting on his ass once again. Minho has an arm slung around his shoulders, laughing at whatever it is he’s typing and whoever it is that’s typing back. Next to them Felix and Jeongin have joined hands and Felix swings them back and forth, giggling as he does. Jeongin pretends he doesn’t like it, like usual, but Hyunjin notices the hint of a smile on his face. He always notices.

Chan and Changbin are quiet on either side of him, walking in the tranquil quiet that’s always rare for their group. It feels incomplete— Hyunjin wishes Seungmin could’ve come. He doesn’t know how the boy manages to be friends with the creators of the CSC and also be friends with its #1 hater. Maybe he’s selling secrets, telling you everything about the site, all its loopholes and glitches. Maybe he’s working against them now, coming up with a plan to shut them down once and for all, though Hyunjin doesn’t know if that’s possible.

Right after those thoughts trickle into his mind, he thinks about Seungmin wearing the handmade “merch” for the site, and doesn’t entertain them any longer. It would be ridiculous— even for him— to think that someone who repped college sluts like it was their brand would ever work even harder to tear it away.

The knot in his throat that’s been squeezing at his airways since earlier that night relaxes just a little. He’s never actually said this to anyone, but just as much as he thinks about why you hate him, he thinks about whether Seungmin will hate him too; about if he’ll lose a friend due to reasons he’s not even sure of. As much as he thinks about why you hate him so badly, he thinks about why he doesn’t hate you right back. He wonders why he— instead of wanting nothing to do with you— wants to know everything about you. Why he wants to understand you when you’ve made no effort to understand him, or worse, made up your own mind about who he is without even attempting to entertain the idea that maybe you’re wrong.

Hyunjin has lived his whole life suffering from other people's ideas of him, from their expectations that they held with no prior consultation with him, from the perfect picture of him in their minds that didn’t correlate with the real Hyunjin. He’s had his fair share of wondering, thinking, wanting. And it’s disappointing to see how even after all this time, since childhood, nothing has changed. He’s always wanted what he’s not allowed to have, but it’s not for lack of trying.

They don’t arrive at their frat house quick enough. As soon as the door opens into the building Hyunjin feels like falling asleep on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s also not sure what last happened on that couch. Between spilled drinks and sex that was too rushed to even make it to a bedroom he’d rather take his chances on an actual bed. Chan doesn’t bother to turn the lights on when he comes in, and the seven of them shuffle around each other, spilling into the living room or into the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks as if they didn’t just come back from eating.

Hyunjin knows he’s been distant all night but he can’t be bothered to care as he sends a quick good night his friends’ way and makes his way upstairs. The house holds eight other boys besides them and he’s surprised none of them are downstairs or hanging around even at the late hour. Though, Hyunjin reasons, most of them have girlfriends and the few others that don’t are seniors and probably pull all-nighters in the library or some shit.

Hyunjin doesn’t want to think about that. The year only started back up again a few months ago, he doesn’t need to be thinking about work anymore than he already does. He makes a good living even without a real job, so he’s taking shit day by day. It’s not like anyone else is much different. Most of his seniors are cramming because they were so carefree. Hyunjin doesn’t think about the implications of that either.

The softness of his bed is long overdue and his body sinks into the plush bedding. He strips off his shirt and pants, not bothering to make his way to a shower or put pajamas on or do anything really. He has five hours before he needs to wake back up and this is nothing if not a power nap that won’t help him get through any lectures the next day. Or, later that day rather.

Hyunjin doesn’t concern himself with that though, because there’s only one thing that’s on his mind when he falls asleep and when he wakes up, and that’s what he’s going to say to you tomorrow morning in the first class of the day.

The first thing you manage to think of when you wake up is how best you’re going to ignore Hyunjin today. You’ve been brainstorming, wondering which response will humble him the best, maybe make him speechless for long enough that you can get away. If only those getaways could last forever, you sigh, pulling a fitted tee over your head. It’s low-cut, makes your cleavage pop just a little bit more, and you add a necklace for that exact reason.

You’re not the sex-crazed demon that the CSC most definitely are, but you do like a little attention every now and again even if you don’t get that much action. Or any, really, and you’re just fine with that. It’s one of the reasons why you don’t like the CSC. There’s no reason to sexify everything, and that’s exactly what they do. People can get by just fine without it.

Just fine? Seungmin would probably jab, but he’s not here right now and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You are just fine, but the mention of the-site-that-must-not-be-named just fills your stomach with stones and ignites your nerves like nothing else does. To you, that’s more than enough proof that it’s the CSC’s fault— not yours.

Anyway, today is the day you have to see Hyunjin bright and early, which always manages to set your day off to a bad start. No one should have to deal with him at this time of day, or any time of day, and you pity the ones that do. Seeing Chan isn’t rare, but he doesn’t talk to you like Hyunjin does. He stares every now and again, gives you a lazy smirk, and is generally sexy as much as it pains you to admit it, but he doesn’t bother you. Though you know he probably talks about you. His stares are too knowing, way too insightful even when you don’t really know each other.

The rest of the boys you’ve talked to on a few occasions. They aren’t as insufferable, but they are associated with Hyunjin and Chan and are, in fact, involved in the upkeep of the-site-that-must-not-be-named. To you, that’s more than enough reason to at the least dislike them. You don’t hold soft spots for any of them, except maybe Felix who seems way too sweet to be a sex demon, but then again, it’s always the nice ones.

Besides, it doesn’t matter what they say to you or don’t say, or if they look at you or not, or if they even know you exist. It really doesn’t matter. You shake the thoughts from your head vigorously, ashamed at the fact that you spent the first hour of your morning on them. It’s unbecoming of you. It’s good to remind yourself not to actively concern yourself with any of them, and simply fight for the site’s demolition like you’ve been doing.

Seungmin says you have no life, but Seungmin also wears T-shirts with cartoonish, glittery pink boobs and the site’s name in glittery cursive letters. You don’t think Seungmin should have an opinion.

The last time you attempted to do anything about the site was roughly two months ago, a month after school started back. You took your time to settle in, fall into a routine, and get your work and classes in order before resuming your mission. It was arduous, brainstorming and juggling school work, but it was your responsibility since no one else would work hard enough.

A quick shuffle through any of your things would tell people you were a perfectionist— articulate in your placement of items and the way you did things. Even taking the time to plan certain outings to a T, determined to make sure everything goes well. It’s not a secret how obsessive you get over things and how uncomfortable or incomplete you feel when things don’t go your way, when you have to follow someone else’s idea of how things should work. It’s the reason why most people don’t get along with you because to them you’re too controlling, too compulsive and dominating.

When you were a child that fact had bothered you. It was confusing— that was just your nature, and you wouldn’t have survived your childhood without it based on the way your parents lived. When kids would shun you, treat you like something sticky at the bottom of their shoe, it hurt your young heart. You felt apologetic simply for acting the way you always felt like you should act, for doing the things that left you satisfied after. Now, in college, no one demands classmates to get along, no one can shun you in the cafeteria and force you to eat in the library. If they don’t like you it’s fine with you, frankly it doesn’t matter. You have one goal and one goal only, and once that’s over with you can move on.

When you step out of your dorm the sun is blinding, shining down with unforgiving rays of light. All you can do is squint, tilt your head down a little and wish you had a hat. The walk to the Art’s building is long, but feels longer with how warm it is. The heat shimmies its way under your clothes and into your skin, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

The scenery on the walk there is always breathtaking though, the pavement that makes up the pathway to the building is closed in by blades of grass that have been cut and trimmed to perfection. Rocks make up the border between them— large smooth stones that vary in size but are more or less the same oval shape. There’s an entire garden full of all types of flowers, Gardenias, Lilies, Irises, Tulips, and even some you can’t name. At the entrance of the building there are bright lights that illuminate at least 25 feet in front of it at night, and wide hedges that have been designed to look like swans, their necks curved in a way that if they were moved next to each other they’d be forming a heart. White flowers grow inside the hedges serving to make the entire scene look more beautiful, and as much as you hate walking there, the view is unmatched.

The Art building has always been your safe haven, Art in general being your home away from home. It took a long time for you to feel comfortable studying it— always caught up in the what if. What if you can’t make a living from it? What if you end up not liking it as you grow older? What if it’s not a sustainable career? Questions that still plague you often, and stop you from putting as much of your heart in it as you’d wish. These classes are somewhat self-indulgent. A way for you to escape from the hectic mess that is your life, away from the stress of work, from the anxiety of what comes next, and from the infuriating instances that continue without your control— away from the things you can’t control so you can run to things you can. So imagine your horror when you found out Hwang Hyunjin was in the same class as you. At the same time. Doing the same thing.

It felt like your escape wasn’t yours anymore, and that the stress from your day followed you everywhere you went. It wasn’t enough for Hyunjin to pester you often— he had to be everywhere you were too.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, setting your shoulders and regain the poise you take pride in– carrying yourself with the confidence you wish you had. It doesn’t take long for you to make your way to the entrance of the building, as you walk, having been kissed by the scorching light of the sun and brushed against by dewy blades of grass. It feels surreal and staggering to be outside alone so early in the morning, yet peaceful, for you know that it will be long before you get this chance again.

“Bug!”

Oh no. no no no. You walk faster, hoping to make it inside before Hyunjin can catch up to you. Hyunjin is never this early. He either comes right on time or late to the frustration of your teachers and peers although no one would ever say it to his face. You can hear his feet against the pavement louder and louder as he comes closer to you, catching up just when you take the first step up the stairs to the entrance.

“You didn’t hear me, bug?”

“Stop calling me bug.”

“Sorry, bug,” Hyunjin laughs, putting a heavy arm over your shoulders and bringing you closer.

You roll your eyes so hard it feels like they’re gonna stick. Maybe they should so you don’t ever have to see Hyunjin again. Maybe he’d think you look scary like that, your eyes rolled up forever. Maybe then he’d leave you alone.

Hyunjin is annoying. He always acts like you’re his friend, but you know it’s fake because why would he want to be friends with you, someone who hates everything he works hard on and hates him as well to an extent. It seems overly fake and forced to you, so you don’t ever entertain it. The last thing you need is to fall for it and then be made out to look like an idiot when he eventually embarrasses you.

“It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early, pretty.”

“It’s always too early to be dealing with you,” You groan, wrenching his arm away from where it laid over your shoulders. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Hyunjin asks, seemingly unaffected by your attitude towards him. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised up to his chin in a shrug. “I like talking to you.”

You snort, looking up at him with eyebrows raised, “You like talking to me, the one person— possibly in this world— who absolutely hates you, and barely spares you the time of day?” You ask, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’m sure this is the longest we’ve ever had a conversation, but nice try.” You squeeze his cheeks, hard, and when he swats your hand away you can’t help the giggle that you let out. If his cheeks felt like dough under your fingers you’re choosing to ignore that, wiping a hand on your jeans with way more intensity than needed.

“But see,” Hyunjin starts again, “We’re having a conversation right now and neither of us wanna choke each other.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m barely resisting the urge to punt your head like a baseball.”

It’s silent for a moment before you both burst out into a fit of giggles. Hyunjin braces himself against his knees as he laughs, his hair falling over his face as he does, and you’re not much better— staggering where you stand to laugh with him. It only takes a few seconds for you both to calm down, and slowly the reality of what happened catches up to you.

“Do you even punt baseballs?” Hyunjin snorts, and you just laugh harder.

“I don’t know, Hyunjin, if you haven’t noticed I’m at the arts building not sports.” You wheeze, fighting through another laugh. “Now I’m just imagining your head flying over the gardens.”

Hyunjin lets out another chuckle but shivers a bit at the thought. He waits for you to calm down, your giggles turning into small huffs. A hint of a smile still remains on your cheeks, and the sun shines down so strongly on your features it feels like he’s seeing an angel— like divinity right in front of his eyes. When you straighten up, he can see every movement. The way you position your bag upright, the way a bit of your gums poke out from your lips. Your lips, soft, glossy, and look the most perfect in a smile. He can see the way your eyebrows lose the tension from your laughing fit, the way the crinkle of your eyes lessen as your face relaxes. He can see everything, so he can also see when your lips fall back into a firm line, when your eyebrows go back to that angry stance they always hold when you’re around him. The way your shoulders stiffen, and the grip on your bag tightens. He can see everything, and he reminds himself the only time you laugh is when he’s the butt of the joke.

“I’m going to class,” You murmur, walking the rest of the way up the stairs and into the building without looking back or waiting for him to respond. Though Hyunjin wonders what he would’ve even said.

I’ll come with you.

We can sit together.

No, you both can’t do anything together, and more and more Hyunjin wonders why he even wants to.

“You were laughing with Hwang Hyunjin? The sex demon??” Your friend hisses from next to you, stringing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yes, me, Jieun.” You huff. “I can barely believe it either. What did he do to me? I hate him, I can’t show weakness by laughing around him.”

“Honey,” Jieun laughs, leaning towards you, “You can laugh. Honestly the fact that you ran away after is hilarious.”

“I didn’t run away.”

“You ran away.”

“I didn’t run.”

Jieun settles on you with a heavy stare, face slack, and you roll your eyes. “Fine, I walked away.”

“I don’t know how either of you take each other seriously.”

“I don’t take him seriously.”

“Yeah you do, babe. You refuse to laugh around him. That’s very serious.”

You snort.

“And the fact that he gives you the time of day when this is the dumbest feud possible… I just don’t understand it.”

“It’s not dumb.” You sputter, smoothing your hand over the glossy wooden desk of the classroom. “It’s…” You trail off, staring into the large windows at the side of the room. You cock your head and lean forward, jaw slack when the sex demon himself waves outside. “Oh what a stalker.” You growl, throwing up the middle finger in his direction. “He’s got his little posse following him too.”

When Jieun makes to wave back you smack the back of her head and groan when she gives you an affronted look.

“What was that for?” Jieun exclaims, bringing a hand up to rub against the back of her head.

“Don’t fraternize with the enemy,” You hiss, folding your arms over your chest and staring back at your professor.

“Are you gonna explain the feud—”

“No.”

In your opinion, class doesn’t end quickly enough. You split with Jieun at the entrance, the both of you going in opposite directions, and attempt to reorder your frazzled mind. So you laughed. A lot of people laugh at people they hate. Plus, he laughed too— so why should you be overthinking it? You’ve laughed before, in situations you weren’t supposed to, and this is no different. Now you just need to make sure it never happens again. You nod to yourself as you walk, pulling out your phone to make sure Seungmin is already at the meeting spot.

The sun is still just as ruthless as it was earlier, but a light breeze grazes your skin and rustles the trees along the sidewalk and in the field in front of you. There’s a bunch of picnic tables, some occupied and some of them not. There’s groups of friends sitting under trees, some couples, some of them alone; reading or completing assignments in the nice weather. You spot Seungmin a few tables down, a brown sweater over a collared shirt and cute glasses perched upon his nose.

You take your time walking to the table, letting your skin soak in the warmth and tranquil peace of nature. When Seungmin spots you he shuffles over, giving you some space to sit next to him and you do, mumbling a small hey before knocking your head against the table.

“You’re going to a party with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Seungmin… Hi, how are you? How was your day? No, I’m not.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Well, unless you’re going to drag me, no I’m not.”

“I just might,” Seungmin sighs, “Why are you so difficult?”

“Difficult? You’re the one being difficult. I don’t want to go and you’re telling me it’s not a choice.”

“Because it’s not.”

You let out a groan, a long torturous one that has people turning their head to a straight faced Seungmin and you who’s head is still knocked against the table. When people think it’s stopped it starts all over again, a guttural groan filled with displeasure and frustration that loosens your chest when it’s done.

“Are you done?”

“Leave me alone.”

“It’s on Saturday. I can pick you up.” Seungmin says instead of arguing.

“Today’s Thursday.” You whine, just stopping yourself from letting out another groan— one that wouldn’t ever stop for as long as you have to deal with Kim Seungmin and his annoying, snarky, bossy self.

“…. I’m aware.” Seungmin says, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s making a face like and so what?

“I can’t stand you, I hope you know that. No type of warning, no preparation… I don’t party. I need at least two weeks to mentally prepare myself and another two weeks to get an outfit.”

“Damn.” Seungmin says, but he rubs a hand against your back, lightly pushing you to lift your head from the table. “Listen, I’ll help you. And it’s being thrown by people I know so you don’t have to worry. I don’t think many people throw college parties a month in advance but I’ll keep that in mind.”

All you can do is nod, waiting patiently as Seungmin finishes whatever assignment he’s working on. You’ve already completed the ones you have, the pro of not having much else to do and being on top of things always. Everyday you both meet up here, either at a table or under one of the trees and talk. Read, finish assignments, or even eat snacks. There have been some times where you meet there and then go somewhere else together, rarely off campus but it happens, and you get something to eat or go on a mini adventure. It’s the highlight of your day and you’re sure it is for Seungmin too, but you’d never admit that to each other. You don’t have to, though, because you’re both always on the same wavelength especially when it counts the most.

Though now he’s given you something else to worry about, that being this sudden party. It’s no doubt being held by a frat house, and you have an inkling which house it is. You haven’t asked, trying not to pop the bubble of secureness that surrounds you. You can go to a party being held by the CSC. You can, and you will, and if it isn’t being held by them then that’s even better. You try to convince yourself you really don’t care at all, but the thought remains. Can you really enjoy yourself at a party being held by them? You don’t know why it bothers you so much or why you feel so uncomfortable having a good time around them, but you just keep repeating the same thing to yourself over and over. It doesn’t matter.

“Jieun told me what happened this morning.”

“Of course she did.” You sigh, staring ahead at the group of squirrels running up a tree. The people under it startle when leaves start to fall over their heads. “We just left each other, how did she find the time to text you all that?”

“She called me,” Seungmin cackles, braces on full display as he scribbles furiously into his notebook. “Every story I hear about you and Hyunjin is against my will.”

“Every interaction between me and Hyunjin is against my will,” You counter, shifting so that you face him. “What did she say?”

“That you laughed with him and it embarrassed you. That you’re confused about your feelings towards him.”

“So are you two my therapists now? I’m not confused. I don’t like the things he does— I don’t like his carefree attitude, how he has no problem talking to me like we’re friends. I don’t like- No, I hate the fact that so many people fucking praise him because he created some crude porn site.”

Your heart rate picks up, your hand gripping at your jeans as a poor attempt to conceal your growing frustration. “I don’t like the fact that no one else sees what’s wrong with it. We shouldn’t have a fucking porn site for college students? I don’t think we should know what we all look like under our clothes and I’m tired of everyone acting like I'm the crazy one. He’s the perverted one, the weird one. Who the fuck thinks of something like that? It’s not just him, it’s all of them.”

Seungmin ponders your words, the grip on his pen tightening ever so slightly. “Hyunjin is a good guy. All of them are, and if that’s how you feel then why do you talk to me? I use the site, I'm their friend, I’ve helped them out when making it. Aren’t I weird and perverted too?”

You sigh, “Seungmin…”

“Help me understand. Because if you can stand to be around me, then why can’t you be around them? Or try.”

“It isn’t the same and you know it. It’s easy to ignore it when it’s you. That’s them. They are the CSC to me. A reminder of everything I hate, what I want to get rid of.”

“But why the hell does it matter? People want to use the site and that’s why they do. No one is fucking forcing it.”

“You guys just don’t understand it. None of you do. It’s like you’re blinded by it or something.”

“We’re grown adults, Y/N,” Seungmin growls, “We don’t need you to be a guardian fucking angel.”

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, just because all you fucking care about is sex or some college sluts, like can you actually be that shallow?”

“Why is it so hard for you to see reason? Do you see how angry you’re getting at me for asking a simple question? You asked me what Jieun said and I told you.” Seungmin spits, shutting his book with a slam.

“Stop asking me about that site. Stop making me seem like some confused hateful person just because you’re too dense to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not confused, I know exactly how I feel. I try not to bring it up because you like the damn thing so much, and you can’t seem to hold the same courtesy for me.” You stand from the seat, settling a dark glare at Seungmin’s angered form.

“Fuck your friends, fuck that site. Stop talking about me like I need guidance.”

You’re not irrational. You’re not. You have every right to be angry. Seungmin is your friend. Jieun is your friend. They’re supposed to be there for you, not gang up on you. You feel alone, so alone in everything you fight for, in everything you aim to conquer— as if the things you stand for don’t matter. It reminds you of middle school all over again, of high school— having people look at you like you were something from another planet. Someone people had always failed to understand. It’s lonely. You’re not irrational.

You didn’t blow up. You’re not angry. You’re frustrated, yes, but you don’t blow up. You don’t get mad. You aren’t irrational. Anyone else in your position would feel the same, right? Anyone else would be upset because it feels like your friends always take the side of the people you despise more than anyone else. Why aren’t they on your side? Why don’t they believe you? Why don’t they understand? It makes you feel stupid. It makes you feel like you have no right to feel the way you do. It’s lonely.

You’ve never been irrational. You’ve always had a good grip on your feelings. Always. And when it feels like the grip loosens it’s always the cause of something relating to the CSC. It’s proof that it’s what the root of your problems is. It’s proof that the CSC needs to be gone so you can finally go back to normal. So you don’t feel like the odd one out. So you don’t have to feel so upset. Because you’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way. You don’t get mad. You’re not angry. You don’t blow up.

You control everything, you control your actions, your emotions, and you make sure to hold control over your environment— of how things play out for every second of your life. This feels like it’s running out of control. That the CSC brings havoc in your life no matter what— even when you try to ignore it, it comes running back to fuck you over even further. You’re not irrational. You’re not confused. You don’t get mad. You don’t. You don’t blow up. You control everything.

The sun hides right when you need it. You pretend tears don’t blur your vision, you pretend that the suddenly gloomy environment doesn’t affect you the way it does. You pretend that the once comforting breeze doesn’t feel sharp against your exposed skin. You pretend because when things run out of control that’s all you can do. Pretend you’ve got it handled, pretend that you still have a grip on things, pretend that you understand. You’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way.

You never argue with Seungmin. Playful bickering from time to time or you two being rude to each other but always playfully. You’ve never cursed at him so maliciously, spoken to him like he was someone random, as if he wasn’t your best friend. You’ve never done those things— but you do when the CSC is involved. You never get pissed at Jieun, even when she’s annoying, even when she acts like the only thing important in life is the new boy she’s talking to— You don’t get mad. You’re not mad now, but you’re something. Something fiery, and everything always goes back to the CSC. You’re not irrational. You’re just the only one who understands.

Right when you see the blurry form of your dorm building it gets blocked by a large body and you slam right into its chest. You can barely see in front of you and you know your face is screwed up into the worst form imaginable, tears falling with no control. Without your control.

“Sorry, excuse me,” You laugh wetly, sidestepping whoever is blocking your way and running up the steps to your dorm. The sooner you fall into your bed and cry this out, the sooner you can forget about it. The sooner you can apologize and move past this weird limbo of feelings. It feels like purgatory, stuck in the in between, not sure which direction you’ll end up going in. It’s full of unsureness, of frustration. It feels like a loss of control. It angers you, makes you feel like nothing is going right.

But you don’t get angry. You’re not irrational. You don’t get mad. You pretend, because that’s all you can do.

Hyunjin is confused.

The last thing he expected to see this morning was you laughing, but now, he realizes the last thing he ever expected to see was you crying. Eyes glossy with tears, a nose rubbed raw, face screwed up into something pitiful.

Hyunjin doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t expect a lot of things, but most of all he doesn’t know how to continue after seeing it. He doesn’t expect to care so much, not after the way you’ve regarded him. After the way you’ve both regarded each other. He doesn’t know why he can’t walk away and say nothing when he knows he should. If he brings it up you’ll get defensive, be embarrassed, be angry. He shouldn’t say anything.

He keeps walking, frowning slightly at the gloomy clouds. It was so sunny less than an hour ago. Things change so quickly, it doesn’t make any sense. He thinks back to earlier that morning, the light that shone on your face with every laugh you let out. He thinks back to just a few seconds ago. How dark shadows fell over your face as tears ran down your cheeks.

The walk is more automatic than anything else. He doesn’t take the time to stare at the scenery, he doesn’t look at the people around him. He barely sees the ground in front of him as he walks, his mind not registering what’s right in front of his face. He’s too caught up in you. Like usual, wondering why you do the things you do, why you feel the way you feel, wanting to understand. What did he do? What can he do to make you feel better? How can he make you hate him any less? He wants to understand, he wants to listen, to talk to you, to be near you. It confuses him.

His phone vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s chan, texting about the party on Saturday, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He’s so tired, tired of running around for parties, tired of attending to the site, tired of waking up early for classes. He just wants a second to sit down and relax, to not worry about you ruining the one thing he’s worked hard for, to not worry about what class he’s flunking, about what party he’s expected to attend, to not worry about why you were crying in the middle of the afternoon. He just wants a moment to collect his thoughts and free his mind.

HJ: I got it

BC: alr cool, put it in the cabinet with the lock, you know how Hyunjoon gets

HJ: Fuck, is it that bad?

BC: he’s an alcoholic bud, it’s that bad.

Hyunjin laughs a little, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He wonders if Seungmin told you about the party yet and grimaces, wondering if that’s the reason why you were crying. If it is, he’s not sure who needs to get a grip. You, for hating him so bad, or him for continuing to try and get you not to. It takes a lot of effort for him to continue the power walk back to the frat, but he arrives sooner than later, stuffing the bag of drinks inside the cabinet and locking it shut. He thinks it’s a bit ridiculous that they have to lock the alcohol up as if they have small kids running around, and also wonders the effectiveness when Hyunjoon lives in a frat house and is an adult who can buy his own alcohol.

It’s Thursday afternoon but he finds that he’s not as excited for a party as he should be. Usually, he’d be bouncing on his heels, counting down the hours for it to start, and realizing he’s so caught up in everything else going around he doesn’t feel that normal excitement that he so often does. He makes sure to fix that, shaking the unnecessary thoughts from his head, pushing responsibilities to later. He has a party to prepare for and he's gonna act like it.

The rest of the boys don’t get back till later— they’d given Hyunjin the responsibility of buying cups and drinks and shitty snacks while they went off somewhere else. Hyunjin can’t keep track of what they do especially if he’s not joining, so he focuses on doing what he’s supposed to in order to make this the best party of the year so far. His frat has always held the record of best parties— has always held their winnings in high regard as well, and he’ll be damned if he gets the cold shoulder if he’s the reason the party isn’t as good as it should be. Most of all, he’s thinking about what he’s gonna do during it.

Hyunjin is not shy on having sex— never has been, never will be, and more often than not he’s having it. Sure, that may be expected since he made a literal porn site, but Jisung also had a hand in it and he has a girlfriend. Felix doesn’t have one-night stands often, nor does Seungmin. It’s different for all of them.

He knows there’s a few girls that have been actively trying to get in his pants, knows that he’s been trying to get into theirs, but he can only hope he can focus on them for long enough to do so without thinking about you. If you come, he knows that there’s no chance he’ll think of anything else, and he’ll probably spend the entire night just getting you to laugh again. To get you to explain to him why. why why why. It’s confusing, but he pretends it doesn’t matter.

Thursday comes and goes too quickly, and Friday does as well. The day isn’t over yet, it’s only the afternoon, but the implications of that make you anxious. Make your nerves ignite far more than they should.

Seungmin didn’t answer your calls for the rest of that Thursday. Didn’t read or respond to a single text until you decided to leave him alone. Jieun called, but you didn’t answer. You think the way you felt towards her is the way Seungmin felt towards you. Maybe something worse, so you gave him space and took some for yourself, a moment to really think about what made you react the way you did. You don’t think you’re in the wrong, you still don’t think you could’ve reacted any other way and you’re not sure what that says about you.

You take another bite of your sandwich as you walk down the street from the Art store, your phone cradled in your other hand and a drink poking out from the opening in your bag. It’s hard to mentally prepare for things that you don’t know anything about. You don’t know where the party is, who’s hosting it, how long you’re expected to stay. Thought that’s if you’re even still going. You want to take Seungmin’s silence as an answer that no, you aren’t, but you also don’t want to assume that and then he shows up at your door and you’re not ready.

You don’t want to go, not at all, but if it made Seungmin happy then you would. If he didn’t come to pick you up you briefly entertained finding your own way to the party and cornering him, forcing him to hear your apology before leaving and soaking your pillow with tears. But you don’t know where the party is. You also briefly entertained the idea of calling Jieun and asking her, but you’re not interested in the lecture that would come from that. You still don’t appreciate her words about you to Seungmin and the implication of them. Seungmin is your friend, you can tell him what happened all by yourself. You don't need Jieun to play messenger.

You swallow the last of your lunch and throw the wrapper in the nearest trash can. You want to start a new painting, one that can unleash the frustrations of your life as it is right now, and you can only do that by getting some new supplies. You save up constantly for this exact reason— for the ability to buy whatever your heart desires whenever it desires it. You dip your toes into whatever interests you, and all concepts of Art satisfies you more than anything. Writing whatever you desire, taking pictures of the things you find beautiful, painting whatever you want— it gives you the control that fuels you more than anything else.

The art shop by your university is quaint, always quiet and never very full, yet always filled with high quality supplies and fully stocked. You’ve made friends with the old lady who owns it and her daughter, constantly going there just to buy something in order to catch up with them on whatever has happened since your last visit. They’re like the mother and sister you never had, people who feel more like family than your own. It’s partly for that reason that you’ve made the trek there, hoping to get some advice for the things you’ve been feeling before going to the party that’s undoubtedly being held by the one group of people you despise.

The bells above the door jingle when you step in, and you let the smell of paint, chalk, crayons, pens, and faint air freshener soothe you. It’s just as cluttered as it’s always been— stacks upon stacks of sketchbooks and canvases on one side situated next to the easels and small desks. The paints have a section of their own, oil, watercolor, acrylic, matte, and more— on the opposite side there’s pens and crayons, colored pencils, oil pastels, and sharpeners of all shapes and sizes.

The walls are covered in paint as if before bringing in all the items they’d had fun splattering the walls in color. It’s messy, unruly, cluttered, and barely organized— so it doesn’t make sense to you why it comforts you so much. When you see a small form hobble out from behind a stack of books a smile forms unbiddenly on your face, and the small old lady smiles back.

“I missed you, dear,” She scolds, wrapping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit.”

“I know, I’ve just been busy Ms. Yang. I missed you.” You sigh, rubbing your nose in the soft fabric of her sweater. She smells like paint and flowers— she smells like home.

“Sam will be here soon, she’d love to see you.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I need to talk to her too.”

“I can tell, child. You look stressed.” She sighs, shuffling behind the counter and sitting on one of the other seats behind it. “Get what you’re looking for,” She says waving a hand dismissively towards you.” I won’t make you explain it twice.”

You huff lightheartedly, making your way over to the canvases and picking one of medium proportions. You’re still not sure what it is you want to paint, but you know whatever you’re feeling is strong enough that you grab Oil paint, needing something rich and vibrant and something sharper to contrast the muddled and cloudy image of your mind.

It’s before long that you settle on a brand you normally buy, and the set of bells signal someone’s arrival into the shop. You turn your head, expecting to see Sam and her long curly hair, beautiful in its volume and her tawny brown skin, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of straight brown hair, swept behind the ears of a tall man, a mole under his eye and the reason for all your problems. You don’t know why you react the way you do, but with your items cradled in your hand you sprint behind a large stack of sketchbooks and hold your breath, staring with wide eyes at the cans of paint at your feet.

What the fuck is Hwang Hyunjin doing at your shop? This is your safe place— your safe haven. A part of you curses the ground he walks on, hopes that the store is too messy and cluttered for his liking, prays that he proves he’s as shallow as the company he keeps and that he leaves and doesn’t come back. Another part of you hates yourself for being so ridiculous. For letting your personal feelings about him delve so far that you’d think something like that. Sam and Mrs.Yang deserve the business, deserve the money, deserve the customers. You shouldn’t hope for anything different— but it still amazes you how he never fails to intrude on the things you hold dear. To intrude on the things you want to keep to yourself.

You don’t move from the spot you’re in. It could’ve been ten minutes, an hour, even, or maybe it was only thirty seconds, but you only peek out when you hear Sam’s voice ring through the shop. You survey the room, stepping out from your hiding spot when you confirm that Hyunjin is nowhere to be found. Though, you don’t think you could’ve hid regardless by the way Sam calls your name.

“Hi, Sammy,” You smile, coming up to pull her into a hug. She grips you tightly, her kinky hair tickling your cheek and her clothes smelling faintly of vanilla and roses. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, hun,” Sam smiles, albeit a little sadly as she looks over your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, don’t leave a poor old lady out,” Mrs. Yang huffs, “Come over here and tell us both about it.”

Without even saying anything they’ve already cheered you up, your steps feeling lighter as you make your way behind the counter and sit on one of the three seats. You sit between them both, their eyes set patiently but concerningly on you.

“I don’t know, really,” You start, and then, you tell them. About your argument with Seungmin, about how lonely it is feeling like you’re the only one feeling this way, about how much the site angers you— how it makes you feel. You tell them about Hyunjin, about how he doesn’t stop bothering you no matter how much you make it obvious you don’t want his company. How much that frustrates you, as well, and about how the lack of control over the entire situation, and over the CSC’s place in your life makes you uncomfortable, and about how the CSC itself makes you feel things you’ve never felt before and how much that scares you. You can barely describe the way it does, and who else can you blame besides its creators.

When you’re done it feels like you’ve vented a lifelong event, it makes a heavy weight lift itself off your shoulders and the heavy silence that remains doesn’t feel like judging, but rather them trying to understand— soaking up the meaning of every word you said in an attempt to place themselves in your shoes.

“I think,” Sam starts, “That your cluelessness about your feelings towards the site in general turns into anger, and the fact that the boy,”

“Hyunjin”, You offer.

“Yes, I think his attempts at speaking to you only worsen it somehow, like you’re being cornered by this weird feeling that you don’t understand and it makes you even angrier.”

“You said your friend is a part of it?” Mrs.Yang interjects, a wrinkly hand kneading your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You murmur, “He’s good friends with the group and he loves the website.”

“That probably doesn’t help then,” She continues, “If you’re surrounded by people who know what they like or enjoy something you don’t like or don’t understand, of course you’re going to feel angry. You feel like the odd one out.”

“I think more than anything you need to figure out if it’s really anger you’re feeling, and if the only reason why you hate this website is not because of its purpose but because of your lack of control over it.” Sam finishes.

“I can’t say I agree with it either,” Mrs.Yang grunts, “It’s not something I think college students need to be worrying about. Things like that stick with you, but it’s their choice to indulge in it, Y/n, you can’t control that.”

You sigh. You guess so, but you still feel like you need to get rid of it. You’ve been slacking, not paying attention to it as much as you should because of all the chaos it’s creating. It’s been a while since you’ve done a petition or made a list of ideas as an attempt to shut it down, but for now it seems like enough to just hate it. They can’t change your mind. Not Seungmin, not Sam, not Jieun, not Mrs.Yang, not Chan or Changbin or Minho— not any of them, and especially not Hyunjin. You just want to be hateful in peace and you don’t know why you don’t seem to be allowed to do that.

You leave the shop feeling lighter, but also like you didn’t actually get any good advice. Sure they validated your feelings, but that’s it. You’ve been trying to figure out your feelings. You know why you’re frustrated, and even though it felt good to be validated it also felt like a waste. You hold the bag of art supplies closer to you as you walk. The sun is setting, painting the sky reds, and oranges, and purples— and you think maybe you’ll paint that. To represent the end of the turmoil that surrounds you, as something hopeful.

You relish in the soft slope of your shoulders, in the relaxation you so rarely feel nowadays, and walk briskly to your dorm so you can fall into your bed and try to forget about the fact that there’s a party you’re supposed to be at tomorrow.

And as if the thought brought it on, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out quicker than you’d ever admit and a relieved smile pulls on your lips when you see it’s from Seungmin.

pup: be ready by 9

you: ok!!!!!

you: i miss you

There’s no more responses but you don’t let that dampen your mood. He still wants you to go with him and that says enough. You do feel terrible about the way you acted— the way you’ve been acting— but you know it’s justified. You’re not irrational. Not at all.

If you collapse at the foot of your bed, art supplies sitting on the floor by your feet, and a paper by your head titled #686, no one has to know.

This Saturday has not been a day of relaxation for you. You didn’t have any plans, though instead of enjoying the peace you so rarely received, the day consisted of you running around your room with a frazzled energy following behind like a ghost. At first you contemplated showing up in a sweater and jeans; no makeup, no jewelry, just you and a lazy fit— but realized that would only bring you even more stares than if you dressed as slutily as possible.

It’s with a black leather mini skirt and a black, lacy, low cut long sleeve tucked inside that you finally allow yourself to relax. You’re probably dressed way too flashily for a college party, but you can’t entertain any thoughts like that or you’ll spend the next three hours obsessing over it— and that’s three hours that you don’t have. Knee length boots stare at you from the door and it’s with a sigh that you walk to the door and put them on.

There’s more reasons to be nervous than just the party, between the inevitable walk with Seungmin to the encounter you’re most definitely going to have with the CSC and all of its users, you’re out of your element. There’s not enough deep breaths to make you calm down, there’s no method available to help clear your mind. Your heart races much more than should be healthy. It feels like hell, even, and all you can do is let this plethora of nerves run its course.

When your phone buzzes with Seungmin’s ‘I’m outside’ text, it almost feels like your heart stops. Fuck, Seungmin’s gonna ask who you’re all dressed up for, gonna ask why you’re so nervous. Why are you all dressed up? Why are you even going? It’s too much, too much of not knowing, not understanding, not feeling right. What will it take to get you to feel right? Like in freshman year when your biggest worry was whether or not you were passing your classes, now it feels like that's a lifetime ago. Like you’ve encountered way too much to even consider anything like that— not that you need to worry about it anyway. It was supposed to be a carefree year for you. You’re always on top of your responsibilities, always prepared, and nothing ever changed that until you went on that site for the first and last time.

You stop, relax your shoulders, take a deep breath that’s otherwise pointless, and step out the door. You curse the day you ever went on that website. It’s why everything is all messed up now, but you rid those thoughts from your mind. You’re determined to have fun tonight no matter what, and no matter who’s there.

Seungmin waits at the door, A button-down hanging off his shoulders and jeans. His hair is combed back and he’s ditched the glasses.

“Hey.” It comes out meeker than you’d like, a little too timid for what your relationship with Seungmin is.

“Hey,” he smiles, the braces you love so much on full display. Your best friend is beautiful, and it’s with a pang to your chest, it’s with seeing him now— so welcoming and so normal with you— that a small part of you realizes maybe you have been being irrational. Maybe you have been acting too strongly, but then you remind yourself that you’ve never been irrational. Never.

“So I’m guessing we’re going to the CSC’s dorm?”

“You’ll fit right in,” Seungmin laughs, starting to walk. You struggle to catch up to him; it’s been so long since you last wore heels that it’s hard to get used to. You don’t grace his comment with an answer, simply relishing in the soft nightly breeze and the shine of the moon. The stars glitter from above you, light years away yet so visible. So sure of their stance in life. You don’t think stars blow up at their best friends, or feel confused, or feel lonely.

You arrive at the party all too soon. From a block away you could see people drunk, staggering in the same direction, and from down the street you could hear the bass of the music, but the warning signs weren’t nearly enough to prepare you for the actual sight of it. It’s like the typical house parties you’d see on TV, but louder and more nerve-wracking. People hang out in front, the music loud enough for them to enjoy even from outside the building. Lights flash from behind the window, an array of purples, greens, reds, and blues. You can see people's shadows from behind the curtains over the front windows, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

“Oh god,” You mumble, taking a few shaky steps inside. You can't do this. You’re gonna freak out and embarrass yourself. You can almost feel the anxiety seeping from your pores, and the word no repeats over and over in your head like a mantra.

No no no no no.

You can’t do this, but you do it anyway. Stepping inside the party is a feat in itself, and you can’t tell if your hands are shaking from the strong bass of the music or because of pure anxiety. The music knocks into your body so strongly that your knees buckle, barely able to hold you upright. At any moment you feel like you might collapse.

You can’t do it but you do it anyway, taking one step and then another, and when the door closes behind you, you resist the urge to turn back and run away. The party is full of people— so full that it’s impossible to walk anywhere without bumping into someone, and despite your best efforts you do get stares. Whether it’s because of what you’re wearing or if it’s because it’s you at a party being held by the CSC… you’re not entirely sure. You don’t think it makes a difference. You try to ignore it, act unbothered, and it must work because after a while they look away, murmuring something or the other about what you’re doing there.

Seungmin drags you away from the door and to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets like it’s his home. You take in the somewhat chill vibe of the kitchen compared to everywhere else. It’s not nearly as full, but there are couples at opposite ends acting as if it isn’t a place where food is kept.

You take a few deep breaths, reassure yourself that you can do this, and even if you can’t you’ll do it anyway. Seungmin doesn’t say anything, just pours you something sweet and fruity in a red cup and hands it over with a raise of his eyebrows. You drink it way too quickly and you know you’re gonna regret it later, but you need the effect it’ll bring. The faux calmness that’ll help you get through the night. Though with how full the party is you think that you won’t be able to see the hosts anytime soon if at all, and that’s enough to bring your heart to a stuttering stop before it resumes its beating in a much more slow paced manner. You’re still not calm, but you’re doing your best.

“Try to relax,” Seungmin chides, his gaze heavy where it bores into you. “Everything will be just fine.”

You nod, taking a more calculated sip of your drink this time. You let the music relax you instead of startle you— focusing on the beats and the melody— on the lyrics, instead of the volume and how it makes your body tremble. You can do this.

When you finally feel like you’re able to relax, Seungmin parts from you, saying there’s some people he has to see. You’re an adult, so you can handle being alone for a few minutes. Eventually, though, the few minutes turn into something longer. You wonder if maybe Seungmin is still upset with you— you didn’t speak much about it on the walk like you thought you would. Honestly, it was mostly silence, and you didn’t think much of it before but you are now. You hold your drink close to your chest, dubbing it your life line for the night.

You last all of thirty minutes before you feel like you’re getting too hot— the building only gets even more stuffy as more people arrive, all of you packaged like a can of sardines. You take the fleeting burst of confidence to leave the kitchen and go to the backyard, hoping that it’ll be a bit more peaceful (as peaceful as possible considering the music blasting), and allow the fresh air to graze your skin like a soft blanket. You sit down on one of the benches in the backyard, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. What will it take to feel at peace? Maybe there’s nothing you can do. And it’s with these thoughts that you do exactly what you shouldn’t do at a party, wallowing in self pity and confusion. You’re so caught up in these thoughts that you don’t notice when someone else joins you.

“Hey, bug.”

Your head whips up faster than what’s comfortable, and you barely hide the wince that struggles to leave your lips. Hyunjin speaks again before you can respond.

“Don’t leave, alright. Please?” He asks, sitting down beside you and smoothing his hands over his pants. “Can we talk?”

“About?”

“About us? About you? I’m tired of running in circles and I want to know why you hate me— the CSC so much.”

You’re silent for a moment, contemplating, thinking. You should get up, leave the backyard and this party altogether. You should ignore whatever it is Hyunjin has to say because he’s the reason for all this, right? Why is he always pretending he doesn’t know; acting like he wants to get to know you? Acting like it really matters how you feel. Everyone wants to understand, everyone wants to know why, but you don’t even know— but you’ll never admit it outright. You’ll never say the one thing that’s been your driven principle for the past year is something you’re unsure about. All you know is that it’s bad, that it’s made you feel ways that were foreign to you, and in order to regain control you need to get rid of it. No matter how anyone else feels about it, no matter who gets upset with you along the way. You need to do it.

Your voice is soft, but not meek. For once, you’re gonna get this entire experience off your chest. “When I first went on the site in the beginning of freshman year I was curious,” You start, glancing at Hyunjin and feeling the tightness in your chest return when you realize he’s already looking at you. “At first, I was curious, and then I was confused. I clicked on a few videos— I scrolled for a while— and I started to get this weird feeling. The more I watched the videos, the more I scrolled through pictures and posts, the feeling got stronger.”

You feel so stupid, but you continue. If Hyunjin makes fun of you he’s just proving your assumptions correct. “I’d never felt that way before and honestly, it kinda scared me, and it was annoying that I didn’t understand it. I didn’t do anything after that. I ignored how fast my heart was beating, how my body was reacting, and never went on that site again. Slowly, that confusion turned into anger— it’s not normal. The way I felt wasn’t normal, and that’s why I think that site needs to get shut down.”

“Bug…” Hyunjin laughs a little and you want to be offended, but you can tell it’s more shock than amusement. “Bug have you ever had sex? Or.. touched yourself at all?”

Your mouth opens and closes comically, but Hyunjin is patient, waiting and watching carefully for you to speak. “Is that what’s important?” You finally say, your eyebrows furrowed and you’re ready to defend yourself if need be. “No, I haven’t.”

“God, bug this is…” Hyunjin squints at you, “I think you were aroused.”

You splutter, feeling your heart rate spike in embarrassment. “What!? No. No.”

“That weird feeling? That heat in your gut,” Hyunjin says, and to punctuate he lays a large, warm, hand over your stomach. “You were horny.” This time, Hyunjin’s laugh is one of amusement, but you're too distracted by how big his hand is, splayed over your stomach and so warm it feels like it’s burning through your clothes.

“Hyunjin, the feeling— no, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Bug, if you’ve never ever been aroused before somehow, of course it felt weird. Holy shit.”

You don’t say anything, but Hyunjin continues before you can get a grip on your thoughts.

“I can’t believe this is the reason why you’ve hated us for so long, I honestly can’t believe it.”

“Hyunjin… that feeling wasn’t pleasurable. Control is pleasurable. I didn’t have a grip on anything that day and barely regained it on the days following. You can’t convince me that getting rid of the CSC won’t bring back a sense of normalcy. You can’t, and even if you’re right, I think that morally, the site is still wrong, and I’m not going to stop trying to shut it down.”

“There’s so much about the CSC you don’t know about, and there’s so much more to pleasure than control.” Hyunjin sighs, clearly more at ease now that he realizes you’re just confused. You don’t know, really, why you hate them. That’s clear. You’re stubborn though, he can tell, and even if this idea he has works— he’s not sure you’ll stop until you get what you want.

Earlier that day the CSC received an email from the dean, threatening that they’ll start looking into all that their site entails because of how often you keep badgering them about it. It’s starting to create a murmur between staff, and they’re growing increasingly frustrated. All that means to Hyunjin is you’re finally breaking through their resolve, running them down enough for them to consider shutting it down or supervising more intensely. Hyunjin can’t have that. None of them can. When Hyunjin approached you tonight he expected to have to beg— to have to plead with you to stop meddling. The site is bigger than you know, more important than some college stupidity. It rakes in a lot of cash, and he can’t have such petty reasoning stop that flow.

Hyunjin’s voice is husky as he continues and his words send an undeniable shiver down your spine “I can show you that the site, and sex by association aren’t bad at all. Mentally, you’re confused and physically, you’re pent up. We can’t have that can we, pretty girl?”

“No, we can’t.”

Wait. What? Yes, we can. Yes you can. You’ve been doing just fine right? You don’t need Hyunjin’s help. He’s not gonna change your mind because your mind doesn’t need changing.

“You can try to shut us down, but at the same time let us help you.”

“Us?” You murmur, attempting to understand what exactly is happening.

“All of us, the CSC can help you figure out what you’re feeling, right? We can help you decide what to do.”

“…You can help me?”

Hyunjin hums, removing his hand from your waist and trailing his finger along the skin just above the hem of your shirt. His fingers dip over your cleavage, tug at your necklace, up and up until your chin is in his hand, and he turns you to face him as his lips brush your cheek. “I want to see who will succeed first, so let me show you that there’s more to pleasure than control.”

He can help you. Out of all the people who ask you why, who say they want to understand but don’t try, he’s the one who’s offering a solution. As annoying as he’s always been to you, as much as he’s always embodied something you hate— the person who’s embedded such foreign feelings in your mind— he wants to help you. He wants to try, and he’s not telling you to stop your goal either. He’s not telling you it’s stupid, he’s not getting angry. He doesn’t make you feel irrational. You’re not irrational. You have a goal and it’s one you’re gonna complete, but… it doesn’t hurt to try, right? And if you succeed, if you shut them down and Hyunjin fails— if the CSC fails you’ll win. You’ll win and prove that you were right all along.

“Go easy on me.”

“Of course, bug.”

You keep your eyes downcast in embarrassment as Hyunjin whispers against your skin, his fingers gently turning your chin up and over to the point of focus. His lips. Pouty, sinfully crimson, curving upwards so surely, like they themselves know their effect on people. They look so soft, so wet. You want to feel them, and it’s as if Hyunjin’s read your mind because his lips are on yours before you can even blink.

“You just kissed me,” Your voice is airy, breathless, and usually you’d be embarrassed.

“Can I do it again?”

There’s a simmering, boiling tension both of you have been ignoring but you’ve lost the will to care about hating Hyunjin or Chan or the CSC. Momentarily, you’ve lost the will to feel much at all but a burning desire to take away any negative emotion you feel. You’re sick of it, sick of feeling confused. Last night you’d dealt with it by crying your eyes out, before that you’d dealt with it by having a screaming match with your best friend, and now you’re ready to look for something to fix it. This just might be the best way to start.

“Not outside.” You whisper, your hands clutching the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt with such an intensity you’re afraid it’ll rip off then and there.

The trip inside and upstairs is a blur. You’re sure if anyone saw you they stared, wondering what you two were doing together, wondering what you were going upstairs for. It’s a blur, nothing is clear but what you’re going to do at this moment, and with Hwang Hyunjin of all people. Of what you’re going to do in the future, with the CSC of all people, what you’re gonna do to them— what you’re gonna allow them to do to you— that’s the only thing on the forefront of your mind. Not about who’s watching, not about who wants to know. It’s about you. You’re the one in control, you’re the one who gets to decide. You’re the one who needs to know.

Warm. You feel warm all over, pressed against Hyunjin with his thighs spreading yours open, warm in his tight embrace. Your hands are clutching at his clothes, at his arms— It’s so hot, yet somehow the constant cool air of the room makes you shiver.

“W-what do I do?”

Hyunjin chuckles, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard it. “You don’t have to do anything, pretty. Let me handle it.”

Letting Hyunjin handle anything doesn’t sound like a very good idea to you in any instance, but in this case you let him. You’re otherwise clueless in this area and frankly, if you want his help you’re going to have to accept it when it’s given. His mouth lands back on yours, a certain kind of desire running through the kiss. His hands are all over you. Trying to grab at every inch he can, and you try your best to kiss him back with equal intensity— to move your lips against his with the same fervor.

Your heart kicks up an irritating notch when Hyunjin slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold. And if Hyunjin had imagined this during late nights, cock shamelessly fisted in his hand as he dreamt of you pushing your panties to the side for him to enter your tight hole, no one has to know.

“Look at me, pretty,” Hyunjin growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with a foreign intensity. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a small burst of confidence, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for another kiss. It’s a little awkward with your inexperience, all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. His lips feel like heaven and you want them everywhere, want to kiss him forever. You want to sink his soft groans into your skin, keep the taste of him on your tongue for the rest of your days as he licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into blissful dizziness.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," Hyunjin teases, pressing your thighs farther apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again. "I don’t think you really hate me, bug.”

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your skirt, slipping under the hem and holding the fabric tightly. God, you feel so bare. Like Hyunjin is looking at you from the inside out. When he pulls your skirt down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, his warmth. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Hyunjin lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold. You’re so sensitive. So, so sensitive.

His hands grip your waist tightly and his lips trail upwards, the bridge of his nose pushing your shirt up until it’s so high your breasts threaten to fall, smothering Hyunjin’s face underneath them. You shiver at the thought, those sinful lips pressing kisses against the skin of your breasts; what would it feel like? Would it feel like this? This feeling that you’re still so unfamiliar with?

"Pretty girls deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Hyunjin starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. You didn’t know you could make sounds like that. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Did you come to impress someone tonight?” Hyunjin murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Hyunjin’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the bedding at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

“You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

“Yes.”

It’s breathless. It’s not you. It’s not the person who wanted nothing to do with Hyunjin only a day ago, but you want answers. You want clarity. And right now, you want this.

Hyunjin wastes no time after your confirmation, his fingers slipping under your panties and ghosting over your skin. He lets out a harsh breath at the feeling where you’re otherwise silent, trusting that he knows what to do. When a rush of cool air blows over you though, your legs close instinctively, and Hyunjin hums, “Stay with me, bug.”

“I’m here,” You respond, slowly spreading your legs back wide and allowing him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off ur ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to cradle your cheek you lean into the warmth. It’s okay. You’re okay.

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you for the first time.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect Hyunjin— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to help you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

The man before you reaches his other hand towards the hem of your top to pinch the edge of it between an index finger and thumb, and pulls the cloth away from your skin.

His eyes bore into yours: “This okay?”

“Fuck, the more you ask me the more nervous I get.”

“Okay, okay. I don’t wanna make you nervous.”

“Just… be nice to me, Hyunjin. Okay?”

Hyunjin smiles, and you exhale, relaxing into Hyunjin’s sheets and letting his musky cologne consume your senses as his touch roams everywhere else.

And then finally— yet all too quickly— the shirt is tugged away from your breasts and they fall freely as Hyunjin eagerly leans closer. His nose presses against one of your hardened nipples, and you watch his pupils dilate quicker than you thought was possible. He’s barely holding back the urge to fuck you dumb, and the finger that still thrusts slowly into your cunt stutters in its movements.

Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly let his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it— looking all innocent— being all innocent but acting like you’re not. Like you’re so sure. You’re confused, god, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Hyunjin’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at your through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dipped his head down, holding your breast in his large hand and rubbing over your nipples with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Your hands automatically perched themselves on his shoulders, and he grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moan, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slight. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groans, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He wanted to do this right— show you all that pleasure could be. He moved his mouth from your nipple to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh- oh Hyunjin help me, please,” You pleaded, his shoulders too far to grip onto; your hands instead finding his hair, running your fingers through and pulling when he nosed at your clit, groaning heartily when your wetness clinged to his skin.

It’s with a lick to your clit that you wail, your thighs threatening to close, and they would have if Hyunjin’s hands hadn’t reached out to force them down, pushing further and sticking his face into your arousal with more fervor, licking and sucking with such vigor that it felt as if he was trying to devour you. Your thighs trembled with every movement of his tongue, poking and prodding at every inch of your cunt, his nose dug against your clit and for a moment it felt like you were seeing stars. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth letting out uncontrollable moans.

You didn’t think it’d feel this good. But, you remind yourself, control feels better. You can’t let him change that— he won’t change that.

The obscene sounds that came from his actions should’ve embarrassed you, but nothing like that came to mind. Hyunjin was relentless, and you couldn’t even think of anything more than the feeling of his hair between your fingers and his tongue slurping at your cunt.

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

Besides control, of course. And you assume, the eradication of the CSC would, also.

Suddenly, your stomach tenses, your body locking up, and you quickly cream all over his tongue, shaky moans slipping through your pretty lips. Your thighs shook from the aftershock, trying to come down from this feeling. Afterwards, Hyunjin’s actions felt too harsh. He didn’t change pace at all, but it felt like your body was going to arch its way into oblivion. Unable to ignore the sensitivity of your body any longer, you pushed against his head until he stopped, attempting to catch your breath.

“You okay?”

You hum, begging the beating of your heart to soften, though as soon as it finally did you looked back at Hyunjin and saw his pants sliding down his legs. His toned, muscular legs, and it started its harsh beating once again. That wasn’t it? Of course, that’s wasn’t it, but fuck. You don’t know if you can handle anything more.

The headboard of his bed knocks against the wall as he climbs back up on the bed, moving his body closer this time and instead of only his chest hovering over you, this time his legs cage you in, one on either side, as your heart pounds itself into oblivion.

One hand supported his weight on the pillow by your head while the other was preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stared down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groaned. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever Hyunjin would come bother you. It intensifies when Hyunjin wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging the bedding from under you and you yelp.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your twitching folds, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you.

“Relax,” Hyunjin murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Stay with me.”

You do your best, forcing your body to relax, as he sinks deeper and deeper still. Hyunjin grunts softly when you clench down on him, and he sighs as you blink dazedly up at him.

Pretty eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Hyunjin watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his sweat slicken forehead, and he sinks back into your slick walls with another languid roll of his hips.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Hyunjin’s chest expands with a shaky breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your virgin cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper than his playful one. Tonight you’re seeing a whole new side of him— a new persona. This isn’t the annoying Hwang Hyunjin who bothers you and calls you ‘bug’, this is the Hwang Hyunjin everyone else knows. The one you hadn’t met yet.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the sheets.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Hyunjin moans—every twitch and squeeze of your pussy leaving him breathless. “Come on, baby,” He pleads, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and Hyunjin’s groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all Hyunjin. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And again, you feel that strange feeling before tensing up, your body convulsing and arching up as Hyunjin’s thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the mattress and Hyunjin’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless, lethargic with your movement. You feel when Hyunjin gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwater back on. You hear it when he sighs, something light and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. You can’t do much more than sigh, but it seems like enough for him— like that was the exact answer he was looking for. You succumb to blissful sleep right before the door shuts behind Hyunjin.

“Hear me out,” Hyunjin sighs, a lazy smile on his features even still. You’re no joke even if you might not know it yet. “I think it could really work.”

“You want us to convince Y/n to what? Leave us alone or..?” Jeongin says, leaning against the table in the kitchen.

The party has long been over, there’s a mess everywhere but it’s empty except for the eight boys and you knocked out in Hyunjin’s bed. Jisung sits sprawled on the couch, head twisted ever so slightly to betray that he’s listening to the conversation, Jeongin leans against the table and Chan has his arms folded where he leans against the wall serving as the entrance between the kitchen and the living room.

Minho downs a bottle of water by the sink, and Changbin leans against the fridge, leveling Hyunjin with an intense look. Felix and Seungmin sit on the couch opposite Jisung where they have a full view of everything and everyone.

“She barely even knows what porn is, so I said I could convince her the site isn’t that bad— and is something she could grow to like, if not love.” Hyunjin explains, his eyebrows raising in wait for the retaliation that’s sure to come.

“Why should we?” Minho asks, with a swallow, “If she doesn’t like it, honestly what does it matter.” Heads nod in agreement.

“Listen, they’re starting to consider whatever the fuck she’s selling them at those little meetings, and I got an email about investigation if this keeps up. If we fail to change her mind, we can at least distract her enough for the heat to lessen a little.”

Chan nods, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” He shrugs, looking over at everyone in the kitchen. “We change her mind, then we got one less problem to deal with.”

“And if we don't?” Changbin asks, tilting his head at both Hyunjin and Chan. “And if this is just a waste of time?”

“It isn’t,” Hyunjin assures, “Trust me.”

The rest of them don’t argue, but Hyunjin feels Seungmin’s gaze boring into him from the couch, feels his questions burning at the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out, so he leaves before they can succeed.

“We can talk about it more later, but I think it’ll work. It’s a good deed, and I know how much you guys love those.” Some scoffs and laughs fill the room, but Hyunjin is already halfway up the stairs, a plan forming in his mind and a pleasant smile growing on his face.

a note from iris: this chapter was late because of that long ass smut scene so i hope it was enjoyable and that this wasn’t 17k worth of a snoozefest 😭 i’m sorry it’s late!! so sorry but it’s still friday even if it’s 11 pm <3<3 not beta read not nothin so pls.. spare me.. and i hope you liked it !!!

not-so-mini taglist (there’s so many of y’all !!???): @chrisbahng @seonghwatoothless @bubblelixie @199719932000 @imsuchasimp00 @hyu-hl @oddinaryfelix @raspbinniecreme @fa3body @kittykatkrissa @andreaswrld @hattorihaechan @lachinitaaaaa @j-0ne25 @bangchanbabygirlx @ni-sh @green-orangeade @sincerely-skz @exclusivej3ss @elizalabs3 @lili-kims-blog @curiousgworge @midsoulz @sawadabegum @reighlee-greaves @lotus-dly @blcar @impossiblewritingrebel @yourhwngness @idek-at-this-point-lol @multihoe-net @hyun-bun @hwan-g @ughbehavior @rindomo @awesomelycoolworld @springdeity @todolyn @meowminhosblog @hyunelixies @emotionalwreckkk-blog @seungschacco @avyskai @cvfechan @jeyelleohe @vvsmydiamonds127 @chriscentric @simpforpunzngl @be-a-spacequeen @svintsandghosts @myjisung @hanjiesgf

*** if your tag didn’t work make sure your blog is visible! if i somehow missed you when tagging i offer a sincere apology <3

#hyunjin scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #skz x reader

[slothgiirl]

an understanding

morpheus x reader. 5k. no use of y/n. yearning. the only thing i know about video game development comes from mythic quest. dont feed ducks bread (its bad for them) morpheus.

“You know feeding ducks bread is bad for them right,” you pointedly tell the stranger in black. The man was wearing 30 layers of black under the midday sun. You had no clue how he could bear wearing a wool coat in this heat. Sweat was already gathering around your forehead and you were in a gauzy shirt. 

“Oh.” His voice was deep, an alluring quality that would’ve made him a perfect audiobook narrator. He doesn’t look up, still hunched over his loaf of french bread: the good kind that was made fresh in store at some local bakery. 

“Mind if I sit here?” You didn’t want to sit on the grass. Lugging a towel on top of your laptop and bag was bad enough so you were really hoping for a bench, even one with no shade. It was just too nice of a day to spend working indoors. 

He doesn’t respond. Tearing another piece of bread, he pops it into his mouth, finally looking up, looking out at the park contemplatively. 

You decide that it’s okay. He didn’t say no.

He was obviously incredibly awkward or maybe didn’t get out much judging by his pasty skin. It was rather unfortunate too. Now that you’d gotten a good look at him he was cute in a way that would’ve thrilled you at twelve when you were wearing studded belts and obsessed with Mary Shelley and Trent Reznor. His hair was a hopeless mess: it’s color so black it seemed to destroy any sunlight that shone on him.

Too bad he was about as interesting as a pet rock.

Even the beta testers who were chronically online, still figuring out women at the ripe old age of twenty six (which you understood as your dating life was no better and all your hopes rested on Hinge) were livelier to talk to.

You were probably being too hard on him, you thought as you opened up the company issue computer. It was the fancy type that bent completely backwards. There were so many dialogue trees to work through. So many paths.

Sitting cross legged on the bench, you get back to work and try not to think about the man on the other end of the bench. 

He managed to make eating bread an incredibly depressing act; gaunt as he was, with a forlorn expression in his clear blue eyes. 

Clearly the guy was going through something. 

Refocusing on your work, you turn up the screen brightness and pull up your saved files for Project: Dracul City.

There were notes.

Bottle: get sent to old lady Constancia and gain +1 luck token 

Newspaper: uncover school turned shelter LORE 

Right. 

“Thirsty now, are we dearie,” you utter under your breath. You worked best like this, saying the lines out loud. At the office, no one batted an eye, but you’d gotten plenty of looks at cafes. 

No. That was too fairytale-esque. This was more survival horror. The words rich and velvet were also on the moodboard. 

“A bottle of wine to soften the blow eh?” You frowned. It sounded too young, too flirty. Old Lady Constancia ran a black market shop in the game. 

“Well then, a bit of liquor for the road? Better than anything in the tavern.” 

Again, it was wrong. The wrong feel for the setting.

“No need to ask how your night is going then.” There. You grin a little, reading over the dialogue tree that led here, skimming over Lady Constancia’s lines. There’d be no voice actors for this so the diction would have a lot to convey.

“What.”

“Huh,” you look up from your screen. You’d completely forgotten you were sharing the bench, speaking too loudly. 

“You were saying.” The man looks over at you for the first time. His gaze is no longer distant as he studies you. It was obvious you held his full attention in spite of how cold his demeanor was. 

“Nothing,” you laugh nervously, “I just-it’s something I do while working. Say what I’m writing to see if it makes sense. It’s a really good trick for dialogue. Sometimes what sounds good in my head sounds really awful to my ears. It was advice I got years ago in school. Really fucking helpful though.”

“You are a writer?”

“Ha, I wish,” you scrunch your nose feeling yourself blush. “Well, sometimes. I don’t know. I always wanted to work in video games and thought writing for them would be cool. And yeah, every now and then I think I’ve got a novel in me but I like my job. Sure-I’m not lead in anything yet but it’s fun to flesh out these characters and help build a world where people can escape into. Just look at early fallout, Kentucky Route Zero’s a really good one. . .” Your own sincerity embarrassed you. “I know,” you look down at your screen, the blinking | waiting for your next words, “most people play to blow things up and kill lines of code but, I really do think it means something to people. Give them a world to play in, create, dream. . .yeah.” God you rambling so bad. “I can stop if it bothers you?”

There’s the slightest hint of interest in the subtle relaxation of his expression, “Not at all,” he replies, putting aside the bread he had left, “There is nothing frivolous in striving to inspire people.” 

His words catch you off guard. He’d been so distant before, you were expecting a brush off. “Well maybe this line won’t impact someone but you never know what characters players latch onto.” Mariska Lutz’s tapes haunted you for months after playing Bioshock for the first time. 

The man does not reply again, watching the ducks hop into the murky water. 

You return to your work, making an effort to keep your mumblings quiet. 

It’s not until the battery low notification pops up on your screen that you look up again, shutting your laptop and stretching your legs out. Your left foot tingles hellishly, having fallen asleep. 

You look over, only to find that the man had left without a word, without making a sound. It was unsurprising. When you worked you got tunnel vision. That was the reason your pot of pinto beans had burned before. No enfrijoladas for you that day. 

Well, he had certainly been a character. 

*****

 You escape a hectic office where you’d spent the past week during crunch time as the demo went live, a short teaser of the gameplay for corporate who would never even play the game but wanted to see evidence that money would be made when the game released in time for October aka when everyone would be over school and the spooky month would fit the game’s design. You’d brought a tote bag with your lunch and snacks from the office. Nothing hit the same as lays with salsa valentina though you would like to know who kept using your bottle. You’d labelled it. As a last resort you’d taken to stashing it in your desk when you knew you’d be working from home. 

July. 

Kids were chasing the poor ducks back into the pond. A woman in leopard print roller skates took on hills like a pro. 

You liked the warmth of sunlight on your skin. 

You still wore sunscreen though. 

It’s Thursday but the park is packed. You try to look for any spot that has some shade, an open seat so you can enjoy a hard earned lunch. Your fingers have cramped from all the typing you’ve done in the last few days. You haven’t checked in the mirror but you feel like roadkill. 

It was about three in the morning when you’d started using eye drops to keep going, but the meeting was happening. You’d done everything you could for your team.

No luck.

The moms were out in full force today, phone in hand as their kids ran wild. 

Then- 

You spot the same man from your last visit to this particular park. He looks the same, only his coat is longer. It was like he was trying to get heat stroke. 

Well, the trick to adulthood was just going for it. Sharing a bench wasn’t the end of the world. 

You walk over. 

“Hello again,” you wave, “mind if I sit here?” You could always keep looking. There was plenty of time before you had to rush back to work. 

“No.”

You plop down, leaving space for not only Jesus but all his homeboys too. “Thanks. I feel like everyone keeps having the same idea as me, but I guess it’s summer and unless you take the ferry west we don’t have the best beaches.” You open the bag of chips and liberally pour salsa on them, “want one?” 

You hold out the bag, offering up your snacks to the man. He seemed less morose than last time, but was for sure managing to sulk under clear skies. 

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead he reaches into a white paper bag and slowly grabs a pinchful of birdseed to toss over to the ducks. 

You’re left holding the bag of chips long enough for it to be awkward before you shrug and dig in, sucking the salt and salsa from your fingertips. 

This is why you’ll never have a flat stomach. Five minute abs workouts from tiktok were not enough and you sure as hell were not giving up gansitos. There were some in your freezer waiting alongside a pint of ben and jerry’s. 

“You got birdseed,” you note, amused. He had been listening to you. A thrill of excitement bubbles up in your chest. 

He nods, the motion small. 

Your companion was not an expressive man.

“No fat pigeons,” he states neutrally.

You’re puzzled but shrug it off. “I’ve heard you can feed them oatmeal. But I’d probably double check that.” 

Finishing your tiny chip back, you fold it up neatly into a square and pop it back into your tote bag until you can toss it into the trash. Your actual lunch was  a cold tomato and fresh mozzarella pasta. 

Nothing exciting. 

You’d been at the office for practically a week, only going home to have a quick shower and pick up food. You were overtired. Food was fuel. You’d treat yourself tomorrow to breakfast at your favorite cafe. 

You idly eat as people bike by. 

It could use some more sauce. 

Your melancolic acquaintance continues to feed the ducks, lost in his own thoughts.

You stab a grape tomato, deciding to make conversation because what was there to lose. “I didn’t catch your name last time.” Last time, ha. You were really going on like there would be a next time. What was the chance you’d see him again? There’d been students in your same major you’d never shared a class with. 

The question hangs in the air. 

You chew the tomato, the juice spilling out into your mouth. It was tart.

You didn’t think he’d reply and were already considering fleeing. You could finish eating at your desk. 

“Morpheus.”

“Morpheus,” you repeat so you don’t forget, “like the Greek god of sleep?” At least, you think he was the Greek god of sleep. It had been a while, he might have been a mythic hero. 

“Of dreams,” he pauses, turning to you, his clear eyes peering into yours intensely, “and sleep. Yes.” 

It’s only polite to introduce yourself properly now. You wipe the corners of your mouth clean and reply, “Nice to meet you Morpheus,” feeling silly and giddy (flip flopping between the two similar states) as you give him your name. 

Blandly he states, “We have met before.” But with his attention on you, you catch the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.  The corners of his small mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile.

“All the same,” you beam at Morpheus, and finish your long lunch in quiet companionship.

*****

When you’re exhausted, you don’t even dream. Depending on whatever game you are working on, there’s weeks when you’re so mentally drained that you don’t even get under the covers before you’re out like a light. 

You’re pretty sure this is a dream. Your mind rested enough to dream.

It’s usually in the middle of the dream, in the middle of the scenery changing from a party in your grandmother’s house where a bird offers you a peach to you sitting on a trampoline that you remember from summer days at your childhood friend’s house before the trampoline broke and sent you both to the ER where you only had scratches only your friend isn’t there but a programer from your internship and hey maybe this was sign from your subconsciousness that you should text her-

You let out a breath.

The sky turns pink.

Yup, this was a dream.

You lean into it, letting it happen around you, letting your mind wander as the trampoline bounces lightly with Nina’s movements. It jolts your body, your brain swings around in your skull pleasantly like being in those massage chairs. 

A breeze runs over your cheeks.

You look at the blue of the trampoline border. Blue like the waters in instagram pictures. Blue-

The black trampoline washes away into dark waves and your favorite aunt lays in an innertube sipping on a cocktail, “I’m really glad we came to Hawai’i.”

“Me too. Though I’m still waiting to see a mermaid.”

“It’s great. I’m glad Lady Gaga approved the highway from San Diego to Hawai’i.”

“And we got to see those sea dragons!” 

“Exactly!”

You feel something by your leg and stick your head underwater. The water is so clear, you can see everything around you, including the dolphins swimming around you, leading you somewhere. Minecraft dolphins. You grab onto it’s fin, wondering where they want to lead you. Atlantis? Too see a mermaid.

From under the water you tell your aunt, “I’ll be right back!”

“Yeah-”

And your alarm goes off. Your dream rapidly fades as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blindly grasp around your nightstand for your phone. “Shut up!” The alarm was so annoying. Shrill ringing in your ears when all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

You send Nina a heart emoji on discord, followed by let’s grab some shaved ice. 

Then, you flop back on your bed and doom scroll for a few minutes before you have to sign in on Slack.

*****

It becomes a habit. 

Even as the weather takes a turn as fall sets in, you try and make it out to the park once a week, and without fail Morpheus is there. He’s not always feeding the ducks. But he’s always there and always leaves without saying a word.

You’re not offended when he barely acknowledges your wave as you sit down next to him. That was just what he was like. Morpheus suffered from perpetual resting bitch face because of his pouty mouth. You’d yet to see him smile. 

It didn’t matter. You liked his presence. You enjoyed having company as you got fresh air. 

He listened but rarely had much of a reply.

“It’s nice to go into the office and touch base with the other writers,” you muse, sipping at your drink, “make sure everything is coherent and I guess it helps to talk to people who are also living with this whole world in their head. It helps. The entire story’s been fleshed out by James, our lead.” You let the words hang in the air. Working from home was nice too. It lets you wake up at noon and crawl down the rabbit hole of your own imagination until three in the morning. 

Morpheus’ tilts towards you as he continues to watch the wind sweep through the trees. A trio of teenage girls had brought an entire charcuterie board and flowers for their park day. 

“Not to mention James does have to sign off on my work. I’m still pretty low on the totem pole.” This was your first full time gig out of school. Not an internship with terrible pay and long hours or freelance, but an honest to god full time job with benefits and pay that meant you could finally rent your own studio apartment. “Do you game?”

“No.”

You glance at him in profile. He remained as pale as the first time you’d seen him, but the gauntness in his cheeks had receded. There’s lines under his eyes that led you to believe he was closer to forty than your late twenties, closing in on the big 30. The Cut loved to post how everything changed at thirty. 

“It’s fun. I didn’t really get into them until high school but that was only because my parents bought into the whole video games cause violence schtick but like, I wanted to play pokemon not Call of Duty, at least when I was nine.” You smile, thinking back on fond memories, “then I started going over to Michael’s house after school and we’d play Zelda and Fallout. His parents were complete nerds who knew Klingon so they were cool about us playing whatever they were also playing.” Your parents would not have approved of Left 4 Dead. 

“I will take your word for it,” Morpheus tells you, sitting back against the bench. 

You sip your tea. It’s still warm enough that the ice is melting away, watering down the taro flavor. “Or you could come over sometime and play Stardew Valley?” You pick a tree and stare at it. You were nervous about his reaction. But it had been weeks. At some point you had to make plans and grab a burger or a drink. That’s just what friends did and if you left it up to Morpheus it would probably take a year. That’s all. It had nothing to do with how your heart sped up the moment you spotted his familiar head of hair in the park. It had nothing to do with the anticipation that had you smiling like a fool on Wednesdays when you routinely went to the park. 

He doesn’t respond, his expression dour. 

After a beat of silence, you find it within yourself to look at him. 

Morpheus meets your searching gaze with his own. You could see the emotions playing out in his blue eyes, but you could not read them. Like the eyes of a bird of prey, you could see the intelligence, the life and consciousness within, but lacked the ability to understand them the way you could read other people. 

The corners of his mouth lift, his smile a precious thing you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. “Perhaps,” he allows. “Once the image of an avenging Mina Harker fills the minds of dreamers around the world.”

Smiling softly you reply, “Only if it’s successful.” You could never be sure with indie games. 

“It will be,” Morpheus states.

“I try not to focus too hard on what happens after it’s released and out of my hands. What will be will be.” 

He nods. 

You finish your tea. 

It was a lovely day. The August sun was not so harsh after four. There were less people as families planned for a return to school. The tourists stopped visiting the Northwest in droves. 

And maybe Morpheus would come over. 

That was more than you’d had yesterday. 

You could even show him the demo of-

You bite your lip, trying to think if you had let anything slip about Project: Dracul City. Developing games came with a strict gag order. Nothing could leak before it’s time, not the gameplay or plot or any of the concept art. Usually, you were pretty good about keeping quiet. 

Surely you hadn’t told him. 

And yet he’d known. 

You frown. 

“Do you wish to feed the ducks as well?” 

His words break your line of thought. You hadn’t even noticed the crinkling sound of the paper bag as he opened the birdseed up. 

“These ducks must be the most spoiled in all the public parks,” you muse, smiling at Morpheus before grabbing a handful of feed and tossing it lightly into the grass. 

It was exciting to see the ducks and birds come over. The shyer animals waited to see if it was safe. They all had their own personalities. 

You’re not bothered by his lack of response, the conversation stilling. You’d grown to like his taciturn ways. It gave what he did say more weight. He wore black like a uniform and over the course of the weeks in which you had been meeting up with him (undiscussed by either of you) he had become beautiful in your eyes. You wanted to run your fingers through his unkempt hair. You wanted to steal away his smiles for yourself: to know you could make such a dour man smile because he couldn’t help himself around you. 

You reach for more birdseed only to find that Morpheus had left. 

Figures. 

*****

Unsuccessfully, you try to wipe away the number written on the cup of hot apple cider, otherwise known as the perfect fall drink as the leaves grew into vibrant array of reds and oranges with the change in seasons as the days grew cold. 

The cashier had been nice, but you were only interested in one man. 

The sharpie doesn’t budge at all. 

You give up trying to get the sharpie off when you spot Morpheus. “Hey I got you a drink since it’s starting to get cold out.” It wasn’t coat season for you yet, but you’d started wearing a sweater while running all over town. 

You hold out one of the cups, the one without the number scribbled on it. 

His eyes widen, pink lips parting in surprise. But he makes no move to reach for the cup you’re offering. 

“It’s apple cider,” you tack on, “warm you right up.”

He blinks. 

You roll your eyes, “just take it and say thank you.”

It works. Morpheus nods, taking the cup from you, his fingers cool when they brush against your skin. “This was not necessary.” 

“I know,” you say, plopping down next to him. “But I wanted to.” 

“Thank you,” he inclines his head toward you. The sincerity in his voice is clear as a bell. 

Heat blooms on your cheeks. “You're welcome.” Again, you smile at him as you take a sip of your cup, “I can’t wait until the street vendors start having roasted chestnuts.”

“You enjoy winter.”

“Yeah. Some of it,” you laugh, “The snow can get annoying at times but more and more I find myself taking the time to enjoy the little things. It’s not like I’m working towards getting into college, getting a degree or anything anymore. I’m just enjoying life, yeah?” You flush. In your head it sounded wise, but out loud you just sounded naive. 

“My sister shares your thoughts.”

You arch a brow, “you have a sister! Older or younger?”

With a slight smile, Morpheus answers, “older.” He must be fond of her. 

“Well she’s right. It’s hard at first. I’d pick up flowers for myself and then think about what a waste of money they were but why not. I like having flowers. Or I’d make up excuses not to go out with my coworkers to stay in but if you do that enough times they’ll stop inviting you and you fall into a rut and that’s no way to live. And some people are so different outside of work.” The older you get, the easier being content becomes. 

Stop and smell the roses indeed. 

Then you ask him, deviating from your unspoken plans, “do you want to walk around?”

“If you wish to.”

“I do, but we don’t have to.”

Morpheus stands, and you take that for the answer that it is. 

******

The grass tickles your calves as you wander through the meadow. The sun paints the sky in hues of orange as it sinks below the treeline. 

It’s lucky it’s not raining. 

On your first trip to this national park, it had rained the entire time. Not surprising. Rain was a constant companion in this city, but it was more than worth it when you got this lovely meadow all to yourself. Wildflowers were sprinkled throughout the grass. 

You’d always wanted to come back, splurge on the fancy lodge instead of being in a tent and hoping the rain wouldn’t get through the plastic. Plans to come-

You blink, looking around slowly. 

Was this a dream?

You try to string your thoughts together: trying to remember how you got here. It was fall. Not spring. It’s hard, your brain feels like it's sinking into a thick comforter, the way it always feels when you’re on the border of deep sleep. 

Taking in the scenery, the solace, you let your train of thought dissolve and you give into the nonsensical logic of dreams, letting yourself fall back into deep sleep. 

It’s lovely. 

You sit down in the grass as the leaves take flight, butterflies in the air twirling in constellations before settling back down in the branches. These trees were unmatched by anything you’d seen before. It only made you wish to see more, go to more places. 

“You are fond of the natural world.”

Turning, you find Morpheus sitting next to you. His long coat is no longer black but a starry night. Stars twinkle in the depth of the fabric as you take him in with wide eyes. 

“Morpheus,” you’re delighted to see him.

And because this is a dream, you don’t hesitate to reach out, crossing boundaries without a thought, you brush your fingers over his shoulder, half expecting your hand to go right through and slide into an abyss of night. That doesn’t happen. 

Sheepishly, you meet his gaze. 

His eyes are black unfathomless pits with a sole pinprick of light for a pupil. At this, you draw back. 

Morpheus says nothing, regarding you carefully. 

You blink.

And when you can bear to meet his waiting gaze again, his eyes are clear as ever. It must have been a trick of the light. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you note lamely. The national park wasn’t exactly close. 

“I have business to contend with,” Morpheus replies, which leaves you with more questions than answers. You didn’t even know what he did for work. “We will not be able to meet in the Waking world for some time.”

“Oh,” you answer, crushed. It was ridiculous to feel so intensely about someone who was the equivalent of a classroom friend. You didn’t even have his number. Lin, your coworker, would call that a red flag. 

His words sink in and, “the waking world?” Now you’re just confused.

His brow furrows with concern. “We are in The Dreaming.”

“I don’t understand.”

Morpheus frowns. “This a dream, your dream.” The sky goes periwinkle as snow starts falling. “And I am King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.”

“Oh,” you go, “should I bow or something?” 

Your words elicit a rare smile from the dour man. 

It made your smile grow, to know that you had made him smile. 

“There is no need,” the small smile stays on his pink lips. 

“No off with her head” you joke, accepting dream logic and not questioning it as you quote the Queen of Hearts. 

Morpheus frowns. “I would not be so crude.”

“Oh so I should be worried,” you wiggle your brows. 

“Not of me.” He utters softly, his eyes become glassy. “Not while you are under my protection.” Morpheus reaches for you. The back of his hand ghosts over your cheek. 

You lean into his touch without a thought. 

You meet his gaze unabashed. 

He blinks slowly, peering at you through dark lashes. There was a sedate romance to him that the Brontë sisters could only dream of. 

“I cannot stay,” he confesses with remorse.

“You did say you had stuff to do.” 

“I do.”

His hand is soft against your cheek. Neither of you move, resting in the moment, holding the pause for as long as possible.

Morpheus draws away, standing. Snow falls around you but the temperature remains pleasant. Snowflakes fall on your arms and do not melt. 

You stand. 

It’s the awkward point where you’re waiting for him to leave but don’t want him to leave and he’s dragging it out too. You’ve been through this plenty of times on friends' doorsteps as you chat and say goodbye and wait. 

He stuffs his hands in his coat. It touches the ground, melting away the snow around the hem with its soft red flames, more ember than anything. 

Morpheus makes no move to leave. 

You wait, taking in the sight of him. Snowflakes fall in his unbrushed hair. 

“Here,” Morpheus draws something from his pocket. 

“Oh.” 

He drops it in your outstretched palm without ceremony. Morpheus looks away as you study the object.

It’s a necklace. The chain is simple gold. It’s the pendant that catches your eye. 

Encased in glass are grains of sand. They swirl inside the glass on their own. 

“Thank you,” you look over at him. 

Morpheus nods slightly. “It allows you to enter The Dreaming at will.”

“A standing invitation then,” you wink.

“Yes.” He has a talent for filling words with a weight beyond their common vernacular. Morpheus’ gaze is heavy on you. 

You can’t parse out why this is so important, but it obviously is for him. 

You unlock the clasp, wrapping the chain around your neck. With your fingertips, you try to lock it. The clasp is impossible when you cannot see it.

The hairs at your nape get in the way.

“Allow me.” Morphues closes the distance between you. 

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He takes the chain from you, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck. He works swiftly, making quick work of it. 

The pendant hangs in the middle of your chest. 

Your heartbeat is hummingbird quick. 

Morpheus’s breath tickles your nape. 

You don’t dare move, fearing this is all a dream that will end if you do anything.

“I shall be expecting you.”

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint. Though it’s about to be crunch time and I’m not looking forward to-” 

His actions cut you off. 

Morpheus leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck chastely. 

You draw in a breath. 

The moment is over in the blink of an eye. 

Something witty, sure to ruin the moment, is on the tip of your tongue as you turn, looking over your shoulder. But he’s gone. 

****

The sand continues to swirl, defying gravity inside the pendant, when you wake. 

You play with it as you scroll through files, read through work emails, and desperately try to recall the details of your dream. 

You’ve never been more excited to sleep in your life.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #an understanding #lmao i love miscommunication as a trope #to morpheus: he explained what he is perfectly #meanwhile readers like: idk whats going on but im into it #unedited as usual

[grapejuicestyless]

conrad and fem!reader were bestfriends growing up but they were always in love. (reader is a conklin) they were both in love but they were both so oblivious to each others love (Susannah always knew hehe) I was thinking this could be inspired by ‘back to you’ by selena gomez

basically when susannah dies conrad lashes out on yn and says like the worst thing you can think of but then tries to kiss her and yn is so freaked out that they don’t see each other for years. After yn finishes college everyone reunites at the summer house and Conrad and yn finally realize what’s been right in front of them.

i know this is a lot but your writing is so beautiful especially with Conrad. thank u <3 🙏🏻

Back To You

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst to fluff

Summery: The request above^^^ I tried to stay as close to what was requested I hope this is okay! <3

The waves hit the wooden poles underneath our feet in a soft pattern. The thrashing of them shaking the dock just enough that you could feel it rocking. It was calming, breaking the silence that settled between my oldest son and I. Conrad had been off all spring, part of me connected it to his old ex girlfriend breaking it off with him, but that was just what I told myself because the thought that Conrad knew what was going on, something I swore I would keep hidden until it had to be know, made me sick with guilt. How my condition was weighing him down.

I took him out to the old dock just for one on one time. He used to love it out here at night. The way the stars illuminated the sky in their different patterns, the way even with them shifting, the constellations always found their way to stick together in the sky for a few weeks at a time. He loved the feeling of the damp wooden bench beneath his legs and how close we could cuddle up out here. He always loved it just being us.

“What’s going on, Connie?” My words were soft, in no way pushing him to open up any fresh wounds. He seemed wound up, his light dampened. I wanted to figure it out, I wanted to help him. The Conklin’s would be down here by morning and I worried that if left unresolved, it could bubble into a mess.

“Hm?” He acted confused, completely unaware to what I meant. I knew my son better than that though. He was always far too smart to play dumb.

“What’s got you down?” I put on my best smile, trying to squint my eyes to make them as welcoming as I could. My Conrad was never the most open with his feelings. He hated to be vulnerable. He told me once when he was younger that he felt if he was ever truly honest, the words would never be able to have been taken back. By saying things he didn’t say, by pushing people away, it gave him a good distance to build up the courage to make amends again. It gave him the time to choose when he was ready to open up his heart to whoever he wanted. He was always so conscious with things like that. Always thinking things through before doing them. It was funny how much a contrast he was with his feelings compared to Jeremiah. My spontaneous son who had no fears about regretting anything. Using his charm to get his way through life.

Laurel once joked that she believed Conrad’s eyes were so much darker because they held much more fear than Jeremiah’s. He was consumed by it. At the time we laughed, but now I was beginning to believe she was right. Here I was, preparing for a death nobody knew was coming and still, after nearly two decades of fighting and loving, I still was stuck at that distant arms length Conrad held me at.

He ignored the question, looking out to the sky. He knew he could’ve lied to me, could’ve made up something about his old heartbreak. How he was stressed with school. Anything to at least let me be able to give my support, even if it wasn’t in the areas he needed it. Conrad knew me like I knew him, though. Bound not only by blood but by love. There was no great excuse he could make that I wouldn’t pick up on. Mothers know everything, it’s our job.

My hands shook, partly from the cold and half from the disease working it’s way into my system. He shuttered sun my fingers wrapped around his, lips pressing to the back of his hand and my thumb smoothing over his skin to keep it stuck there.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, okay? When you feel like you need to say something, you don’t have to overthink it with me, okay? I’m your mom. I’ll love you no matter what’s going on in that mind of yours.” I saw the way his mouth twitched upward, a faltering smile so weak it was barely there. His eyes shinned in the moonlight, illuminated by the stars and the fireflies zipping by.

“Thank you, Mom.” He was honest then. I knew it by the way he said it. Like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He didn’t avoid my gaze, but held it firmly.

He crashed into me like one of the gentle waves into the dock. Arms wrapping around me in the biggest hug he’d given all year to me. His fingers dug into the back of my blouse, holding onto me for dead life in a way. He seemed desperate to be close to me.

A deep sigh left his nose, tickling the skin on my neck and down my back. I almost laughed at the feeling, but held it in to prolong the moment we were sharing. Soon, we would both be leaving whether we liked it or not, it was certain. I hoped that in the attempt to have one last perfect summer, Conrad and I could become closer. That we could all find a sense of happiness.

That sense came a few hours later. A wish being fulfilled without any extra begging. By now the moon was long gone, hiding beneath the horizon, the birds alive and singing. The children playing on nearby beaches and the whooshing of speeding cars passing the driveway.

Each part of the home was set up in the way I had hand picked it to be. My favorite flowers resting on the mantle and a bowl of the freshest fruits in the center of the kitchen countertops. The air was clean and crisp, blowing through the cracked window over the sink. It was cooling and refreshing, the outsides sounds seeping into the calm quiet of the house.

“They’re here!” My youngest shouted, heavy elephant feet stampeding down the stairs in pure excitement. I felt my own feet pick up from under me to jog outside. Summer was beginning.

The familiar silver car sat parked out by the bushes in the front, the engine still cooling and the sound of the car shutting off echoing through the area. The wheels moved from side to side, leaning closer to the ground to help give as the four missing pieces of Cousins announced their arrival.

Steven was the first to let his presence be known. His long, scrawny body stretching up after a long drive, an exaggerated groan becoming dragged out to truly emphasize how long their trip was. Jeremiah barely let him step away from the car before they were messing around, his arms wrapped around Steven in a welcoming hold. Their catching up was loud and joyful, jokes spewing off of their tongues without any extra effort.

Belly and Laurel came next, piling out of opposite sides of the car. Belly had occupied the passengers seat and Laurel the back right one. Both skipped the long stretch and made their way closer to their respected friends.

It was when Belly started making her way over to Jeremiah and Steven, giving an excited wave that I saw just how much she had changed. Her hair was longer, straighter. It fell just below her chest, shiny and thick. Her eyes seemed to sparkle brighter than last summer and her teeth had finally straightened enough to ditch the braces. It seemed like she was the center of attention for everyone because of these changes. Jeremiah swooning, hearts of eyes and Steven choosing to react in pure disgust, their playful teasing died down behind Laurels approaching voice.

“This has been a long time coming.” She sighed contently, arms already wrapping around me, feet in lifting from side to side to away smoothly. My hands rubbed along her back. She pulled away after a moment, observing the area, watching our kids. I saw her eyebrows furrow in confusion, almost like she was sad. I knew what it was.

Even in all this happiness, in all the reuniting and teasing, two very vital people remained missing. Y/n and Conrad.

While Belly and Jeremiah had an unbreakable bond that could carry any room, it never was really complete without Conrad and Y/n. To put it simply, even if Belly and Jeremiah were as great as they could be, Conrad and Y/n were the blueprint. They were the glue. No summer was truly starting until they were doing something irresponsible or stupid. One of them in a coughing fit, the other laughing themselves into one.

My lips drew themselves into a tight lipped smile, eyes finding the sky above. I swallowed. The words were in the tip of my tongue, the confession about what was happening with Conrad. What I believed was happening. I was getting ready to spill my guts about why Conrad wasn’t rushing out here. How he had been off all summer, and it was like he could hear me.

“Conrad!” The car door swung open so fast, I thought it might’ve snapped off with the force of it. It shook the car, slamming even harder than it had opened. The voice, still as sweet as I remember it being, belonged to Y/n.

She looked exasperated, hair a mess, cheeks flushed. Like she’d just woken up from a messy sleep. Her lips were bitten raw, and her shirt hung off her shoulder, unlike Belly’s that fit perfectly. But she was a ray of sunshine. She glowed like the brightest star in the sky. Her smile was infectious, spreading onto my best friend and I’s faces subconsciously. She truly captured the essence of pure happiness, the one I wanted so badly to feel this summer.

Heavy footsteps grew louder and louder behind me until a gust of wind was passed, the footsteps meeting their owner. Conrad, the moody, hurting boy who was completely shut away just hours ago was now running into the arms of his best friend. Of the girl he loved most.

They connected in the middle, the force of it making Y/n squeak. It didn’t stop them from tangling themselves up like they always seemed to do, Conrad’s back bent backwards and Y/n’s feet of the ground. They spun in circles, laughing the entire time. Even being limited to short glances at Conrad’s face while they spun, I could see the light in his face returning. The way his cheeks turned pinker and his eye bags seemed to get less heavy. He would never admit it, but it looked like he had gotten ready for her arrival. He no longer wore a plain grey zip up and old stained sweatpants. He wore Y/n’s favorite blue shirt he owned and matching shorts. She claimed he looked his best in that shirt because it fit him so well. Not too tight, but not too loose. He looked out together enough to go anywhere, but could remain comfortable. She’d even gone so far last summer to say it made him look handsome, something she confessed while drunk, clinging into her best friend and giggling under her breath.

I knew Conrad would never admit he chose the shirt just because he remembered that specific moment, but it was fairly obvious. At least to me. He always had the ability to pinpoint specific events, precise moments that involved something Y/n had done or said. He knew what she hated and what she loved. He put in more effort to make her see him than anyone else I’d ever known. It was endearing to see how much he cared for her.

More than that, it was like a storm had passed, Conrad’s grumpy attitude dissolving into one of pure sunshine and playfulness. He held no fear with her. Everything he did, everything he said, he knew it could be said with confidence. She was the one thing in this world he never felt ashamed to say what he needed to around. The only thing he never shared, his feelings. How he was so in love with her, his summers became dedicated solely to seeing her every second he could.

Secret sleepovers, long bonfire nights and early mornings on the beach. There was not more than a few hours that they weren’t together everyday. It was disappointing to see how he couldn’t share that, as Y/n so clearly felt the same for him.

Her eyes always looking for his face in a crowded room, her hands reaching out to feel he was there constantly. She needed him in more ways anyone could ever need a friend, she showed it, but they somehow always managed to shut down these feelings behind their insecurities of being wrong.

Jeremiah didn’t even get a chance to make his way over to talk with Y/n before she was being led away by his older brother, feet struggling to keep up behind him while he dragged her into the house. The thumping of their feet hitting the stairs sounded through the front door, their laughter and yelling echoing down the hall until his door slammed to a shut. I couldn’t help but laugh, Laurels own giggles stifled underneath mine. It was so obvious how much they cared for each other, yet so frustrating that they never acted on it.

The two of them always chased and chased, no aware that they were both aiming for the same thing. It was sweet to see puppy love like that. One so pure that they couldn’t even admit the feelings they so strongly felt for each other. Something they’d held since childhood, living in complete oblivion since.

The sun was high in the sky, a bright burning ball sizzling it’s mark into all of our skin. I could practically see Conrad’s shoulders peeling beneath its strong rays already. I had warned him to put on a rash guard, knowing he wouldn’t reapply. But he was so excited to catch up to Y/n, my words fell deaf on his ears. She was already out in the water with Belly and Steven, splashing around, laughter echoing as she grabbed what looked like mounds of wet sand from the bottom of the ocean to cover Belly with.

“Connie, you’re going to regret it later.” I had said, all to familiar with the distant sounds of his whining in the middle of the night. Conrad’s back sore and the aloe vera sticking to the warm sheets. But in that moment, the cringe worthy memory seemed to slip his mind as nothing was more important than getting to Y/n. He waved me off, promising to be careful but not really meaning it.

They were out there for hours that day. The waves were calm and the seaweed was relatively clear. The two of them, Y/n and Conrad, spent the perfect conditions submerged so deep into the water that when they reached land again, they complained how their legs felt like jelly. Conrads shoulders were bright red, torched by the beach day. I could see how they ached, just like I had said they would. Y/n’s cheeks and forehead were tinted a harsh red but she seemed completely unaware. Unbothered.

Conrad had pointed out how she had freckles on her face she didn’t have before. It was obvious how he thought she was beautiful, even then. I guess looking back on that memory, it was more clear that even at such a childish age, Conrad somehow always managed to pay the most attention to Y/n. Always the most observant of her tiniest details and mannerisms. Things he hadn’t even thought about in the others.

I didn’t let them sleep upstairs that night. I made sure to proclaim my love to them, but made it known I cherished my sleep more. Really, it was their own fault. Conrad had been warned to take precautions and those were blatantly ignored by the both of them.

I remember this day not because of how great the morning was, the summer breeze blowing in all its glory, but because of how the night had turned out to be.

The clocks hands were just passing the point that separated the late night and early morning. My blankets I had left for the kids spread across the large couch. The blankets were sticking to Conrads back and the aloe was rubbing off with each movement he made. I knew he was trying to muffle his whines, not wanting to be a bother, not wanting to wake his tired mother. I still heard it, and the rolling around became constant listening to the faint complaints from downstairs. It felt impossible to settle down at the time for Conrad, the soft melodic ticking of the kitchen clock only a reminder to how late the night was growing. Of how much time he had left before he was expected to be up and enjoying the day again. I remember feeling hopeless for him, he felt like crying.

It was the soft touch of fingers curling over his biceps carefully that pulled him from his descent into madness and silenced his cries. If it were anyone else, the sudden feeling of skin on skin would’ve scared him, sent him running upstairs into my arms like always. But the sensation was one he knew well. That and the shiny blue nail polish on her nails.

“Conrad, what’s wrong?” Her voice was soft, worrisome. It almost made him feel insecure, stupid in how he was getting ready to enter fourth grade and still couldn’t get over the ache of a stupid sunburn. Conrad should’ve felt pathetic, in his eyes. If it were Belly, or Steven or even Jere, he probably would’ve. But this was Y/n. His best friend! He knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about with her, she would never judge him.

“Is it your sunburn again?” She knew the answer, but always wanted to make sure. All it took was the slow nod of his head for her to lift herself off of the makeshift bed she’d made on the couch, the soft padding of her sock clad feet becoming more distant the farther she went into the house. In that moment, he felt confused, wondering if she was leaving him too. If his whining was even too much for her.

But, no. She came back with more aloe vera. A new bottle from the very back of the fridge. Conrad remembered how gentle she was when putting it on his back for him. It was feathery light, pressure changing depending on how severe the burn was. Even at such a young age, Y/n knew just what Conrad needed to make him feel better. It was like her sixth sense. Conrad had told me that morning, his heart couldn’t help but warm at that idea. That she had a special power just for him. He described it like waking up from a hazy dream.

A realization dawning on him after it had been forming for years. Y/n wasn’t just some girl Conrad enjoyed spending all my time with because she was simply just his best friend, but because deep down he loved her more than that. He knew he always felt something for her. Even when we were toddlers. The way she always shared with him, stuck by his side. At the time, Conrad acted annoyed by her presence, but he always secretly loved having her so close. He babbled about it in his sleep. He would slur how he felt safer, warmer, happier. Even his dumb little fourth grade self could see that those feelings weren’t ones someone had for a best friend. Those were feelings reserved for someone you loved. He knew then that he had always loved Y/n, now was just the first time he confronted those feelings.

When the sun rose, I was met with a goopy mess spilling all over the coffee table and a shiny back and Y/n’s wet hand. I could put the pieces together, but back then, Conrad made sure I didn’t have to.

That morning, while Y/n showered to get ready for the day, he went into depth about what had happened that led to the mess. How he felt, what was happening. At the time, I believed it was merely a small crush that he amounted to true love because he had never felt love before, but the longer I observed the pair, the more obvious it became that my little boy was in love with his best friend.

For Y/n, the day of realization came much later.

I remember the day clearly. Laurel and I had been insisting on a much needed a girls day, folding twenties into Conrad and Y/n’s palms and placing them in charge of the younger siblings of the bunch. Conrad being the oldest Fisher and Y/n the eldest Conklin, it wasn’t unusual that we would place our trust in them, tasking them with the job of keeping everyone in check for a day.

They’d decided to go to the boardwalk, the day too beautiful to not enjoy it. When arriving, the group had agreed to split up and conquer. Conrad would take Belly to the ring toss and Y/n would take Jeremiah and Steven to the go-karts. Everyone would meet back up in two hours for ice-cream and swap groups.

Y/n spent nearly all her money that day on those stupid go-karts. She’d only ridden them once, but Jeremiah and Steven kept begging to go again, again and again. Y/n was always such a softy, despite her confident exterior. Especially when it came to her younger friends. She couldn’t say no to them, they were just too convincing. When they met back up as a group, she complained, having a headache from the loud engines of the ride. She had eight dollars left in her pocket. Conrad had a large smile on his face and a polar bear named, Junior Mint, held loosely in his arms that he’d won after Belly begged him for it.

The looks on their faces made Y/n jealous, in a way. A feeling she knew shouldn’t be feeling when the situation involved her sister and her best friend. Two people she adored more than life itself. But Y/n, no matter how compassionate and understanding as she might be, like the rest of us, can’t control how we feel. We can only control how we reflect them.

“You have fun on the go-karts?” Conrad, who had somehow sensed her bad mood, had made race car sounds with his mouth, holding his arms out in front of him like he was turning a steering wheel in an attempt to lift it. Y/n’s hand hit his chest playfully, feet dragging along the wooden floor beneath their feet.

“The most.” She lied to him then, she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she didn’t want him to feel bad for leaving her alone. She wanted him to be able to enjoy his day without having to worry about someone else.

When the time came to pay for their ice cream, it became apparent that the left over eight dollars would not be enough for three of the ice creams. Jeremiah and Steven insisted on getting the largest sizes possible, resulting in a grand total of almost the entire budget. Even if Y/n got a kiddy cup, she wouldn’t have enough to spend for a third cup.

Holding the money in her hands and looking back at the excited boys behind her, Y/n felt responsible to keep them that way. Happy. After all, she was the oldest. It was her job to look after them. To put their happiness above her own. She spent all her money on what they wanted that day, walking over to the table they’d picked over in the shade empty handed, disappointed in the lack of a cold treat to snack on after a long day.

Everyone was sat across from her, the table full of everyone except Conrad, who was ordering for him and Belly. Y/n’s hands became the most interesting thing to her for a brief period of time. The peeling paint on the table a good distraction from her two friends stuffing their faces with something she so desperately wanted.

“One vanilla ice cream cone for Belly!” She heard Conrad’s voice before I saw him. Her younger sisters eyes practically formed into hearts when he placed the dessert in front of her. He continued to announce the order.

“One mint chip for me and…” Conrad slipped a cup of mint chip ice cream in front of her next, the spoon lime green to match the melting treat below her.

“One for Y/n/n!” He sat beside Y/n then, mixing around the green ice cream until it turned into mush. Y/n lifted her eyes from the table to his face. It was stuffed with his own treat, a satisfied smirk directed towards his best friend. Y/n’s mouth was parted open, stuck like that for the longest time. It was only when Conrad had motioned at the ice cream that she realized it was still under the very hot sun, and melting more now.

With a silent whisper of a thank you, Y/n let the gift cool her down. It tasted sweeter knowing it was from Conrad, Y/n had confessed to me that night. Knowing that he cared enough to know how sad she would be to have been the only one without ice cream to finish off a fun afternoon.

He was always so sweet to her, always going out of his way to make sure she was included in everything. He didn’t have to, but he liked too. That’s what made Y/n like him the most. It didn’t matter what was happening, or who was involved. If Y/n was there, Conrad would be stuck to her side like glue, just like she was to him. He had some magic spell over her that no one else could even come close to.

Conrad always had a way to cheer her up, make Y/n feel like the most special person in the world. She never felt ashamed to be my most vulnerable self around him. He made her heart beat faster, her cheeks flush pink. He made Y/n feel pretty, wanted. More than that, Conrad never failed to give her butterflies.

These were all things she could connect with things someone could have with a best friend, someone close to them. She could convince myself as well as herself it was nothing more than that. Conrad was only a friend to her, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore than she could lie to me.

Deep down, Y/n always knew she loved Conrad differently than everyone else. She could recognize his laugh anywhere, Y/n knew he had a lucky pair of socks and a least favorite pair of underwear. She knew he liked to part his hair down the middle, but how it trailed off to the left the further back it grew because he used to have a side part when he was younger. Y/n knew his glasses gave him a headache and how he didn’t really mind the feeling of sand stuck in his skin after a beach day. These were all things Y/n would’ve never given a second thought about with anyone else, but things her heart held onto like a prayer because it was Conrad.

Slowly but surely, she came to terms with my feelings developed for Conrad, ones I’d known about vaguely for years as the pair grew closer and closer each passing second since Conrad’s own revelations. Only, before, Y/n used to downplay them as a small crush. One she was developing because he was a boy and she was a teenage girl. She believed was supposed to feel like this, it would pass. But it wasn’t, and sometimes it felt to her like it never would. It grew more and more painfully obvious that Y/n’s feelings were so much more than that, and being in that moment then only solidified that fact. Y/n was in love with Conrad Fisher, her best friend, her world.

We were cuddled up on the couch when she talked to me about the day, the way her senses seemed to point overwhelmingly towards Conrad. I could’ve told her then that my son loved her just the same back, and maybe then they would’ve pulled together like a strong magnet, but I wanted them to find each other. They deserved to realize that through their own actions, not mine. So for years after that final confession, I sat here beside my own best friend wondering along with her when they would finally find each other.

“It’s cat and mouse with them every summer.” I sighed, holding my cup of coffee close to my chest. The warmth of the steam coming off of it warmed my skin in the cool July evening.

Laurel laughed beside me, her own mug clutched in her hands as well, we mirrored each other in looking out towards the back yard where Y/n and Conrad ran around in the grass with a deflated football. The smiles on their faces were vibrant, bright. Ones that only came out when they were together. They had that power over each other, to lift each other up. To make the others heart beat fast.

It was as clear as day what our oldest children felt for each other. No amount of deflections or excuses could hide the blush on their cheeks and the way their touches lingered for just a moment longer than friends should. They knew more about each other than anyone else because they cared too much to not know. It was pure and refreshing to see young love like this, even if neither of them knew what they had yet.

“When do you think they’ll realize what they have?” Laurel asked sincerely, her face turning to watch how my expression changed throughout my answer. She usually never played into my ideas, always being the more logical of the two of us, but this was the one thing we could agree on.

“With our luck, never.” We laughed, Laurels head falling to rest on my shoulder affectionately. We let out a synchronized sigh, allowing a beat of silence to pass.

“I’m sure they’ll find their way, they always do.” My hand rubbed my best friends arm in reassurance, my head settling on top of hers. I rested my weight on her, feeling more tired now that the day was ending.

It was almost comical, how ironic the entire situation was. The two oldest, smartest, strongest of the bunch, the ones who, other than Steven, had been the only ones to successfully apply and get into some of the top schools in the country, even with their brains, couldn’t figure out just how badly they wanted each other. Not even when it was dangled right in front of them.

I partially blamed myself. It was me who had ingrained the title, best friends, into their heads. With each time they were spotted together, with everything they set off to do together, I’d always stuck their names together with those two words. Even when it became more and more obvious that they were falling into each other in a way that crossed the line that divided platonic and romantic, it was always the two of them. The younger Laurel and Susannah. The next generation of best friends.

Conrad never managed to catch Y/n’s longing glances, and Y/n always seemed to just miss the way his hands held onto her in ways he didn’t with anyone else. He held her in ways best friends weren’t supposed to.

Lingering touches that mirrored her stares, fingers twitching, begging to be interlocked. Conrad spoke his feelings to her in acts of service, winning her prizes, helping her with her homework, reading to her when she had headaches, even when she was insufferable because she kept groaning. It was also in physical touch. His cologne practically stuck to her clothes permanently with all the excuses he could find to just touch her in one way or another. Y/n seemed to constantly be trying to relay the same in her own acts of service and physical touch. Holding the door, cooking him his favorite desserts without Conrad even asking, resting her head in his lap during movie night. Both slotting together to mesh perfectly, but their ignorance keeping them apart. If I were any less mature, I would’ve yelled at them to hurry up, I wouldn’t be here forever and I’d like to see my special kids happy before I went.

“What are you thinking about, Beck?” My own best friend asked softly, her head still under mine. I squeezed her arm, feeling sure that one day they would get together.

“How happy they’ll be once they realize what they have.” It went silent, but I knew my best friend. I could sense her tight lipped smile, eyes squinting and nose scrunching. He lifted her head from my shoulder slowly, her hand resting on my lower back.

“Why don’t we settle down for the night?” I wanted to fight her, I wanted to enjoy the calmness of the summer evening. The way our children were just what they needed to be, kids. No matter their age, still able to enjoy the simplicity that the summer home had to offer. But Laurel was right, I was feeling sluggish and if I didn’t rest soon, the couch would be my bed for the night. So I nodded, leaving the image of Y/n pinned under Conrad, his hands wiggling by her sides in an attempt to make her squirm and their laughter to be the last thing I would remember before I fell asleep.

“Con.” My voice was soft, the grass wet under our backs, dirt on our skin. He turned his head to face me, a lazy smile on his face. His eyes were all hazy, clouded by both tiredness and something unreadable that consumed his facial expression.

“Hm.” He hummed, eyes searching my face, lighting up when they settled on my own. I could feel the hair on his arms brush against mine, hands curled up, an indication of how close we truly were. Always just out of reach. My fingers twitched against the back of his hand, aching to be intertwined with his. My eyes flicked to his lips out of habit, breath hitching.

When I looked back to meet his eyes, I found the once playful look replaced with serious stare, burning straight into my head. He seemed stiff, nervous in a way. My cheeks flamed up in embarrassment. He must’ve seen the way I couldn’t pull my gaze from his lips. I breathed out.

“It’ll always be like this, right?” It wasn’t what I wanted to say, what I meant to ask. But in that moment, it was all I could manage. A simply vague question that held so much depth. I hoped he’d say yes, that we’d always be this close, not that we’d always be best friends. Selfishly, I hoped he said we would be more. That we could be so much more.

“You and me, always.” I felt the way his arm shifted from beside me, linking his own hands together over his chest and breathing out. He pulled his attention back to the sky, where the clouds moved faster than they did in June. The summer was ending.

“I wish it could be summer forever.” Feeling awkward being the only one to still be looking at him, I too turned to face the sky. Biting my lip, my eyes shut to imagine it was the beginning of the three wonderful months we had together.

I wished that I could have Conrad forever. That it wasn’t just some summer love that I would have to sit idly on as the seasons changed to a colder, more lonely winter. That Conrad and I could do all the things we always talked about over the phone together. Our cheeks would be rosy with the nip of the frosty weather and not because the sun had burnt us into a delirious mess. Groaning on the couch as we wasted our days away.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder, Y/n/n.” He joked. Only, the way he said he sounded completely honest. Like he wasn’t joking. He said things like that a lot now. Things that were awfully romantic for someone who swore that we were platonic to all of our friends. It pulled in my heartstrings a little each time one of the phrases would slip. A source of joy for my daydreams to run on for the next few hours. If I were any more delusional, I would’ve told him how I felt about his jokes out loud. But I wasn’t, so I held them in. I let my heart face and my breathing quicken in silence.

“I hope you’ll be just as fond of me when you see me next, then.” I rolled to my side, countering his joke. I heard him laugh. My hands tucked under my head like a pillow and my legs bent at the knee. I made myself smaller next to him.

As our giggles died out, so did his interest in the clouds. He mirrored my position, hands under his head, legs bent up. Our knees touched, radiating a warmth that bounced between our body heat. My eyes were focused on him, but I was spacey. Thinking of just how long we’d be apart. It hurt my heart, I didn’t care if I would grow fonder of him. I didn’t think that was even possible with how much I loved him now.

“What’s running through that head if yours, Y/n/n.” His hand came up, pointer finger delicately tapping the top of my nose. I scrunched it under his touch, so light it tickled. My reaction made him smile again, even after his hand had returned back under his head.

“Thinking about how fondly I’ll think of you next June.” There were some things you just cannot speak about, can not share. I would never share what I was truly thinking about that day. How I was so stuck in my own feelings for him that I couldn’t even bare the thought of not having him beside me. That my heart deflated at just the mere mention of the winter because the only person I ever wanted to be around would be taken away from me.

Conrad’s laugh was weaker this time, smile fading into a smaller one but it was just as happy.

“I hope you’re already pretty fond of me, then.” I returned his smile then, the crinkle by my eyes moving a strand of hair into my face. It tickled my nose again, but I didn’t scrunch it. Too focused on Conrad so close to care.

Before I could respond, I felt the softness of his hand brushing across my face and tucking the strand behind my ear. He did it so gently, like I would break if he wasn’t.

“I am.” It came out breathy now that his touch was on me. He didn’t remove his hand from my face then. Instead, it felt more like he was molding his palm to fit my jawline. He cupped my face in his hand and just admired me. Eyes flickering around until they met my now moony gaze.

It was like some force was pulling us closer, then. Conrad’s face getting closer and closer, little by little. I couldn’t tell who was leaning in. It could’ve been me, but I was almost sure it was him. My eyelashes fluttered, fighting the instinct to close them. I heard how his breath hitched, I felt my own do the same. This was something I had always dreamed of happening, it felt unreal that now out of all times it would happen. I always dreamed of kissing Conrad in the beach, or the old dock where we used to play. Maybe even in the pool where we’d hold our fake Olympic competitions. But here we sat, on the grass, his breath fanning my face.

His head turned little by little, getting ready to connect our lips finally. The squeaky glass door slid open, and by some bad luck, it was enough to scare us into a more distant position. We sat up, now more than just inches away, searching the backyard for who had opened it.

Steven had been the culprit, having forgotten something on the small table outside. Looking beyond the pool, he found Conrad and I, red as can be, eyes wandering around and waved.

“I’ve been looking for you two! Belly wants to have one last movie night. Jeremiah’s making popcorn. Y/n, you’re on blanket duty!” He was completely oblivious to the tension between us. Of how my cheek, right where Conrad had been touching me was burning. How in my mind, it felt like he had left a mark with how hot it felt. I cleared my mind, shaking it off and looking to Conrad almost disappointedly.

To my surprise, he seemed perfectly fine, like nothing had just happened. He sprung to his feet, in fact, completely able to move on and ignore it. Maybe I had read it wrong. Maybe he wasn’t trying to kiss me. Of course I was, it would be stupid to believe that my best friend could really possess some sort of feelings for me. I had simply made it up, tricked my mind into believing it was true because I longed for him too much.

When his hands met mine to held me up, it felt like fire. Flames burning into my hands at how badly I wanted him. If he didn’t care, than I shouldn’t either. My stupid feelings shouldn’t weight down the last hours we’d spend together. It shouldn’t dictate how the last night will go.

I put on a brave smile, sticking a bandaid over the wound over my heart. I bled out on the couch, all over anyone near me. My smile false, heart heavy. I forced myself to forget it and as the movie grew longer and longer, it left my mind completely. Eyebrows feeling lighter, the burning in my throat releasing itself into a soothing sensation. It would be my last memory of the summer that truly stuck. How close I had gotten to Conrad, and how quickly he had slipped away. How wrong I was about how he felt. How hurt I was for believing it could be different.

What I didn’t know then was how he felt the same. How his mind was swirling with the what if’s and the same disappointment I felt. How my fake smile had tricked him into believing it meant nothing to me, like I didn’t understand the weight of the situation at all. He didn’t know how I was breaking inside at how he didn’t seem to care, because he was feeling the same. My own act was tricking him, allowing Conrad to believe just what I thought of him. That I did not care for him like he did with me. That his feelings weren’t reciprocated. It was a dance between us. Chasing in a circle to get the other attention, to figure out what was happening between us. Completely unaware that if we would just turn around, we’d find what we do desperately longed for. The other chasing the same thing. We let the incident go by the morning, pretending that whatever happened was all a dream. And just like that, we were what we had always been. Best friends.

The news came early in the morning. The sun hadn’t fully crossed the horizon yet and there was still dew on the lawn. I was alone then, away at college. The constant calls from my mother waking me up. But it was the one from Conrad that I answered somehow.

“Hello?” My voice was full of sleep, confused as to why my mom was calling me so early. I had an eight am that morning, I had my alarms set. It was all so confusing, hazy.

“Y/n.” His voice was shaky, weak. It woke me up quickly. Conrad was never like this, at least not over the phone. Occasionally he would breakdown around me. The tears always stung. So full of emotion, so overwhelmed to the point he couldn’t keep it together. All it took was someone to ask if he was really okay to tip him over the edge. To open the flood gates. It only happened at the worst of times, it was alarming that it was happening now.

“Conrad, are you okay? What happened?” I knew something bad had to have happened. This wasn’t simply just him calling because of how much he missed me. Those calls came later at night on FaceTime, his voice light and playful each time. This was heavy, I couldn’t see him, he was hiding behind the phone call. I knew it had to be bad, already packing a bag as he spoke. The phone was pressed to my ear by my shoulder and head, I worked on stuffing as much of my clothes in as possible. I made sure to scribble a note down to let my roommate know I was leaving and would be back in a few days.

“It’s my mom.” The world stopped in that moment. I knew I had to get to him even quicker now, I knew he needed me to talk to him, to walk him through his grief but the news was so heavy, my hands stopped working. I froze, unable to do anything but pray that it was some sick prank.

“What?” It came quiet, I wasn’t sure if he even heard me. She wasn’t my mom by birth, I didn’t carry the same relationship to her as Conrad did. I didn’t see her everyday for hours, but in some way she was my second mother. She taught me to ride a bike, how to bake a cake. I learned how to read from her, her name was the first word out of my mouth. She was the grounding in my life. The one person I trusted to share everything because it was likely she’d already been through it. She understood like a mother, helped me grow as one. Her death would leave an empty hole in my heart for eternity, I was sure.

I heard Conrad take a shaky breath, holding it while he tried to piece together what he had to say. What I deserved to know.

“It happened this morning, just an hour ago. I wasn’t going to call so soon but, I thought you deserved to know. She was special to you, so…” He tried to keep it together, I could feel it. I could hear it. How his breaths caught in his throat, the quiet stutter beneath his words.

“Conrad, I…” In looking for all the words I wanted to say, to tell him it would be okay with, I came up short. Unable to make some sense as to what was happen.

“You don’t have to say anything. We all knew it was coming soon.” He dismissed my struggle, knowing that if it were hitting this hard on his end, he could imagine that I wouldn’t take it very week either.

“Yes but Con, that doesn’t make it any better.” I ran a hand through my hair, placing the phone tightly between my shoulder blade and my ear. I began to pack again.

“Do you need me to come down to Boston?” I would’ve come down on my own, would’ve held him like a brother, protected him from the world, the reality of it all. But it was a delicate situation. I had to walk on eggshells, unsure of what was best. I had never lost a relative before, never endured the pain of not having a mother. Never seeing her again like how the Fisher brothers just had. I didn’t know if it was best to stay or go.

“No, no.” Though it sounded like he was lying, like part of him wanted me to just be there, his words were firm, exhausted. If he wanted me there, I would come, but I would not intrude when times were so tough.

The line went quiet for a moment, I can still hear the static ringing through my head even now. How the line went just as quiet as the dorms when everyone was asleep. I could feel the hot liquid trailing down my cheeks, the tightening of my chest becoming more rapid the longer we both stayed quiet.

“Listen, I’ll call you later when I know more, okay?” I nodded my head, only realizing a moment later he couldn’t see me. I took in a deep breath.

“Okay, yeah.” He mumbled a quick goodbye, hanging up the phone and leaving me alone to grieve. The once cheerful morning turned grey with sadness, clouds looming as a reminder to the sunshine we had lost that morning. The dew turned into mud and the plants wilted. My bag was packed in minutes after the call ended, bag slung over my shoulder.

Conrad didn’t want me there, and that was fine. But my mother was at home, sitting with only two thirds of her family who were probably all unaware besides her. If Conrad didn’t need my shoulders to lean on, my mother did. She knew Susannah longer and truer than any of us had. The pain she must be carrying could only be indescribable to her. So if I wasn’t leaving for the Fishers, I was for her.

I never got that call from Conrad, not even a text. As I laid in my childhood bedroom, eyes glued to the ceiling and the silence of the household drowning me in my own self isolation, I didn’t even wonder why. For the first time, my life didn’t revolve around Conrad, on how he was doing, what he was doing. I didn’t miss him anymore. Not because the hurt of him not being here was any less, but because the pain of his mother never coming back being worse. It canceled out and an extreme numbness took over. I felt nothing. I had cried all my tears, screamed into my pillow until my voice gave away. My knuckles hurt from how hard I gripped the steering wheel on the way home. I had already lost it and now I had nothing else to give.

…

The funeral was a week later. Not much time to process such a heavy loss. Adam wanted me to speak at the funeral, he knew how much Susannah meant to me, but I couldn’t do it. Walking up to the podium, I couldn’t say her name. Even if it were just a practice run. My voice ran dry, eyes wet. Staring at her photo by the alter, all I could do was shake my head. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t do what her husband wanted for her. I felt embarrassed I couldn’t help the family who was going through so much still. They claimed they understood, but the guilt loomed.

We sat three rows behind them. Strangers separating us. It made me angry. If not us, the ones who spent hours on hours together, at least my mother deserved to be sitting in the front row with the Fishers. She was a sister to Susannah. She was just as much of a family as they were. I kept my mouth shut, my eyes down. The family took turns speaking, each sentence summarizing her in the most beautiful way possible. Some old friends spoke in her honor too. It felt wrong then, how people who barely knew her could stand up there and act like she was their greatest gift.

When it was Conrad’s turn, he sung a song. In his pain, his voice failed him. Wavering and breaking through the song. He apologized, looking out into the crowd he met my eyes. I wanted to look away, not wanting him to see me so broken when I should be the one supporting him. But by looking into my eyes, even as teary and red as they were, he grounded himself. By the time he finished, the venue was silent, soft cries echoing from the back rows. Nobody acknowledged them out of the fear that it would cause them to breakdown again.

The silence carried over to the Fishers Boston home. Other than the adults mingling and the quiet chatter of Jeremiah and Steven, the room felt empty. It felt like a depressing party, one that was about Susannah, yet excluded her from it.

It was tiring, the whole experience. Always trying to catch up with how quickly everyone else was getting over it. I felt like a dead weight compared to Steven and Belly, who had already started coming to terms with it. I was the only one left living in denial. The only one still dreaming of epiphany’s to make some sense of it. To make the heartache more bearable.

I wore the dark eye bags and my salt tears like a tattoo, ones that had been permanently stained on my face since the news broke. It was obvious I wasn’t doing well. I had planned to go back to school after the funeral, seeking a clean space to cope. To get away from the constant reminders of what could no longer be.

Jeremiah said I looked too weak to be driving myself to school tonight. He set up the guest room for me, decorating it just as his mother used to. Even in my protests he managed to convince me. He told me how it was more for him than it was for me. How having me close made him feel better because it was like gaining a piece of him family back. Like having an older sister come home from college.

After that, I kept mainly to myself. Finding the emptiest rooms and sticking to them. I hid my face in my knees, soft cries coming in waves until I had nothing left to cry for. Alone, I sat in the darkness until the soft chatter died out and all distractions became a heavy peace.

“You should get to bed soon, Conrad, it’s getting late.” I forgot all about him, I realized. Not once having checked on him. It was only Adams soft suggestion reminding me of the other brother, who was probably taking the funeral even harder than his younger brother. Wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands, I waited until the choking breaths turned into quiet sniffles. Until everything felt calmer, more collected to see him. I wanted to be able to be there for Conrad, even when I wasn’t doing okay either. I wanted to—no. I needed to be strong for him.

I knew where he was, I could see the frame of his back hunched over on the couch. Head hung low and hands fidgeting around anxiously. It made me nervous.

I took the time to go downstairs then, only after I was sure everybody else had filed out of the house, leaving it looming with an eerie emptiness. There were leftovers on the table, one serving left, the rest already in the refrigerator. Adam had already cleaned away any evidence of Susannah’s death.

Taking what was left, I put it on a paper plate. My own stomach rumbled, being empty, but the starving feeling felt better than feeling nothing at all. I knew Conrad hadn’t eaten in hours, cemented to his place on the couch, he needed to eat. It could be considered a peace offering, a kind gesture. Something to maybe lift his spirits.

My hands were shaky, so I had to hold his plate with both hands. I leaned against the wall when I went back upstairs, I didn’t trust my footing anymore. I had to stop halfway up, take a deep breath and pull it together. Conrad needed me, I had to be there. I wanted to be there.

It was a soft knock that pulled me from my descent into a bottomless pit of sadness. My mind shook its self free, eyes fighting consciousness. I was ready to snap, irritated at my dads efforts of trying to move me from where I found some sort of comfort. Really, it wasn’t his fault. He was only a concerned father who wanted to help his son. But I wanted none of it. I wanted even more now than when my mom was alive to be as distant from him as possible. Unforgiving of his horrible mistakes that caused my mom so much pain.

The soft voice that spoke wasn’t one that belonged to my father, not even my brother who had a sweet voice saved specifically for moments like these. To ease the tension, calm everyone down. No, it was like honey. So sweet and gentle. So easy to listen to. I longed to hear more.

“Con?” It belonged to Y/n. My Y/n. The only person I hadn’t really seen all day. The only person I wanted to see all day. Instead, she had spent it making everyone happy with her. Tending to Jeremiah’s wish, staying with us overnight. Giving a loving hand to hold for Belly and Steven, calming down her younger sisters uneven cries and her brothers panicked breathing. She tried to get her mother to open up, but Laurel was like me. Stubborn. Even with her best efforts, she was locked out, leaving her to seek solace in the less crowded rooms upstairs. I wanted to come see her, but my feet no longer worked. My legs were jelly. I felt stuck to the couch. Too weak to keep moving.

I acknowledged her, mouth too dry to speak. She took it as a signal to sit down beside me. The plate in her lap was shaking like her. The food looked unappetizing, but I appreciated her effort. She pushed it towards me, a hand finding my back, she rubbed it like she had in the summer when I was drunk and clinging onto the toilet out of sickness.

Nodding my head, I accepted it only to place it on the table in front of me. I knew she knew I didn’t mean it as an insult, I just couldn’t eat right now. I just wanted her to hold me. I wanted to feel safe again.

So, I placed my head where I’d always wished I could. My ear pressed against her shoulder, hands glued to my lap, her arms wrapped around me out of instinct. It was so warm, so loving. It helped to heal the ache that was ripping through my heart slightly. My headache didn’t feel so severe with her close. She made everything better, just as she always did.

“Con, I’ve known you my whole life, you’re my best friend. You can talk to me. You can trust me, okay?” Her hands in my hair suddenly felt my poison. Little thorns poking into my scalp. The sour reminder that this hold, this closeness wasn’t reserved for me. I wasn’t hers, she wasn’t mine. It made me feel angrier than I should’ve. A mix of grief and disappointment mixing together into something she didn’t deserve. She was only trying to help.

Sighing heavily, I pulled myself away, standing up to create a distance that I knew she felt not only physically but mentally. A feeling of someone close to her becoming closed off to her, just as her mother had done earlier today. I couldn’t look at her. I’d spill everything.

“Conrad, no. Please don’t shut me out. Please, not now.” She was pleading with me, her voice shook slightly, it made my heart break a little, hearing how feeble she was feeling.

“Y/n, can you go please?” I didn’t mean what I said. I’d only done it out of my own petty desires. Hurting the girl I loved more than anything in this world out of my own selfishness. When we were both hurting the most. She didn’t say anything, but I imagined she must’ve shook her head. Her footsteps grew closer.

“No.” She choked out, “No, I’m not leaving you alone right now.” Y/n cared so much for me, she always did. She knew how to read me better than anyone else. She knew that even now when I was asking her to go, I didn’t mean it. I wanted her more than anything. Her knowing this overwhelmed me with a love that I misplaced, unable to cherish and welcome it due to my own selfish nature. Only ever knowing how to push away what was so graciously given to me. I decided to snap at her, make her leave.

“What do you get out of staying, Y/n?” My words were laced with venom, I turned around to speak to her now. Having already built up my walls to know I wouldn’t break. She was speechless, confused.

“I-I don’t…” She couldn’t find the words. Not expecting to be turned on so quickly when she was just trying to help, to be kind.

“God, you are so selfish. This is about you doing what makes you feel good, right? You don’t give a shit about me, Y/n.” I didn’t mean it. I knew Y/n was far from selfish. She was the most selfless person I knew. Always putting herself dead last to help everyone else thrive. She hated thinking she was one day going to be depicted as someone selfish, someone cruel. It was an insecurity I knew she had since childhood. So, in my own anger, I pointed my weapons at her deepest hurts.

“Con, no. That’s not true.” She was defeated now, lip quivering and face contorted into pure pain. I scoffed.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes when you say it. You don’t have to pity me just because my mom is dead.” I kept going, unable to stop now that I had started. I had already stabbed her, now I was only twisting the knife. I watched her eyes well up with tears, all glassy and red. Her lip quivered and her eyebrows pulled together.

“Fuck you Conrad!” It was unexpected. I hoped she would walk away, leave it be and blame it on my grieving, but I should’ve known better. Y/n was like me, stubborn. She was just as much of a fighter ad I was, kinder but full of anger just as I was.

“Susannah was as much of a mother to me as my own! You aren’t the only one grieving, asshole! I’m doing this because I care. I care Conrad, and I wish I didn’t because you don’t deserve it, but I do. And I’m afraid I always will. So…so don’t you disregard my sadness out of the spite of your own anger!” What started out so strong had faltered into a weak confession. She was looking at me in the eyes, finding it in herself to finally make eye contact, breaking the invisible barrier between us. We were chest to chest.

Even in her state, she was so beautiful. Like an Angel sent form heaven specifically for me. I couldn’t help the way my eyes searched her face. I felt confused, more overwhelmed now than ever.

A silence took over, heavy breathing turning into quiet huffs of air. Even, steady. We were so close, I could feel her body heat radiating onto me.

I opened my mouth to speak, I wanted to apologize but the words got stuck. I couldn’t convey what I wanted to tell her. How she meant the world to me, how she was the only person who I cared about more than anything. She was the only person I didn’t want to shut out, didn’t mean to shut out. I loved her more than anything I’ve ever loved and it hurt me to not be able to love her as more than a friend.

My fingers found her hand then, squeezing and pulling her fingers between my own. I held it there, by her side, trying to get her to understand. I heard her breath hitch, saw her eyes find my lips. They flickered back up to my face. I needed her badly then, I knew I couldn’t wait. She was right here, so willing to stay when I’d treated her so horribly. She saw right through me constantly, she stuck by me in my darkest storms.

I didn’t think about it when I did it. About how my leaning in, my effort to kiss her could’ve scared her away. I was blinded by want, by need. I forgot it takes two people to have something.

Y/n released a breath only to hitch it once again, moving back from where I leaned in, she lengthened the gap between us again. A soft whimper woke me up from my haze, her head shaking rapidly. She looked scared. But more than that, she looked guilty, hurt.

Susannah was dead, there was no way to avoid that fact. My mom was never coming back, and that alone broke everyone into tiny pieces. Knowing Y/n, I knew how complicated everything felt for her. She was grieving, hurting. Not even I could piece together what she was thinking.

“Connie.” Her second whimper of my name is the one that made me back away. It was then I saw what I had done. The girl I loved most was staring back at me with wide eyes, mouth open slightly and body shaking. More than that, she had tears streaming down her face rapidly. I had made Y/n cry. For the first time in my life, I had made my best friend cry.

My heart shattered at the realization. How I’d ripped her down, made her feel vulnerable and then went in to kiss her like it would cancel everything out. I moved back again, trying to find the right words to apologize with. A silence surrounded us, crickets and the late night breeze the only sounds filling the walls around us.

I watched her a step back, slightly faltering over the threshold of the doorframe. Her hand ripped away from mine quickly, leaving a burning feeling behind from where we were once connected. A pain that wasn’t real, but felt so. She began to walk backwards now, hands finding the hallways walls for support, her feet failing her.

“Y/n.” My voice was quiet, my feet cemented to the floor. She shook her head again, a sob racking through her body. It’s a sound I’d never heard before. One I hope to never hear again. I could see how panicked she was. How everything was just now catching up. Her feet move quicker now, seeing how I’m reaching out for her. She’s scared, how could she not be? We’d crossed a line that wasn’t meant to be crossed, one that was toed over during one of the most horrible moments of our lives.

She’s halfway down the stairs now, the thumping of her feet louder than the creaking of the stairs. Jeremiah sticks his head out at the sound, looking between her disappearing figure and my body stuck in the doorway. It’s then I realize she’s actually leaving. Not to find peace in the guest bedroom, but to go away for good. I’d pushed her away, why had I pushed her away?

I’m quick then, my feet finding the floor in front of me, I make a mad dash down the hall and around the old banister. It cried under my weight but I push through, desperate to reach her. I don’t care who I wake up, if my fathers mad. If he’d just finished crying himself to sleep. I’m shouting after Y/n, yelling her name like it’s the only word in my dictionary.

“Y/n!” My feet stopped at the beginning of the driveway. The space her car once occupied is gone, not even the distant sound of a car rushing down the street can be heard. She’s slipped away from me just as my mother had, leaving me completely alone.

I walked out to the street, trying to see if she had parked it elsewhere. She wouldn’t leave me, would she? Not after we’d promised we’d always be like this. So close, always together.

The street was empty, only the flickering street lights illuminating the dark streets. I felt defeated, broken. I had got what I intended for, but not what I wanted.

Y/n was gone like the wind, leaving me in the stillness of the night, overthinking everything that had led us to this tipping point. All the tension, all the build up just for the resolve to be our ending. I always dreamed of the day I could finally confess my feelings to her. Even if she didn’t reciprocate them, she would never be mean about it. We’d always be close, and that alone gave me comfort. Now, I wasn’t so sure. What should’ve brought us together in my head, the one thing I’d always dreamed about, had split us apart. It’s almost funny how it happened, when it happened. The two people I always saw myself standing next to for the rest of eternity gone within the same week. Unsure if seeing them again was even something that was possible.

In all the years I had ignored him, Conrad never stopped reaching out. Not until my Junior year. My phone was filled with unanswered messages that varied from topic to topic. He kept me updated even in my absence from his life, wanting to salvage the closeness we’d cherished when we were younger.

He told me how he was in therapy, a week later he told me how he’d stopped going. Not only because he felt like it was nearly impossible to open up to a complete stranger, but because going felt like another financial burden he was adding to his fathers long list of bills and soon to be debt. Conrad shared how day by day, the grief of losing his mother was getting easier to cope with. The happy memories of her having been around at some point fueling him each day. He felt grateful he even had the pleasure to know her so well. Call her his mother. He was going to school to become a doctor now, changing his major halfway through his freshman year because he wanted to help people going through what his mother was forced to endure. He wanted to save people, help them in ways he was never able to help Susannah. He had a good heart, an honest one. Yet, he never spoke of any new lovers in his life. He carried all these amazing qualities, but his heart still longed for me, the girl who had left and never looked back.

It had been just over three years since I’d walked away from Conrad. Three years since I’d seen him. I couldn’t even look at him through photos. I was grown now, but my heart still aches in the same childish way it did when the wound was fresh. He never brought up what happened after the funeral. It was like his attempt to kiss me didn’t exist, only adding to the hurt I felt. Only confirming what I believed from the beginning. Conrad Fisher hadn’t leaned in to kiss me because he loved me, he had done it because he was grieving and didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t love me like I loved him. He did it because I was always so easy. The lovesick fool who would do anything for him, even if it hurt me the most. Susannah had been so sure that he did love me the same, I almost believed her, but it was ignorant to buy into it when it was so obviously not there. Yet, I still felt a tingling sensation each time I looked back at his messages. I wondered if in the time he’d stopped talking to me, he’d found someone else to love and know like he did with me. I hoped that my replacement was beautiful, like a model on the cover of Vogue. I prayed she was smart and kind like Susannah. I hoped she was everything I wasn’t to him.

Deep down, I knew part of my attachment, my fixation on what he was up to was because of the messages. How no matter how wrong it felt, I continued to allow myself to be part of his life from a distance. Even if Conrad didn’t know it, I always cared. Always would. I told him that the day I left. It was fear that turned out to be true. A curse that kept me from finding that same love for anyone else. My heart belonged to Conrad Fisher, a boy who barely knew me anymore. A boy who I wasn’t even sure if I could consider a friend anymore. A boy I want to be able to call my friend again. I had been so resolute all these years in keeping to my word. That after that night, I would never come back. The last would stay just that, the past. It was never that easy.

Letting go of Conrad Fisher was more than only losing the love of my life. It was like throwing away the last pieces of a Susannah. Sure, I still talked to Jeremiah quite frequently. Our phone calls lasted for hours, he never failed to make me smile. But he didn’t have Susannah’s eyes. He didn’t have her blonde hair or her smile. He was a direct reflection of his father, other than his unwavering optimism. None of his features lined up in the same way Conrad’s did. He was her twin, in a way. Losing him felt like losing her all over again.

All I did was try, try, keep trying. I kept pushing until I had nothing left to give, a burnout who barely made it to graduation. No friends to stand with at the finish line. All in an effort to forget what was lost along the way. Losing Conrad made all my achievements feel unworthy. A deep depression looming deep in my stomach, waiting for the right moment to rise, swallow me whole. Not even seeing my family there, sitting excitedly in the folding chairs could lift my spirits. There were four empty seats beside them that shattered my heart. I could place a name to each one. Figure out who would sit where if they had shown. But that bridge was burned and it was my fault.

My fault for running away from the boy who adored me like no other. Who made me feel special. Who understood me like a lover. My heart felt empty, I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Not even when Belly had shared about her forming relationship with Jeremiah, not when Steven confessed he thought he might be marrying Taylor soon, he was ready to buy a ring.

Years ago, that would’ve been something that lifted my mood. Filled me with joy, excitement that my sister was finding her own soulmate in a close friend. How her heart finally beat for the one that was there for her the whole time. But like a train, it hit me that the connecting link between the Fisher family and the Conklin’s would no longer be Conrad and I like I always dreamed it to be. It would be Jeremiah and Belly. Steven’s upcoming engagement didn’t thrill me either. His healthy relationship only reminding me of the ones I lacked. Amplifying the loneliness I was already painfully aware of. All by my own doing.

I felt like I was crashing, listening to my family talk about how well they were doing. It was like they couldn’t see the downward spiral I was falling into. Becoming my worst self.

Going home to a house filled with tainted memories surely didn’t help. Nor did the bottle of alcohol placed in the middle of the kitchen table. Picking it up and drinking straight from the glass was bound to happen, I was hurting and it was my numbing solution. Years ago I had told myself I’d rather feel all the pain in the world than be numb when it came to Susannah’s passing, but now I wished I could take it back. Each drink hurt less and less. The tequila turned into water, my eyes hurt to keep open. I was a quiet mess on the couch. Unaware of anything really.

It was an issue how easily persuaded I was when drunk. In my sober state, I would have never agreed to Belly’s proposition. I would’ve protested, claiming I still wasn’t ready to face my issues. I wasn’t fully prepared to accept that Conrad never loved me, that it was his grief that made him want to kiss me. Something I loved with for years. But I wasn’t sober, and Belly’s argument that we’d be going down for the summer again because it would be what Susannah wanted had me packing a bag for the morning. Ready to go down to the one place I hadn’t been since Susannah still inhabited it.

I found myself hurting in the back of the car, aching, tired. The road underneath the wheels crunching and bouncing the car in a way that made my head pound. I laid my head in my moms lap, praying for it to all be over. Seeking the peace of stillness.

Susannah had once told my mother that she believed I was walking sunshine. A force that lit up the sky when I was around. Someone who’s smile was so contagious, even her brooding son couldn’t help but feel joyful around me. It felt like I was letting her down in a way. Now that everyone had moved on, had gotten better. I felt like an idiot being stuck on the past. What was worse is that I wasn’t sure if I was so stuck because of Susannah or because of Conrad. Both answers freaked me out.

“Y/n, honey.” Her voice was gentle, hands running through my hair. I felt a mess. Hair messy like a child’s, eyes wide yet so tired. My lips were wet with drool, cheeks rosy with the summer heat. My head pounded with a nasty hangover.

I knew what my mom was going to tell me. I felt the car come to a halt, the road turning sharply into a familiar driveway with even more familiar trees peaking through the window. I knew where we were. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I knew there was no turning back.

Belly and Steven got out of the car first, just like every year prior. Footsteps echoed from the crushed up shells and rocks that were considered a driveway. Laughter and chatter, I recognized the voice as Jeremiah’s. My mother shifted underneath my head in hearing this, ready to get up. Her eyes met mine, silently pleading for me to just, try.

Sitting up, my back aches from the odd position I forced myself in. What I thought was comfort was a hidden pain shooting through my back. All I wanted more than anything was to lay back down on my moms lap. To pretend we were still at home. Like I wouldn’t have to confront anything. I heard the excitement in Jeremiahs voice.

“So, where’s Y/n?” My moms heavy sigh was a signal of impatience, her understanding was wearing thin, she was ready to shove me out into the outside.

I opened the car door slowly, head peaking out. My eyes were wide and nervous. Hands shaking around the door frame. I felt like a shell of the person I was the last time I’d stepped foot on this very ground.

“Jere.” His eyes were just as bright blue as I remembered, his hair just as unruly and free. He hadn’t changed, that alone gave me some sort of comfort. I felt my lips twitch up into a smile, eyebrows furrowed. I should’ve had smile lines at this age, but I only had worry lines. To stressed to think about being happy. But here I was, body peaking beyond the car door, cowering like a young child meeting new faces at a party.

My feet dragged, my body curling into itself in such a pathetic way. The door close weakly behind me, it didn’t make a sound I was sure I hadn’t closed it properly in my nervousness.

His footsteps were quick on the driveway, long strides shortening the amount of time it took to reach me. His eyes were slightly closed, like he was holding back tears. His arms outstretched, fingers motioning for me to come to him.

I didn’t realize how much I had missed how tightly he held onto me until having been deprived of it for so long. I wished I had been around more. I think I would’ve been better off if I had been. I could’ve healed, talked everything through.

But I ran. Far away from the people who supported me greatly, from the people who I needed to be around the most. I was cowardly and childish. A fool so blinded by her own emotions, I let myself close off to the people who I’d never had to before. I smeared my tears on Jeremiah’s shirt, his shoulder firm under my cheeks.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” His hands held my cheeks when he pulled away, keeping a hold on me liked I’d slip away if he didn’t. I shook my head, eyes crinkling just like they used to when we were children. I let out a hurt laugh. It was the furthest thing from real, but it felt nice to make someone else believe it was. Placing my hands over his, he lost all ability to move his hands other than his thumbs. He swiped at my tears, fighting off his own.

“I missed you.” I pinched his cheek, wiggling his face around playfully and snapping it back into place. His hands fell from my face, pretending to not find amusement in my attempts of play in such a serious moment. He swatted my hands away. My hangover was still intense, and my heart still beat unevenly, there was still a sense of magic around the beach house. I could feel the sadness slipping away, a new relief filling my heart as I eased back into the old routines of summer. It was still there, it always would be, but being around half of the pair I grew up around was enough to clear the murky skies and paint them a beautiful shade of crystal blue.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” His words made my hands freeze, pulling back away from him and my smile falling, hard to bring back up. How could I explain my absence was one that was caused not only by the passing of his own mother, but by the cruel joke his brother had played on me. How in the weakest times, he continued to play me, made me feel so easy.

A deep breath got stuck in my throat, blinking hard. The small lump in my throat expanded until it burned. I swallowed, and swallowed until the pain was soothed enough to speak without an intense rasp. Licking my lips, I prepared for the long explanation and heavy details I would shorten to help Jeremiah understand why I had left everyone behind. I opened my mouth, only to have my words cut off and my heart to leap into my throat.

“Y/n.” His voice was airy, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Turning my head to the side, I saw the joy in his face, mixing with what I could read as pure shock and what I could pick up as a deep sadness. It was clear it wasn’t only the youngest who was shocked by me showing up this summer.

“Conrad.” My tone was the same. I didn’t chase after him like I did to Jeremiah, nor did I welcome him into my arms, letting him walk right up to me. I felt stuck in place, heart racing at the sudden confrontation. He looked thinner, more tired. But his skin was still sun kissed and his nose was burnt on the bridge into a pinkish red. He had freckles scattered on his face and the same middle part that still, even after almost a decade of the change, curved off to the side near the back.

It was his house, it was stupid to pretend to be shocked by him being there. Jeremiah and all the courage I’d gained to even begin the process of speaking up about what happened was gone. The smile, even as fake as it was was wiped from my face and replaced with pure terror, pain.

It was like ripping my heart out all over again. Resurrecting the feelings that I had sworn to have buried over the last years. The ones I promised would never come back. I never saw myself in this light. So pathetic, letting something so old kill me all over again. It was like I was watching myself out of my body, listening to the world around me as a ghost. Only half of who I was. It was like I convinced myself these past few months that what happened was merely just a flesh wound, nothing deeper. I couldn’t have anticipated how far the ache would reach. How intense it would feel.

Conrad had began to try and speak again, his hands raising, my heart beating. The closer he inched, the harder it became to breath. The more blurry my vision became, the more everything hurt in a way I was sure I would never feel again.

Like some saint, Jeremiah had seen it. The way my shoulders tensed, chest rising and falling erratically. My skin was becoming blotchy around my neck and my eyes were watering more. I looked just as panicked as I felt. He’d seen me crashing out, he knew just as Conrad once had to get me out of there.

His hand hooked in mine, fingers intertwined tightly and palms pressed together until there was no space between us. He looked to me with a fake face on, eyes searching mine, he prayed I would go along with it.

My ears tuned most of it out, the pounding on my ears to great to really listen to what he was saying. I could only nod my head and let him lead the way. My footing was unstable, the ground shifting and pebbles flying in front of my feet each time I lifted my shoes off the ground. The birds sung to each other, and my mother instructed everyone to help unload the last of the cars luggage. Jeremiah and I had slipped away, keeping distance away from Conrad while doing so and slipped through the back door to seek shelter in his room.

I knew I had to explain it to him then, I couldn’t leave Jeremiah in the dark. Not when he’d been so worried that he pulled me away from his own brother, my best friend. He’d saved me, in a way. I owed it to him to tell him everything. Even if he’d take Conrad side. Even if I lost my only other bridge to Susannah’s life. He deserved to know.

Sitting on his messy duvet cover, my shoes fell to the floor, creating a heavy sound when they connected with the carpet. My knees were pulled to my chest, as if to hide away in a way. He was patient with me, his hand warm on my leg. I felt calmer without Conrad so close, with walls to separate us. I told him everything. He stayed stone faced while processing my feelings, how my heartache had been so great I couldn’t take myself back here until now. How my heart still longed for Conrad Fisher, how it always would. He didn’t judge me, but I could see how he felt bad for me. An idiot who fell in love with his idiot brother.

She’d been ignoring me all week. Something I never saw myself becoming well aquatinted with when it came to her. She was always a ball of sunshine, so easy going, so open to change. I had no idea that by me expressing my feelings I could change it in a moment. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew she would have run like this.

My mom always believed that Y/n and I were meant to be, pulled together by some invisible force. It constantly worked in our favors to push and pull us into a tightly knitted circle. Just us. When she died, Y/n was persistent on being supportive. Being there, caring more than anyone had ever done for me in that dark time. I thought that it was smart to buy into my fantasies, that Y/n had developed the same feelings I held for her and we could finally be what I’d always dreamed of.

It was the worst thing I could’ve done, looking back. How naive I was to think that even if she did reciprocate what I held for her, she was grieving just like I was. She was weak. Maybe she thought of it as wrong, now that my mom was dead. I drove her away with my own selfishness. It was a regret I carried all of my college experience.

Phone dry, a never ending loop of unanswered texts. She became a dump in a way, a place for me to open up even in her not being there. Part of me liked to think she read the messages. She had turned off her alerts, I had no idea, but thinking she saw them made my heart hurt less.

I thought by her coming, even though I knew the chances were slim as the Conklin’s had packed up and spent the summer down at Cousins without her in the previous years, I knew that maybe by her just being close that we could mend things. I had to. It hurt me to not be able to reach out and touch her like I once had the privilege to.

To hold her fingers under mine, rubbing dirt out of her eyebrows and maybe pressing my palms to her temples just to feel her warmth. How her legs tangled between the lawn and my own. It was all a foreign memory, ones that kept me going. Her laugh was a distant memory, one that echoed each night before I went to bed. For years I covered my ears and held my breath, afraid to loose the sound of her voice and smell of her perfume. Some shirts stayed hung up idly in my closet because she lingered on them. I didn’t want to wash it away yet.

Jeremiah insisted she just needed time after the first day. After he’d taken her away from me. I went into his room that night to yell at him, ask him why he would do that to me when he knew just how badly I wanted to hold her. He shook his head and held his breath. She was still hurting, he explained. Still scarred by the injuries that should’ve healed months ago. She needed time.

Time, something that became limited in the summer. Something we had not much of. There was no more guarantee she would be back. No more sure telling that her smile would once again light up the summer home and her voice would ring throughout the beaches. This could be my last ever moments with her. My last real conversation being one that caused her to leave.

I wanted to make it right more than anything, wanted to show her I still cared more than anything. I wanted to tell her everything. Pretend that we were okay, really be okay. I wanted her back.

Around the twelve day mark, I had enough. Time and space was something she had plenty of. I understood her, better than anyone. I know she needed her space, continues to need to heal. But for the first time in my life it’s like I have no clue on how to even begin to help her do that. It made me feel stupid, helpless. Killing myself over a girl who was once only a little girl to me.

The old dock was a place I found myself at most peace. The way the waves gently brushed against the old wooden beams, rocking the platform above. How the moonlight peaked through the cracks of the wooden roof and glistened on the water. You could faintly make out the shape of fish if you really looked and the wind was chilling compared to the usual humid summer air that hung all morning.

My arms were situated right against my body, hands tucked under my armpits. I was cold, sure, but I would never admit it. I always loved when Conrad would take me out here when we were younger. He learned his own love for the spot form his mother, a love that was passed down from child to child like an everlasting passion.

It was quiet, the water and the air drowning out any background noise. Sometimes if you were lucky, young children would play in the background. Laughter would fill the area. Maybe an old couple would barbecue outside. You could people watch. It was all so serene. Not enough to block out the creaks of approaching footsteps. How the boards groaned under the heavy steps getting closer.

My nose was red, I scrunched it in the cold. I sighed heavily, releasing any tension.

“This has always kind of been our spot, huh.” His voice was much deeper than I recalled it. Much more gravely, raspy than before. He was referring to Susannah and how it started, the first discussions that made us realize we were closer than all the others. We were certainly best friends. It was funny how even though it was her funeral that ultimately led to our breakage that she was a reoccurring theme in our lives. I nodded.

Silence took over us, a gap left between our bodies. I felt the urge to stay in place fighting the one to leave. I swallowed hard, looking over my shoulder and backing away slowly. My feet found the floor behind me, and unlike I had when the incident occurred, I was steady and able to begin my escape.

“Y/n, wait.” Conrad spoke softly. His voice wasn’t demanding, almost like he was begging. His eyes begged more than his voice. He pleaded for me to stay. I turned my head to him, stopping short and turning to face him. I watched as his frame began to tower over mine the closer and closer we got. He left a sizable gap between us still, out of respect for me.

Looking up at him, my eyes reflected the stars, wide and expecting. I waited patiently while his tongue licked around his mouth, his breathing heavier and heavier by the minute. He looked like he might burst.

“Y/n, you’re my best friend.” The words stung to hear even now. Even when I should’ve been relieved to know that he still considered me to be at the top of his list. My own heartache held me back. I could only nod.

“I know.” I could feel the lump in my throat form. How it hurt to not cry. How my eyebrows felt heavy and my nose became sore, not from the cold anymore.

He breathed out harshly, watching as I tried to make my escape again. His hand was harsh on my hand, pulling me back to where I was. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to turn away yet but he knew my intentions just as well as I did.

“You’re my best friend and it kills me to not be able to have you in my life anymore. I miss what we had, what we were. Everything was going great and then…what happened to us, Y/n?” I wish I could’ve answered him, but we both knew what led us here.

“I don’t have to defend my feelings to you.” My lip quivered, feeling a fight rising between us. We never used to fight. Now looking back on it, our last two interactions had only been fights. How quickly things can change.

Ripping my hand from his grasp I turned and made my quick escape down the dock. Walking as quick as my feet would carry me until my feet felt the grass beneath the soles of my shoes. I heard Conrad’s own steps connecting with the flooring just as harshly as mine had. The yank on my wrist was no as gentle as the first time around. His grip was harsh, tight. He made sure there was no escape.

“What is wrong with you?” His voice was raised but he wasn’t shouting. He rarely shouted at me. He always said he loved me too much to be mad at me.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” My eyes rolled and my chest heaved, I felt myself getting hotter, cheeks redder.

“Susannah’s dead. She fucking died and everyone was hurting. You were hurting, I was hurting! You treated me like a last resort! Like, now that you lost someone important to you—you needed someone to fill the void! Made me feel easy, like an idiot! Trying to kiss me like it didn’t change anything—like it didn’t mean anything! It ruined everything Conrad! You decided that because you couldn’t have your ego bruised by being openly emotional, you just had to keep pushing people away! You used me! ” I threw my free hand up. I was crying. I felt stupid for crying, I shouldn’t be crying over him.

“I didn’t do that! No, Y/n you were never a last resort. I thought…I thought it would help! I didn’t think it would hurt you that badly. God, why did it have to hurt us so badly?” He shouted it at the sky. A fog now hugging the trees in the distance. A rainstorm coming in by morning. Clear sky’s would soon turn dark and murky. It felt fitting.

I felt rage. Pure rage. How blind he was to why I was hurting. I had pointed him in every direction, given him hints and yet he was always the one who even with their smart eyes and quick attention, could never truly figure out what I held for him. It all bubbles out like a sickness. A burning vomit that was nothing more than a dry heave. It hurt to get out, but the relief afterwards was worth it

“Because I love you, you idiot!” My voice was loud, deafening in the heavy silence that now hung between us, “I love you, okay?” I was more quiet the second time, seeing Conrad’s big eyes and shocked expression. How his hand loosened on my wrist, I prepared for the worst. The long awaited rejection that would forever break me, tear away the last pieces of the Fisher brothers from my life all together. Our past only to be held in old Polaroids and my moms photo book.

“And I’ve known it since that day in the pier. You bought me ice cream and I realized nobodies ever cared for me like that before. It felt so good to be know so well. It felt ducking amazing to have someone like that. I cared so much about you, I’m afraid I always will. Even now I can’t shake it.” I went on and on, confessing how I felt, when I realized what always been there. I felt his touch leave me completely. It felt cold to be so alone. My tears were salty when they landed on my lips, I wonder if Conrad could taste them.

His hands were warm on my cheeks, palms pressing into my jawline so hard that the simple touch felt that much more intense. His eyes were shut, I noticed. So I closed mine too, allowing myself to give into the boy in front of me. His chest pressed against mine, we were so close, air was almost impossible to find. I could only breathe in him, everything was Conrad. I could feel him everywhere. My nose, my eyes, my ears, my fingertips. His lips molded against my perfectly, slotting themselves into place and setting off jolts of electricity in my veins. It was slow and passionate, everything I had ever dreamed it to be. Wished for. He was gentle and rough, fearful to hurt me, as if I would shatter under his touch, but the pure desire to show me he felt the same was too great to dull down his actions.

We separated with a gasp. Heaving at the lack of air, both breathless form how long it lasted and how much build up had led us here. How badly we desired it. His forehead rested against mine softly, hands sliding down to settle on my waist. He was a lot softer now, more gentle, kinder. Like now that everything had been said wordlessly, he could finally relax by having me in his hold.

Our eyelashes fluttered against the others cheeks, a soft laughter passing between us. Our smiles were b, it felt more like a scar than a scab now. To have some reassurance that he didn’t go after me because I was easy in his eyes. But because he felt the same.

“It was the day at the beach. We got sunburnt badly and you took care of me all night.” I kissed his cheek while he spoke, holding onto him just a moment longer, “You said you realized your feelings the day at the boardwalk. I found mine while you were rubbing aloe on my back.” We laughter again at the almost stupid memory. How we had both realized what we felt at rehab seemed like the most insignificant parts of our relationship. Not when Conrad had taken me to my first party and danced with me all night, not when I stayed up all night with him and held him close just for the hell of it, but when we were children.

We had been so blind to it our whole lives it was almost a tragedy. How much wasted time we had in our lives. It was something we would never get back. Something so precious, something we all had so little of. It was too late to rewrite our history. We could only hope to fix what was broke. And in the silent of the night, Conrad began the mending with the soft whisper of three simple words. Ones that came out in almost a mumble, they only reached my ears.

“I love you.” I never truly believed Conrad when he would joke how distance makes the heart grow fonder, but after what felt like a lifetime apart, it felt like the most honest statement to be made.

Conrad Fisher was mine and I was his. After all of our damaged fights and flaws, we’d found each other again. Being pulled together again by that invisible string. Sticking like glue. My heart swelled knowing he would be mine in the morning.

I will forever cling onto everything I feared, but I will feel at peace with my own inquiries while now that we are half-awake, intimate in how we hold each other. Finally, the grief subsided and I am at peace. I am myself again, he is himself with me.

I know myself better than I have in years.

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