#he’s half lost in thought and he doesn’t even realise what he’s saying when he says it

[f0point5]

What if I told you I’m back?

This was a request but tumblr ate, you’ll all just have to believe me. Someone asked for a Max POV during the best friend era. So, I decided to go with this one ✨set 16th April 2018✨ the day after the Chinese GP, because I feel like we don’t talk enough about the early friendship.

I hope this finds its way to whoever sent in the ask and that you enjoy it 🫶

Max almost turns around three times on the way to your building.

The first time, it’s when he realises it’s late, gone ten p.m. on a Monday, you might be asleep. He should go home and come by tomorrow. But you’re a night owl, you won’t be asleep.

The second time, he thinks you won’t be asleep, but you won’t be expecting company. He hasn’t even texted, and he should have, but he left his phone in his jacket which he gave to his concierge to send upstairs with his bags. He should intrude. But he’s not exactly company, he’s seen you in your pyjamas, it’s not like he’s suggesting you go out.

The third time, it’s the absurdity of the situation that gives him pause. He hadn’t even set foot in his building before setting off to yours. After three and a half weeks away one more night shouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe you’ll think he’s a bit strange. But equally, it shouldn’t be a big deal to just see you for a minute, right? If only just to give you your present.

He’s surprised by much he found himself missing you. It’s not like he hasn’t been sued to being away from his friends and family his whole life, it’s not even like you didn’t talk while he was away. You talked a lot. But, he rationalises, he’d got used to having you around during winter break, you’d hardly been apart. You’d even come home to his mum’s with him just before Christmas. Your presence, your perfume, your way never letting him finish a sentence, it was all normal to him now. It wasn’t that he needed it, just that he had had to learn how to be without it, and that had been harder than anticipated. The last time he’d done that he was eight.

It only occurs to him now, as your building comes into view, that you might not feel the same way. You’d said you’d missed him countless times in the last three and a half weeks, but that didn’t signify. After all, he’d said it maybe twice and he here he was, asleep on his feet but at your door because he didn’t want to go home without seeing you.

He should just go home.

“Max?” No turning back now. He turns around to see you, dressed in a pretty blouse and a short skirt, teetering towards him on stiletto heels. “Maxy, Maxy, Maxy,”

You collide with him before he has a chance to laugh at the way you were squealing like a child. He hugs you back, holding you up when you lift your feet off the floor for a second. He’s half expecting you to smell like a distillery, unable and unwilling to comprehend that your reaction is all your own. But all he smells is your perfume, and it feels like Christmas all over again.

“Hey,” he says, lowering you to the ground and finally getting a good look at you. Your hair’s a little shorter, your face is- no, you couldn’t have gotten prettier. You’re a bit more tanned.

“I thought you were still in China,” you say, squeezing his shoulders. “You look so hungry, have you lost weight?”

“I just got back,” he says with a shrug. You’re almost his height in your heels, he notices for no discernible reason.

You take in his no doubt plane-rumpled appearance. “Did you come straight here?”

“Uh,” he clears his throat. He’s not going to admit that when you’re giving him a warranted look of confusion, but he doesn’t want to lie either. “I brought you a present.” He holds up the package, wrapped poorly on the flight home. Even the flight attendant had given him a sympathetic look as she watched him struggle.

“Aw, thanks,” you say, pressing your key fob against the censor and pulling open the door before Max can get to it. “Come up,”

“Are you sure?”

You give him an incredulous look, lit up by the golden glow of your lobby lights. “Of course,”

You tell him about the dinner you were just getting back from when he arrived, all the way up to your flat. Some people would find it odd or even rude that Max has been a continent away, racing the fastest cars on the planet in front of millions of people, and yet you’re perfectly at ease taking time to talk about your overly creamy pasta. Max likes it, relishes it, even. You’ve never seen him or his job as anything special. He went to work, you went to dinner. It’s normal. Just friends catching up.

You let him into your flat, heading straight for the kitchen, and Max takes the same seat at the breakfast island that he always does. He idly wonders if anyone else has sat in it since he’s been away.

“But then it’s not exactly Naples, you what can you expect. Sometimes I think the French sabotage Italian food on purpose,” you say, filling a wine glass with water from your fridge dispenser. “Great race, by the way. Glad my voodoo worked,”

Max scoffs. “So, you didn’t watch it,” he shakes his head as if that will help the memories fade quicker.

“I did. Got up at the crack of dawn and everything. And I cursed your car not to win,“ you say with a mischievous grin, pulling out a can of red bull from the fridge.

Max frowns. “What the fuck?”

“You can’t win when I’m not there to see it,” you declare, handing him the Red Bull. He reaches to take it, but you don’t let go until he looks at you. “I’d have been devastated,”

For the first time in his life, Max is actually half glad he didn’t win a race.

He chuckles, opening the can with one hand while sliding the gift along the counter towards you with the other.

“Well, I want to win,” he says, as you start picking at the copious amount of sellotape. “So you’ll just have to come to all the races,”

He’s surprised how much he means that.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Maxy. Oh my God, you can’t wrap for shit,” you say, finally managing to pull apart first Max’s wrapping, and then the box containing the, “Chopsticks?”

“Very fancy chopsticks,” Max explains. He points to the set of dark wood chopsticks you’re holding, gesturing to the intricate gold figures entwined on the top. “See, one set has dragons and one set has a phoenix? They’re famous in Chinese mythology. The guy said to give It to someone you like, they’re supposed to bring luck. Or something. I didn’t really understand his English,”

You stare at them for a while, a sort of bewildered smile on your face, and Max almost slaps himself. He should have just bought you a handbag. They had a Chanel in China. Why didn’t he just listen to his dad? This sentimental shit is weird and embarrassing and he should have just gone home.

“So,” you say, using the chopsticks to point at Max accusingly as you smirk at him. “You like me now? Who would have thought? After all those years of telling everyone how annoying I was, you like enough to want me to have good luck,”

“You-“ Max fights the urge to argue.

That smug look on your face still triggers him something awful. But behind it is someone who has become important to him. It’s not just that you know things about him that even he’s forgotten, it’s that he doesn’t want there ever be anything you don’t know about him. You him laugh, and he never wants to see you cry, and he’s used to being reviled and admired, and even liked, but you’re the only person who’s ever made him feel this understood.

“You’re my best friend,”

Once, he might have been embarrassed that you don’t say it back, but just like you know him, he knows you now, too. You grin at him, sipping your water as you look at him over the rim of your glass.

“Well, despite the fact that this whole chopstick story sounds like the beginning of an Indiana Jones movie, they’re beautiful, and I love them, and I promise I will only ever use them to eat Chinese food with you,” you say, putting the chopsticks back in their box. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

Max doesn’t say anything, fiddling with the can again, and you sigh.

“When are you leaving again?”

“Um,” he hesitates, like if he doesn’t say it then it won’t happen. He gives up and gives you an apologetic smile. “Thursday. Going to the UK for some work and then straight to Baku,”

“Oh,” your face, falls, and you toy with the stem of your glass, only for a few seconds, before you shrug. “Well, we should have dinner before you go, and then-“

“Do you-“ He cuts himself off, because he knows he should think about this more, but then you’re looking at him and he’s done thinking. “Do you want to come?”

“To the UK?”

“Yeah,” Max mumbles, looking down at his Red Bull as his fingers fiddle with the tab. “And to Baku,” he glances up to see your reaction, “and, I mean, anywhere,” he adds a shrug, because, obviously, the invitation is totally casual.

You shrug back. “Okay,”

He can hear his dad already, complaining about how you’re a distraction, you bring cameras and drama, how Max gives you too much of his attention on race weekends. But there’s worse things than Jos’s moaning, like not seeing you for another two weeks.

He barely has time to think about that before a Chinese takeout menu slides into his vision. He looks up at you, confused. “Didn’t you eat?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t look like you have in about a week. You are starting to get Cillian Murphy cheekbones,” you grimace. Max has no idea who that is but based on your face he doesn’t want to look like him. “And besides, I want to test out these magic chopsticks,”

#max verstappen x reader

[firefly-fez]

we all love the ‘rex calls ahsoka vod’ika, ahsoka calls rex ori’vod’ headcanon and yes, of course, but consider: ‘rex and ahsoka both insist on calling the other vod’ika’ due to a long-standing argument about which one of them is technically older

#the first time rex calls ahsoka vod’ika its more of of habit #he’s half lost in thought and he doesn’t even realise what he’s saying when he says it #until she looks at him with her freaking bambi eyes all touched and he’s just like what. what did i say #and she’s just like…. you called me vod’ika #and hes just like oh uh… is that okay *awkwardly rubs his head* #and she just smiles like ‘i mean i’m OLDER than you’ #and rex is like *relieved* what? no youre not #and ahsoka’s like what are you talking about i was born on shili FOUR YEARS before #and rex interrupys like no no you cant go by natborn years #there are four stages of life: #hatchling #cadet #shiny #and trooper #you were a shiny when we met #and that makes ME older than YOU #ahsoka: ‘that’s ridiculous’ *rolls eyes and they fly off into the galaxy together* #rex wins the argument and therefore gets ori’vod privledges #captain rex #ahsoka tano #star wars clone wars #swtcw #tcw #rex and ahsoka #501st legion #ct7567

[horanghaeluvsinniehae]

SKZ!BFF DRUNKLY CONFESSING PT.2 pt.1 ||BANG CHAN||LEE MINHO||SEO CHANGBIN||HWANG HYUNJIN||HAN JISUNG||LEE FELIX||KIM SEUNGMIN||YANG JEONGIN||

Disclaimer: overthinking(i think)

Your mind decided to play games on you…overthinking the texts you’ve just sent to each other. He said he’d like to clear things up. Does that mean he was just drunk and didn’t mean a word? He wants to make sure you know that he doesn’t like you and that it was just a big mistake??

You’ve had a crush on him for over a year now and all you ever dreamed of is to have a chance with him. Sadly for you it’s hard to figure Seungmin out, he doesn’t wear his heart out on his sleeve. That’s the reason why you haven’t confessed to him yet, you never know how he’s feeling about you.

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked down on your appearance. As soon as you realised what you're wearing you quickly ran to change. One time Seungmin left a t-shirt at your house when all of the boys were here and since then you wear it when he does something that messes with your head. You haven’t told him about his forgotten shirt so you don’t have to give it back…

After you changed into your own clothes and washed your face with cold water to freshen up you heard your doorbell ring. It could only be him at the door because he’s the only one who uses the doorbell instead of knocking. You took a deep breath, not knowing what’s going to happen after you open the door, you were quite anxious. You opened the door and there he stood, looking unusually nervous.

“Hi Seungmin!” You greeted him happily, all your thoughts from earlier quieting down. “Hi y/n!” He smiled at you, but something seemed off, like he was shy? He didn’t act like the Seungmin you’re used to. Usually he barges into the house right after you open the door for him (he lost his key privileges a while ago), but now he waits for you to let him in.

“Come in Seung!” You told him and gestured with your hand to come through the door. He gave you a rather awkward hug, it wasn’t a full engulfing hug, but not a side hug either…then happened the most non-seungmin thing he has ever done. Seungmin took off his shoes then did a 90-degree bow to you, but not just for a moment, no he stayed there until you talked to him.

“Seungmin, what are you doing??” He kept the bow as he talked to you. “Y/nah im soo deeply sorry for yesterday night…i was drinking irresponsibly and-.” He stopped for a moment and stood up normally, not bowing anymore. “-I like you a lot and this is not how i wanted to confess to you, but I created this situation for myself���if you don't like me that’s totally okay and I don’t expect you to fall into my arms. I just wanted to come over so i can apologise for this whole mess.” He finished talking and looked down, so he won't have to look you in the eyes.

To say you were shocked would be an understatement, you didn’t even think of this outcome as an option. You were frozen in place and only snapped out when you heard Seungmin sigh and turn around to go to the door. You wordlessly ran after him, stood in front of him for half a second then hugged him so tightly that it was hard for him to move. You buried your face into his chest not wanting him to disappear.

“Kim Seungmin, I like you so much you can’t imagine. Please don't go anywhere.” You tell him and at that he puts his arms around you just as tightly as you hold him.“I won’t leave y/nah don’t worry. And I'm so happy that you like me back.” He said and kissed the top of your head.

You were lucky you had your face was covered because if he saw how red your face was he’d tease you forever. But it didn’t really matter because Seungmin was yours now.

A/N: I don’t care of i sound desperate, but i really want you guys to request because i don’t have much ideas(literally like zero) but i love writing!! So please even if you have a small idea or just a thought or a big idea please write it to me in the requests!! Here’s my guide how to request so no-one will be sad that I didn’t do theirs for some reason!<3 I’m sorry again and I hope this one brings some smiles to you and thank you for reading my work!!Please take care of yourselves and be safe!❤️‍🩹

taglist: @justwonder113 (if you want to be on it either comment or write in requests please<;3)

#ot8 skz #ot8 x reader #skz #stray kids #stray kids fake texts #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids kim seungmin #stray kids seungmin #skz seungmin #skz kim seungmin #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin x reader #skz fake texts

[darkdemeter]

— TEASER —

“GUARD DOG”

Material is subject to potential changes and edits

A/N: By readers' vote, ACT I: AMBER & BLOOD is the desired segment for the teaser. Still currently writing act II and we're 6.5k words in! No, we've not even reached the middle of the story yet.

Mafia! Wanda Maximoff x (Dark) Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

Mafia au — bit of angst — kinda fluff or hurt/comfort? idk... — brief mention of death and grief — use of y/n — I think that's it

Enjoy the excerpt!

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

“Rumlow aims to snuff out the entire Maximoff Family in order to gain territory. And he’s not going to stop until he’s put you in the ground too.” 

How could your words be so hard to hear but equally so right in their conviction? You were trusted by her parents, someone they considered part of the family despite your otherwise humble dismissal that you were just a guard to the family. They considered you equal to their standing. 

And Wanda waved off your warnings as if you didn’t have a clue. Hell, she doesn’t even know half of what you had to endure at the facility. The horrors of your time growing up in that damn place are accounts you’re not overly excited to share with anyone. 

“Wanda,” you say her name to draw her unfocused eyes, to bring her back to you, “you’re all I have to protect now. I swore that I would do everything in my ability, and I will. But promise me, you won’t do anything like that again.”

Your eyes hold her attention, firm and unwavering in the looming silence between you. She feels her heartbeat race a little quicker now as she becomes lost in the certainty of your protection, the caged beast beneath the surface, she nods. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sigh heavily as something finally eases the tension in your shoulders, you let them drop lower and bow your head, face inches from resting in her lap. Her fingers comb the length of your hair, soft and drenched from your quick shower to rinse off the blood that clung to your fur. 

She lets her head dip as well and soak in the scent of your shampoo, a strong smell of pine, something naturistic, compared to the one she used. Not at all the scent she would peg you for with your rough exterior and stoic personality.

But that was all a front. Time and time again she’s seen a side to you that you keep away from others. A tenderness you reserve for her, even your claws tend to be drawn back whenever you’re just in her company. Much like they were now, she marvels at the sight of those sharpened tips that you use as a weapon, as they now reduce back into the nail beds. 

Other than that, all she got to see was your dominating and intimidating stature, tough as iron front, letting all know that she was under your unwavering protection. That you guard her. 

Your head rolls up and your noses brush against each other, breaths mingling together in the miniscule gap between your lips, an inch apart you would have considered inappropriate before. But that was when you were unsure and reserved, humbly turning down any sort of praise and keeping your feelings locked away in some dark corner of your heart. 

Before you came to realise you were in love with her. 

You try to calm the rapid increase of your heart rate as if somehow she is still in the clutches of immediate danger, that at any moment she will be taken from you. Her lips, so plump and full and kissable, ghost over yours in silent contemplation. She knows just as well as you that this teeters on a fine line, that this can jeopardise everything between the two of you. 

And nobody could know. A werewolf guard and the heiress to one of the largest and well established criminal empires in the world, if anyone found out, it would cost you both everything. 

What terrifies you is the thought that you could lose Wanda at any moment. The constant what if questions. 

‘What if I were unable to prevent her demise? What if I fail her?’

“I just can’t lose you, Wanda.”

You shake your head at your own words, their meaning so plain and simple: a confession. 

“I promised your parents that I would always protect you.” 

It’s like she could see through the cover up. Yes, you did swear yourself to them that you would protect their children, their daughter, but you also used it as a line of defence. To save face from the awfully timed confession. 

“They’re gone, Y/N. Swear it to me.” 

Her hands cup the shape of your face, the pads of her thumbs soft, delicate against the contours of your features, the tiny and healed scars that littered your face alone, the rest of them were hidden beneath your clothes, how her simple touch calms you and makes you more alive than ever. Her touch is a revival. For once, you’re given the reprieve you long for. To feel trusted wholeheartedly. Loved.

Your hands run up the sides of her thighs until they pause right on the rise of her rear, your fingers grasp firmly and tug her that little bit closer, your forehead pressed to hers and that amber glow shines brightly in your eyes in the dimly lit room. 

“I swear it.” 

Your lips come together as two separate forces once held far apart for too long, now the pull draws you both inwards to the other, magnetic and electrical. Passionate and hungry. You waste no time in sharing one another’s taste as your tongues glide and entangle amidst the heat of your kiss. 

Thank you for reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

#female reader #werewolf reader #gn reader #male reader #dem's updates #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #mafia au #werewolf #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x werewolf reader #teaser

[lokiiied]

the drinking game scene in rotk bc legolas is just naturally good at everything and also an elf it takes like twenty beers to get him even slightly buzzed and then he’s like, “i feel something…a slight tingle in my fingers. i think it is effecting me!” and éomer is just like #impressedandturnedon

will never not be funny but also imagine:

after legolas “wins” the game and him and éomer lift gimli and relocate him éomer is just amazed at legolas’ elf alcohol tolerance and says,

“have you never been drunk before?” and legolas smiles and says,

“not from this.” to which éomer responds,

“care to have a few more then?” and legolas realises they haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other so he says sure. and about five beers later (ten for legolas, who now cannot stop chugging them) éomer, now very much buzzed himself, leans in a bit more than intended and asks,

“how are you feeling now?” and legolas smirks at him,

“trying to get me drunk, are we?” which makes éomer shift back a bit, trying to read him, and says sarcastically,

“i would never- [and then without meaning to say the rest out loud finishes his sentence]

-seduce a prince” to which legolas’ eyebrows raise and he presses,

“seduce?” and éomer panicks and tries to go back,

“not what i meant, i uhm, not thinking clearly.” but legolas, deciding to indulge, shifts slightly so their knees touch and leans in a bit.

“i think you’re thinking perfectly well.”

and so basically they kiss (no one cares everyone has like centimetres of personal space in there and are all drunk off their asses anyways) and it’s nice, but legolas realises in that moment a couple things:

1. he is maybe a little more drunk than he thought he was

2. it is making him (more) confident?

3. and slightly horny

4. he’s enjoying the attention and flirtation and éomer is very sweet and pretty…but he can’t help imagining éomer is someone else.

5. not just. anyone else.

“i’m sorry”, he gently places both hands on éomer’s shoulders and says,

“i have something i must do now.” and he leaves éomer confused but also he’s probably drunk enough to think think it was all just a weird dream.

suddenly legolas finds himself shoving through drunks and couples, away from the loud and crowded spaces and through hallways…he’s not sure where exactly he’s going, just that his heart is pounding and his feet will lead him to where he wants to be. who he wishes to see.

aragorn is on the balcony, looking out upon the ruined city. he doesn’t feel like celebrating. there’s still a battle to be fought, and although they won this one, it’s not looking very promising. he hears familiar footsteps approaching. light and quiet, but still, he can always sense when the elf is near him.

legolas slows when he sees him. he had so much courage when he was running through the corridors, but now that he was here…his heart is throbbing in his throat and his usual confidence no longer felt elevated. but he knew aragorn must be able to hear his heavy breath, so he swallowed and made his way to the man’s side.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?” aragorn asks, without turning his head.

“shouldn’t you be with us?” legolas looks to him. taking in his greasy hair and his stubble and his jawline…

aragorn breaks his gaze from the city below, meeting legolas’ eyes. they looked a little glazed, and he could get lost in them if he allowed himself.

“been drinking with the dwarf?” he asks, corner of his mouth turning up into a small smile.

legolas had felt his buzz starting to fade on his run over - it had only lasted 15 minutes or so, and in another 15 it would probably be completely gone. but standing in front of aragorn now, he felt a sudden wave of lust and indulgence washing over him. maybe it was the alcohol…maybe something else. but he decided he wanted to push his luck.

“actually, he’s been passed out about half an hour or so. i beat him in a drinking game.” aragorn chuckled. (god, legolas wanted to kiss that grimy, scratchy, throat)

“is that so?” he could tell legolas was not entirely sober, and he wasn’t sure what direction this conversation was going to take - but he felt compelled to find out.

“mm. apparently it takes a lot of your kind of ale [legolas wasn’t sure what in middle earth had possessed him to reach out and brush his fingers along the front of aragorn’s robes] to take an effect on me.”

“and yet you seem affected, my friend.” aragorn could knew the small act was mindless…but there was also intention to it. he wished legolas would dare even further. for all that had happened, and was happening - he could use a distraction. but legolas wasn’t just a distraction. he was his weakness. and his strength. and the thought of his touch, his smile, his hooded eyes, his parted lips…it was taking everything in aragorn to keep his composure.

the thought of just telling him about his kiss with éomer, was tempting. but then there was a chance that might confuse aragorn. the kiss was nice, but it hadn’t really meant anything to legolas. maybe it wasn’t worth trying to explain all that now.

“i had a realisation.” he decided on that. it was true. and it was what brought him here, standing in front of aragorn now.

“a realisation?” aragorn could feel the world around them start to fade out. his focus only on the small amount of space between legolas and himself. he now had an idea where this might be going, he wanted to coax him on, but he also couldn’t be sure that his imagination wasn’t taking things out of context.

“yes.” legolas wasn’t sure if it was the fading buzz, or the being so close to aragorn, but it was almost like there was some sort of magic that had created a forcefield around the two of them, blocking out the rest of the world. if he was going to be brave enough kiss him, time was of the essence.

“and what is that?” aragorn wasn’t sure how much longer he could bear to be still with legolas looking at him like that. he wasn’t sure how had ever been able to restrain himself from leaning in to his touches and wrapping his arms around that waist and pulling him in so their hearts touched. how he had resisted tucking that glorious hair behind pointed ears and caressing that perfect jaw-

“i kissed éomer.” well, if he was going to confess his truth, he might as well confess all of it. besides, he wanted aragorn to know that

“it happened in the moment. and it was very nice - but it meant nothing, to me at least. but it did lead me to realise that it wasn’t him i had hoped to be kissing…that i…i was thinking of another.”

aragorn had not expected a confession of this sort, and it did surprise him for a moment, he felt a little sorry for éomer. and a little envious, of not being the first to feel legolas’ lips on his own. but he also knew that, to have legolas’ heart was that of hard earned pining, and of highest fortune. and their every moment together had lead to this one. and if he was being truthful, he could have lived in it forever. but fucks sake was it taking too long. he breathed in through his nose and gently placed one hand above legolas’ waist, slowly, carefully, closing the space between their bodies. the other tucking a strand of hair behind pointed ear.

“and might this ‘other’ have had you running through the halls in your courageous and intoxicated state, to confess this truth?” legolas’ breath hitched, he actually wasn’t sure when he had last taken a full breath- his head was cloudy, and he wasn’t sure if what was happening was real - or perhaps a fantasy that he would soon wake from. he had to be sure.

legolas’ soft, but cold hand found it’s way to cup the side of aragorn’s stubbled cheek. he felt some force of nature pulling them together, it was no use fighting. their lips were centimetres apart…

“he may have.” legolas’ eyes were hooded, and those few words to answer aragorn’s question moments ago (seconds? minutes?) were all he could manage to escape his lips before he found them meeting aragorn’s, finally. he breathed in sharp through his nose and let the air travel between them, before breaking away.

legolas’ hands were on the back of aragorn’s neck, contrasting the heat there. his own hands were now gently clutching the elf’s lower back. he was certain legolas’ smile then was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“i don’t think i have ever seen you smile with such ease” legolas teased, but truthfully it must’ve been the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“i don’t think it’s ever been so easy to smile.” and he meant it.

“what now?”

“what would you have me do with you?” oh. well, there was no one answer to that. and certainly not a very respectful, elvishly, one. he took aragorn’s hand, leading him away from the balcony and towards presumably whatever closest chamber or reasonably private place they could find.

“very unprincely things.”

#okay so like #um #idk whom of my following this is for #probably just me #but uh #here! #have some aralas #something possessed me to write this #it is very amateur be nice #anyways i finished my lotr marathon today #prepare to be sick of me again #aralas #legolas #aragorn #legolas x aragorn #lotr #éomer #aralas hcs

[xhdream]

eyes on me

pairing: photographer!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 3047

cw: friends to lovers trope, praise kink, body worship, masturbation (f), dry humping

You always used to say that you’ll never make an only fans, but here you are - your account is all set up, you just need to make the first post.

“There’s no way you won’t blow up.” Your friend peeks at your phone.

You keep checking your profile although it’s still empty, and there’s nothing to look at except your name and the cheesy bio that you should definitely change with a new one before you upload anything.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous and your best friend is a professional photographer that doesn’t want your money.” Your friend keeps babbling while scrolling on her phone as you snack on a bag of chips together. “If that’s not a recipe for a successful only fans I don’t know what is. So when is the first shoot gonna be?”

“This Saturday.” You reply, just now realising how near the date is.

“Are you nervous?”

You look away from the screen, taken aback by her question.

“About what?”

“About getting butt naked in front of Jungsu?” She spits out, as if making her elaborate was super unnecessary.

For an unknown reason you start thinking over the question. Your friend stops chewing, staring at you intrigued.

“No…” You turn around to avoid her stare. “Of course not.”

Should you be nervous?

You’re making the last final touches of your makeup when Jungsu rings at your door.

He enters the hallway with a big backpack on his shoulders, an extra bag with equipment in hand and a warm smile. You want to help him out by taking something, but he tells you it’s heavy, so you step aside to give him space.

“Oh, what happened here?” He enters the living room after you, blinking impressed towards the small cozy spot you created right in front of the windows. His eye notices the different positions of some of the furniture right away.

Since you live on a high floor you doubt someone will catch a thing of what you’ll be doing, so you decided last minute to open the curtains and let the natural light come inside the space where you’ll take the photos. The fuzzy blanket on the floor, the vase with the flowers, the candles and cushions are all nicely lit up by the sun making it the perfect time to shoot.

“I moved a few things around last night to make the photos more interesting.” You talk as he inspects your decorations. “Is it too much?”

He turns to you after hearing the slight concern in your question. As he stands in the centre of the room with hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, Jungsu for the first time since he walked in, allows himself to just stop and really look at you.

Is it because you haven’t seen each other in a while because you’ve been both busy with work and finals, or is it because the reality behind him being here is starting to sink in?

“No, I think it looks great actually.” Jungsu quickly mumbles like he’s trying not to get lost in his thoughts again. He squats down to unzip his bags. “You might make a good creative director.” He chuckles quietly, taking out his equipment one by one.

A moment later, after Jungsu has set up his camera in the right position with the appropriate settings and lights, he takes a step back, giving you a thumbs up.

“We can get started if you’re ready.”

“I just need to change, I’ll be quick.”

He mumbles you to take as much time as you need, watching you run to the sofa that’s now moved to the other side of the room. He didn’t expect you to change here so when he accidentally catches you pull down your sweats, he turns back around so quickly, as if he’s not about to actually photograph you half naked, and then eventually… completely naked.

He feels your familiar presence getting closer, but he’s too stunned to move a bone, and he hasn’t even seen you yet.

The second you appear in front of him he realises what a huge mistake was to agree to this. There’s no way he can spend an hour, or even more, cause things like this are time consuming, looking at you like this - with your familiar gentle gaze sparkling with lust; with your gorgeous body swaying provocatively in front of the camera, bending in different positions that will be lit up by the sun, while the lingerie will do the worst job at covering up anything.

“I have a few poses in mind, but you better tell me if something doesn’t look okay.”

“Of course,” Jungsu responds in a lower tone after clearing his throat. He continues to speak while focusing on the camera. “You said you want a profile picture, right? Let’s do that first.”

You pick up loosely your hair as you face the camera, parting your lips slightly just like you’ve seen models in different magazines do.

“Lift your chin up a bit,” Jungsu mutters focused on the little screen, and without even realising his lips curl into a smile as you follow his instructions. “Yeah, pretty.”

The clicking sound rings in the room again.

You do a few more - with you biting on your nail; hands on your boobs; a side profile. Each snap is only another reminder of how in love Jungsu has been with you for the past what… almost six years?

Different poses follow up after you kneel on the blanket. Jungsu alternates between squatting and standing up to photograph you from a higher angle while hovering over you.

The closer he gets to you, the more his palms sweat against the camera. It’s surprising his hands haven’t started shaking yet. His mind is fully occupied by thoughts about how beautiful you are; your shape, your curves, and the fact complete strangers from different parts of the world will touch themselves while watching those exact same things he admires right now.

He notices your thumbs tug at the waistband of your panties, and his eyes immediately unfocuse from what he’s doing.

“I think we can move onto the video.” You say through a soft voice that effects him just as much as your next move that consists of swaying your hips left to right seductively while your fingers tease by tugging the lingerie lower and lower before bringing it back up.

Jungsu swallows while zooming at the view of your pussy peeking through the thin fabric. It’s just for a few seconds, but it brings pressure into his core that unfortunately he cannot ignore. He’s undeniably turned on.

He keeps recording as you lean slowly on your elbows, arching your spine like a cat. He starts to feel the fabric of his boxers pressing a bit too harshly on his cock when he’s suddenly standing behind your ass that’s up in the air.

“Jungsu,” your mellow sweet voice pulls him out of his trance. Hours could’ve passed since he started recording and he wouldn’t know, that’s how lost he is in this moment; in you. “Can I ask you to pull my panties down? For the video.”

He hesitates for a second. Is the camera catching his heartbeat? He feels like it’s banging too hard against his chest.

“Are you sure?” He peeks at you. Your head is resting on top of your hands, but after his next words you lift up on your palms, trying to take a look behind your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind I—“

“No, silly,” you chuckle. “You’ll cut this part out, right?”

You smile, staring at the floor while the gentle brushing of Jungsu’s fingertips starts to linger on your hips. He’s so careful with every move it brings shivers down your spine.

He traces his knuckles up your back then glides them all the way down to your lower waist very slowly, making sure everything is caught on the screen. His fingers sneak under the string and tug down until the panties begin to expose more of the pretty shape of your ass.

His mouth waters at the sight. He would’ve never thought he’d find himself in this situation; that he’d be able to see you the way he does in his secret fantasies. True, this is all for your content, but he can feel you underneath his fingertips, and it feels like a dream.

Jungsu’s gaze alternates between watching your folds through the camera and outside of it. It’s time he does something else or he risks to leak through his underwear if he keeps staring into your pussy like that.

“Turn around.” His voice comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t even know why he suggests that. If you turn around he’s almost sure his heart will jump out of his body.

You shift on your back, and your eyes catch Jungsu’s darkened gaze. He looks uneasy, and not as concentrated as he was earlier, when he brings the camera back up close to his face.

You keep on the seductive look while biting on your bottom lip.

“You’re doing perfect,” he praises you, causing your eyes to glow even brighter from the compliment. “So beautiful, stay just like that.”

He moves backwards, as the sun hits the perfect parts of your figure just at the right angle, earning you even more effective shots.

You let out a chuckle when Jungsu notices your panties are tangled around your heels. He drops on his knees and removes them while keeping the video going.

“You can touch me.” You tell him, tilting your head. You’re not really sure what to do for this video anymore, and to be honest, a part of you misses the feeling of his hand on your skin.

Your lips open for a gasp, but nothing comes out, because his palm gliding on your inner thigh steals your breath. It most likely comes from the fact you’re standing with your legs spread wide in front of him…. naked. Both of you can see your tummy clenching as his fingertips trace light patterns on your skin, reaching closer to where you feel warm and wet at the same time. Eventually they trail away, not daring to go further.

The drunken state this put you in makes you bolder, and you take Jungsu’s hand, guiding it to your chest. This time you’re relieved to see he doesn’t hesitate to act on his desires.

“This makes things more interesting, right?” Your question comes out airy from the way he squeezes your breast through the lacy bra.

You both stare at each other for a moment, trying to figure out if you understand the question the same way.

Jungsu nods, moving the camera in the direction of his roaming hand which goes up your cleavage, your neck and stops at your lips. His thumb swipes them lightly to feel enough of their texture without messing up your lipstick.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.” Jungsu’s breathing turns uneven as your teeth graze his finger before he pulls it back.

He’s kneeling between your legs, so hypnotised by your pretty face that he’s memorised like the back of his hand, but yet, feels completely new to him right now, that he doesn’t notice when your hand starts to rub slow circles on your clit.

At this point he cannot do anything about the tent in his pants. His erection throbs and yearns while he films your lower body sat on the fuzzy blanket. After a moment of you touching yourself, the silence in the room grows intense from an obvious squelching sound - clear lewd noises begin to emerge from you, and not a minute later Jungsu notices that your folds are glistening.

“Jungsu,” a moan spills from your lips; one with his name, that makes even breathing a difficult task.

“Y/N… Shit, you’re so wet.” Jungsu utters, as he regains a better grip on his camera, although caring about the quality of the video is long neglected thanks to your arousal and the way you call his name.

For a moment he wonders if you’re asking him for something. If you’re provoking him. However, he quickly tunes back into his own reality again, - he’s a friend helping out a friend.

“Keep going, you look perfect.” His dreamy voice encourages your hand to move faster, reaching for your peak while simultaneously building up the bubbling pressure in his tummy too. “Your body is so perfect, you’re perfect…” Jungsu’s thoughts that have been clouding his mind from the start begin to burst out on their own.

Your body squirms the second you stop your fingers in one place to delay your orgasm. The camera records your overwhelmed panting, and each flinch of your muscles that anticipate the sweet burst of energy.

You observe your friend who seems just as excited as you, and your attention lowers to his crotch, or more specifically the big vivid bulge underneath the black denim.

“Is it true?” You lean closer, placing your hands on his thighs. “Do you really think I’m perfect?”

He doesn’t hesitate to say the truth, nor he needs time to think about his answer.

“In every possible way.”

You both recognise a new spark in each other’s eyes, one you’ve never exchanged before.

Jungsu’s brows knit together for a moment when you distance yourself back from him.

“Kiss me then.”

Jungsu leaves the camera on the floor not bothering to waste time by turning it off, and crawls on top of you. Your legs hug his hips while the rest of you easily gets used to the nice feeling of his weight pressing against you.

Your lips cannot separate from each other. You kiss deeply and sensually, making up for all these months you spent secretly fighting back against your own cravings. The pleasure flows even stronger through your veins, causing Jungsu to welcome each and every one of your small whimpers inside his mouth.

You break the moment to catch your breath when you get the idea to switch places.

You take a seat on Jungsu’s crotch after he relaxes on his back, attaching hands to your hips. The simple thrill from your weight suddenly on top of his erection shoots intensely through his core, and he groans before you even press against it properly.

You grind once, shutting your eyes closed at the immediate pleasure, then repeat the same move, watching Jungsu’s expression change in a euphoric state.

“Yeah,” Jungsu moans again, but louder, feeling his cock throb inside his clothes, “yeah, like that, baby.”

The friction coming from the rough denim fabric is so strong and effective, it provokes you into instantly speeding up your movements back and forth. The lucent slick spreads onto Jungsu’s clothed bulge, as you put in the effort to reach both of your peaks while rubbing your clit on the stiff shape. He is so immensely hard, that you don’t need to apply much force in your humping to heighten the stimulation. One normal swaying of your hips is just enough, but with each passing second Jungsu’s desperation becomes thinner.

“Fuck, gorgeous…” His hands drag higher on your waist, quickening the way you move on his cock. His fingers dig in your flesh emphasising his needs. “Faster—“

You listen to his pleading tone, and with palms underneath his t-shirt for support, you fasten the pace.

Jungsu’s hazed gaze trails up and down your mesmerising body after he lifts up on his elbows to appreciate the view better, especially the one of your breasts pushed together from the position of your arms.

The hitched pants and whimpers escaping your mouth melt into longer moans as you get dangerously closer to fall apart, but the burning exhaustion of your legs slows you down. Jungsu sits up, digging back into your lower half with his fingertips, not letting the sensation slip away.

You wrap an arm around his broad shoulders, as he helps you ride out your high. His open mouth covers your neck with kisses while you shake on top of him, pressed down as hard as possible by his strong grip. Your voice cracks in the middle of your orgasm that muddles your mind, but not enough to not realise Jungsu cums at the same time as you.

“Aah, f-fuck, ‘m gonna—“ his weakened voice is lost, muffled in the crook of your neck, but it still rings so captivating in your mind, clearing out everything except the thought of him.

Your fingers tug tightly at his shirt as your arms stay around him. You listen to his elevated moan; how it becomes less heavy till all that’s left from it is just panting from relief which warms up your already sweating skin.

While the warm release soaks his underwear, Jungsu slows down the motion of your hips, slightly bucking up his own, as his climax washes off.

You stay in each other’s embrace for a while; the only thing filling the silence is the sound of your own heartbeat till Jungsu whispers in your ear.

“I want to see you.”

His hands leave your body, so you can lay down, allowing him to take a nice look between your legs. The sight of your intimate lips is even more arousing with your skin coloured in light red from the fabric of his jeans; your entrance clenching around air, begging to feel him inside.

You humm from delight when Jungsu pushes half of his middle finger in, gliding through your walls with ease from so much slickness. His ring finger goes in next, stretching you out in the most pleasant way. It feels soothing, laying like that on the floor while he freely moves his digits so slowly like he has all the time in the world. You don’t even realise the camera is back in his hand until he speaks out.

“This is just for me.” He says, meaning the footage of the way you’re squeezing around his slick fingertips.

As time passed, the sunlight sneaking through the window turns much more subtle, and now it invites new shadows to fall over your silhouette, making it even more seductive and addictive for the eyes.

“It’s all for you,” you say back.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

#xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdh smut #xh hard hours #jungsu smut #jungsu hard thoughts #jungsu x reader #xdinary heroes x reader

[lilyrizzy]

continuation of my outsider pov fic i wrote a million years ago. maybe someone will enjoy! cw: medical drama

When Sophie comes back to the waiting room, Daniel is still sleeping. He’s not wearing the Red Bull Racing t-shirt anymore, her son’s she’s since realized, and has instead replaced it with a non-descript grey jumper. Only the oversized sweatpants have stayed, his top long enough to cover the tiny 33 stitched into the pocket.

Arms folded tightly over his chest, there’s a frown creasing his brow that gives away the tension that must be holding his body tight, even as he sleeps. The strange white-blue light from the vending machine opposite bathes his face, making him look more tired than he did earlier in the soft orange glow of Max’s kitchen. Their kitchen.  

It adds to the guilt twisting itself up into knots inside her stomach, the thought of waking him up, but he’s twitching, uncomfortable, and she wants somebody to talk to.

It’s late. Victoria is on a plane.

“Daniel,” she says, touching his shoulder as gently as she can. It’s enough to have him jerking awake anyway, eyes darting around the room before landing on her face. There’s a moment, a flicker of confusion, then-

“Max?” He asks, his voice cracked down the middle with sleep-tinged terror, and- “is he-”

“There is no change Daniel,” Sophie assures him quickly, “we are still waiting for him to wake up.” Then, because he’ll want to know, “the doctor has been though.”

His expression clouds, the sky before a thunderstorm.

“You should have woken me up,” is all he says, but she can hear the words he doesn’t speak.

I deserve to be involved.

Gone is the man who just hours earlier stayed home in Max’s clothes. Since being in the hospital it’s been all vicious demands for information, for medicines, for miracles. As though proximity and looking through the window into the hospital room they aren’t allowed to enter yet reminded him of his rightful place in Max’s life.

That, or fear.

“I- I thought you would like to sleep,” She tries, but it’s only a half-truth. Max is her baby, and she is not used to sharing him with anybody but his father, who has already flown home to his new wife, his two new babies.

She expects more of a fight, but Daniel eventually just nods, shoves his thumbnail into his mouth and starts to chew at it’s edges.

“Right, yeah, of course- Sorry,” he mumbles around it, eyes glancing between the door, the clock and the floor.

Standing over him, for a moment she feels lost. Uncertain of what to do, what to say.

“I brought you some food though,” she settles on, remembering what made her wander away from the room in the first place. She takes the two prepackaged sandwiched out from under her arm where she’s been squashing them. “You should eat something,” she adds in what Victoria calls her mother-knows-best tone when Daniel just stares at her. “I did not know what you would like, but I thought everyone likes cheese, yes?”

She holds it out to him, and to her surprise, that gets him to smile. Awkwardly, hand touching the back of his neck.

“Actually, um- I’m lactose intolerant,” he says like an apology with a shrug.

Of course.

“Oh.” Then holding out the other packet instead, “here. I have this one, also. Roast chicken.”

Something flickers over Daniel’s face, and for a moment she’s worried he’s about to tell her he’s a fucking vegetarian, when she realises it’s softness. The deep lines of his worry momentarily smoothing.

“This is great, Sophie,” he promises softly, taking it from her outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

She takes a seat beside him in the plastic chair, feels every uncomfortable ridge of it press into her skin. A constant, aching reminder of where she is and why. An inescapable reality. Daniel opens his sandwich, but the lead weight in her stomach makes her a hypocrite, makes her put hers down on the empty chair besides her.

There’s no one else around, it's long past visiting hours. She tries not to think about what that must mean, that they’ve let them stay sat in this purgatory. That no one has told them, ‘go home, there won’t be any change.’ There could be change, and they both know it could go either way.

There’s nothing. No nurses, no doctors, no priest in the hospital chapel. She already checked. Just the ticking of the clock above both their heads, driving her insane.

“Before you said, 6 years,” she plucks from the silence to stop it choking her. Beside her, she feels Daniel tense. “That is a long time.”

He takes a bite of food and chews for a long time in favour of answering.

“Yeah. It is,” is all she gets once he’s swallowed. She nods, turning her body towards him, to try to get him to meet her eye.

“And you are- You are happy together, yes?”

This time there is no hesitation.

“Yes.” As though it could be anything other than the truth.

He still won’t look at her though, staring instead at the crusts of the bread.

“Even- Even though you race each other?” She pushes, because even an argument right now would be better than silence. Would help each of them to feel less alone, give them somewhere to lay down a little of the hurt.

For a moment, Sophie thinks he isn’t going to answer. Then, Daniel dumps his food onto the chair next to him too and finally turns to face her.

“Look, it’s- It hasn’t been all smooth sailing, I won’t lie to you,” Daniel allows, after another beat. His eyes search her face, as though looking for permission to go on. She nods again, but doesn’t speak. “This, ah, this season hasn’t been great for me. It might be my last, but Max, he- He helps. He calls me on my bullshit when I need it, he- Well I would be a lot less happy without him.”

He cringes then, like he’s worried he’s said too much, then continues quickly, almost defensively-

“But I look after him too, I do. I do a good job of making him happy too, I-"

Shaking his head, he breaks off before lifting his hands to bury his face into his palms.

I look after him too, Sophie turns over in her brain, and isn’t that all she ever wanted for Max? How badly has she failed for him to question that enough to feel he needed to hide from her.

Whatever she was looking for, she hasn’t found it in making Daniel look defeatedly back at the floor.

“I am sure you do,” she promises, though there is a mountain of undeniable evidence against her having any idea. She reaches to touch his shoulder, tentative. “Max is not somebody to do anything he does not want to. I think you would not have lasted 6 months if you did not. 6 years, is- “

It’s a lifetime, when you are twenty. She knows people who have married, separated and divorced in less time.

“I’m glad he got to have that,” she finishes, words forced past the tightness of her throat, “if- I’m glad.”

Daniel's head snaps back around to look at her. For a moment, his face goes perfectly still, before awful realization crests over it.

“Incase-“ She tries, but she doesn’t get another word out. Daniel is jumping to his feet, coming to crouch in front of her. Hands on her knees he looks up at her shaking his head.

“No, no, no,” he says, firmer than she’s heard him be before now, “Sophie, no. None of that okay, I cant- I can’t hear that right now. Max is going to be fine.”

The taste of salt at the corner of her mouth surprises her. She’s crying. When she speaks again, shaking her head too, her voice is cracked.

“But-“

“He’s going to be fine,” Daniel interrupts, and she doesn’t know who he is trying to convince more. “In a couple of hours they’re going to take us to his room, and- And he’s going to laugh at us for being so worried, okay?”

She rubs her fingertips over her eyes, smearing her tears across her face. All she wants is Daniel’s words to be true. It’s all she wants in the world.

“You do not know what,” she says because it’s what makes him seem so cruel to her right now. How can he promise a mother that her baby will be fine when he knows nothing more than she does?

But when he hangs his head, hand still clutching her kneecaps, she feels guilty for trying to take his hope from him.

“I love him,” he tells the tiled hospital floor. “He has to be okay, Sophie, I- I love him.”

#urgh idkkkkkk #if this is okay or not but #posting anyway #fic #max/daniel #happy ending to come...i promise...

[calaisreno]

Trying It Out

May 20 Prompt: Experiment

“What are you wearing?” Sherlock looks up from his experiment, distracted. Something John is doing has broken the order of his disciplined mind. 

John frowns. “Erm, clothes?”

Sherlock stands, approaches John like a specimen. He sniffs. “You’re wearing cologne.”

“Yes. Occasionally I do wear fragrance.”

This is a new one. It’s lighter, fresher. Not the rubbish he ordinarily wears when he’s—

“You have a date.”

“Oh, yes. I might, that is. Going out in a bit.”

“But I thought— you broke up with… the last one. The one with the hair.”

John laughs. “They all have hair, Sherlock. I don’t recall dating any bald—”

“The one with the Hair. Big Hair. Uncontrollably Big Hair.”

“You mean Sylvia. It wasn’t that big, you berk. Just a bit retro, with the teasing.”

“Teasing?”

“What people do when they want their hair to look bigger. You take a comb, and you—”

“What have you done with your hair?”

“My hair?” John is blushing, a clue that things are not as they should be. “I just… had it highlighted. A bit. I mean, why not? Women don’t have a monopoly on—”

Gently, he lays his hand on John’s head. “Product. You never use product.”

John looks annoyed now. “If you’re done examining the crime scene, I’m going out.” 

Alone, Sherlock contemplates what sort of woman could make John put product in his hair. And wear a fragrance that doesn’t smell like something his father would wear. He can draw no conclusions.

He continues his investigation, undeterred by his lack of success. John Watson is a tough case, but he has no doubt that he will solve him.

John hasn’t worn a jumper in days. He’s grown a small goatee, and then shaved it off. He’s joined a gym, lost five pounds. 

At this moment, he’s wearing a pink shirt. Nothing bright, just a dusty pink, touchable-looking shirt, well-fitted to his torso. 

“Nice shirt,” he ventures. 

“Thanks.” John blushes again, almost as pink as his shirt. He’s disturbed, perhaps, because if Sherlock ever says anything about what John is wearing, it’s to suggest that he burn whatever jumper he’s wearing. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with John Watson? Sherlock’s flatmate dresses like an old man: check shirts, cuddly jumpers, trousers that sag a bit in the bum. Always in colours like beige, tan, brown, grey, and occasionally blue or green. He never wears pink. 

“It’s a good colour on you.”

John smiles awkwardly and walks away. The seat of his jeans is not sagging. John has a rather nice arse, he thinks. 

Several evenings each week John goes out, always around nine. He looks a bit different each time. Once he spiked his hair. He’s worn different colognes, shirts that have miraculously appeared from somewhere. Certainly not the usual shops where John buys new khakis and ugly jumpers whenever Sherlock has spilled acid on the old ones or used them in an experiment. These shirts and trousers are more expensive, much nicer than anything he normally wears.

And Sherlock deduces: John is dating a man. 

The realisation socks him in the gut, takes all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart sink. 

Once, many months ago, John tried to flirt with Sherlock. Across a table at Angelo’s, he asked if Sherlock had a boyfriend. And he said he was unattached. Sherlock’s reaction to this was half-panic, half-disdain. Sherlock Holmes was married to his work. He didn’t have what other people have— girlfriends, boyfriends, people he went places with. 

He had John, who dated women. John, who wore lumpy jumpers and trousers that sagged, and walked like that. John, who could never get a woman to go out with him more than twice. John, who would never leave Sherlock. 

And now? John might have a boyfriend. And it’s not Sherlock, as it should have been. 

Lestrade looks like he’s itching for a cigarette. Anderson looks bored. Donovan is smirking at John, who is— checking out Lestrade’s arse?

Before Sherlock can process this, John is turning to the other cop on the scene, the one who found the body. He’s tall, darkly handsome, and obviously flirting with John. 

And John is not frowning. He’s smiling, giving him that charming look he often gives Sherlock when he’s done something unusually brilliant. That look is for Sherlock, and John’s giving it to this tall, handsome idiot! 

“Come along, John,” he says, swirling his coat impatiently and raising his hand for a cab.

John comes along.

It’s ten in the evening, about the time when John usually starts yawning and washing the tea mugs, making sounds like he’s going to bed. 

Not tonight. John is wearing a fitted black shirt and a pair of jeans that show off a number of things that Sherlock is dying to see without that layer of denim. His highlighted hair is carefully tousled, making Sherlock’s fingers itch to touch it. 

“Where are you off to?” The fact that Sherlock hardly ever asks where John is going off to means that he’s giving John an awfully big clue that he cares where John goes off to late in the evening, returning in the wee hours smelling of other mens’s cologne. 

“Just meeting some friends,” John says. 

It’s true. John has friends— unlike Sherlock, who has just one. 

“Wanna come with me?”

Sherlock looks up, startled. John has never invited Sherlock along for pub night, or watching the footy with the blokes, or meeting up with old army buddies. 

“Me?”

John smiles. “Sure. I’d like you to meet my friends.”

It’s a gay bar, as Sherlock suspected, a rather nice, upscale place. He’s actually been here before, for a case. 

“John!” The man who is calling out and motioning them over to a table is the very man of Sherlock’s nightmares. Tall and handsome, he has dark, curly hair and blue eyes. He’s grinning at John and as soon as they’re within an arm’s length, he pulls John into a hug. 

He has a companion as well, a man who is shorter, with reddish-blond hair. 

“Sherlock, meet Alex and Dustin.”

“Finally!” the taller one exclaims. “We’ve been dying to meet the boyfriend!”

Instead of declaring that he’s not gay, and that Sherlock is not his boyfriend, John smiles sheepishly at Sherlock. “Alex works in retail, men’s clothing. I met him when I decided to upgrade my wardrobe. Dustin is his boyfriend.”

And instead of denying that John is his boyfriend, Sherlock slips an arm around him. Smiling at Alex, he says, “You’ve worked an absolute miracle on his man. Thanks to you, I no longer have to resort to spilling acid on his ugly jumpers.”

John laughs. “Oi! You leave my ugly jumpers alone, you git!” 

“A pleasant evening.” Sherlock studies John’s face as they walk home. “So.”

John ducks his head, smiling. “So.”

“An experiment?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t been totally clear with you. I’m not gay. I’m bi, and I decided it was time to explore that side of me, learn to live with it. I told Alex I wanted to impress you, the poshest man on the planet, so he picked out things for me to try.”

Sherlock stops walking, takes John in his arms. “And you told him… I’m your boyfriend?”

“Well, I’d like to be. Maybe we could consider it an experiment?”

“Hm. It might be good to collect some data.” He leans down, kisses John. “I’m fairly sure, though, that I can predict the results.”

“Me, too,” John says, rising up for another kiss. 

Flash Fiction / 1264 words

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear

#flashfiction #johnlock #bbc sherlock #may 2023 prompts

[smooth-perceval]

do you write for MOTOGP? If you do can you write maybe some smut for Fabio Quatararo? If not just some fluff

A/N: I literally just re-made my Masterlist to add MotoGP in for you. And I so don’t regret it 😌

“I’ve missed having you”

Fabio Quatararo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Fabio are walking on eggshells around each other, reader finally speaks to him which ignites something in them both.

Warning: UNDER 18’s DON’T INTERACT!!, smuttish scenes? Somewhat…- swearing, maybe some tears? fluff!! Google translate- my bad writing…

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (Your last name)

Word count: 1,227

A/N: this is my first time with “smut” not exactly smut but you know- I wouldn’t say this is smut- but there is still some ‘scenes’ , erm yeah kinda want me some Quatararo.

When did our relationship get so tense? I would say around the last few weeks of the championship, he was trying to get his points back- and hopefully make the last race his championship secured…

Yet during this time- his been so concentrated on winning I feel like his been loosing me… and it’s horrible to say but it’s true, I follow him around like a lost puppy most days- a silent supporter in the waves of people.

I missed him, even when he was just at arms reach, we barely spoke. Half the time I got a quick kiss on the cheek purely for cameras sake… he barely went near me behind close doors- unless he was asleep and I am then able to tuck myself under his arm- but when I wake his back is always facing me.

Most nights I would sleep before he even came to bed, and them nights I would cry myself to sleep- because I only wondered was there something I’m doing wrong… or was there someone else? Was I maybe not good enough anymore? And his now realising he can do way better… this feeling sucked.

Was he trying to push me away, so that when he does leave me it wouldn’t hurt so much? Because right now this shit pains me. I rather he just rip the band aid off on the first place honestly.

I let Fabio have his space- this weekend finally being the last race of the season, he had stopped using his socials to concentrate on this last race… and stopped speaking to me in general really.

Truthfully, I wanted to pack up and go home… but no I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Tom asked a few times what’s going on- but I had no answer to give I was silently praying he would have something for me, but neither of us knew.

Our relationship was well and truly dead I would say… this weird feeling like maybe he doesn’t love me anymore? It’s easier for some more than lovers to fall out of love- I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.

—

He tried his best, he really did. You could see the defeat on his face, and when he entered the garage, got his helmet off he broke down… and I just stood there watching, my heart went out to him.

My heart said to grab ahold of him… my mind said- if he needs you he will reach out. And so I listened to my mind… I waited for him to reach out.

My eyes were brimming with tears also, he deserved to win so much… but if it wasn’t meant to be, then it wasn’t meant to be… a bit like us really- I kind of came to terms with that.

Leaning over I switched the TV off nearby, I like and respect the other riders, but right now- seeing someone getting the cheers Fabio wanted so bad- hurt me also. I thought it would save us all the world of good and not watch.

Outside the garage we could hear the cheers still, but that was better than seeing it. Looking back down at Fabio, my heart fluttered slightly, as he was already looking up at me. Eyes red, lips somewhat swollen and cheeks flushed. Even now he look so effortlessly handsome.

My breath hitched when his hands found my waist, pulling me in and resting his head against my stomach… and as a natural instinct my fingers ran through his hair. This was the most affection I had gotten out of him in over a month, and boy did it feel nice. I was bathing in it- this gave me that little bit of hope that our relationship wasn’t falling apart at our feet.

“Pecco is coming back in- you should go and congratulate him-” I felt him sigh against me through my shirt, before he stood up, our chest just touching. Sympathetic as always, I brung my hands to his cheeks wiping away the stray tears before moving aside. And for the first time in a while he offered a small smile before heading out the team garage.

“Maybe he will talk now-” rubbing my shoulder Tom got up also. “You both need some time to reconnect.” Smiling he then nudged my shoulder leaving me be.

—

The night was young so they say, but for me and Fabio we were well and truly fucked- well I still had some energy left- Fabio however he was beyond exhausted. And for the first time in a few weeks we actually went to bed at the same time…

We both laid in silence- frightened to talk to one another. Swallowing the little bit of nerves I had, clearing my throat I found the courage to speak up.

“How you feeling?”

“I don’t even know how to answer that question.” Whispering back, his hand slid across the bed taking ahold of mine. And then I knew- my emotions were not going to hold in for long-

“I’ve missed having you…” letting out a shaky breath afterwards, my heart felt heavy.

“bébé… you’ve always got me…” (baby) his body then moved closer on the bed, he was at hands reach- I felt his body warmth slowly start surrounding me.

“It felt like I lost you-”

“Never, you’re stuck with me unfortunately.” I could hear the smile in his voice- even though I couldn’t see him in this dark room.

“I thought maybe you had lost interest in me…” it was now my turn to move closer- this time our chests finally touching.

“Oh, ma jolie fille.” (My pretty girl) and finally his lips pressed against mine- it was something I didn’t realise I needed so badly. Like his kiss sealed the fact that I was being delusional- I had not a worry when it came to our relationship.

So my only question would be.

“Are you sure you’re okay?…” whispering against his lips, I pulled back slightly…

“I will be.” And then he leaned back in connecting us once again. This kiss now saying everything we both needed to each other this past month.

Like a switch something was ignited in us both, his innocent kissed turned more hungry, making their way down my neck, biting down on the spot he knows so well. And without any control a low moan escapes my lips- causing me to bite down on my bottom lip suppressing anything else that dared to be voiced.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you moan in over a month-” his breathing become ragged- as if that alone was enough for him.

“You sound like a song.” He shuffled his body now hovering over the top of me, settling himself between my legs. My body ached for him- his hands gripped my thighs, and pulled me down the bed and against him, then toying with my/his top, sliding it up and exposing my stomach.

“A song I want on repeat.”

And as he moved down, my shorts followed along with him… humming to his words, my hands found his hair, running through before gripping ahold- catching his attention.

“Show me why they call you El Diablo.” I squirmed under his touch, my body getting hotter by the second.

“How about you moan it ma belle.” (My pretty)

Masterlist

#imagine #fabio quartararo #Fabio quartararo x reader #motogp imagine #Fabio x reader #Fabio x you #Fabio Quatararo x you #fabio Quatararo imagine #motogp x reader

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 3: inevitable

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 3.5k

chapter warnings: arguing, implied that reader doesn't have a good relationship with her family

a/n: this is the first chapter with mixed pov! time to see some things from chan's perspective :)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

The first time that you had watched Channie's Room in person, it was an accident. You had had dinner with Chan and lost track of time until a reminder had popped up on his phone. You had started cleaning up all your things when he had shyly suggested that you stay and watch. Technically, Chan doesn’t need any staff with him as he does Channie’s Room, but occasionally if they were being done in his studio then someone would sit in. After so many episodes, he’s trusted enough to know what he can and can’t do on stream and he doesn’t require any technical support. 

It was fun for you, watching him interact with Stays and enjoy music. These streams were fanservice, but you knew Chan well enough by now to be able to tell that he was genuinely enjoying himself. After his customary sign-off and making sure that the stream was actually over, he had turned to you and asked what you thought. You had told the truth, that you liked being able to see this side of him, and that since he was clearly enjoying himself, you enjoyed watching too. It was different to be in-person and you had to make sure that you didn’t laugh at any of Chan’s reactions or the comments that were sent in, especially when he read out a few cheesy pick up lines and quickly glanced over to where you sat.

You weren’t sure if your presence made a difference for him- he had only looked at you a couple times during the stream- so you figured that it’d be a one time thing. But the next week when you were at your desk, you got a text.

[8:14pm - received]

Hey Y/n

I’m planning on doing Channie’s Room in 15 min

[8:14pm - sent]

okay! Have fun :)

[8:15pm - received]

Want to come watch? No pressure if you’re busy though haha

[8:15 - sent]

Oh! Sure, I’ll be down in a second!!

It had gone about the same as the first time. You didn’t say anything and he didn’t acknowledge you during the hour and a half that he was live for. Still, every week you would get a text and every week you find yourself in a chair in the corner of his studio, carefully out of sight from the camera.

—

This Sunday is similar to every other, you have the stream pulled up on your phone with the sound turned off, watching as the comments fly past. He’s eating dinner, even though it’s well past the time that you would consider to be acceptable for dinner. You catch yourself smiling at how excited he is for each bite and have to school your expression in case he happens to look over.

A notification pops up overtop of the video and you freeze. 

You come back to yourself when Chan calls out your name. When you blink, you’re still looking at your phone, but the video is blank. The stream is over and you didn’t even realise.

“Y/n, is everything okay?”

“Oh nothing, just saw a weird comment and it caught me off guard,” you laugh.

“What did it say?” Chan asks, instantly concerned.

“Nothing, it’s not important. It wasn’t even anything, I promise.” 

And really, it’re true. It was just a text with a date and time. After all, how could you say that it was a text from your eomoni that caused such a strong reaction? It would just lead to more and more questions and you’s not in the mood to deal with that. You know you'll have to bring up your family with Chan eventually, but you don’t know how he’ll react and you don’t know what you’d say anyway.

For now, you paste on a smile and promise that you’ll tell him tomorrow when the time is right.

—

A couple weeks later, it was a rare evening that all the members plus yourself were available to have dinner at the dorms. Minho had taken advantage of an afternoon free of schedules and used the time to prepare a feast of bossam, kimchi jjigae, dubu jorim, as well as a spread of banchan.

Eventually the topic shifts from work related to the upcoming time off they had for Chuseok. They go around the table, sharing their plans, even though everybody knew what to expect. You had talked to most of the boys beforehand and knew they were going to visit their families, while Chan and Felix were keeping each other company at the dorms. By extension, that meant you were also going to be staying at the dorms, something you were more than happy to do.

When the conversation makes it around to you, you are somewhat preoccupied with scooping some more rice and tofu into your bowl. Felix playfully nudges both you and Chan while asking, “Any special plans, you two?”

“Nothing,” Chan replies at the exact same time that you grimace and say, “dinner with my family.”

The whole table stills as the boys look between the two of you and Chan noticeably stiffens. They've never heard the conversations you've had with Chan about meeting your parents, but the lack of information you've shared with them is likely telling enough.

You determinedly mash together everything in your bowl, trying to ignore the stares from everyone and the way your cheeks are heating up.

"We celebrate Chuseok together every year. I'm- I'm required to attend," you mutter into your food.

"That sounds nice. You don't see them often, right?" Felix says cautiously, breaking the tense silence that has settled over the table.

"I-" Before you can finish, Chan abruptly stands up, pushing his chair away from the table. He heads straight toward the door, slinging a coat over his shoulders and shoving his feet into shoes.

"I'm going to the studio." Is the only explanation he gives before the door is swinging shut behind him.

Your knuckles turn white around the handle of your spoon. The braised tofu in your bowl has been turned to paste and though it smelled good a few minutes ago, your appetite has vanished. 

You knew that your Chuseok plans would eventually have to be brought up, but you had been dreading it. Even if you had never mentioned anything, it sat as a heavy weight on your shoulders for the past few days. You had spent hours trying to think of the right things to say, but had never built up the courage to talk to him. You knew he really valued family connections in a way that you never would. Chan's curiosity about your family paired with his close relationship with his own had left a bitter taste in your mouth that prevented you from speaking up any time the two of you were alone. You had hoped that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

You definitely regretted it now. Practically anything would have been better than him finding out in front of the rest of the members because you had absent-mindedly spoken.

You close your eyes for a second before also rising from the table.

"I'll go after him," you say breathlessly. "I'm sorry for… that. I should have talked to him before. I- I'm sorry. Thank you for dinner, Minho-ssi. Sorry."

You bow quickly to avoid making eye contact with anybody and quickly gather your bowl and utensils. Chan had left his phone on the table in his rush to leave, so you grab that too and pocket it. Once you put everything down on the counter, you stand over the sink and massage your forehead. You really didn't want to have to talk to Chan, but knew he was like you and would be stuck in his head if left alone for too long. 

You can hear the boys starting to talk to each other in low voices and that is enough for you to force yourself towards the door.

—

When you finally make it to Chan's studio and inch open the door, he's already on his laptop with his headphones on. Either he doesn't notice your entry or is trying to ignore it, but he's not actively working on anything, just staring blankly at an unfinished track.

When you say his name, he startles and jerks his arm, making his cursor skitter across his computer screen.

He half pulls off his headphones while turning towards you, but pauses when he recognizes who's at the door.

"I'm sorry," you say immediately, stepping further into the room. "I-"

"I don't want to talk right now." Chan cuts you off, shaking his head and turning back to his laptop to continue glaring at the track he has open.

You don't know what to do, so you edge back towards the exit. You're just reaching for the handle when he calls out.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He's still not looking at you, fists clenched and his whole body tense. "Or was I just supposed to find out on the day of the dinner?"

"I was!" you say defensively. "Of course I was going to tell you! I've been meaning to for days, just haven't… haven't gotten around to it."

Chan swivels around and impatiently gestures towards his couch and you quickly take a seat, acutely aware that this puts you directly in front of him. 

"Just tell me? No invitation? Not even going to give me a choice to say if I want to go?" he presses. You shrink into yourself as he continues on, not even giving you time to respond. "I introduced you to my family, even though they're in Australia. You met my sister in person! I don’t know a thing about your family other than that you have one. Do your parents even know about me?"

"They know," you say in a small voice, but don’t elaborate further. Chan doesn't look satisfied by your response, frustratedly running a hand through his hair. He blows out an angry breath and his posture suddenly deflates.

"I just- I don't get it. Is it me? Are you embarrassed to introduce me to your parents?" Chan asks, sounding defeated.

"It's not you-" 

"I just don’t understand. Is it because- I know that being an idol is unconventional, but-"

“No, it’s not that,” you interrupt before he can spiral further. 

“Then… why?”

"It's not- Chan-oppa, there's nothing wrong with you. Or you being an idol. You're fine. You're perfect. It's me," you say miserably, voice hoarse, "I just, I didn't- I don’t want you to have to see the kind of person I am when I'm with them. I don't like how I am, who I am when I'm around my family."

You bury your face into your hands and swallow hard to try and remove the lump that has formed in your throat. When Chan settles beside you on the couch and wraps an arm around your shoulders, you soften, both at his presence and the warm buzz of the charge.

"I'm sorry," he says gently. "I shouldn't have pushed so much."

"No, I should have told you," you reply, voice muffled by your hands. "I knew I had to tell you."

His hands enclose around your wrists and carefully pry them away from your face. When you open your eyes, you see that he has leaned forwards to try to look at you better. 

“I just want to get to know you better. I want to get to know your family, your background. Please, let me in.” He looks so young like this, earnestly looking at you.

In response, you tip forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Although you normally avoid skinship like this, especially at the company, anything was better than seeing his concerned but confused expression. You want to tell him everything, but how can you explain the twisted and complicated relationship that you have with your family? What words could describe the facade that you have created to pretend you're not affected by their disappointment?

"I promise, I'll tell you everything eventually. I just need some more time, okay?" you ask hesitantly. Chan agrees immediately. "I want to talk to the boys too. I know they must also have questions. Can we? Have a meeting tonight?"

—

Y/n decides that she wants to tell the group all at once to avoid having to repeat herself and Chan is secretly relieved. It’s not that he doesn’t like one-on-one conversations, but he hopes that the rambunctious nature of the other members lightens the mood. He’s looking forward to getting any information he can about Y/n’s family, his not-so-subtle attempts to learn even a little bit about them have been fruitless thus far.

As Chan and Y/n make their way back to the dorms, he texts the group chat to gather in the living room. By the time they make it back, everyone has crammed themselves on the couches, leaving an empty space on the loveseat for the two of them.

Y/n takes a deep breath to steady herself.

When she says her parents’ names, Chan doesn't recognize either, but Changbin's head immediately shoots up and he lets out an "Oh shh-" that's quickly cut off by a well placed elbow of Minho. Y/n makes a face at that.

"Yeah," she says, clearly unsurprised by Changbin's reaction, but resigned. On the other side of Minho, Jisung speaks up.

"I don't get it, is he famous?" He also receives an elbow to the stomach, to which he whines, "Hyunggg, that hurt!"

“Be sensitive.” Minho scolds. Y/n laughs at that, but there’s no humour in the sound.

“No, it’s okay. I get that you guys are curious,” she says. “My parents aren’t famous, but they are well known in some circles. You guys know the hospital that Hyunjin goes to for check-ups of his hand?”

Everyone nods at that. Even Felix is familiar with that hospital, as he’s gotten treatment there when he injured his back. Chan himself has visited a few times regarding various injuries or procedures. The hospital is large, fairly new, but most importantly, has a reputation for being discrete. It’s definitely a favourite for idols who don’t want to take the chance and be photographed or have personal information shared.

“Your parents are doctors?” Seungmin prompts.

“My abeoji is. My brother too,” Y/n confirms. “But he also… My abeoji owns the hospital.” She looks down at her hands as she says it, as if scared to see what the reactions of everyone will be. Chan feels like his brain is short circuiting and can't get himself to do anything but stare. 

"Noona, does that mean you're loaded?" Jisung asks, eyes wide. Minho immediately turns on him, but Y/n shocks them all by laughing loudly at that.

"I wouldn't say I'm loaded. My parents definitely are though."

“That’s awesome! What’s wrong with that then?”

“Well, you know how Asian parents are. They had certain expectations for me, for my future that I didn’t meet. They didn’t exactly approve of me deciding to go into the entertainment industry, so we’re… not close. I see them twice a year, Seollal and Chuseok.”

Chan can sympathise with that, although his parents have always been supportive of him, even when he was a trainee and they were worried or didn’t understand why he never gave up, a lot of families weren’t the same. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Felix says. He stands and pulls Y/n into a tight hug, which she melts into. It soon becomes a group huddle as everyone joins in, surrounding Y/n in love.

“We’ll be your family, Y/n,” Chan promises, and everyone else murmurs their agreement. He pretends not to see the tears that gather in the corners of Y/n’s eyes.

—

A couple days after Y/n’s announcement, Changbin knocks on Chan's studio door.

"Hey," he says when Chan rolls over on his chair and opens the door. "Just wanted to talk to you about Chuseok."

"Okay," Chan says slowly.  "What about it?"

“Are you going to Y/n’s family dinner?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

"What are you planning to wear?" Changbin asks bluntly.

"Uhh." Even though Chuseok has basically sat in the back of Chan’s mind for the past few days, haunting him every time he has two seconds to think, he hadn’t even considered that aspect of it. He’s been too occupied worrying constantly about not knowing what to expect and yet not wanting to talk to Y/n about it. "I don't know, something nice?"

"Yeah, you have about 10 outfits, all of them are black, and almost half of them are hoodies. Do you know what Y/n is wearing?" Chan grimaces at that.

"I didn't even know that she was going until a few days ago man, of course I don't know what she's wearing."

"Listen, hyung. Her family… I don't know them personally, but I think you need to either talk to her about it or make arrangements to borrow clothes from a stylist."

"Borrow clothes from a stylist?" Chan laughs incredulously. "Can't I just buy something myself?"

"I mean you can do whatever you want," Changbin says, putting his hands up in surrender. "Be my guest to buy designer brand formal wear that I'm pretty sure you'll only wear once since you'll have to have something else for the next time you see them."

“Designer formal wear?” Chan repeats. “What am I, going to a wedding? This is a dinner with just her immediate family, do you really think they would care that much?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I just think that they’d be the type to really value appearances. Clothing is one part of that. Just… Talk to Y/n, okay? I want things to go well for you and I know that you want to make a good first impression.”

“I- okay,” Chan acquiesces. He trusts that Changbin’s just coming from a good place even though he dreads having to talk to Y/n about this. “I’ll bring it up.”

—

A week before Chuseok, Y/n knocks on their bedroom door while Chan’s trying to work at his desk. By the time he’s taken off his headphones and has started standing, she’s managed to get the door open and enters. Even after his conversation with Changbin, Chan still hasn’t been able to broach the topic of Chuseok with Y/n again, even though it’s been occupying his mind an increasing amount. He feels a rush of relief when he sees that she’s carrying two garment bags, lifted above her head to prevent them from dragging on the ground.

“This is for you,” she says, thrusting the larger of the bags in Chan’s direction. He peels it open carefully to find a black suit with golden details embroidered into it. The jacket is more traditional, the design is clearly a modern version of a hanbok, and the fabric of all the pieces look luxuriously thick. Without even trying it on, he can tell that the outfit has been tailored to his dimensions. It’s beautiful.

“Is this for-”

“Chuseok? Yes. My eomoni is… particular about what people wear. You’ll look good in this.” Y/n assures him.

“What are you wearing?” he asks, curious about the second bag that Y/n had hung up while he was inspecting his.

“You’ll find out later. Don’t worry, I won’t be outshining you.” she replies playfully.

“Hey!” Chan laughs. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, it’s just fun to tease.”

Chan carefully places the clothes back into the garment bag and zips it up to hang in his closet. He’s dealt with his fair share of expensive clothes, most of which have to be treated with extreme caution as they have to be returned at the end of the day, but this feels different. Not only is it now his to keep, but it’s also one of the first gifts that he’s exchanged with Y/n, giving it special significance.

He knows this gift is more than just clothes. It also represents Y/n opening up, letting him into this side of her life that she’s kept to herself for so long.

“Y/n,” he says, waiting until she makes eye contact. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” she says, cheeks pinkening. She looks down at the ground. “It’s the least I can do, you’re going to have to put up with my family for an evening.”

Chan doesn’t know what to make of finally meeting them, Y/n’s mentions of them have been sporadic and cryptic at best. He’s desperate to learn more about her and he knows that her family, although distant now, likely played a key role in the way that you conduct yourself. But over time, and especially these past few days, he’s growing more wary of what he might learn. He just can’t understand how someone as kind, soft, and thoughtful as Y/n could have such a stilted relationship with her family.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

#tenderness #tenderness by chahnniesroom #chahnniesroom #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz fic #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x female reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan angst #chan x reader #chan x y/n #chan x female reader #chan x you #chan fic #bangchan x reader #bangchan x y/n #chan angst

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Two

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Thorned

Metal. Hatching out from soft, fragile skin, splintering out like daggers from a suit of armour.

Raya breathes loudly, silently staring at her own hands. Watching it metamorphosise. In real time.

Blood trickles across her skin from each birthing of steel, pain consuming her body in constant throbs of torture. She says nothing, does nothing, but stare at it happening in paralysed fear.

“Go get my kit, Bepo,” Law bites out, his knees messily grounding into the sand. He darkly takes in Raya’s condition, eyes flickering across her skin in thought, his head subtly tilting towards the other doctor. “Chopper, your drug – what does it consist of?”

Luffy, drawn to the commotion, widens his eyes in admiration as he stares at the silver peeking through skin. “Woah, what are those on your hands, Swords? Is that a new weapon?”

“No, it’s not,” Law spits out, shooting Luffy daggers with his eyes. He immediately looks down to the reindeer. “What did you use?”

“Atropine and Mink salve,” Chopper alertly responds to Law, as he, too, sits before Raya. His hoofs gently take in Raya’s palms, frowning intensely. “Did you take your dose today, Raya?”

Luffy frowns at his response, realisation slowly dawning in on him of the severity of the scene before him.

“Raya… are you okay?” Luffy asks – in a much quieter voice this time – as he stumbles his way towards her.

“Um,” Raya swallows, her voice trembling. Her eyes flicker to Zoro, who doesn’t even spare a glance in her direction. She notices his arms folding even tighter against his chest as he stands amidst the lapping waves. “Yeah, about half an hour ago.”

“Her tolerance,” Law mutters, making Chopper nod his head in agreement. A panicked Bepo comes running from a distance, Law’s medical tools clasped in his big paws as his eyes tear up in fear for his long lost friend’s sake.

The doctor breathes out a sigh of relief as he accepts the pack from his second mate, and with quick fingers, he begins to unfold his flap of tools. “We need to determine the condition as fast as we can. No known cause, no known cure – I’ll be honest, this isn’t good.”

“Fuck,” Raya grits her teeth, her hands slightly trembling in the fluff of Choppers soft hooves. Another metallic spike lodges its way out of her skin, almost as if reacting to her sudden anxiety. “Why don’t you keep on scaring your patient, Law? It’s doing wonders for her.”

What am I going to do? Raya thinks, watching the blood trickle heavily against her skin. Chopper presses firmly on the edge of the metallic wound, making sure to not lodge the shrapnel further into her skin. This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for any of this.

Suddenly, a warm hand rests on Raya’s shoulder.

She looks up, surprised, only to meet Luffy’s eyes.

Almost as if he’s read her mind, a soft, comforting smile sets on his lips, a bright look that promises her safety.

“You’re okay, Swords.” He smiles. “You’ll be the silver hedgehog of our crew, if they keep on growing outta you.”

And out of the blue, a flying hand comes into contact with Luffy’s head, smacking him so hard his head dislodges from his neck.

“Shut up, Luffy!” Nami yells.

“And here we were, thinking you were gonna be supportive for once,” Usopp sullenly mumbles, unimpressed.

As Law continues his examination, Zoro finally decides to walk towards the commotion, his arms so tensely folded together, the contours of his muscles bulge out in restrained fear.

"How did this happen?" he snaps, his gaze piercing as he directs his question at Raya.

Raya bristles at his accusatory tone, her jaw tightening as she meets his gaze head-on.

"What, you think I did this to myself?"

"I didn't say that," he replies. “But you sure as hell weren’t taking care of your hands when you were sharpening that sword before.”

“I’ve been sharpening swords my entire life, Roronoa. Spare me the lecture.”

“These conditions aren’t supposed to be triggered from physical wounds, either,” Robin gently intervenes, offering a comforting smile to both Zoro and Raya. She lifts the glittering tome in front of them – the one that they stole from the Shaman Island – and flips through the pages with delicate fingers. “According to the tome.”

Nami looks up at her, hope desperately grasping at her eyes. “Did you learn anything else? Does it talk about Raya’s condition at all?”

Robin shakes her head; worry takes over in the crease of her brows. “It only addresses basic mythic changes like metamorphosis.”

“Right, yeah, because that’s totally basic knowledge. You know, metamorphosis, something everyone knows about,” Usopp mumbles, gaping at Robin.

Raya's hands tremble slightly as she watches Law and Chopper work, holding in a painful breath, while Luffy silently rests his chin on her shoulder for moral support.

Zoro's gaze remains fixed on Raya, his earlier irritation tempered by a growing sense of concern.

"So, what are we supposed to do now?"

Law sighs heavily, his expression grave as he finishes his assessment.

"We need more information," he declares, his tone clipped and business-like. "Without knowing the cause, I can't offer any definitive treatment."

Raya's heart sinks at his words, the weight of her situation pressing down on her shoulders like a leaden blanket.

"But where do we even start?" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nami's eyes flash with realisation as she begins to mumble in a trance. "The guy I spoke to before," she softly mumbles. “The one who knows where Suki is. He knows something.”

Suki?

Raya’s heart stops, her whole body turning cold from hearing those words, before a whole flurry of metal shards pierce through her skin synchronously, making her scream out in bone-chilling pain.

“Raya!” Sanji shouts. He stares at the metal that now spreads to her arms like an uncontainable plague. He then glares at the Surgeon of Death, before furiously barking out, “Law, do something, for fuck’s sake!”

“Why don’t you stop yapping like a dog and let me do my job?” Law barks back, his narrowed in menacing slits.

But Raya doesn’t seem to be listening to them – instead, she continues to stare at Nami, her face growing paler by the moment. Blood drips onto her clothes like a monotonous metronome, her heart faintly beating in her chest, before she opens her mouth to speak.

“You know where Suki is?”

Nami looks at her worriedly, nodding softly. “Very vaguely — I mean, a potential spot on the map. I was going to tell you before, but then… I saw your hands…” her voice breaks, complete devastation taking over her composure. “We need to take you to that man, Raya. Gods save me, I’m going to find you a cure. And he might be the one who has it.”

Raya's breaths come in short, ragged gasps as she struggles to contain the agony coursing through her body. Each movement feels like a fresh onslaught of pain, the metallic protrusions from her skin digging deeper with every passing second.

No! Fuck the treatment! Fuck the concern over me! It’s Suki we need to save! She screams in her head. I’d rather die than prolong his torture further.

“No, Swords.” Luffy stares hard-eyed at Raya, almost terrifying in his assertive gaze. He moves his chin from her shoulder, looking at her face-to-face. “I’m not letting that happen.”

Raya gapes at him whilst still gasping from her pain. “I-I didn’t say anything, Luffy.”

He cocks his head at her. “But I heard your voice?”

Gods, he needs treatment more than I do.

His eyes flash up and grins in response. “See? That’s definitely you!”

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Zoro mutters, glaring between the swordsmith and his captain.

“You didn’t hear her?” Luffy frowns at him.

“Never mind that,” Raya forces out through clenched teeth, the pain hitting the very marrow of her bones. Another set of metallic teeth jut out from her arms, growing out like ruthless talons. “My old man is my top priority. Not my fucking arms. I swear to you, I’ll refuse any sort of medical treatment if I have to prove my point.”

Zoro scoffs out loud, almost letting his fury show through his calm composure.

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening,” he spits out, his jaw grinding together so hard Chopper begins to worry for his teeth.

Raya glares up at him, betrayal consuming her whole. If he’s so haunted by his own actions, then why’s he butting in?

“I thought we had an understanding, Roronoa,” she gasps out.

“No.” His nostrils flare, his face almost seeming drunk with anger. “Not at your expense, Tenguyama.”

Raya's breath hitches in her throat, a mix of pain and frustration swirling within her as she locks eyes with Zoro.

Zoro's expression hardens; he squares his shoulders, refusing to back down.

“Is this really what you think Suki wants? You, to needlessly die, for his sake?" he growls. “You wouldn’t be saving his life, no. You’d doom him to live a life as a broken man.”

Beat.

And Raya screams out in pure, uncontrolled fury, swiping her palms away from both doctors. She screams out so furiously, the tears that spill from her eyes are thick with fire.

She bellows into the air, so fiercely, so wildly, that the winds around her grow in such tumultuous speeds, swirling out so heavily around everyone, that Luffy’s hat almost disappears into its swallowing mouth.

“Who are you, to tell me that?” she yells out loud. And almost majestically, her feet raise from the sand.

Her eyes glow with whites and oranges as she floats within her own tempest. “You are insufferable.”

“Get down! Right now!” Law bellows at everyone, pulling himself and Bepo down to the sand. “She’s possessed!”

“Raya!” Nami screams as she scrambles for her hovering body, but before she gets anywhere near Raya, Luffy roughly tugs at her away in his arms.

“What the fuck?” Usopp screams, slamming his body to the ground with Chopper underneath his harm.

Raya does not know where she or who she is. She is simply elemental. She is both human and non-human.

And, as she rises higher and higher into the sky, her eyes blazing in a distant trance, the blood in drains from her faster and faster. She howls like the winds amongst her, cries like the way her own metal stabs at her, and all the same, she is confined to a frail human body that offers many limitations and very little freedom.

One of the limitations being blood.

Raya then collapses to the floor, no pupils found in the midst of the whiteness of her eyes.

Beat.

Zoro gathers her up in his arms, the metal from her body burrowing deeply into his own skin. He freezes in his spot for a second, allowing the metal to sink its teeth all the way into his body, allowing Raya’s complete pain to transfer into him.

And with no reaction – with no expression on his stern face, and no sound made from his clamped down mouth, he slowly moves, the shrapnels of her steel now lodged deeply in his own bloodstream.

And without even a look to the others, he walks back to the ship, with the thorned girl laying stricken in his bleeding arms.

#one piece #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #nami #zoro #one piece luffy #luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece ace #straw hat pirates #usopp #sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #straw hat luffy #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #op fandom #female reader x zoro #zoro x female reader #zoro x fem reader #three sword style #zoro roronoa #zoro rorono x you #zoro roronoa x y/n #straw hats #one piece nami

[goomens]

I've had an idea but I won't get around to writing it think.. I imagine Crowley being drunk on wine, taking to Nina after *the event* and just word vomiting, telling her everything about who he is. And then Nina ist like "so when you said 'angel' you actually meant..." maybe you can do something with that? 😂

such a cute idea!!! fic under the cut <3

It’s nine in the morning and Nina is jolted from her sleepy reverie by the violent tinkle of the front door bell; a figure in black slithering into a nearby seat and thunking his head down onto the table. Crowley, she thinks, watching him carefully from behind the counter. Without Mr. Fell in tow, tense around the shoulders, and creating quite a sad display, she feels a pang of something like pity inside her chest.

“Gretel,” Nina calls quietly to one of her newer baristas after a moment of consideration, “Take over for a bit, please?” And she makes her way over to Crowley, not bothering to say hello as she pulls out the other chair and sits down in it. He doesn’t lift his head. By all means, he seems lifeless. Completely still. Eerie, like he isn’t breathing. Her heart stutters in fear for a second, thinking he’s just up and died in her coffee shop, but—

“Oh, calm down.” Crowley retracts his forehead from the cold plastic table with a grunt and glares at Nina—she thinks, at least—through the impenetrable black lenses of his sunglasses. “I would like a mug of coffee with four measures of vodka, please and thank you.”

“It’s not even half nine yet, you know,” She scolds him, not really meaning it, but not willing to serve him alcohol so early either. He’s a bit of an odd fella (or, whatever) but Nina draws the line at serving a customer four units before noon. “No boozy breakfasts here. You’ll have to wait ‘til later—on Saturdays we have a boozy brunch. There’ll be cocktails.”

Crowley doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, “Pity.” He sighs. Snaps his fingers for some reason. He reaches into his blazer, pulling out an entire litre bottle of ABSOLUT and uncapping it. Nina opens her mouth, ready to tell him off, but he holds a finger up and guzzles down half of it before she can get the words out. When he sets the bottle down, she raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Thirsty?”

He ignores her, choosing to scowl instead, and looks off out the window of the shop looking a bit lost. “Your advice was shit. You and that—that vinyl seller. Thought you should know. Don’t go trying to influence anyone else’s ‘love’ lives, eh?” His words are full of forced humour, but his voice shatters a bit at the end, and suddenly Nina feels like some kind of villain. She looks at Crowley and sees someone in mourning. He’s grieving. He’s heartbroken.

“Fuck,” She says with feeling, and motions for Gretel to bring over two mugs.

Hours later—in the midst of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death’s boozy brunch—Crowley is drunkenly taking Nina step-by-step through his and Aziraphale’s extremely long history. They go back much, much further than she ever thought. Than she ever thought possible, actually. It’s all quite strange. And sweet, and sad, the way he talks about Aziraphale. “He’s so smart,” He says. “He’s good. He’s lovely. He’s the one I love. He’s only gone and returned to Heaven and left me on my own.” He also says, “I’m a Demon, I know I don’t deserve him,” and “He’s an Angel, he doesn’t want me. He could never want me.” And Nina is suddenly putting the pieces together, making sense of it all, her stomach—full of the buttered bagel she’d had for breakfast, half a bottle of vodka, and not much else—turns and swoops, threatening to expel its contents.

Crowley watches her then bursts into a startling laugh. It’s low and surprised. “There’s no way—no way—you’re just now realising what I am. What he is.” She just blinks and stares, and his laugh dies down but the lines of amusement remain etched on his face. “Oh, brilliant. You humans are brilliant. So bloody obtuse.”

“Oi!” She protests, reaching out to push at his shoulder. But she misses on account of being a bit more tipsy than she thought, and he laughs at her again. “I am not obtuse! ‘M quite clever, actually.”

There’s a smile on his—the Demon’s—face now, which is nice, much better than the frown he sported earlier, but when he gestures to his face and grins fiendeshly, she only stares confused for a second before realising that, ah, maybe she is a bit obtuse. His eyes are bright and a little bit playful, without the sunglasses. Big and yellow and snake-like, and oh, that’s what the Eden story had been about. It hadn’t been a metaphor or a weird figure of speech, but the truth. She’d been so busy listening to him she hadn’t noticed the moment he’d pocketed his sunglasses.

Instead of crippling fear or mortal terror, Nina just laughs and laughs. She orders them both a creamy coffee and some malt biscuits, even at his weak protests, and she lets him tell her all about the planets and the stars, Mesopotamia, the crucifixion, the Seven hills of ancient Rome, the burning of witches in the fifteenth century, the Armageddon-That-Wasn’t…

#hope this is cool i just typed it out in my notes app #thanks for the prompt cause like. i needed it lol #no inspiration to be FOUND #asks #good omens #go2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #goodomens #nina #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ficlet #short

[vigilskeep]

re: circle mages barely remembering their home country. i imagine anders is very uncomfortable going to the anderfels. he barely remembers his own name. he jumps whenever somebody says "ander" or "anders." he's been using pseudonyms ever since kirkwall but none of them ever feel right and that frustrates him just as much as everything else because the name he was saddled with in the circle became His to his body and brain and not even he can change it now that he has the independence to

to be clear anders is not actually “from” the anderfels as such; his father was from there and left as a boy, and anders himself was born in ferelden. honestly, i think that’s just another layer of alienation. he’s never been to the anderfels, but whatever it was about him was so blatantly obvious that people nicknamed him that even when he refused to speak—which refusal in itself to me suggests the trade tongue might not be his first language. too old when taken to the circle to grow up fitting in, but too young for the memory of what he lost not to slip through his fingers. hiding a name that never even felt right in the first place because in a tower full of prying eyes it’s the only thing he can keep for himself. growing into a different one that just outright labels him a foreigner

so an outsider in ferelden from the first, but they’d instantly know him from a stranger in the anderfels all the same. if he went it’d be full of deja vu and irritating half memories, i think. it’d be super interesting as a character exploration. it’s also worth saying that they’re said to be a pious people who are half ruled by the wardens, so considering what he’s run from and the fact that his ander father was the one who gave him to the templars in the first place, i’m not sure a little childhood nostalgia would do anything but get his hackles up

his approach to nationality is interesting in da2, but definitely fereldan; he says “i didn’t think i’d give it a second thought once i was gone. what did ferelden ever do for me?” but in the same banter admits to missing it. and of course politically he’s strongly aligned with the fereldan refugees who specifically remark on what he’s done for “our people”, fear what happens to mages “in this city”, threaten those who come after him with “fereldan justice” and immediately drop their aggression when they realise the person looking for him is fereldan. ferelden is also the nation that most aligns itself with the mage rebellion

idk. remember how if hawke is a non-mage and sides with the templars because “kirkwall is my home and i intend to protect it”, he has the saddened line, “from us. from me. it would have been nice to have a home, instead of a cell or a hiding place”, but if they’re a mage it’s the much more dismissive and angry, “an apostate doesn’t have a home—just somewhere to hide”. some places might feel more like home, but he pretty directly engages with the idea of mages’ status making them stateless, and he thinks any apostate is a fool for thinking otherwise

#anders #sorry this turned into an essay

[jaeyunverse]

study lessons

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

genres: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, slight rivals to lovers, pining, high school au, jock x tutor au

wc: 12344

warnings: profanity, childish bickering, mentions of medical terms, mentions of infidelity (no one cheats), jay has a few dark thoughts, mentions of self hatred, reader mocks jay for not being academically bright, jay and reader both have a mild superiority complex, reader is kind of a jerk, and last but not the least, a fluffy kiss ♡

summary: so jay got piss drunk at jungwon’s party, lost his balance, tripped, and fell off the second floor balcony. now, he’s got a broken leg, a plummeting social status and a doctor’s note that orders him to abstain from all upcoming football matches till his bones mend. too bad he doesn’t possess the power to superheal and won’t be able to play when a recruiter from the college of his dreams comes to watch. left with nothing but regret, broken dreams and a shitty gpa (because why would he study when his coach told him he was guaranteed a sponsored ride to indiana university), he’s forced to bury his nose in textbooks and finally learn what the fuck integrals are. it’s a good thing the school was considerate (and sympathetic) enough to assign him the best tutor on the entire campus—you. the small hiccup in this arrangement? you hate jocks, but jay thinks you look cute.

based on: axl and cassidy’s story from the american sitcom called “the middle.”

note: i’m posting this so impulsively LMFAOO i just realised i haven’t put out any fics for a while now so i thought why let this catch dust when i could repost ?? i hope you guys like this oneshot! feedback is always appreciated ^_^

masterlist

Jay’s legs were killing him.

First, he’d been hobbling through the crowded school hallway and bumping into people every ten seconds. Then, he realised he had forgotten to lock his locker, so he had to backtrack to do it. Then, he realised the school elevator was out of order, so he had to jump on one foot while carrying his backpack and crutches in the same hand as he limped down two floors. And right now, he was standing in what seemed to be an impossibly long line, waiting for his tutoring schedule to be handed to him.  

He probably should have asked for help, but the remainder of his pride had gotten in the way and prevented him from doing just that. He’d already lost his scholarship because of his stupidity; he could not bear to lose his last shred of dignity.

To say what happened at Jungwon’s house had been tragic would be an understatement. 

Being the designated driver, Jay wasn’t even supposed to drink during the party that night, but he had taken one look at the table lined with booze, and every rational thought had flown right out the window. Not even half an hour later, he was stumbling upstairs in search of a toilet to relieve his alcohol-filled bladder. 

Too bad he opened the wrong door and was tipsy enough to have hallucinated an entire fucking toilet in what was actually a balcony. Feeling a migraine approaching, Jay decided to sit on the toilet seat to clear his head first. 

The toilet seat being the thin, metal railing that people usually installed so they didn’t fall off the balcony, of course. Clearly, it didn’t work in Jay’s case because he fell off the moment he tried to sit on it. 

The fact that there was no one to witness his accident had been a small act of mercy on God’s part. When people rushed to the backyard to see what had caused the loud thud, Jay twisted the story and omitted certain parts to save himself from the embarrassment. 

“I was drunk and searching for a place to clear my head. The balcony seemed like a good option, but I didn’t realise how much I had and tripped." 

An hour later, he was lying on a bed in the nearest hospital, his leg wrapped up in a cast. His parents were sitting beside him, unspeaking. They didn’t yell at him for getting drunk and being so reckless—not after hearing Dr. Choi, his assigned orthopaedist, say that Jay was lucky to even be alive. She said that considering the way he fell, they should be thankful he suffered a blow to his leg rather than his head. 

Jay, however, wasn’t feeling particularly thankful and didn’t think he had lucked out. 

“What do you mean I can’t play?” he demanded immediately, repeating what Dr. Choi said to him not even moments ago. His chest heaved and a feeling of breathlessness washed over him as he realised what her words meant. 

“My entire future depends on that football match! A recruiter’s coming to watch the championship and I have to play. It’s my only shot at going to college!” 

Tears of regret and anger towards himself began filling his eyes. Jay felt a headache approaching—not from the hangover but from the sudden, devastating information he was processing in his already weakened state. His mother put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly in an attempt to offer comfort and calm him down.

It did little of either.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” Dr. Choi said, offering him a sympathetic frown. “Your leg won’t mend in a month. The minimum requirement is six weeks.”

“Are two weeks really going to make that much of a difference?” he asked, desperation evident in his tone. Jay knew he was grasping at straws and trying to have hope when there likely wasn’t any. “I’ll take care of my leg and make sure not to put too much stress on it—”

“Let’s say you do play,” Dr. Choi interrupted him. “Let’s say you somehow luck out and perform better than the other players, who, mind you, aren’t physically disabled like you are.” 

She had resorted to taunting him to prove her point. Every word was like a slap to his face, shoving him deeper and deeper into the abyss of helplessness. 

“Let’s say you get the scholarship. Guess what, Jay, you won’t be able to maintain it because your leg will be too damaged by then to keep playing. You won’t ever be able to play football again, and unless you want to give up your passion and leg for some scholarship you won’t be able to keep, I suggest you listen to me. There are other ways to get into a college, but there’s no way to fix a limb ruined beyond repair.”

The conversation ended there. His parents refused to talk about the scholarship again, claiming that Dr. Choi was right. Deep down, Jay knew she was right too. But a part of him was still in denial, not wanting to accept the sharp turn his life had taken. 

How had he gone from being the it boy of the school to someone everyone had started to pity and resent? 

Jay supposed the students did earn a right to resent him. Especially because he was going to lead the school to victory in the football championship, but now could not due to his broken leg. 

But he did not think they had the right to pity him. He was suffering from the consequences of his actions and was learning from his mistakes. According to him, that was all that mattered, and any outsiders had no right to poke their nose into his business to offer unwanted sympathy. 

Adjusting the grip on his crutches, Jay glanced at the queue in front of him. Five more students before his chance would arrive. Sighing, he shrugged his backpack off his shoulder and placed it on the ground. 

He walked over to the waiting seats a few feet away and collapsed on one of them, letting out a barely restrained moan as his legs finally found relief. 

Just as he made himself comfortable in the chair, someone walked into the front office, glanced at his backpack for a moment and kicked it out of the way.

Jay started. “Hey! Put my backpack where it was. It’s holding my place.” 

“Sorry,” you dryly replied. “There’s no holding places.”

Jay clenched his jaw and bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to play the injured man card and be hypocritical by taking advantage of your sympathy, but his patience was wearing very thin. “Look, I don’t know if you’re blind or something, but I’m very wounded.”

You snorted, taking a few steps forward as the line moved. “No, you’re not. You’re just lazy. I saw you sliding down the staircase a few minutes back.”

He scoffed, unable to believe your ignorance. “Yeah, that’s because I’ve got crutches and it was practically impossible to walk down!“

All you did was roll your eyes. 

“Are you saying I’m faking?” Jay questioned, his voice dropping an octave. “This is real.” He pointed at the cast enveloping his leg. “I might be out for the rest of the football season and everyone’s freaking the fuck out!”

You feigned a gasp. “Oh, yeah, me too.” Then deadpanned. “I’m just hiding it behind not caring at all.”

Jay stumbled for words. He’d never met someone who didn’t care for football. Sure, he could understand not caring for cross country, but football—only the greatest sport ever? That seemed very unlikely. “Well, I probably don’t care for whatever it is you do either. So…” He shrugged and trailed off, realising he didn’t have a solid comeback. 

You didn’t seem to notice, since your eyes lit up imperceptibly. “Actually, I’m co-founder of the literature club, photographer of the school newspaper, and—”

“Park Jongseong?” 

You were cut off as the lady behind the desk called Jay. He averted his eyes from your face and craned his neck to see past your figure that was obstructing her. 

“Your assigned tutor is Y/N.” Your eyebrows almost disappeared into your hairline at the words. Jay glared at you, eyes narrowing when he realised you were the said tutor. 

“Oh, great.” The receptionist beamed when she noticed that the two of you had been conversing with each other. “I see the two of you have already started to get to know one another.” She went back to her work, paying no heed to your surprise and the way Jay looked like he’d been betrayed by a trusted companion. 

You gave him a saccharine smile and continued, “Oh, and in my spare time, I tutor dumb jocks.”

Jay rolled his eyes. Grumbling in misfortune, he gripped the hand you had offered and pulled himself to his feet. Or foot, in this unfortunate case. 

“Shall we?” you piped up. “Gotta make sure you go to college next year.” 

Not for the first time in the past week, Jay cursed himself for breaking his leg.

“Wow.” You frowned as your eyes took in Jay’s scores from all his previous tests that year. “How’d you manage to stay on the team with these grades, backpack boy? Don’t they kick you if you don’t manage to do well in your studies?”

The two of you had begun your tutoring sessions right after your encounter in the school’s front office. Your little conversation gave you the feeling that Jay was probably going to need a bit more guidance than your other tutees.

As always, you were right. But now that you were seeing all the C and D grades printed in front of almost every subject except P.E (it had an A grade, to no one’s surprise), you were wishing you weren’t. 

At that moment, you were seated in a private study room located in the library. Jay, who was lounging in a chair on the other side of the table, shrugged. “As long as I didn’t fail, it didn’t really matter.”

You scoffed under your breath and closed his file shut. While you were busy pulling all-nighters to get good grades, he was partying and bashing his head into other people’s heads. Glancing up at him, you announced, “Let’s start then.”

“Wait.”

You cocked your head to the side. 

Clearing his throat, Jay sat up straighter and began, “Before we dive in, I wanna be clear about my goals here.” He pointed at the stack of books you had kept on the table and made a sour face. “I don’t want to get too smart—just smart enough to get into college. So, like, I think you should design my schedule or whatever that way. I don’t really wanna study for hours on end like those nerds sitting in the main library.”

You raised an eyebrow and slowly nodded, letting your unbound hair fall over your face to keep your smile from showing. God, he was so stupid it was almost cute. You wanted to lean over, pinch his cheeks and tell him that no, he wouldn’t be able to get into a good university even if he started studying now. 

Gathering yourself, you gestured towards his file and said, “I think we’re safe there.”

Jay’s eye twitched as if he was trying to figure out whether you were insulting him. You smiled sweetly and batted your eyes. 

His nostrils flared in anger. “Look, I don’t know why you hate me—”

“I don’t hate you.” You laughed and waved him away. “Gee, I don’t even know you. What I hate is the concept of putting sports over academics. You really think we’ve come so far because some guy could throw a ball in a hoop?”

“We came so far because said guy exercised regularly and kept himself in shape. The said guy could’ve died before inventing whatever shit he did if he weren’t exercising regularly and had heart problems,” Jay snapped. 

“Interesting theory,” you mused, condescension dripping from each word. “Unfortunately, that’s not what I meant. I never said to not exercise and practice sports; all I said was to not give sports a higher priority than academics.”

You pulled your stack of books towards yourself and opened one, ready to start the session. You were pretty sure you had ended the topic right there. But Jay, apparently, had other plans. “I don’t think you realise what a public service we do for the school,” he began, making you pause and look up at him. “We’re, like, totally responsible for all the caring and the trophies and the coolness and stuff.”

“Oh, my God,” you said with a bored face and a flat tone. “All the coolness and stuff is you? Thanks so much. Feels really great knowing the school directs all its funds to the coolness and stuff rather than things that actually matter.” 

Jay let out a long sigh, realising you had deep-rooted prejudices and there was no changing your mind. “You ever had fun, Y/N?” he asked instead.

“Oh, I’ll have fun at college next year,” you said matter-of-factly. “Something you don’t have a prayer of getting into unless you open your goddamn calculus book!”

With a roll of his eyes, Jay did what he was told. As he turned to the page you had asked him to open, he attempted to make conversation once more, which, in hindsight, was a bad idea because he made a fool out of himself again.

“So, what, are you accepted into Harvard or something?” he inquired without looking at you, his attention on the contents of the page he had flipped to. His tone very much suggested that he didn’t think you were smart enough to get into the Ivy League college.

“Vassar, actually,” you provided. “I want to pursue the liberal arts.”

He snorted. You tilted your head to the side and raised an eyebrow, trying your best to put a leash on the anger bubbling inside you. Your parents already gave you enough shit for choosing to pursue your passion for painting; you didn’t want a man-child laughing at you for the same reason.

“Vassar,” Jay repeated as if that were enough explanation. When the expression on your face didn’t change, he added, “It has ass in it.”

You leaned back in your seat and snorted, partly in disbelief and partly in amusement. “Wow, I feel sorry for you. Your whole identity is this tiny locker room world where you think you’re the king, and now that you’re injured and scared, you’re putting up an imperious facade and overcompensating for your insecurities.”

Jay’s smile dropped and his lips pressed into a thin line at your words. Guilt blossomed within you at the sight, and your eyes softened. You shouldn’t have said that—you had no right to, considering you didn’t know what he was going through. He was a teenager with broken dreams and you had very likely stomped on whatever remained—

“Okay,” he finally spoke up, eyes daring not to meet yours. You saw a small blush tinting his cheeks pink as he continued, “If you’re trying to insult me, you’re gonna have to use smaller words. I’d like to confirm if your accusations are true or not.” 

The tension dissipated, and a small chuckle escaped your lips. “Okay, backpack boy. Let’s start with literature instead of calculus, and hopefully, by the end of the session, you’ll be able to confirm what I said.”

Jay smiled despite knowing it was him you were laughing at. He didn’t mind, though. Not when you looked so pretty and your eyes shined so brightly when your lips tugged upwards. As fake and cliché as it sounded, he had never seen someone with a smile as beautiful as yours. 

As the session moved forward and you laughed at every single joke he cracked, he realised he liked being the reason behind your happiness. 

He liked it very much.

You decided you had to be out of your mind to be enjoying Jay’s company.

You didn’t like how it was so easy to converse with him despite your huge difference of opinions on certain things. You didn’t like how he was so effortlessly charismatic and hilarious—though you suspected it was more of a coping mechanism these days. You didn’t like how he brought a smile to your face every time he passed some ironically narcissistic comment. You didn’t like how you had just spent two hours with him every day for the past two weeks, and your entire opinion of him was changing.

You didn’t like how you were starting to… like him. As a person, of course. 

Don’t get me wrong—you still found him annoying and the two of you still bickered over the smallest, most insignificant things, but each exchanged retort came with an underlying film of adoration. 

The thought of being anything more than an acquaintance with an athlete would have been unimaginable before, but now you found yourself wanting to be friends with Jay. 

Just not at that moment. All you wanted to do then was smash your six hundred page hard-cover history textbook right into his skull. 

“So,” you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. Your eyes scanned the notes and books messily splayed on the table before rising to meet his. “Your score of zero out of twenty on the mock test I prepared for you makes it pretty clear that you read nothing about the Bay of Pigs invasion.”

Leaning back in your seat, you threw his answer paper at him. Jay blinked heavily, unable to believe he had failed. 

You raised an eyebrow and asked, “May I know why?”

He didn’t look at you for an entire moment, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as his eyes roved over the red crosses on the entirety of the paper. 

“Okay, but in my defence,” he finally began, an I-know-I-fucked-up-but-listen-to-my-absolutely-unreasonable-excuse-and-please-forgive-me expression adorning his face. “I totally sat down to read this when the guys called me and invited me down to the lake.”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, propping your chin on your palm. “Oh, did they, now?”

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, not picking up on your sarcasm. “Everyone was there! And P.S. awesome ensued—why didn’t you go?”

Jay looked kind of disappointed by the fact that you hadn’t come, but it might’ve just been your eyes playing tricks on you. You hadn’t slept at all the previous night.

You groaned. “See, this is why I hate high school. All everyone does is go to lame parties. And for your information,” you added, “I was studying all night. And so should you! You have a test tomorrow and you’re nowhere near prepared.”

“Well, the teacher said yesterday that it was the day after tomorrow. So I still have more time. Hah, suck it, party pooper!”

He ended with a smug smile and a jab of his finger in your direction. You stared at him in disbelief, wanting to laugh at him but being unable to bring yourself to. Instead, you took the route of self-pity and wondered what wrong you had done in your previous life to have been assigned such a stupid tutee. 

“Wow,” you dragged the word, your tone flat. Your eyes still on him, you lightly shook your head. “God does not give with both hands.”

Jay scrunched his eyebrows. “And that means what?”

You suppressed a smile. “It means that attractive people are usually not that bright.”

Instead of being offended as you had expected, Jay looked rather smug. “So you think I’m attractive.”

Oh. 

You stilled, the smile on your face dropping immediately. Maybe God hadn’t given you with either hand. You dug your own grave this time, the shovel being the fact that you had underestimated the cunning of the boy sitting in front of you. In an attempt to claw your way back up, you scrambled for words. 

Clearing your throat and averting your eyes, you mumbled, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure,” Jay drawled and picked up his pen, toying with it. You could practically hear him smirking.

Cursing yourself mentally, you dropped your gaze to the history textbook in front of you. “Okay, um, so where were we? Right, the Bay of Pigs invasion.” Mustering the courage to look at him again, you began explaining, “It’s important because it was a very crucial moment in history.”

Jay raised his eyebrows, pressing his lips in a thin line as he tried to wipe the goofy smile off his face. He nodded his head, trying to look like he was paying attention to what you were saying, but in reality, all he could think about was your slip-up and how adorable you looked when you were all flustered and embarrassed. 

“I mean,” you continued, trying to act like everything was normal, “those three days were fraught with tension and confusion. JFK had only been an officer for a couple of months, and he barely knew what he was doing, yet he knew he had to take bold action—”

Your string of informative words was cut off when Jay put his hands on the table between the two of you and lunged towards you, pressing his lips firmly against yours. 

You froze.

Your eyes widened, and your breath hitched in your throat, but he detached his mouth from yours before you could give any other reaction. 

Plopping back down on his chair, Jay clicked his tongue and grinned. “Bold enough?”

Coming back to your senses, you took a deep breath and scoffed. “Seriously? Oh, my God, I have to go.” 

Gathering your books in your arms, you got up from your seat and hurried towards the study room’s door. Jay started, wanting to follow you out, but his crutches were resting against the wall and were out of his reach.

“I-I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “But you were giving me all these signals and saying how I was attractive, and I just thought that—”

The door slammed in his face, cutting him off. Jay ran his hand through his hair and tugged at the strands roughly, cursing himself for being so fucking stupid. 

Outside, you leaned against the door you had just closed and clutched your books to your chest. Breathlessness washed over you, but so did another emotion. 

Giddiness.

You brought your fingers to your lips and smiled, but forced it away almost instantly.

This wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to enjoy the kiss, brief as it was. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about Jay. You weren’t supposed to regret walking away from him. You weren’t supposed to imagine what would have happened if you had kissed him back. 

You had a boyfriend, and your heart wasn’t supposed to flutter for anyone except him. 

But then, why did it soar for Jay?

Jay was a mess. 

All he could think about was you and how thoroughly he had fucked up. Honestly, what was he thinking? A girl like you would never like a guy like him. You had a bright future to look forward to, whereas Jay didn’t even know if he was going to be able to make it past high school. 

“Hey.” A voice rumbled above him and a hand smacked the back of his head. “Focus.”

Jay groaned and sat up straight, his father’s impatient face infiltrating his line of vision immediately. “What will you use here? An integral or a derivative?”

Averting his gaze to the math book open on the dining table, Jay stared at it with heavy eyes. He understood nothing. All he could see was a blur of words and graphs. It was well past three in the morning, and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

“I don’t know,” Jay muttered. “I don’t know what to use. I don’t know why I’m such an idiot. I don’t know why I kissed her, and I don’t know if she hates me or not. She probably does.” He laughed pathetically and dropped his head on the table again. “I want to talk to her, and I want to beg for her forgiveness, but I don’t think she wants to even look at me anymore. I don’t want to look at me anymore,” he whispered, glancing at his cast covered leg. 

“Hey, kid!” his father snapped and grabbed Jay by his collar, making him sit up again. “This isn’t the time to have girl problems and wallow in self-pity. You’ve got a math test in two days. One that makes up thirty per cent of your grade, and you need to do well in it. I don’t want to see anything lower than a B minus, understood?” 

Jay nodded numbly, not really registering what his father was saying. “Good. Now, tell me what you’ll use here. Integral or derivative?” 

“Integral,” Jay guessed. 

“Nice. Go ahead and solve the equation now.”

“I’m tired,” Jay said weakly. “Can we continue this tomorrow night? Or tonight,” he corrected himself when he realised that the weekend was over and it was Monday already. “Whatever.”

Sighing, Jay’s father massaged the bridge of his nose. “But I don’t have time. I have an early morning meeting on Tuesday. Ask your tutor to extend your session and complete this chapter today.”

Jay snorted.

His dad raised an eyebrow. “Really? Your tutor is the girl you’re having problems with?” 

“Don’t rub it in,” Jay grumbled.

Rolling his eyes, his father got up from the chair and began making his way out of the kitchen. “I don’t care if it’s your fault—”

“It is.”

“—just apologise and make things right. She’s your only shot at college and you can’t afford to let her go. Am I being clear?”

“Yeah,” Jay mumbled, sleep already beginning to consume him. “Crystal.” 

His eyes fell shut, and darkness enveloped him. 

For someone who wanted to desperately beg for your forgiveness not twelve hours ago, Jay was filled with tremendous hesitation as he stood outside the study room. 

Three times he had placed his hand on the door, and three times he had withdrawn it. 

He knew it was going to be awkward. Of course, it would be awkward. He had kissed you, and you hadn’t kissed him back. You had practically run away from him, for God’s sake! 

There was no way you could have hated the kiss. Jay had kissed his fair share of girls in the school, and not one of them had ever had any complaint. 

Just because she didn’t hate the kiss doesn’t mean she didn’t hate the guy who gave it to her, a voice inside him popped. 

Jay silenced it immediately and steeled his nerves. He gripped the knob once again, twisting it this time and pushing the door open. 

You were hunched over a storybook, smiling at what was written inside the inked publication. 

You looked up when one of Jay’s crutches got caught in the door and made a clanging sound. Shooting up from your seat, you held the door wide open for him and let him inside. 

Jay cleared his throat once you closed it and croaked, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you whispered, looking at him with pursed lips. 

A beat of silence passed. The two of you awkwardly stared at each other, not really attempting to say anything. 

You didn’t have anything to say, but you could tell Jay did. So you waited for him patiently. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” Jay began, not really meeting your eyes. “But I just wanted you to know I got a B on that government test.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. With teeth and everything. “Really? That’s amazing! Good job, Jay. I’m so proud of you.”

Before the compliment could sink in and his heart could swell with happiness, he continued, “Yeah. And I know that things are really awkward between us right now because of that… kiss thing.” He took a deep breath. “So I get it if you don’t want to tutor me anymore.”

Jay knew this wasn’t what his dad expected him to do. What he was doing was stupid; he should be begging you to continue to tutor him. Because that was the smart thing to do. 

But he didn’t think it was the right thing to do. He clearly made you uncomfortable that day, and he didn’t want to bother you any more than he already had. 

“It was lame of me,” he added, interrupting you before you could even speak. “You hated it. Sorry. And stuff.” Jay shook his head, realising that while he had been desperate to apologise, he hadn’t really thought of what he would say. 

He moved towards the door and pulled it open again. Smiling nervously, he said, “So, just to recap: Me? Lame. Bye.”

He was almost out of the room when you put your palm on the door and slammed it shut, blurting, “I didn’t hate the kiss.”

Looking taken aback and extremely surprised, he asked, “You didn’t?”

You fiddled with your fingers, not really able to look at him. “I didn’t,” you confirmed. “Actually, it was nice. You’re a good kisser.”

You should have shut up and not said anything about liking the kiss. But you didn’t want your friendship to end even before it began. He kissed you, but so what? He didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Heck, for that little moment when his lips were on yours, you’d forgotten you had one too. 

You didn’t want Jay to walk away from you. You knew it was completely plausible that he would never return once he was outside the room. Confessing to liking the kiss even though your lips had touched for barely a few seconds was the only way you could think of to stop him so he could hear you out. 

“But I have a boyfriend. He’s away at college, so it’s moot.”

Were you a complete jerk for giving Jay hope and then stomping on it immediately after? Yes. Did you hate yourself? Absolutely. 

“Oh,” he said in a tiny voice. The small smile that had begun creeping on his face when you had admitted to liking the kiss was long gone. Disappointment was evident on his face. 

But so was acceptance. 

Your heart clenched for him. Jay had had to accept so many things in the past few weeks. He had to accept the fact that he would never attend his dream college. He had to accept the fact that victory had been in his grasp, but had still been taken away at the last possible moment. 

He had to accept that he would never be able to play in the football championship and win the scholarship. And now, he had to accept the fact that you would never be his. 

Clearing his throat, Jay gave you his widest, fakest smile. “Cool. Cool. Yeah, it’s cool. It’s alright.”

Yanking the door open once more, he fumbled, “Yeah, uh, if you ever break up with the moot guy, let me know.”

Passing another forced smile your way, he left. 

In your attempt to stop him from leaving by talking about the kiss, you realised you had only made things worse. 

You had broken his heart.  

“Why are you drinking milk again?” Jay’s mom asked him exasperatedly. Said boy was sprawled on the couch, looking up at the ceiling with blank eyes. 

Taking a swig from the five-litre milk carton, Jay provided, “You see, I wanted to drown my sorrows in alcohol, but then I realised that’s what caused my injury and ruined my future, so I decided to drink my second favourite liquid—milk.”

Snatching the carton from her son’s hand, Jay’s mother complained, “I just bought this! How’d you drink all of it within ten minutes?”

“My sorrows are too many, mother,” he sulked. “It took a lot of milk to drown them. Don’t blame me; blame the person who caused them.”

“What—”

His mom’s reply was cut off by the shrill ringing of the doorbell reverberating through the house. Sighing, Jay’s mother walked to the door and pulled it open. 

“Hey, Jay,” she called after a few seconds. “There’s a Y/N here to see you!”

Jay was up on his feet instantly, both his crutches under his armpits. “I’m coming!”

Why were you here? Had you broken up with the moot guy? Were you going to—

“Hey.” You waved, awkwardly smiling at Jay and his mother. “You’ve got a math test tomorrow and I thought we could study at your place instead of the school library. Because of, you know, what happened.”

Oh. 

You were here to help him study. You were here to do your fucking job and Jay couldn’t believe he was naïve enough to think you’d break up with your boyfriend and show up at his house not half an hour after the shit that had gone down in the study room.

“What happened?” his mother asked, concerned. 

“Nothing,” Jay replied hastily, gently pushing her out of the way to make way for you to come inside. “Just some… pest control. We’ll be in my room.”

He tugged you along before his mom could ask any more questions, moving surprisingly fast for someone with a broken leg. 

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” you apologised once you were inside his room. “It’s just—tomorrow’s test is really important and it’s my responsibility to make sure you do well in it.” 

Jay nodded, sitting down on his bed and gesturing for you to take a seat too. “Yeah, no, I get it. Academics over feelings. Always. Yeah.”

You opened your mouth again, searching for the right words to say. “Look, I know that this is really awkward, but I’m still your tutor and you’re still my tutee. It’s still my job to make sure you get into college and… if possible, can we forget about everything that happened?” 

Jay nodded once again, somewhat numbly this time. “Yeah, you’re right. I can move on,” he forced a laugh, shrugging. “I mean, it’s been, what, eighteen days since we met? Yeah, it should be easy. I’ll probably just get a rebound or something. You’d be surprised to know how many girls want to date the star quarterback of their school’s football team. No worries, yeah. None at all.”

You gave him a small smile and pulled your study material out of your tote bag. “That’s good to hear.” Sticking out your hand, you asked, “So, friends?”

Jay stared at it for a moment, then brought his gaze up to meet yours. Slipping his hand into yours, he echoed, “Friends.”

Neither of you believed the pact you had just made.

Four days had passed since you had shown up at Jay’s house, and so far, things were going smoothly. 

Things weren’t really awkward between the two of you anymore. You were able to talk to each other like good friends and casually hang out outside of your sessions. It was mostly playing video games at either of your houses since Jay couldn’t really partake in any physical activities. 

Both of you had mutually decided that going to the movies together was not a good idea after everything that had happened. 

Jay hadn’t found a rebound. Granted, it had only been four days, but the thought of him not being able to find one was oddly reassuring. 

You were being extremely unfair, you knew, but you were a mess. You didn’t know what you were feeling. You didn’t know what you wanted to feel. You had never been very good at matters concerning the heart anyway. 

At that moment, the two of you were seated in your usual study room, your session in progress. 

“Okay, the most important thing you’re gonna want to study for your test is the—” you brought the tip of your pen to his notebook and wrote— “the legislative branch.”

“Wow.” Jay snorted. “Your handwriting is terrible.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, I can’t be good at everything. I’m not a robot.”

“My handwriting is really awesome.” He grinned. “Here, let me show you.”

Instead of taking the pen from you, he put his hand on the back of yours. You stilled, relaxing only when you were sure there was no ulterior motive behind him touching you. 

“Jay,” you read as he made your hand write with his. “Is. Brilliant.”

He looked up at you once he was done and wiggled his eyebrows. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

Smirking, you pointed out, “It would be even more impressive if you spelt ‘brilliant’ with two ‘l’s.”

Jay frowned, staring at what he had written with a tinge of disappointment. You laughed, trying not to focus on how cute he looked when he was pouting. 

You only realised your hand was still in his when your phone rang. Eyes widening, you snatched it away as subtly as you could. Your guilt only increased when you read the caller ID flashing on your screen. 

“Oh, it’s my boyfriend calling from Northeastern,” you told him. “I should take this.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jay said quickly, gathering his stuff and shoving it inside his backpack. “No problem. I gotta go see the foot doctor anyway. I will see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile, bidding goodbye. “Tomorrow.”   

Jay was so ridiculously euphoric he could have shoved his own face down a toilet bowl if someone asked him to. 

Yesterday, without a doubt, qualified as one of the best days in his entire life.

After all, his leg had healed two weeks early and Dr. Choi had cleared him to play in the football championship the upcoming Friday. Turns out, his unhealthy addiction to drinking milk had been useful in speeding up the mending process. 

Not for a moment had he sat down once the cast was removed. The pain in his leg, once so excruciating, was now completely gone. Jay had spent the remainder of the previous day playing basketball in his driveway along with his dad.

He even let himself fall to the gravelly road a few times, wanting to feel as much as he could in his previously casted leg. 

At that moment, he was making his way to the library, wanting to give you the good news in person. It had taken every ounce of effort on his part to not call you the moment he left the hospital. 

He didn’t just want to tell you that he was healed. He wanted to show you.

“Jay, my man!” someone hooted just as he was about to enter the library. Before he could turn his head to see who had called him, Jay was tackled to the ground. “You’re back!”

“Of course, I’m back!” He grinned, shoving Sunghoon—one of the players in his team—off of him. “A broken leg could have never kept me from participating in the game.”

Never mind the fact that Jay had spent the past few weeks thinking the exact opposite. It didn’t matter now. He was going to play.

“So I’ll see you at practice after school?” Sunghoon asked, pulling Jay to his feet and engulfing him in a brotherly hug. 

“Yes, you will.” Jay laughed, slapping his friend on the back and moving away. “You most definitely will.” 

After a few more exchanged words and a promise to obliterate each other in practice, Jay began making his way to your study room again. The two of you didn’t really talk in school since your social circles were vastly different, but Jay knew where you were at every hour.

Not in a creepy way, of course. You’d given him your schedule so that he could come and clear any doubts he may have outside of your session. 

Turning the doorknob, Jay kicked his way into the room. You jolted in your seat, momentarily surprised. He didn’t wait for you to regain your senses, though.

Raising his leg, he slammed it on the study table in front of you and yelled, “I’m cured! Jay has risen!” Then, scrunching his eyebrows, he backtracked, “Riseth? Riseneth? Doesn’t matter! I’m playing the fucking game on Friday! My foot healed two weeks early. Look!” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “Go ahead and stomp on it! I don’t care. Trust me, I’m fine. Heck, I’m fucking awesome!”

You waited for a moment, replying when you were sure he wouldn’t interrupt you again. “That’s great, Jay. I’m happy for you. But can we talk about this later? Riki, here, has a test on World War 2 tomorrow.”

It was only when you pointed at the boy sitting beside you did Jay notice you were not alone. Widening his smile, he said, “Yeah, well, guess what Riki—America won the fucking World War. And you know who else is going to win on Friday night? Us, when we kick Willow Creek’s butt!”

“Wait,” you stopped him, your forehead creasing. “You’re actually going to play on Friday night? You really think that’s a good idea?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, giving you a look that indicated he thought you were out of your mind. “I think it’s a great idea. And it’s not just a game, it’s the fucking championship. Oh, and that reminds me, I’m going to have to leave our sessions early for practice, but that’s—” he waved his hand dismissively— “whatever.”

You pursed your lips, nodding curtly. “Great. You’re gonna skip studying so you go and bash your head into other guys’ heads. Sounds like a super solid plan.” 

Jay was wrong when he thought nothing could dull his spirits that day. Every sarcastic word leaving your mouth was like an arrow to his heart. 

“You know what,” you continued. “Why don’t we skip our sessions altogether?” 

“Wow,” Jay scoffed, trying to keep the hurt from showing on his face. “You know what you should tutor people in? How to ruin the world’s greatest moment, because you’re really good at it.” 

You threw your hands in the air. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you, Jay. I’m sorry this didn’t play out the way you wanted.” 

Gritting his teeth at your dismissive attitude and the nonchalance in your tone, he growled, “Let me tell you something—this is not a normal response to awesome news. But you know what is?”

Without waiting for your reply, he yanked the door open and yelled into the library outside, “Hey, guys, guess what? I’m playing in the championship on Friday!” 

Hoots and cheers fell on your ears, followed by the threats and demands for silence bellowed by the librarian. Slamming the door shut again, he looked you right in the eye. “That is.” 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t react the way they did. Are we done now? Just because you’ve given up on studying doesn’t mean Riki has.” 

Jay’s temper flared. Locking his jaw and tightening his grip on the straps of his backpack, he left wordlessly. 

He didn’t need to listen to any of your shit. It didn’t matter what you thought. The championship meant a lot to him and he was going to play in it. 

Period.

You realised you had royally fucked up. 

Yes, you did think it was a bad idea for Jay to play in the championship so soon after his cast had been removed, and yes, you did think he should have focused more on studying. 

But the thing is, it wasn’t your place to think. 

You were nothing more than just a friend, and it didn’t matter what you thought. It was his life, not yours. You should have been a supportive person and hyped him up, but like an idiot, you let your prejudice against sports get the better of you. 

Besides, if Jay was convinced that participating was the best course of action for him, your opinion was as good as the dirt under his shoes.

In your session later that day, you were going to inform him that you had talked to the counsellor about his college application. She had said that Jay had improved tremendously and that he might be able to get into college on his academic merit. 

But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? 

Maybe you were selfish. You didn’t want all your efforts to go down the drain like that. His getting into college only on his academic merit would have been a victory for you too.

And if anything, you were a sore loser. 

When Jay talked about needing to leave your sessions earlier for football practice, something in you had snapped.

Partly because you were upset he had given up on academics the first chance he got, and partly because you realised you wouldn’t get to spend a lot of time with him anymore. 

You had come to enjoy his company. A day without hearing him pass a narcissistic comment was not a day completed. You had grown attached and you feared that this new development would put your friendship in jeopardy. 

Yeah, you were most definitely a selfish jerk. 

You had always been insecure and unsure of your feelings. Even when your boyfriend had left for college a few months ago, you had wanted to break up with him. You weren’t sure you could survive being in a long-distance relationship. He had reassured you, said that the two of you could make it work, but you hadn’t really believed him. 

Every day, you waited for something to go wrong. Every day, you waited for him to call you and tell you he couldn’t do it anymore. That there was someone else, that college life was catching up to him and he didn’t have the energy to make time for someone he couldn’t even hold. 

None of those things ever happened. 

It was when you began getting closer to Jay that the thoughts of breaking up with your boyfriend started to intensify. Video calls and messaging weren’t enough. Meeting up once a month wasn’t enough. You needed someone to be there for you, to hug you and wipe your tears when you were feeling sad. 

You wanted Jay to be that someone. Never mind the fact that what you had done, the way you had hurt him when you were blinded by your own insecurities and rage… was unforgivable. 

Jay had kissed you, but that didn’t mean he liked you. He had asked you to tell him if you ever broke up with your boyfriend, but that didn’t mean he had confessed. He had never said anything that indicated he wanted to date you.

Yes, his actions made it seem like he wanted you, but you knew his reputation. He was quite the ladies’ man. 

At this point, it didn’t even matter. Whether he liked you or not, you liked him. You weren’t going to confess to Jay; that ship had already sailed, but your decision was made. You were going to break up with your boyfriend. 

It would be unfair to him if you didn’t.

You toyed with your phone, contemplating whether you should call him or not. Would it be cowardly to break up on call? You knew it would be quick and that you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. 

No, you decided. You weren’t going to be a jerk again. Just because your feelings were all over the place, it didn’t give you a pass to be an asshole. 

He was coming over on Friday to celebrate Thanksgiving with your family, so you would break up with him then. Once everyone was done with dinner and he was getting ready to leave. 

The day after, you would apologise to Jay. You wanted to give him space and allow him to clear his head. Frankly, you needed some space too. Plus, you didn’t want to go in with the intention of making things right, and then have the situation escalate out of hand. 

He had a game he needed to win and a scholarship he needed to bag. You didn’t want to burden him and stress him out any more than you already had. 

You took a deep breath, reciting your plan in your head: breakup with your boyfriend on Friday, and apologise to Jay the next day. 

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t unsure of what you were about to do.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What’s wrong?”

Fuck.

Jay brought his palms to his face, rubbing the area under his eyes hastily. He hadn’t gone to practice once school had ended, choosing to go home instead. He didn’t want his teammates to see what a mess their captain was. Right before he was about to enter his house, he realised he couldn’t face his mom, so he decided to sit on the stairs that led to the porch. 

Jay hadn’t realised his father would be back from work early that day. 

“Nothing,” he said thickly, trying to get rid of the fogginess in his eyes. “Everything’s fine.”

His father’s eyes softened. He sat down beside his son, placing his briefcase on his lap. “Girl trouble again?” 

Jay mentally groaned. He didn’t want to talk to his dad about you. So, he decided to talk about his other problem, just so he could get him off his back. 

“I don’t feel like playing in the championship on Friday.” 

Silence. 

“Remind me if I’m wrong,” his father began slowly, “but didn’t you ask Dr. Choi if you could kiss her on the mouth when she gave you clearance to play yesterday?” 

Jay’s cheeks heated up. “Yeah, well, I was really excited!” he defended himself. “But then.” He sighed heavily. “I started thinking about how well this entire studying thing is working out for me. Maybe I should just stick to that, you know?” 

“Studying?” Jay’s dad inquired, sounding extremely surprised. “Okay, I think I know what’s going on here.” Looking up at his father, Jay raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re nervous!” his dad exclaimed like it was the most obvious explanation. “You haven’t played for a while now and there’s a lot riding on this game. I get that, Jay. But sometimes, you just gotta lay it all out there and go for it.”

“I- I don’t know,” Jay mumbled. 

His father slapped him on his shoulder encouragingly. “Trust me. Never let fear stop you from going for what you want.” 

The wise words really hit home for Jay. Just not in the way his father had intended. 

The next day, he was filled with courage. Nothing could have stopped him as he made his way to his destination. Hallways passed, one after the other. Students still tried to huddle around him, trying to talk to the quarterback who had risen to his former glory.

Jay didn’t give a shit about any of them. 

All he could think about was you.

“Y/N,” he panted, throwing open the door to the study room. “Y/N, I like you. A lot.” 

You slowly turned to face him, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I never really saw myself with a girl like you before, because I usually just go for hot girls—not that you’re not hot!” he corrected himself when he saw your eyebrows furrow. “You’re just hot in a different way and I love it so fucking much. I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s really driving me out of my mind. Like, come on, four weeks? How is that all it took for me to be head over heels for you? You use words like perseverated and truncated—which is a really cool word for short, but I never really knew that before I met you. I have so many things to say to you, but I’ll try to keep it... truncated.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I like hanging out with you. I think it’s cool that you think I can be smart—though you didn’t before, which is completely fine because no one else knew of my academic potential either. You listen to violin music and watch movies with the typing at the bottom and my whole life, I’ve loved football, but it’s weird because it just doesn’t seem to matter to me now because it doesn’t matter to you. I want you to come to my game, Y/N. I know that you have a boyfriend, but guess what? He’s not here right now. I am! And I like you and I think you should go out with me!” 

Done with his confession and completely out of breath, Jay waited for your answer. 

You wanted to pull him in an embrace and say yes! Yes, you liked him back and that you wanted to come to his game and spend the rest of senior year with him. You wanted to put your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss and say sorry for everything you had done to hurt him. 

But you couldn’t. 

Though you planned to break up with him two days later, you still had a boyfriend. You were still committed to another person, and putting your thoughts into action would mean you cheated on him. You liked Jay, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

But you weren’t a cheater. 

“Jay,” you whispered, your heart breaking because of what you were about to do next. “That is all so nice of you to say, but my boyfriend is coming over on Friday to spend Thanksgiving with my family. I don’t think I’ll be able to come to your game, but thanks. Really. It was really kind of you to invite me.”

The moment the words were out, you realised you had fucked up. Again. There could have been a gentler way to reject him temporarily. Maybe you, too, should have told him how you felt. Maybe you should have asked him to wait till you broke up with your boyfriend. 

But it didn’t seem right. Confessing to someone else while you were still in a relationship did not feel right. 

“Oh.” He deflated. A sense of deja vu washed over you. “No, that’s fine.” He nervously chuckled. “It’s completely fine. I’m, uh, asking everyone to my game. Not just you. So, uh—” he cleared his throat— “yeah, I’ll be leaving now.”

You watched him trudge out of the study room in silence, hating yourself for what you had done, but knowing that it was the right thing to do. 

Friday rolled around within no time. 

The school was buzzing with activity and excitement. The game that everyone was once dreading to go to, but now couldn’t wait to attend, was going to start in less than twenty minutes.

The star quarterback was back after all.

The coach was sure, the principal was sure, the entire population in the stands was sure that Jay would lead them to victory. That he would keep his winning streak going and completely obliterate Willow Creek High on the field. 

But the boy everyone was counting on was nowhere to be seen. 

He was supposed to be warming up along with his teammates, not freaking out in the empty locker room.

“Shit,” Jay breathed, burying his head in his hands. His dad was right—he was nervous. He was putting everything on the line by playing in the championship without practice. Recruiters were sitting in the stands out there. Anything less than an outstanding performance would result in him losing the scholarship along with his reputation. 

A few months ago, he was so sure he could do well. He was so sure he would be the chosen candidate. But now, he was doubting everything. 

Jay was scared of humiliating himself on the field. He was scared of disappointing every person who was counting on him. There was a lot of pressure, a lot of stress. 

For the first time in a long time, Jay didn’t believe in himself. 

Trying to labour his breathing and stop the involuntary shaking of his feet, he scolded himself, “You can do this. You’ve done this before, and you’re better than every fucking player out there. The scholarship is yours and yours only, and you need to get your shit together.” 

The pep talk barely helped. 

Jay pushed himself to his feet and began making his way to the field. He felt cold and hot at the same time, and his heart was racing faster than it ever had. 

“Where were you?” his coach demanded the moment he spotted him. “You’re supposed to be warming up with the others.”

“Sorry,” Jay croaked, pushing past the man. He was already on edge and he didn’t need to be scolded. 

Jay’s eyes scanned the stands in search of you as he made his way to his teammates. He knew you weren’t going to come, but he had to make sure. He had to get rid of the hope in him that simply refused to die. 

His eyes darted in every single direction, zooming in on every single girl to make sure that it wasn’t you. 

Jay hated the disappointment that filled him when he didn’t spot your familiar face. Was he really so desperate for your validation and support? 

Taking a deep breath and removing his gaze from the stands, he reminded himself that today wasn’t about you or his unrequited feelings. 

It was about the game and doing well in it. Repeating the same thought like a mantra in his mind, he put on his biggest grin and hollered to the crowd and his teammates, “Who’s ready to kick Willow Creek’s butt?!”

The answering whoops and cheers only made him feel worse about himself. 

You were nervous. 

Your hands were cold and you were having trouble breathing. You had never broken up with anyone in your entire life. You didn’t know how you were supposed to do it.

As a precautionary measure, you had tried watching a YouTube video, but doing that had only made you feel pathetic about yourself. 

You could do this. You could be true to yourself and to your boyfriend. For once, you could tell him what you were really feeling. 

“So nice to see you,” your mom chirped, pulling him into a hug. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” your boyfriend agreed. Removing his beanie, gloves and coat, he hung them on the rack near the front door. His eyes caught yours and he smiled. “I missed you.”

You forced a smile on your face and nodded, allowing him to lightly kiss you on your cheek. 

Your dad came down a few minutes later. Your boyfriend made to shake his hand, but your father slapped it away and pulled him into an embrace instead. They shared a joke like old buddies, causing your nervousness to grow even more.

God, this was going to be so hard. Your parents loved him. They adored him and treated him like he was a part of your family. 

The breakup wouldn’t just affect you and your boyfriend, it would affect your parents too. Somehow, they’d become a part of your relationship.

Looping her arm through his, your mother began to pull your boyfriend towards the living room. “Come on in and sit. I’ll prepare the table along with Y/N’s father.” 

“I can help instead of dad,” you spoke up hastily, gripping your mother’s hand and tugging her away from your boyfriend. You didn’t want to spend time with him alone. Not until after dinner—when it was time to break up with him. 

“Y/N,” your mom said sharply. “Stop being rude. Go and spend some time with him. The two of you haven’t met in over a month.”

Before you could protest, your mother snatched her hand out of your hold and left the room with your father. Nervously, you glanced at your boyfriend. 

He looked concerned, knowing something was wrong with you. “What’s the matter?” he asked, slipping his hand into yours. “Did something happen?”

Fuck. You were an idiot to think you could wait until after dinner. It would have been cruel of you to act like nothing was wrong the entire time, and then drop the bomb on him right before he was about to leave. 

You had to be honest. Now. 

Taking a deep breath, you removed your hand from his. 

“Heeseung, we need to talk.” 

Jay was not playing well.

He couldn’t bring himself to focus on the game. He kept getting tackled to the ground by the opposing team. At this point, he wasn’t even playing the game. He was just hanging around on the field, trying to defend his teammates when the ball was in their possession. 

The scoreboard was simply tragic. The first half had already come to an end, and Jay’s team was clearly losing. 

One-third of the crowd had already started to leave, and the ones who were still sitting in the stands were all upset. Jay could practically hear their thoughts. They were probably all cursing him out in their heads. 

Then there was the scholarship. There was no way the recruiters were going to choose him now. They were probably calling Jay’s coach an idiot for recommending him to them. 

Jay removed his helmet and slumped down on a bench on the sidelines. His eyes were blank and his face was void of any emotion. 

When he heard footsteps approaching him, he raised his head and flatly greeted, “Hey, dad.”

“Hey,” his dad replied, sitting down beside Jay. “What is going on, son? Why are you playing like a toddler?” 

Jay laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening to me or what’s wrong with me. I’m trying to focus but all these weird thoughts keep popping into my head. I keep thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have played. Then I think I should have just studied instead. And then I think what if I hurt my foot even more. I’m completely freaking myself out over here!”

Jay buried his head in his hands, trying to push his eyes back into his skull with his palms. He wasn’t going to cry again. 

“Have you ever thought that maybe that’s the problem?” his father quietly asked him. 

“What?” Jay snapped, glancing up at him. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re thinking too much,” his father explained. Putting a hand on Jay’s shoulder, he made his son completely look at him. “Everything good that ever happened to you in your life, happened because you weren’t thinking. Well, save for the one instance when you got drunk and broke your leg. But maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing either.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. 

“Everything has been so easy for you,” his dad explained. “You barely study, but still pass all your classes. From what I’ve heard from your teachers, you’re kind of a jerk sometimes, but you’re still one of the most lovable and popular kids in your high school. Your mom and I are average looking at best, but look at the masterpiece you are!” 

Jay huffed a small laugh, feeling some of his nervousness dissipate. “That’s not true.” 

His father smiled softly. “The only time you’ve ever had to truly work hard was during these four weeks. You began to realise that life wasn’t easy and that you couldn’t just cruise your way through it. For the first time, you had to face actual hardship. You had to take things seriously, not for granted. Your accident has changed you for the better. The same accident that was a result of you not using your brain. So, Jay, I need you to not think right now. I need you to go out there and give your best. I need you to turn the tide and I need you to win this fucking game!”

Jay gaped, staring at his father with wide eyes. “You just cursed in front of me!”

“What are you, a five-year-old?” his dad asked incredulously. 

“I mean,” Jay muttered, “it was kind of a big deal. But—” he raised his hands in defence when his father gave him the stink eye— “I get what you’re saying. It was really helpful, dad. Thank you.”

“It better have been. I gave popcorn duty to your mom, and I know for a fact that she’s going to get caramel. You know how much I hate caramel.” His father gagged to express the sentiment. 

Jay chuckled and got up from his seat, putting his helmet back on his head. As he walked over to the field again, he was filled with a different sort of vigour. His father’s speech had done wonders in boosting his confidence. 

Jay was a monster in the second half. He did exactly what his father had ordered him to do. Switching his brain off and scoring a total of four touchdowns, he turned the tide of the game.

He led his team to victory. As soon as he scored the last touchdown and the time was over, the crowd in the stands was up and running towards the field. He was tackled from all sides. People were congratulating him and slapping him on his back for a job well done. 

Jay was at his happiest at that moment. 

When he began making his way back to the locker room along with his team, a man called his name. A recruiter, Jay realised. He separated from the rest of the players and jogged over to where he was standing on the sidelines.

“That was one hell of a second-half you played there, Park! I’m really hoping to see you and that healed foot of yours at East Indy next year.” 

Jay grinned and slipped his hand into the recruiter’s, giving him a solid handshake. “My foot and I would absolutely love that, sir.” 

“All right.” He laughed and slapped Jay on the shoulder. “I will be contacting you and making everything official later on. Go dragons!” 

With those being his last words, the recruiter left Jay to his own devices. Not wasting any more time on the field, Jay began walking toward the locker again. 

He was so happy that he couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face. He wasn’t sure anything could wipe the stupid smile off his—

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jay’s breath hitched in his throat when he saw who was leaning against the entrance that led to the locker room. 

You.

You were bundled up in a sweater, beanie, a pair of gloves and a scarf, staring at him with a soft smile on your face. Uncrossing your arms from your chest, you approached him with a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jay breathed. He couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him. 

“That was a really amazing game. I’ve never seen anything like it,” you complimented. Pursing your lips to stop them from tugging upwards, you said, “I’m not gonna tell you that you were awesome because you know you’re awesome, but that was pretty awesome.” 

You were standing so close to him, that Jay could barely breathe. With much difficulty, he asked, “Wait, you saw the game? I thought you had dinner with your boyfriend.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, well, that kinda got cut short when I told him I liked someone else.”

Jay’s heart plummeted. “You like someone else?” 

You laughed at the confused expression on his face. “Yeah. You.”

Oh. Oh. 

Jay literally staggered back a step, the shock of your confession completely overwhelming him. His eyes widened and the helmet slipped out of his hand. His heart was thudding against his chest so furiously that he was surprised he didn’t drop dead because of an attack. “You do?”

"I do," you confirmed. "Do you have any plans right now?”

“I can blow them off,” he replied quickly. “Did you have something in mind?”

You grabbed his jersey and pulled him towards you, whispering, “This.”

Before Jay could realise what you meant (he was having a hard time processing information since he was told to not think), your lips were on his. 

For a second, he was frozen in place but was quick to reciprocate once he regained his senses. His hands made their way around your waist, drawing you closer and pressing your body flush against his. 

You snaked your own hands around his neck and tugged him lower so that you could kiss him better. 

Jay realised what you were trying to do and dipped his head, tilting it to the side to deepen the kiss. 

Removing your gloves while your lips were still slotted with his, you ran your bare fingers through his hair. The strands were slick with sweat, but you didn’t mind; you needed your hands to be engaged. 

Jay seemed to return the feeling since one of his hands moved from your waist and cupped your face, its thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. 

Feeling something cold land on your cheek, you detached your mouth from Jay’s and looked towards the sky. 

You smiled. “The first snow.” 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, holding out his palm so that he could catch a few flakes in it. “Kinda makes our first kiss cliché, though.” 

“We’ve kissed before,” you pointed out. 

“Yeah, but it did more harm than good. Besides, it wasn’t very memorable, you know? I’d rather we consider this as our first kiss.” 

Your eyes softened. “Well, that kiss was what made me realise I liked you. That you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my senior year with. Had it not happened, I don’t think we could’ve come so far. Memorable or not, that kiss was what kick-started our relationship.”

Slipping his hand into yours, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“And, uh, about what I said when you came to tell me you were going to play in the championship the other day,” you timidly began. “I’m sorry. For all of it. You didn’t deserve any of the shit I gave you. I don’t know what possessed me to say all those mean things. I guess I was just being selfish. I should have supported you like a good friend, not dragged you down and ruined your day. 

“I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” you added. “I don’t forgive myself either.”

Jay softly kissed you again and rested his forehead against yours. 

He mumbled, “I won’t lie; what you said that day did hurt me. You kinda rained down on my parade by reacting the way you did, but it’s all in the past now. You feel bad for what you did and you’ve already apologised. That’s enough for me and I forgive you. I want to start anew with you by my side and no grudges between us.”

Your eyes turned misty and your throat clenched from the sniffle you were trying to keep contained. Jay was perfect. Just like that, he had forgiven you and given you a second chance you didn’t think you deserved. You weren’t going to throw it away. 

“Are you crying?” He gasped when he saw your glistening eyes. 

“No,” you weakly denied, choking on your tears. “I’m not.”

Jay panicked. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do when people cried. He didn’t want to say or do something stupid while he attempted to console you. 

Before he could come up with some way to comfort you, you wrapped your arm around his waist and buried your face in his neck. Tears mixed with sweat and Jay put his hand on your head, caressing your hair silently. He let you cry your heart out, mentally reprimanding himself for making his speech emotional. 

As the minutes passed, your sniffles began dying down. Finally, you shifted away and muttered, “You stink.”

Jay’s eyes crinkled, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry. You see, I played in this championship, led my team to victory and bagged a scholarship all in one day. As I was making my way to the lockers, this girl—a fan, I’m guessing—blocked my way and started to confess— OW!” he whined when you hit him playfully. “Not my shoulder! A Willow Creek asshole rammed into it.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tease me if you don’t want me to smack you,” you snapped, but laughed at his narcissistic attitude and massaged the spot you had hit nonetheless. 

“I better go shower now,” Jay said. “I feel disgusting.”

“Do you want me to wait or—?”

“Of course, I want you to wait. I want to spend time with you.” 

“So would this be our first date?” you mused. 

“Wait, no,” Jay panicked again. “I want our first date to be memorable, not—”

“Jay,” you interrupted him, your voice stern. “I really don’t care about making our firsts memorable. As long as you’re there with me, it doesn’t matter. It’s the happiness in the small, sporadic things that stays with us forever. Grand gestures don’t mean shit.” 

“Gee, okay,” he grumbled. “You’re not a romantic, I get it.”

You started. “Hey! That’s not—”

“Shower time!” Jay announced, making his way to the locker room. “Wait for me by the stands, would you? I will be back within ten minutes.”

You rolled your eyes and obliged, beginning to walk over to where he had asked you to wait. 

You had taken no more than five steps when Jay called your name again. 

“Did you watch the match from the start?” he inquired. 

“No,” you answered. “I was breaking up with my boyfriend, remember? I saw the second half, though. Why do you ask?”

Jay grinned. “No reason. Just wanted to let you know that I was really awesome in the first half too, no matter what anyone else in the school may tell you.” 

#enhypen scenarios #jay scenarios #enhypen imagines #jay imagines #ficscafe #enhypen fluff #jay fluff #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enhypen oneshots #jay oneshots #park jongseong #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #jay fanfiction #enhypen angst #jay angst #enhypen drabbles #jay drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #jay soft hours #jongseong oneshots #jongseong fluff #jongseong imagines #jongseong fanfiction #park jongseong x reader #enhypen timestamps #jay timestamps

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hi!! would it be possible for you to do a smut fic for eddie where the reader is fem and acts super confident around eddie and the hellfire group but is secretly insecure and doesn’t believe eddie will ever like her back? if not it’s totally fine - no pressure :)

An act | E.M

Eddie munson x reader

Summary: in which confident y/n eventually reveals her insecurities and Eddie probes just how wrong she is ;)

Warnings: SMUT (oral, f! Recieving, fingering) praise kink, Eddie basically worships reader, lotta fuckin, NOT PROOFREAD

A/n: I hope you like this! I love long/detailed requests cuz it gives me so much to go off, thank you!!

Eddies eyes landed on you as you walked through the halls, you and your female friend whom he had no interest in, linked as you spoke. He watched as you walked towards his table, a smile on your face as you sat next to Gareth, the end seat, waving your friend goodbye.

“Hey nerds” you greeted and Dustin smiled, saying hi to you, it wasn’t uncommon you sat with the hellfire club, sure you weren’t insanely close but you would class them as close knit friends, plus you may have dabbled in their dnd sessions.

“Y/n, what a nice suprise” eddie smirked, earning a smirk back from you “hey munson”

“Stop with that” Mike groaned “no flirting”

“We’re not flirting Mike, your just jealous you can’t even talk to girls cuz ‘the love of your life’ is miles away” you teased and he threw a tiny bit of food at you. Dustin laughed, loving how you didn’t let anyone speak bad to you, he was like a little lost puppy and could speak for most of the group, you being around almost made them feel safe.

As you and Mike bickered Eddie admired you, watching as you so powerfully spoke your mind to Mike, he adored you, all he wanted was to be with you.

“Munson?” He heard, knocking him out of his f thoughts to see your hand waving in his face. “Dude you were zoned out like crazy” you spoke and he just chuckled “admiring the view” he looked you up and down, he could easily play this off as a joke if you turned him down although your face lit up slightly, before shying away. That may be the first time he ever saw you not shoot back instantly.

That Friday night Eddie had originally invited you to hellfire club yet when you showed up, no one was there, with a raised brow you assumed something had happened. As you turned to go back you bumped into something. “Woah, hey, sorry” that familiar voice rang through your ears with a light laugh.

“Munson? Where is everyone?” You asked, looking up at him and crossing your arms. He mocked your movements “at some stupid game, can you believe it? Laundry baskets over the cult of vecna?” He rambled and you just laughed “dude, chill” you started

He quirked a brow, asking you to carry on with his eyes “how about we just hang out? We can go to the woods?” You suggested and he tilted his head

“Oh, a date?” He grinned, half jokingly

“Don’t flatter yourself Munson” you scoffed, pushing by him and heading out to his car, opening the door yourself instead of waiting like dorm lost puppy for him to open it for you. He got in the drivers seat and started the car “to the woods?” He asked

“To the woods” you nodded.

Apologies for the amount of timeskips

Afew hours later and you found yourself in eddies trailer, it grew dark at the park and you were having such deep conversations he decided to invite you over for a beer.

“Y/n, your actually a really fun person to be around you know?”

“You think? I feel like I can be cocky, what if people don’t realise I’m messing with them? Like Mike and Dustin, there still kids” you turned to him

“Oh no they realise, they love being friends with you, Dustin really finds the way you ‘stand your ground’ amazing” he hummed, he lied on his bed, his hands over his head. He looked gorgeous, like a gift from god.

“Your starin” a voice jumped you out of your state

“Oh, shit sorry” you laughed slightly but he shook his head, sitting up “it’s fine doll, I stare at you alot” he stated, slightly more confident after the beer.

“You do?” You scoffed, not believing him and he just responded with a dumbfound look, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you clueless? Blind? I zone out watching you all the time, like that time you argued with Jason about basketball, most entertaining moment of my life, confidence looks good on you” he smirked, taking a swig of his beer, your cheeks lit up. Was it the beer or were you loosing your mind because it suddenly felt like sharing everything.

“What’s on your mind sweetheart?” He asked, there he goes again with pet names, when you looked at him his head was tilted, whole upper body rested on one arm to be closer to you.

“Just random thoughts” you nodded but he chuckled “that ain’t gonna work on me, cmon, talk” he pointed the bottle at you before turning to change the song that was playing, he switched it to ‘back in black, AC/DC’ before turning back to you.

With a sigh you gave in “I’m confused, I think I really fucking like you but all I can think is that I’m no where near good enough for you to even think about liking me back” you swiftly said, before taking a sip of your beer as if downing your thoughts, wishing you had never spoke.

His face was slightly shocked, like he had never expected to hear that. “You think your not good enough?” He scoffed “look at this dump, I’m a freak, if anything I’m not good enough for you” he raised his hands.

“I’m just- I put on this super confident act, you know, but it’s not true, none of its real, I’m constantly worried, about what people think, about how I look, I mean I even check how I look in car windows and those metal rulers in science” you grunted, covering your face in embarrassment. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder and a soft voice could be heard “you know I think your perfect right?” He asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think your beautiful” he removed your hands and lifted your chin.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours before pulling you in for a deep kiss, his hand on the back of your head. He pulled away before you could even kiss back “I’m gonna prove to you, just how beautiful you are” he kissed you once again, his hand on your waist now, he didn’t ignore how shocked you were, barely able to kiss back.

He took the beer bottle out of your hand and placed it on the floor by leaning his body over you as he slowly pushed you down so you were laying back. He peppered kisses down your neck eventually reaching the hem of your shirt and looking up at you “may I?”

“Eddie I-“ you were about to protest, what if he didn’t like you?

“You know I think your the prettiest girl in the world?�� He asked sincerely, lifting the hem just so lightly and kissing your lower stomach. His hands resting on the shirt. Once he got your nod I’d approval he pulled the shirt over your head, getting slightly distracted at the sight before him.

When he heard you whine he glanced up at you “sorry, you just look great” he hummed, kissing your chest lightly, pressing short kisses up to your collarbone. When he looked at you, you still looked unsure. “You don’t believe me?” He asked, putting on a slightly offended tone, you shook your head fast “I do! I just-“

“Nope” he shook his head, tugging your skirt down and moving to kiss your thighs “you have to believe me” he mumbled “or do I have to prove it to you?” He grinned, looking up at your nervous expression “I’ll take that as a yes”

He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing the plush of your thigh as his over hand tigger your panties down. He looked you dead in the eye as he leaned forward and pressed a short kiss to your clit warning a shuddered minute from you. With a hum of approval he moved his hand to circle your clit, watching your expressions as he almost tried to find out what you liked.

He pulled his hand back, placing his middle finger in his mouth and pulling the ring off, he then circled your hole once with his finger experimentally before pushing it in. Watching as your back very slightly arched, he tested out different movements yet picked one when he saw just how much you writhed for it, curling his finger upwards repeatedly, with a cocky smirk on his face.

He watched as you moved your hips with his actions, the sight of you with your head thrown back because of him drove him crazy. He soon leaned down again, sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue ever so slightly, just to see if you liked it. When you let out a small shriek he hummed in approval, repeating his actions until all he could hear was a string of curse words.

He looked up and grinned at the sight of you coming undone “that’s it doll, cmon” he encouraged, biting down on his lip, watching as you ground against fast moving hand.

As you let out your last moan, eyes shut, mouth agape he trembled slightly “fuck you look so good baby” he hummed and leaned down to kiss you “good girl”

“Holy shit” he felt you mumble and he chuckled

“You believe me now?” He pulled back and tucked your hair behind your ears , earning a nod from you. “If I didn’t make it clear, I like you too”

Sorry if this isn’t okay!!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

[xhdream]

okay, i have a messy thought to spill… 💭

(bickering with jooyeon just seems so compelling right now, bare with me)

you’ve been arguing with jooyeon over a lame misunderstanding for half an hour. when it seems you both are just repeating yourselves at this point, he leaves the room in silence, and goes to your shared bedroom to lay down, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. you know you’ve said some things you could’ve spared; you know you’ve made a bigger deal over things that didn’t mean much… so after you think it through, you make a cup of his favorite tea, and put it on his night table after quietly entering the room. you apologise to him, but you get only an exhausted mumbling,“it’s fine”, which shows he’s still not over it. he puts his phone away and shuts his eyes closed, one hand resting on his forehead, making it clear he doesn’t want to talk. sat next to him, you tell jooyeon to come closer and rest in your lap… 😣 he’s still pissed, but he does it anyway. slowly he feels the tension releasing his mind, as he relaxes his body into yours. your fingers are lost in his soft hair, lightly massaging his head with their fingertips… you even get out a little moan from his lips, which didn’t leave unnoticed. “can i play with your hair?” you ask, and he nods in agreement. you take out the hairbrush from your drawer along with a few hair ties, and start brushing gently through his dark hair, which has grown a lot and now covers his shoulders. this was something you loved doing, because it was a form of therapy for you both. however, you suddenly break the soothing silence, because jooyeon would not stop moving as you carefully do his hair. it’s not a big deal, you’re just playing around here, you’re not doing some special kind of hairstyle after all, but every time he moves, he doesn’t realise he rubs between your legs, which distracts you a lot… at first you didn’t pay attention, but now, after he does it for the multiple time… “babe, please… i can’t do your hair if you keep moving around.” “i’m adjusting,” he explains with a light frowned expression, not opening his eyes, before tilting his head again. this time moving his whole body backwards - further between your thighs. “well, you’re really disturbing my process like this,” you hiss through teeth, trying your best not to piss him off for the second time this evening. “what process?” he asks with a mocking tone. “and also, isn’t the point of this to help me relax? i can’t relax if i’m not in a comfortable position.” you roll your eyes annoyingly, knowing he can’t see you through his shut eyelids, as you have to bare the thrill of another shove into your folds. it’s over for you when you hear jooyeon moaning in a way he would only moan if you were deep throating him. “ahh, i can stay like this all day,” he says, completely unaware of what he’s doing to you. “i love when you play with my hair, it’s so relaxing.” with a deep sigh, you take one of the hair ties, trying to repress the desire to put an end to this, and just sit on his face

#xdinary heroes smut #xdh smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes hard hours #jooyeon smut #jooyeon hard thoughts #jooyeon x reader #xdinary heroes x reader