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bluejutdae · 1 month

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Desperate Jisung x you

(more of desperate Ji)

warnings: nsfw

Desperate Jisung away on tour who misses you, misses your kisses and your voice and misses waking up with you. He misses waking up and snuggling into your arms, always so warm and comfortable, misses kissing your shoulder and your neck, waking you up with soft kisses that tickle you. It’s his safe space, and he’d love to live there.

Desperate Jisung who wakes up with a boner more mornings than not, often he has dreamt of you, sometimes he just misses you.

Desperate Jisung who tries to make do with his hands and fingers, wet and messy when he has the time and he’s alone. Fast and quiet in the showers, when they have a packed schedule and the others are around. It’s never enough. His fingers can’t reach where yours can, his palm is too rough around his shaft, and it’s overall less pleasing. It takes the edge off, but it’s also so much easier for him to grow frustrated and too horny.

Desperate Jisung who falls asleep in Minho’s bed one night, in need of some human contact during the late hours of the night, and is woken up but a pillow smashing on his face, and a grumpy Minho threatening him to stop moaning your name in his sleep if he doesn’t want to end up in the air fryer with Hyunjin.

Desperate Jisung who calls you, one night, excited to tell you all about their last concert and the rare couple of free days they have ahead of them, how they’ll visit the city and enjoy the local food, sleep a little more than usual. But your voice is doing something to him, your sweet voice through the speakers is intimate and one of the things he loves the most about you. Poor Hannie can’t help but feel his little cock stir into his pajama pants, and he tries to ignore it, he really does. But he misses you so much and he’s just so horny for you, it’s not his fault your voice sounds so nice. He has no choice but to lightly paw at his leaking cock, still in the confines of his boxer.

Desperate Jisung with his hands massaging his cock, trying to keep track of what you’re saying but too distracted to answer. After you repeat a question he tries, he really tries, but all he can utter in lieu of an answer is a whiny sound. And you know him too well, you know what your boyfriend is doing right now, you know what he needs. “Is my baby touching himself while on the phone with me?” Another whiny sound escapes his mouth. “Such a slutty boy.”

Desperate Jisung, whose cock is leaking like a faucet in his underwear, red tip wet and begging to be touched more. He can’t control his hips, thrusting in the air and against his hand, biting his lips to try and hold off his moans, failing.

Desperate Jisung who gives up completely and begs you for something, directions, instructions. “Put your phone where I can see you, pretty boy, and video call me.” He’s eager, always so eager and slutty. Propping his phone where you can see his whole body, taking off his pajama and underwear but not his sweatshirt, he knows how much you love him in nothing but a big shirt, and he’s suddenly so polite, informing you he did what you ask and he’s ready, he presses the video call button and when he sees your face on the display, he bites his lower lip. “You look so pretty.” he says, and he’s already out of breath.

Desperate Jisung showing you his pretty tummy and his chest, biting the hem of the shirt to keep it raised, touching himself like he’s showing off for you, touching slowly, from base to tip. He collects a bead of precum to his finger to show it to you and, when you order him to taste it, he obeys, moaning around the digits like it’s the tastiest thing ever. He’s such an exhibitionist, but you love him for that too.

Desperate Jisung who turns to stand on his knees, ass up and directed to the camera, face squished against the duvet and lubed fingers prodding at his pretty hole. He loves to show off for you, he knows you love to watch him, and you tell him as much, praising him for being such a good boy for you. “My pretty pretty boy. Look at you, with your pretty ass hungry for something. Such a perfect slut.” He moans, tries to bite the duvet to suppress the noise, but he loves the praises and the humiliation a little too much.

Desperate Jisung who follows everything you say, opens himself with lubed fingers, still heads down and ass up to show you his fluttering hole, hands holding his cheeks apart until you deem it’s enough. He takes his pink glass dildo when you tell him to. It’s a gift you bought for him, a delicate pink glass dildo with red hearts, not too long and not too thick, the perfect size to make your boyfriend lose his mind. You played with it multiple times, and he chose to bring that on tour because he loves it's something you personally chose for him.

Desperate Jisung who fuck himself with the dildo, knees spread open and back arched, his cock heavy between his legs and his whole gripping the glass of the dildo, hungry and wet. His moans and whines are the best things you’ve ever heard in your life, they’re high and short and they’re driving you mad. He’s leaking on the bed cover, a constant dripping of clear fluid, swinging back and forth with every movement of your pretty boyfriend.

Desperate Jisung who begs you to let him cum, to make him feel good cause he’s been such a good boy, and he deserves it and please please let me cum, please mommy please feels so good I wanna cum let me cum. And you can never be too mean to him, not when he’s like that, pliant and obedient and too far from you. So you give him permission and he rewards you with a beautiful loud moan and a full body shudder, his cock jumping and spurting cum without needing to be touched.

Desperate Jisung who collapses on top of the mess he just made and he musters up enough force to move and look at you through the camera. “Did I do good?” he asks and he sounds so soft and vulnerable. “You did perfectly, my baby. You’re the best baby ever. I love you so much. You were perfect for me, love, you’re so beautiful. You’re always so beautiful. I miss you so much.”

Desperate Jisung who obeys once more, cleaning himself and scarcely wiping the bed covers. Once he’s done, he brings the phone closer and snuggles under the covers, looking at you with his pretty eyes, tired and completely satisfied after many days of unsatisfying orgasms. “I miss you too…” he says like it’s a confession. “I know. But you’ll be home soon. And I’ll be here, ready to steal you away from everything.”

Desperate Jisung who smiles softly and sleepy, he murmurs something that sounds like an I love you, and he’s out like a light. Soft snores are the only sounds you can hear now, and you smile to yourself: your boyfriend is a horny menace, and you love him more than words can express.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #stray kids imagines #skz #jisung x you #jisung smut #skz smut #Thiana writes Jisung

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wonwoonlight · 3 months

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finding love / kim mingyu

a/n: mingyu brain rot bc i dreamt of him last night and ive never felt so loved 😭😭😭😭 first fic of the year! not proofread bc im too lazy. Enjoy🤍 do tell me if u enjoy this??? Hello???

wc: 1.1k // just some musings about love // fluff // super very soft // i dont think theres any warning except that i want him NOW.

[ ♤♤♤ ]

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

It's not anything as dramatic as you not believing in it. You just really haven't found the right person, nor have you been trying to look for one. Which is why it's a wonder that you end up with someone as wonderful as Kim Mingyu.

Your meeting with him wasn't anything special either. It's nothing out of a fiction; it's not exciting and it's not magical. It's just you, being Chan's friend and introduced to the members when he invited you to their concert and you visited the backstage once it finished.

It wasn't an instant click either, you just ended up talking individually somehow and the relationship progressed as time passed by.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He holds your hand when you're afraid even if you don't say anything.

He holds your hand when you're afraid even if he's afraid.

You both hate horror movies with passion, but once in a blue moon you two would challenge yourself just to see if it has changed. Every single time Mingyu would brace it and watch through everything just so he can tell you when to close your eyes and when it's okay to open them again.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He would listen to everything you talk about. From your complain about your coworkers, to your random ramble about some stuff you see on Instagram reels.

He listens.

He always does.

Because one day you're talking about how it's been quite some time since you've eaten lasagna and the next dinner Mingyu bakes lasagna for you himself.

He listens.

Because when you mention once in passing to your friend, to which Mingyu only listens partly to because you're on the phone and doesn't realize he's already awoken from his nap, that you've always wanted to try snorkeling, Mingyu arranges for it immediately once he finds a suitable date for you both.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He finds time to contact you in midst of busy schedules, and always tells you beforehand if he's going to be too busy to reach out in any way. You've told him plenty of times that you understand and that he doesn't need to reassure you everytime, but you've also told him once long before you started dating that you're the type to welcome words of assurance more than anything.

So he continues to reassure you everytime he can.

“What do you think about this?” Mingyu asks, yet again in another set of outfits.

You don't know shit about fashion, and you think Mingyu looks good in everything because he knows how to dress himself well. This is something that he's aware of, but he also likes your validation so you always try your best to say anything other that “You look good” and “I like this better than the previous one”.

“I think… you know I like it best when you're in black so I'm not sure if your current outfit is actually better than the black one or not.” You say sheepishly, to which Mingyu laughs at.

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of his laughter, something that hasn't changed despite having dated him for almost a year now. He makes his way to you and engulf you in a hug, whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “you're so cute” though he doesn't admit it because you don't like being called cute.

“Hmm.. Maybe I should go for the black one.” He says as he looks at himself in the mirror once again.

“What? No! Wear what you think is best. You know I have zero sense of fashion.”

“You like it, though.”

“I like you. You know you can wear the ugliest shirt out there and I'll still like it.”

Mingyu freezes and you see the tips of his ears turning red. You don't always say your feelings out loud, and when you do, it always hits a soft spot within him. And for all the cheesy comments Mingyu always parades to his fans, he's actually bad at receiving them himself.

You would usually jump at this opportunity to tease him, but you're feeling especially soft today, so you walk up next to him and tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I appreciate your sentiment, but don't trust me this time around, okay?” You chuckle and cup his warm face before dropping a peck on his lips.

“Alright…” He presses his lips together and goes for another kiss. “You'll really like everything…?”

And as much as Mingyu reassures you, you reassure him back.

“I like you. So you can wear anything, and I'll like it as long as it's not something weird like a dragon costume or something.”

Mingyu succumbs with a shy smile and hides his face in your neck.

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

He's brought you happiness that you didn't know existed. He always makes your bad days good and your good days even better.

You automatically look for him when something makes you laugh, a part of you always wishes to share your happiness with him no matter where he is. You also look for him when you're not feeling your best, because one look and Mingyu knows you need him beside you, his arms enveloping you to ground yourself to him, and his deep voice reminds you that things are going to be okay.

“Does it bother you?” Seungkwan asks one day. You, him, Mingyu, and Seungcheol are chilling in Mingyu's dorm.

“What?” You return his question, getting more comfortable on the sofa. You're leaning against Seungcheol's shoulder, as Mingyu is too busy playing something on his phone and you don't want to restrict his movement by leaning into him.

“The… you know. Whispers. What people say?”

“About me and Mingyu?” You make sure. Your relationship isn't public, but you know some people in his company doesn't exactly approve of his choice of a girlfriend even though their opinions don't matter.

“Yeah…”

You hum as you look at Mingyu, sitting comfortably on the floor near Seungkwan. He comments on how random the younger guy's question is, but doesn't seem too bothered by it.

Something pleasant settles in your chest as you continue looking at him, your smile growing when the answer to Seungkwan's question pops in your mind.

“Not really, no.” You turn to him with a smile, your voice firm with security. “I know Mingyu loves me and that's enough.”

You don't know love until Kim Mingyu.

Because he loves you with everything he has to offer and beyond, never once failing to let you know his feelings haven't wavered.

Because you want to do everything for him even if you're not able to, your heart always finding a way to be with him even when he's not next to you.

#my hand hurts writing this on phone lol #the mingyu brainrot is real #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenario #seventeen au #mingyu au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #khione.fics #svt fic #svt imagines #mingyu imagines #svt fluff

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xlatiwritesx · 11 months

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The Only Real Thing | EH9

A/N: Finally !! A football Imagine !! The amount of players I imagined this for before settling for Erling 💀. Anyways, Enjoy 🥳

Genre: fluff, then heart-wrenching angst. Erling Haaland x Singer!FemReader.

Words: 4.7K

Synopsis: after your tour’s last show at the Etihad, your Manchester songwriting sessions start for the next six months. However, a newly found love between you and a Norwegian player gets harder to navigate the closer your time to go back to your life in the US gets.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

You look out the plane's window, trying to count the clouds filling up the night sky to get your mind off counting the cracks in your heart or the tears that won't stop falling.

Why won't anything last? Why can't anything perfect just exist? But then you wouldn't have had the six months worth a life time with him anyway.

It wasn't perfect. But you still loved every living minute of it. You loved his imperfect guitar skills, his imperfect dancing, his imperfect cooking. All his imperfects were perfect to you.

You wished that your team never handed out tickets to the ManCity players for your Etihad Stadium concert. You wished you hadn't met him. That meant you won't ever have all the memories from your short time together, and you were okay with that. You can live without this heart ache. You can definitely live without Erling's sobs and red face engraved in your head.

You try to pin point exactly when you lost yourself to him. Your songwriting sessions in Manchester were supposed to come and go quietly after your tour's last show at the Etihad.

You weren't supposed to run into a Norwegian player from a sky blue team two days later. He wasn't supposed to complement your music. You weren't supposed to blush as you thanked him. And he absolutely shouldn't have asked you out for lunch.

But you still ran into that Norwegian player, and you still agreed for lunch. You sat in the cool Manchester air outside a quiet restaurant and just talked about anything that came to mind.

You talked about music and he talked about football. You hoped he didn't notice how much you were enjoying talking with him over pizza and coke. It was embarrassingly a lot. But you didn't know that he felt exactly the same way.

He never wanted it to end.

He didn't want all his planning to purposely run into you outside the studio you worked at to end in just an hour.

So he was obviously unhappy when Pep called his number, asking where he was.

"Training?" You smiled, ignoring the disappointment that he had to go and that you'll probably never see him again. At least not in person.

"Yeah. Maybe I could show you around tomorrow since it's my day off. I've been in Manchester long enough to finally say this to someone" he proudly opens his arms and you laugh lightly, keeping your excitement as low as possible for it not to show.

And he did show you Manchester the next day. He took you downtown, to the park he always goes to when he wants to just relax after a busy week of games and training, to where all the tourists go when they usually visit, and where he and his teammates usually hang out around the Etihad.

"I never knew there's this much to do in Manchester" you smile at him and he shakes his head.

"Me neither. It's a beautiful 'City'" he does air quotes and laughs. You roll your eyes at his joke, laughing along with him.

He drops you off at your rented house and waits until you get inside. You fight the urge to look back and wave one last time at your newly found crush. You felt so stupid for admitting it, but for the next few weeks, you waited for him to text you, you danced around your room when he finally did, you hoped and dreamt of when he would ask you to hang out again, you looked for tickets to his games, thought about how his cheeks redden under the sun, how focused he gets when driving, and how excited he gets when he talks about football.

A few weeks of texting lead to something more. You start writing songs about how he made you feel. About your little interactions. About him.

Going downtown turned into going to his house. Just a few hours turned into all day. Hearing about training and games turned into watching them live at the Etihad.

"That was a great game!" You try to convince him as you walked out of the stadium after a disappointing game. He still sulks as you walk to his car.

"We could've won with a bigger difference" he whines and you shake your head, leaning back on his car door when you reached it. He stands in front of you.

"You still won, though. Give yourself and the team some credit" you tell him. He doesn't reply.

He looks up and you admire how the setting sun washes his face golden. He looks at you, not holding back any emotion from flooding his eyes and drowning you in admiration. You don't either. You don't hold back from staring into his eyes for as long as he would let you.

"I've been..." he walks closer to you, hesitantly taking your hands in his own. Your heart feels like it could stop any second. You almost urge him to just say it. To finally make your dreams come to life.

"You're all I think about" he laughs nervously. You don't. You're too flustered to do or say anything.

"And I just can't wait any longer to ask you to be mine. I want you for myself. I want you to be wearing my jersey when I look at the crowd and look for you" he says so quietly it's almost a whisper. You wanted to kiss him. Right then and there. So when he leaned in, you placed a hand on his cheek and he took that as an invitation to lean in further.

You've never felt anything like you did in that moment. Nothing even came close. Everything felt meaningless compared to it. You wanted him more than you've ever wanted anything. You wanted that kiss to last a life time, but nothing does unfortunately.

Once Erling pulled away, you looked down at your feet and pursed your lips together as he looked around. Nervous and flustered, you turn around and open the car door, getting in quickly and leaving Erling outside.

He looks at you through the window and chuckles. However, you don't see him jump up and down, raising two thumbs ups to Jack, John, and Ruben who just witnessed everything that happened between the two of you. They smiled proudly at Erling who never stopped talking about you to them. How he was going to ask you to be finally his. So, they had a mini party right there that he finally got you.

Things in the studio were fired up. With your raging emotions, so much was getting done and work has never been easier. You and Erling hung out every day at that point. He would sometimes come hang out at the studio, and you'd leave together to spend the night at his place.

He would cook you too salty, or too bland meals every time you went to his place. His movie choices were peculiar, yet enjoyable. His arms were slowly becoming home to you, and his clothes were becoming your daily attire.

You attended every game. You did wear his jersey to every single one of them, and though the Etihad was always full of thousands of people, Erling always looked up to only you to celebrate his goals.

It was a Tuesday night at his place. Half eaten, too salty pasta sat in ceramic plates on the coffee table and a soap opera on Erling's TV. You laid on top of Erling on his living room's couch, resting your head of his chest while silently counting his calm heart beats and enjoying the warmth from his wrapped arm around your body.

"Y/n" Erling calls quietly.

"Hm?" You hum in response, your eyes focused on the TV.

He suddenly detangles himself from you and towers above you as he stands next to the couch. You look up at him before he carries you. You giggle, unconsciously wrapping your arms around his neck and brining your face close to his.

Your foreheads touch and you both stay quiet for a second. You wait for Erling to speak.

"I'm in love with you, y/n y/l/n" he whispers and your heart explodes with an emotion you could only explain as love. You thought of all the explanations of love you came across throughout your life. You compared them to what you felt in that moment, but to no avail. Nothing came close to that feeling. That feeling could never be articulated. Could never be conveyed through mere speech or writing.

"I'm in love with you, Erling Haaland" you whisper back before kissing him, hoping to convey how real your feelings were for him. How deep you felt how you felt towards him.

As your fourth month in Manchester wraps up, you realize how far you and Erling have come. And how close your time to go back to the States was coming too.

But you kept your eyes shut and your ears plugged. You convinced yourself that by doing so, that day would just never come around.

You two still held hands every chance you got, you still slow danced around Erling's living room, you still went to every game, Erling still celebrated his goals and wins with only you. You kept writing songs about him and he kept dedicating all his hard work to you.

"Come on close your eyes" Erling urged and you placed both hands on your eyes. You were sat on his bed, ready to go to sleep when he announced that he got you something. He dangled a necklace right in front of your face.

"Open them" he orders quietly. You do so and gasp at the dangling jewelry in front of you.

Erling admires your reaction as you take the necklace in your hand. You inspect the golden letters written in his cursive handwriting. It was both of your initials.

"This way you'll always have a piece of me with you when I'm away" he says quietly and you look at him. You quickly hug him tightly, trying to bury the heart ache that only keeps getting more tangible.

The more time that passes, the harder it gets to hide the fact that this whole whirlwind romance won't last. You knew that. Erling knew that too. But, understandably, none of you wanted to admit it. So you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your tears back into their ducts and he held you tighter than usual.

"I love you" you mumbled into his neck and he kissed your temple, still holding you.

"I love you" he said it back to you like he always did and forever will.

You finally meet his family. You get to know his younger sisters and help his mother in the kitchen. You try to test your football trivia with his dad and you actually impress him with how much you picked up since you got together with Erling.

Under the dinner table, your hands intertwine and your heart flutters at the way his parents smile at you every time Erling talks about you.

At the Etihad, things are also getting fired up because of Erling's raging emotions. He runs faster, laughs louder, and scores better. Pep, Jack, and John stand next to each other, admiring his genuine laughter at something Kyle said.

"Funny what love does to you" John says quietly, still smiling at Erling. Jack nodded, his eyes focused on Erling as well.

Only Pep was worried. He knew once the slightest crack occurs in Erlings dream relationship, and not because his performance will plummet, but because he knew how hard heartbreak could be. And he knew damn well that he'll just stand and watch, because nothing ever mends a broken heart.

Towards the end of your sixth month in Manchester, a coherent draft of your upcoming studio album finally came together. You couldn't wait to go home and tell Erling all about it and even listen to it with him.

It was all about falling in love with him after all.

But the plane tickets your manager handed you blew everything away. It was a slap across your face. A wake up call to finally leave the waking dream you've been so immersed in.

"Couldn't find any sooner flights, unfortunately. You've got a lot to catch up to once we get back to the States. Some stations asked if they could..." you couldn't hear anything anymore.

How could you be so stupid? It was only then that you realized how far you've let go of yourself.

You knew you were leaving. At some point. But it still definitely snuck up on you. You've been so in love that you forgot the cruelty of your world. You've been in a shared dream that you've completely forgotten about your own.

You didn't know how you ended up at Erling's place, but you did. You walked in, your feet leading you to where he usually was in the living room. It was familiar. Too familiar.

You didn't say a single word. You just laid on the couch, your head on his thigh. He didn't say anything either.

You stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but just a minute later, Erling spoke.

"What's wrong?" His voice was so quiet he was almost whispering. You unravelled. Completely came undone.

You got up, buried your head in chest and just sobbed. You didn't see an end to it. Not in the near future at least. Startled, Erling tries to look at your face, placing both his hands on your wet cheeks.

"Hey, look at me" he whispers. You try to hold it in to try and have a conversation about it.

But what were you going to say? That you couldn't stay? That you were leaving him after the six months worth a lifetime and more? That you weren't taking his sisters to the park next Sunday? Not going to his game next Monday either? That you were returning his clothes that were practically yours? That you were never waking up next to him again? Not partying with his teammates after every win? That you'll move on and find someone else eventually, but never a love like you've had with him?

You could never.

It takes insane self control to take a steady breath to speak one single coherent sentence. You looked at your hands as his eyes studied your puffy face.

"My plane leaves on Wednesday. To LA" you risk a look at his face and it's as if his life crumbled. In a split second, Erling is up on his feet and chuckling. You start crying again, covering your face with your hands.

"That's all?" He laughs. You look up at him and stand up to walk to him.

"You're crying because you're leaving for a few-"

"No! Not a few days, Erling! I'm going back to the US because my whole life is there! Your whole life?! Here!" You scream at him, tears streaming down your face. You let out a few sobs.

"So? We'll make it work" he shrugs and you roll your eyes at his state of denial. You knew. He knew, too.

You won't work. Ever. Not when your lives were across the world from one another.

"Yeah and how is that?" You impatiently cross your arms and wipe your nose with the sleeve of your sweater.

He looks at you for a long moment in a way that cut your heart a million times. Your lips shake and you turn away from him.

You feel his arms around you from behind almost immediately. He keeps you on your feet. You feel him kiss your temple gently, as if reassuring you that it'll be alright.

But it will not. It will never be.

"We'll find a way. We will" even he sounds unsure now and it breaks you. It really shatters your wellbeing.

You let yourself cry as Erling just held you in his safe arms. You try to gather yourself, but you fail for the next ten minutes. Once you succeed, you guide Erling to sit next to you on the couch.

"Erling" you call his name even though he was right next to you. You take his hand and hold it with both of your own.

"Once I leave Manchester" you start. You couldn't control the blurriness in your eyes any longer, so you just let a tear roll down your cheek.

"I'm never coming back" you look up at him. You wished you hadn't, because his face fell once the words left your mouth. You could tell it was the first time it really hit him.

It really hit him hard. In just two days from now, you'll only be another pretty celebrity in someone else's phone. Running from interview to interview, meeting guys way better than him. Guys who could actually play guitar and know how songwriting works. Guys who can actually be there. Guys that were not tied by a football career across the globe from you.

"Erling, I can't come see you in breaks because I never have any other than one or two days. You deserve someone who can actually be here for you-"

He cuts you off by pulling you into his chest, holding you so tight that it was becoming harder to breath. You just stopped talking. Not bearing to break him or yourself any further.

"You're the only one I want. Even if you leave, that will never ever change. Don't tell me I deserve someone better. Don't tell me that I will find someone who could make my heart beat the way you make it do" he begs and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You didn't sob. You were way too tired. You just let the tears silently find their way down your face.

Erling was wrong. You'll never find a guy better then he is. You loved teaching him how to play the guitar every time he visited the studio, and he didn't know much about songwriting, but he was the inspiration behind your entire upcoming album.

None of you could say it. None of you could come to terms with it and actually face it. You just held each other as if it was your last day on earth.

Waking up the next day next to Erling didn't feel the same. It didn't make your heart race from excitement and happiness. He didn't kiss your face until you yelled at him to stop, your laughter filling his house.

The rest of the day was spent like normal, though. You were skeptical at first when Erling woke up and was acting like nothing had happened the night before. He didn't seem sad. Or like this was technically your last day together. But as the day went on, you appreciated having one last day with him instead of just crying all day.

You went out for a walk at the park Erling took you to when you first met. Laughed at a cat fight over a bird. Sat under a big tree and held hands while taking in the view around you. Went with Erling to his training session afterwards and cheered him on like you always did. After training, you just went home and Erling immediately got to cooking after a quick shower. You watched his every move from where you sat on the kitchen island.

After dinner, you spent the rest of the night just acting blind to the fact that once you left, you were never coming back to him. Holding hands, listening to his heart beat, rewatching your favorite movie, talking about random topics and sharing your opinions on them.

But time never stopped for anyone. Or anything for that matter. It was so cruel that it kept going until one in the morning. Until you had to leave. And it still kept going as you detangled yourself from Erling.

Suddenly, the atmosphere got heavy. Your feet felt like they couldn't walk you out of his door. Your heart didn't seem to take it.

Erling places his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He really tried to not cry when it was time, but it was just too much. It was a lot to handle his first ever true love to end just like this.

"Erling" you call him shakily, but he's sobbing at this point. You sat back down next to him, not knowing what to do. He stops himself from crying all of a sudden and gets up. You follow.

"I'll drive you back" he says quietly. You don't object. You follow him to his car.

The drive to your place was awfully quiet. It was too quiet. Every few minutes, you tried stealing a look at him. Checking if he was okay. But you were just kidding yourself. How could he be okay? How could you?

He steps out of his car once he parks in your house's driveway. You do so too. You walk around the car to meet him by the driver's door.

You take his hands and he holds yours. You look up at him and muster a smile. One tugs at his lips too. It was sad, what you were going through. But beautiful. It was all so beautiful nothing will ever compare to it.

He leans in and kisses you. So passionately you almost scream in agony at the thought of it being the last time. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, hoping to make him feel an ounce of how he made you feel.

You don't pull away from each other for what seemed like an eternity. But when you do, you knew it was a piece of yourself that you've lost and will never be able to restore.

"I love you, y/n" Erling whispers.

"I love you, Erling" you whisper back.

With that, you turn away and walk quickly to your door, as if to outrun the pain. But you knew better than that.

Once your front door shuts, Erling quickly gets into his car, coming completely undone. He cries his heart out, hitting the steering wheel and cursing his mind for playing a reel of the best six months of his life.

You do too. You curse yourself for loving him. You curse yourself for knowing what it's like to be held by him. What it's like to kiss him. Feel him. Hear him talk or watch him cook. Your heart hurts. Your chest hurts too. Your eyes won't stop flooding with tears. You hold the necklace he gave you a few months ago as if you were holding on to him.

Somehow, the next day came a long. Your assistant and manager helped pack the car with you. They doesn't ask about your puffy eyes or sick demeanor. They naturally connected the dots. They knew about you and Erling. Everyone did.

You let yourself silently cry in the backseat on the way to the airport, hoping your manager and assistant don't hear or notice.

After checking in and on your way to security, you hear someone call your name. You turn around to see Jack, John, and Ruben. You smile at them. Genuinely.

"Hey" you greet them, giving them each a quick hug. You ignore the heart ache from not seeing Erling with them.

You two said goodbye last night anyway.

"We couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye in person" John tells you and you smile at them.

"It was fun knowing you guys. Thank you for everything. I never thought I'd make any friends in my time here honestly" you admit.

"Don't let your newly found Brit side die once you get back to America" Jack warns and everyone laughs. Including yourself.

You shake your head and wave at them. They all smile and wave back to you as you start walking backwards.

"I'll stay in touch and watch your games still!" You assure them before turning away to follow your manager and assistant.

And that's how you ended up in a plane, looking out at the clouds, crying as your mind raced with a million thoughts. a million what ifs and would'ves. You thought you won't live long after that heartbreak. You couldn't keep going like this.

But you didn't. As your manager told you, your schedule was full once you got back. You woke up every morning, got your makeup and hair done before running out the door for your scheduled interviews, album shoots, recordings, and many other things you had to do before your album came out.

You still cried yourself to sleep for weeks, though. But it slowly got better. You focused on your work. Your friends. Yourself. You tried your best to not give up. He wouldn't have wanted that for you. Ever.

When your album finally dropped, it was your best one yet. It broke records you never thought you'd break and so many people were enjoying it all across the world. The week your album dropped was a dream turned into reality after two years of constant hard work.

As part of your promotions, you sat in one of the many interviewee chairs you had sat in before. You got comfortable as the interviewer asked you all sorts of questions and you answered them like you always did, wittily yet sufficiently, making the tiny crowd laugh in their seats as they watched.

"About your new album" the interviewer starts and the whole room cheers. You cheer too.

"It seems to be following some sort of plot line, as if telling a story in a way" he continues and you nod along, confirming his theory.

"What's it really about?" The interviewer asks hopefully. You already decided how much you were going to tell the public, so the question didn't surprise you at all.

"About a year ago, I was writing this album in Manchester, UK, and I met this guy while I was there" you start and the room erupts with cheers again. You smile at them before going on.

"We fell for each other a bit too hard" you laugh lightly and the interviewer nods, laughing along.

"But I had to come back to the States and he had to stay in the UK, so" you sigh towards the end.

It was moments like these when you allowed yourself to think about him. About everything that happened last year. You never allowed yourself past just a thought crossing your mind.

But when you actually talked about it, you allowed yourself more than just that. You allowed yourself to remember the little details. To miss him and wonder how he was doing. You've met some guys since then, but Erling had already set the bar impossibly high for any of them to even see.

In Manchester, Erling was still being the star player he is. Since you've left, he had won his first Premier League with ManCity. He still thought about you before, during, and after each game. He kept up with all your news. Watching you shine from afar when you were once in between his arms. He wished you knew how proud he was of you. Of how well your album was doing. That everywhere he went in Manchester, it was being played somewhere.

That night, he watched your interview in bed, his phone resting on the pillow where your head used to rest. He watches you talk about your album and he thinks of how he would've celebrated its success with you. But all he did was smile at his phone screen when you did and hoped you were doing okay off of it too. He prayed every night and everyday that fate will eventually bring you two back together somehow. Still the same, but under different and better circumstances. You prayed for that too.

But until then, all you had was the memories you had together, replaying in your heads and reminding you of the only time you truly felt alive.

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