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smileysuh · 8 months

Text

forget him

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “What if… what if I helped you out a little?” His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs. “Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

tw/cw. recent breakup, fingering, Hyuck walks in while y/n is masturbating, masturbation, assisted masturbation, toy/dildo use, overstimulation, dacryphilia, reader has multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, big dick Hyuck, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, talking about y/n's ex while they fuck, marking/claim kink, full/breeding kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe, good girl.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 7.1k

🍭 aus. friends to lovers, roommates au, recent breakup, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. When I tell you I need to be demolished by this Hyuck-

Hyuck absolutely hates seeing you like this.

He’d thought it had been hard seeing you in love with his best friend Mark Lee, but seeing you in the throws of depression after your recent breakup takes the cake for Hyuck when it comes to him having a straight up horrible time.

Obviously, you have it worse, and he’s not trying to contest that fact- he just hadn’t realized that when the thing he’d been hoping for actually came to pass- it would feel this bad.

In the dark reaches of his mind, he wonders if he’d had something to do with the separation, although, in truth, he knows that’s ridiculous. He’d been as supportive as a friend and roommate could be about you and Mark. He’d forced smiles and words of encouragement when you’d gushed through the talking phase. He’d found ways to ditch the apartment when you and Mark started to get physical, doing his best to give you privacy while getting high as a kite at Lee Jeno’s place to distract himself from the fact that you were getting railed by someone other than him. And now, he supposes, he’s doing his due diligence in making you feel better when you’re at your worst.

Hyuck’s doing the best he can to make things easy for you. He’s set up movie days, and he’s made you ramen. He’s allowed you to shuffle closer to him on the couch, even resting your head on his shoulder any time you start to tear up. He’s paused films to listen to you explain things like “When Mark and I watched this, he would always get so excited when Totoro would show up” or “Mark hated No Face.”

He wonders if doing a Ghibli marathon is the best idea, given how much you associate it with Mark, but when he’d asked you about it and you insisted you would feel better watching the films, he’d left it at that.

You’re your own person, and Hyuck’s always trusted you to make the best decisions for yourself… even when he doesn’t agree with them.

Cuddled next to you on your living room couch, Hyuck does his best just to be there for you. He ignores the boys’ group chat messages, where other friends are taking care of Mark. As far as Hyuck’s concerned, he’s team you, all the way, and he always has been.

He notices the way you start to shift next to him, pulling away from his shoulder to stretch your arms over your head.

“You good?” Hyuck asks, looking away from the movie to give you his complete and undivided attention.

“Yeah,” you sigh, frowning slightly. “Just tired.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” He studies your face, noticing all the signs of exhaustion- although, to be fair, you’ve been a sleepy wreck of a thing since your breakup two weeks ago.

“I probably should,” you concede, taking another deep breath. “Thanks for making me dinner and watching movies with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hyuck says, flashing you a small smile as he straightens in his seat, reaching for the remote to stop the movie.

“You’ve been so nice since… since the whole Mark thing.” He can see you swallowing back tears, and you reach up to wipe your eye with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“That’s what friends are for,” Hyuck assures you, although, his attention toward you has always far surpassed that of a friend. It’s a shame you’ve never realized that fact.

“Just… thanks,” you say again, holding open your arms for a hug that Hyuck is more than happy to give you.

He adjusts on the couch, leaning forward to scoop you into his arms. Your cheek presses to his shoulder and he breathes in the smell of your fruity body wash. He tries his best not to hug you too hard- because if he did, you might actually realize that every time you hug him, he has no true intention of ever letting you go.

“Sleep well, okay, gorgeous?” he prompts, stroking your hair and using the petname he’d given you far before you’d ever met Mark. “You really need your rest.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assure him, giving one last gentle squeeze before you pull away.

Hyuck watches you stand up, your hoodie skimming your mid thigh. He knows you’re wearing sleeping shorts under the oversized fabric, but he can’t help but swallow thickly, imagining what it would be like if you were just in panties.

He really has to get his mind out of the gutter, and Hyuck knows that- he’s been trying to, in all honesty he has- but it’s been four years of knowing you, one of living together, and he still can’t manage to keep his thoughts PG.

With one last small smile, you turn and begin to shuffle to your room.

He misses your lively movements. The first night you’d moved in together, you’d had a small dance party together, and Hyuck’s always been adamant that no one’s hips move like yours do.

He misses your joy. The way you sparkle when you’re happy. You used to smile like a kid in a candy shop anytime you watched your favourite movies or ate the ramen he’d made for you, but these days, the most you can muster is a small upquirk of the sides of your lips.

Hyuck wants to make you smile again. He’s just not sure how to do it.

He knows you need time. Time heals all wounds, or so they say. He just wishes he could fast track your recovery.

Your bedroom door shuts and the spell of watching you is broken. Hyuck takes a deep breath, looking around the messy living room. There are blankets and pillows strewn all over, take out boxes from your day inside, tissues from when you’d cried.

He’s not generally known to be the cleanest man around town, but Hyuck feels that in times like these, the least he can do is keep things tidy. He’s sure you’ll feel better to come out of your room every morning to a nice apartment, so he begins his work of collecting water cups and take away boxes.

You’ve definitely lost your spark, and Hyuck thinks maybe he has too. He’s used to playing music loudly, using it as energy at all hours of the day, but tonight, while he cleans, he keeps things quiet. His head is full, and his ears are on edge, paying attention to the sounds coming from your room.

In those first days after the breakup, he’d heard you crying a lot, and he’s sure that barging into your room to give you a hug had cheered you up. He’s hoping it won’t be necessary today.

As much as he loves hugging you, seeing you cry always makes him feel like someone is trying to tear open his chest and clench his heart. It’s an ache he doesn’t enjoy.

When you’d moved in together, he’d decided that as a girl - with monthly girl issues - you should have the bigger room with the connected bathroom, and he listens to the sound of you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed.

You begin to hum something, and Hyuck realizes it’s the first time he’s heard you sing since your breakup.

Maybe tonight will be a good night.

Hyuck has moved all the clutter to the kitchen, and he begins to put stuff in the garbage and dishwasher while he listens to you hum. He thinks about the day you met, at uni orientation. He’d never become friends with someone so fast in his life, and when you’d discovered you had three of five classes together- well, he’s never looked back, not for one second.

He wonders how things would be different if he’d ever manned up and told you how he felt- how he feels- how his affection for you has only been growing and growing-

Hyuck finds himself heading to the fridge and taking out a beer. He hasn’t been drinking much since you and Mark broke up, hasn’t needed the mind-numbing effects of alcohol, so when he takes a large swig, he finds that it immediately takes the edge off.

He can’t be thinking about wifing you up right now- no matter how much he might wish to.

Although… as he leans against the sink and downs the can, grabbing another, he begins to wonder if offering himself up to you as a distraction really would be the worst thing in the world.

Sure, it wouldn’t be the way he’d want to start things with you- but maybe he could make you fall in love with him and forget all about Mark Lee. However, in all honesty, he’d probably be risking your friendship.

He’s played this mind game with himself too many times before, and Hyuck always finds himself at a stalemate. Frustration bubbles up inside and he looks out at the living room, determined to set himself back on the task of cleaning.

Hyuck throws the pillows onto the couch, and he even begins to fold up a blanket, and that’s when he hears a familiar sound.

You’ve never been the type to seek much affection, especially when you’re in your room, so whenever he’s caught you crying, it’s always started with a whimper.

What Hyuck’s just heard was definitely a whimper, and his whole body surges with white-hot, electric energy, his eyes darting to your door. His breath catches, and he tosses the blanket down to the ground, frozen as he waits for another sound of distress.

A small gasp can be heard under the crack of your door, and Hyuck’s body bolts into action. He’s moving so fast he stumbles a little over his own feet just as he reaches your room, and he wonders if drinking two beers was a good idea. His hand lands on your door, and he knocks aggressively.

“You okay in there, gorgeous?” he calls.

“I’m fine!” you respond, but there’s definitely an edge to your voice.

He can tell something is wrong- can tell you’re lying to him, and in a split second, Hyuck is making a decision.

“I’m coming in.”

You let out a small squeak of surprise, tearing your hand away from the toy still lodged inside of you so you can pull the blankets up around your shoulders, jaw dropping as your roommate barges into your room.

“Hyuck!”

He stands in the doorway, studying you, and you can see a look of confusion cross his face. “I thought I heard you crying.”

“I’m not crying!” you insist, core clenching around the dildo. “Get out!”

Hyuck doesn’t move. “I definitely heard a whimper,” he insists.

Your heart is practically racing in your chest, and you’re very much aware of the pleasurable feeling still thrumming from your core. Cock warming was something you enjoyed doing with Mark, and the fact that you’re cock warming a toy while Hyuck stares at you is having a wholly unexpected effect on your entire body.

“People whimper for all sorts of reasons!” you say dumbly. “Leave!”

Hyuck tilts his head to the side, assessing you again. “You never speak to me like this.”

“You usually don’t just barge in here unannounced!”

“Yes, I do,” Hyuck points out. “Why’s tonight different?”

“What do you mean-”

“Something is different,” he says, more firmly this time. His gaze dips, taking in the blanket still wrapped tightly around your form. “Wait…” you see the exact moment he realizes what you’re up to, and even from a few feet away, you see the way his pupils dilate. “Are you…”

“Hyuck-” you groan, lifting the blankets to hide your face, hoping he can’t see the shame that’s beginning to consume you.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Are what?” you ask, deciding to play dumb.

You can hear him scoff, and you peak from under the blanket just in time to see his signature eye roll. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s getting annoyed, and you can feel yourself dripping down your dildo.

He meets your gaze again. “I didn’t hear a vibrator, so let me guess…” You watch him swallow thickly. “The toy’s still inside of you, isn’t it?”

Curse him for knowing you so well.

Curse him for having a dirty mind.

And maybe most of all, curse yourself for being so stupidly turned on that you can’t even deny what he’s just said. All you can do is groan loudly, hiding again.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Yes!”

You hear him click his tongue. “Come on, gorgeous. We both know I can tell when you lie to me. We’ve been friends for years, you don’t have to be… ashamed about this.”

But shame is exactly what you’re feeling, and his words don’t help at all.

“Please, just leave,” you sigh, so embarrassed you think you might actually die.

“What if… what if I helped you out a little?”

His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs.

“Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

“You’re being crazy.” You peak out at him. “We’re roommates- Mark is one of your best friends-”

“I’ve known you longer and I’m loyal to you,” Hyuck insists firmly. “And besides, stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you can’t help but laugh a little, and the contraction of your stomach muscles pushes the toy slightly out of your core, making you groan at the loss.

From the look that crosses Hyuck’s face, he obviously notices your sound, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “For one, the fact that you even dated Mark was a little crazy.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“But nice doesn’t fill you up at night. Nice doesn’t make you cum so hard you feel it through your whole body.” Hyuck holds up a hand. “And before you try to tell me Mark was good in bed, remember that I have a room next to yours. Mark is a nice guy, but that doesn’t mean he can fuck. Not the way you deserve.”

You shift in your bed, sitting up a little to address your roommate. “Yeah? And how do I deserve to be fucked?”

“You deserve someone who’s going to worship every inch of you. Someone who’s going to make you cum over and over- make you gush so good you’re begging for it, begging to finally get dicked down so hard you can’t even walk after. Someone who makes you cry for all the right reasons.”

You stare at Hyuck.

You’re not even sure what to say.

He’s never talked like this to you, ever- at least, not in your waking hours.

You’ve had dreams about his sharp tongue, his long fingers, and his big cock- but never gave credence to your lustful fantasies. Hyuck’s always just been a friend-

“Why now?” you find yourself asking. “After all this time-”

“I’m tired of watching you hurt over something I might be able to help you fix.”

“So cock is the fix to a broken heart?”

“Gorgeous, I think we both know that what I’m offering you is more than cock.”

“Right, I’m guessing tongue and fingers-”

Hyuck gives you an unimpressed look. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

“That I’m super into you? That I’ve been into you since we met? That it killed me to watch you be with Mark when I knew you should have been with me?”

“Hyuck-” you breathe, feeling even more whiplash from these words than his dirty talk.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything about that stupid feels shit, just… just let me take care of you tonight.”

“What if we regret it?” You press your thighs together, keeping the toy just inside of you while you begin to fidget with your blanket. “What if it ruins our friendship?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question for years,” Hyuck admits. “But… after looking at you now- I really don’t think that’s something we have to worry about.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m about to make you cum so hard you forget about every other man in your life.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Hyuck lets out a small laugh. “So… you going to lift those covers and let me see what I’m dealing with or…?”

“God,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I call you gorgeous for a reason, don’t I?” Hyuck grins. “Come on, I wanna see.”

You grab at the blankets, taking a deep breath. Then you start to move them off your body.

Your roommate watches your every movement, dipping his head to focus as you lift the fabric covering your feet, then your calves-

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you tell him.

“Yeah, me neither,” Hyuck admits. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you like this.”

His words make your stomach erupt in butterflies, and you feel the toy still half wedged in your core. “Should I… should I remove the dildo first?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I wanna see that too.” His eyes meet yours. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re so fucking hot, I’m already hard.”

He reaches a hand down to cup the front of his sweatpants, and you realize he’s not lying. You can see the impressive print of his cock pressing against the fabric, and it makes your mouth water. It also gives you the confidence to fully reveal yourself to his hungry eyes, and the moment he sees you, Hyuck lets out a deep groan.

“Shit, gorgeous,” Hyuck says, letting out a deep breath. “You’re even more perfect than I’ve imagined.”

His words make you feel shy, and you close your legs, only for Hyuck to press a knee to the bed, both hands reaching out to prompt your thighs back open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he warns, and there’s an edge to his tone. He’s still being soft with you, his touch gentle, but there’s an obvious hunger rising inside of him. “Tell me about this toy.”

“Well, I uh…” you search for your words. “It’s one of the first ones I ever bought-”

“It’s small,” Hyuck notes, which is kind of funny considering it’s Mark sized. “Can I use it on you?”

“You want to fuck me with the toy?” You blink at your long term friend and roommate.

“Gotta stretch you out to take something bigger.” Hyuck smirks devilishly, and your pussy throbs- he’s definitely bigger than Mark and the toy still half lodged inside of you. You can’t wait to find out how much bigger.

“You can-” you bite at your lip, “you can fuck me with it.”

“Good girl,” Hyuck praises you, and you can feel yourself practically dripping around the dildo now.

You hold your breath in anticipation while Hyuck gets settled on the foot of the bed. His warm palms smooth over your thighs, forcing you wider, and then his fingers grab the base of the toy. “Do you like it slow?”

“I think… to start off with?” You feel too hazy to be able to answer questions, and he hasn’t even started with you. “But… when you fuck me, can you go fast, please?”

“Of course, gorgeous. I can do anything you want,” he assures you, applying pressure to the toy so it begins to lodge deeper inside of you. You let out a small sigh and Hyuck looks up at you, grinning. “You’re so wet, babe, making this too fucking easy.”

“It’s not my fault-” you defend yourself, voice shaky.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” His smile widens. “Talking dirty gets you going, huh, gorgeous?”

You nod, resting your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of him beginning to work the toy in and out of your pussy.

“Bet Mark’s dirty talk game was weak,” Hyuck says under his breath.

You don’t have it in you to agree with him, although… he’s correct. Something tells you he knows it too, because he lets out a small chuckle.

Hyuck’s using his right hand to fuck you with the toy, and his left moves from your thigh. A moment later, his thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your clit and your toes curl from the stimulation. A gentle gasp escapes you and you can practically hear Hyuck smile.

“Feels good?” he prompts.

“So good,” you nod. You need something to hold onto, so you grab at the one piece of clothing on your body, a night shirt, which you lift up your to your abdomen, giving Hyuck more room to work.

He rubs your clit harder and you let out a whine, feeling the familiar build of tension in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Hyuck tells you, and you can feel his breath on your pussy which makes you twitch. “God, I could watch you squirm like this all night.”

“Please-”

“Please what?”

You don’t even know. All you know is listening to the squelching sound of the toy going in and out of you while his thumb rubs your clit is driving you insane.

“I want to kiss you,” you decide, realizing Hyuck’s about to make you cum and you haven’t even really gotten a taste of him.

Hyuck stops what he’s doing immediately, manuevering up the bed so he’s on top of you, one hand pressed to the pillow while he looks down at you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he grins.

Your hands explore his shoulders and one snakes into his hair, then you’re tugging his mouth down to your own. Hyuck’s gentle with you at first, but when you go to bite on his lower lip, he groans loudly. His tongue darts out to brush against your own, and the kiss deepens.

You’re done with your toy. You want to feel him, and you reach between your bodies to remove the dildo, pulling it out and tossing it onto the floor next to the bed.

Hyuck breaks your kiss to look at the wet toy on the ground, and he lets out a small laugh, gaze returning to your own. “Why’d you do that?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah?” His hand slips between your forms, and two digits stroke the length of your pussy, making you moan. “Want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, grabbing at the front of his shirt, tugging his mouth back to yours while he buries himself into you knuckle deep.

He strokes your walls, and the feeling is absolutely delightful, especially when he angles his hand, palm pressing to your clit while he seeks out your gspot.

His lips are hot against your own, and they don’t muffle the sound of pleasure escaping you.

Hyuck’s a bit of a gamer, but you never really realized his fingers could feel this good-

“Shit, gorgeous,” he groans, breaking the kiss to move his mouth to your throat, where he lets out deep breaths. “You’re dripping all over my hand.”

“I’m so close-” you confess, gripping his shoulders tighter while he finger fucks you even harder, chasing your release.

“You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, right?” Hyuck prompts, which makes you mewl. “Yeah, you’ve always been such a good girl, gonna be good and cum all over my fingers-”

His words make you throb, and he applies more pressure to your clit with his palm. His lips press kisses to your neck and he finds your sweetspot, making everything feel all the more intense.

You’re on the edge, and you let out a loud gasp, clenching your eyes shut in anticipation.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Come on, I wanna feel you.”

His words make the cord in your stomach snap, and your body is flooded with the pleasure of your release. You feel it everywhere, and it makes you cry out while holding onto him tighter. His hand continues between your thighs, fingers unrelenting, palm heavy on your clit.

Hyuck works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping and pushing at his shoulders, and then he straightens a little, motions stopping while he looks down at you. “Did you enjoy that?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes a little. “You know I did.”

“Yeah, but you could still stroke my ego a little.”

“Stroke your ego?” You reach for his cock, gripping him through his sweats. “Like this?”

Hyuck lets out a low groan, thrusting forward to meet your hand. “As much as I’d love to watch you jack me off- tonight I’m here to make you feel better, and I’m not anywhere near being done with you yet.”

You’d never realized Hyuck had any self control, and you watch in shock as he gently moves your hand away.

“I’m going to eat you out now,” he tells you, slipping down the bed so he’s on his stomach between your legs. Hyuck spreads you open, gently kissing your inner thigh before looking up at you. “You good with this?”

“Uh huh,” you breathe, swallowing thickly as you prepare yourself for his tongue. “I’m still sensitive though.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Hyuck promises, pressing a very soft kiss to your clit. “I can be gentle, contrary to popular belief.”

You can’t help but let out a giggle, but the sound is cut short when Hyuck unexpectedly buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses into your hole and the feeling has your legs quaking as he adjusts them over his shoulders, trying to dive even deeper.

“Shit, Hyuck-” you whimper, grabbing at his hair.

He’s always been a bit of a liar- maybe you shouldn’t have believed him when he said he’d go easy on you. But… at the same time, the way his nose repeatedly bumps your clit has a fire building in your abdomen again, and you really aren’t even that mad about it.

You can feel Hyuck smile against you, and it’s such a turn on to know he’s enjoying himself while providing you with pleasure. Mark had always been somewhat rigid in your sexual interactions, much more serious than the grinning cheshire cat between your legs now.

Where Mark had been slow and tentative, Hyuck’s eager and passionate. He switches between lapping at your hole, sucking your clit, and pushing his tongue into you as deep as it can go, licking at your walls and working you up way faster than anyone else ever has in your entire life.

Then he begins to groan, and you realize he’s grinding against the bed-

Is eating you out really that sexy for him?

You feel another gush of wetness from the thought and your pussy throbs, warning you both that you’re close again. Hyuck responds by adjusting ever so slightly, lips wrapping around your clit while he pushes a hand to your entrance, slipping two fingers inside.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you gasp, back arching off the bed while the cord in your stomach is pulled unbelievably tight.

Hyuck’s fingers twist in and out of your hole, and he licks at your clit in the most sloppy manner- it’s enough to have you exploding, a cry of pleasure escaping you while your core clamps down on your roommate.

He groans loudly, sinfully, and the vibration against your clit has your legs shaking around his head, orgasm pulsing deep through your entire being.

You’re practically crying at this point, and you can feel tears even while you clench your eyes shut, taking everything Hyuck’s giving you while moaning like a whore- you’ve never sounded this way, and there’s something almost addicting about the noises being torn out of you.

You know he feels it too, because Hyuck is completely unrelenting. If anything, he’s even more sloppy with the way he worships your pussy, fingers crooking up expertly-

You’re literally gushing around him, and you can feel it, can feel that your bed is going to be ruined after this. But you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can do is grab at your sheets, crying to the ceiling while your best friend makes you feel pleasure so intense that you can’t even think.

He’s fulfilled his promise about making you cry for good reasons… and he hasn’t even taken his cock out yet.

You’ve never been this needy in your entire life, and when he pulls away from your core, allowing you to catch your breath, you peak out at him from under wet lashes.

“You’re literally perfect,” he tells you, voice deep. His pupils are completely blown now and he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

You watch him bring glistening fingers up to his lips, slowly sucking them clean and moaning loudly at the taste of you before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, and you’re already crying-” Hyuck sits up, leaning over you and reaching out to brush some of your tears away. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Hyuck-” you whimper, shocked that you’re choking up.

Your body is still being flooded with emotion and sensations. Your nipples are hard under your shirt and the fabric is becoming uncomfortable, making you more sensitive-

“Going to let me take care of you now, right, gorgeous?” he asks, pinching at your chin and leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Please-” You grab at your shirt and Hyuck follows through by helping you take it off.

You’re now fully revealed to him, and your best friend sits back to appreciate you, letting out a deep breath.

“Mark’s so fucking stupid for letting you go,” Hyuck says.

His words are bitter sweet, and in your overstimulated state, you find your lower lip wobbling as you hold back a choked sob.

“Shh,” Hyuck whispers, reaching out to cup your cheek. “It’s better to be with someone who knows your worth, like I do. I’d never fucking treat you the way he did- I promise.”

The look on his face is so intense, and you know he’s telling you the truth.

Your body relaxes a little- Hyuck really is such a good guy, and what he’s doing for you helps more than he’ll probably ever know. He’s making you feel sexy again, making you feel needed and wanted and maybe even loved.

“Besides,” Hyuck clears his throat, taking off his own shirt, “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about that asshole.”

You can’t help but laugh sadly, wiping at your own face to get rid of the last tears while you watch Hyuck move to work on his sweats.

When he pushes the waistband down, revealing his cock, you think you might actually faint.

You’ve always thought Hyuck was a pretty guy, sexy of course, but pretty too- and his cock? It’s as stupidly pretty as the rest of him.

He must be a little over seven inches, and he’s girthy too-

You can feel yourself practically drooling as you look at him, and Hyuck smirks at your reaction. “Sure you’re ready for this, gorgeous?”

“If you don’t fuck me I think I might die.”

He laughs at your words. “Then I guess I better fuck you.”

“Should we…” you bite at your lip. “Do we need condoms?”

“Babe,” Hyuck scoffs. “Babe- we’re both clean, right? And I know you’re on birth control… do you want me to wear a condom? I always kind of imagined you’d be the kind of girl who wants to be full.”

How many times has he imagined this, you wonder.

But he’s right. You want him to fill you up like no one else has.

“Come here,” you say, holding open your arms while he kicks his sweats off.

Hyuck’s hands find the pillows by your head and he slots himself between your legs, lips pressing against your own.

You thread your fingers through his soft brown hair, kissing him eagerly. You want to get lost in him, and it’s easy to do that when he begins to rut his cock against your pussy, bumping your clit and making your thighs shake around his hips.

“Just fuck me,” you groan, already feeling so unbelievably needy.

Hyuck smirks against your lips, pulling away to look down at you with mischief in his eyes. “You’re so fucking hot it’s insane.”

“Then why aren’t you inside me yet?”

He moans a little, dipping his head to look between your bodies while he reaches for the base of his cock, lining himself up with your hole. “If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

You’re about to scoff and tell him he’s not that big when he pushes his head into your entrance and a gasp leaves your lips. The stretch is very real, and you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, closing your eyes and focusing on getting your body to relax.

You can practically feel your pussy struggling to make room for him, and even though you’re as wet as a fucking slip and slide, it’s still a little difficult for him to push in inch after inch-

“Fuck,” you whimper, and Hyuck rewards you by burying his face in your throat, peppering your skin in kisses. The soft feeling of his lips is enough to distract you from the intrusion opening up your pussy, and soon his hips are flush against your own, making you both release groans of pleasure.

“You ready for this?” Hyuck asks.

“God, yes-”

He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the pillow and threading your fingers. Then he kisses you softly-

When he begins to rut into you, it’s anything but soft.

Hyuck’s motions are calculated and rough, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you that has you squeezing his hand. You’d be cussing if it weren’t for his hot lips against your own, lips that have gotten increasingly demanding, his tongue stroking yours while you gasp.

It feels amazing- like, truly. You’ve never been fucked like this, and he’s only just started.

He stops kissing you, breathing heavily while he fucks you even harder. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You’re literally balls deep inside of me,” you nearly laugh. “You can ask me anything.”

“I’m just,” Hyuck groans, squeezing your hand. “Did you ever think about me when you were fucking Mark?”

Your pussy clenches at the question, from shock or hornyness, you’re not sure.

“I-”

“You did, didn’t you?” Hyuck grins. “Don’t think I didn’t just feel you get super fucking tight around me- God, you are dirty like me, aren’t you, gorgeous? I thought… thought that when you started dating soft boy Mark, maybe you were more vanilla, but that’s not you, is it?”

“No-”

“You like to get fucked, properly, don’t you, babe?” Hyuck continues.

“Fuck, yes-”

“And Mark didn’t know how to do that for you, did he? Mark didn’t know how to make you wet like this, didn’t know how to make you cry or scream or beg-”

You can’t bring yourself to verbally slander Mark while Hyuck’s fucking you like a wild man, so instead you just shake your head. Your confirmation makes Hyuck grin, and he fucks you even harder, the whole bed rocking while the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“You know what? Enough about Mark. Forget him. You don’t need him anymore.” Hyuck’s mouth is hot on your neck and his words make you shiver as he moves to suck your earlobe. “You only need me. You only need me, I promise.”

Hyuck lets go of your hand and you’re about to argue with him about it when he shoves his fingers between your bodies, rubbing at your clit while he fucks you.

“Hyuck!” you whimper, writhing beneath him.

“That’s it gorgeous. I wanna ruin you for anyone else. After this, no one’s going to make you cum like I can.” He’s groaning now, voice all breathy and super sexy- “If I make you cum three times the first time I fuck you, that means you’re mine right?”

You moan loudly at the idea, grabbing his shoulders while he works you closer and closer to yet another orgasm that you have no doubt will be as mind blowing as the first two.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Hyuck says, voice gruffer now. “Fuck, gorgeous, I want you so badly- just say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp when he applies more pressure to your clit.

“That’s my girl,” Hyuck smiles against your neck. “You’ll let me mark you right? Let me suck some pretty bruises into your skin so every time you look in the mirror you know your roommate fucks you right-”

His tongue darts out, licking a stripe of your throat before his lips press to your sweet spot. He suctions his mouth onto you, teeth grazing your skin and causing you to cry out while you move your hands to tug on his hair.

Hyuck lets out a sinful groan when you pull gently on his soft brown strands, but he doesn’t let up. He’s entirely focused on you and your pleasure, cock continuing to rearrange your insides while his fingers abuse your nearly overstimulated clit-

“I’m so close-” you whimper, eyes closed as your body once again approaches the edge with startling speed.

“Yeah?” Hyuck moves away from your neck and you get the sense that he’s looking down at you. “Gonna cum on this cock and let me fill you up? Gonna let me breed you like the good girl you are? Make you so stupidly full that you’re fucking dripping?”

“Yes, fuck, Hyuck, please-” You’re on the verge of tears again, whole body thrumming with energy-

“Then cum for me. Let me fucking feel you.”

You twitch from his words, and then you’re falling over the edge, gasping and clawing at him while you’re overcome with ecstasy. You’re not sure if it’s because this is your third orgasm, or if it’s because his cock is balls deep inside of you, but this orgasm is the most intense of them all.

You’re reduced to a completely primal side of yourself, brain short circuiting while your body takes over. There are no thoughts, only the attempt to process all the pleasure that’s flowing through you like a river that’s broken through a dam.

The sounds escaping you are unlike anything that has ever come from your vocal cords, and Hyuck is also cumming, groaning loudly as he presses his lips to yours. His tongue is hot as it licks at your bottom lip, and his thrusts are erratic.

He takes his hand away from your clit in favour of finding yours again, fingers locking while he squeezes you. You can feel the passion radiating off of him, can feel that this won’t be a one time thing and you both know it.

Hyuck takes care of you through your orgasms until you’re both finished, and his motions begin to slow until he’s simply half laying on top of you, his kisses much more gentle as you gasp into each others mouths.

His hips are flush against your own, keeping his cum inside of you while you make out. His body is warm and it almost feels like a security blanket draped across your own. Hyuck’s fingers are still tangled with yours, and it feels nice just to be holding someone’s hand again.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” Hyuck groans, pulling away from your lips, “if we keep kissing I might have to fuck you again, and I don’t think you could take another orgasm.”

“Not tonight,” you agree, blinking up at your roommate.

It’s like you’re seeing him in a new light, and you assess the soft details of his features. He really is a beautiful man.

“And we ruined your bed,” Hyuck says with a grin. “You were squirting earlier and your sheets are too wet to sleep in, so I guess that means you’re coming to my room tonight.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” you nearly laugh.

“I’d honestly be offended if you didn’t.” He lets go of your hand, pushing himself off of you. “I didn’t get to touch your tits at all, and I’d like to have something to grab onto when we sleep.”

“God, you’re such a menace,” you giggle, pushing at his chest.

“You love it,” Hyuck insists, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Come on, we should shower.”

“So we’re showering together now too? Weren’t you the guy who said Mark was being clingy by wanting to see me every day when we started dating?”

“It’s clingy when Mark does it,” Hyuck notes. “When I do it, it’s endearing and charming and sexy-”

“Sure it is,” you say sarcastically, shaking your head at him.

“What happened to my good girl?” Hyuck teases. “If you keep talking back, I might be tempted to ruin you in the shower.”

Now that you’re thinking about it, that doesn’t actually sound like the worst thing in the world.

“Fine, let’s go,” you concede, letting out a sigh.

There’s so much you could say about what has just taken place, but one thing you can state with confidence is that you do feel better. Hyuck had made you forget about Mark, if only for a short while before he started shit talking his friend- but, his words of slander hadn’t actually made you mad or sad or upset- they’d actually kind of had the opposite effect.

Life will go on after Mark Lee, and Hyuck’s made you realize that.

In fact, maybe your life after Mark will go on with Hyuck.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way.

You’re too tired to think about these big ideas in detail tonight, not after everything that’s just happened. Instead, you allow yourself to live in the moment, allow your roommate to take care of you the way he always has.

For now, this is more than enough.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm back in my Hyuck feels again

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🔮 preview. “So perfect,” Hyuck tells you, reaching his hands up to cup your breasts. Before he can dive in, however, you press the ice pack to his face again and he winces below you. A scowl forms, and he glares into your eyes. “Maybe I don’t like it when you take care of me.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, thigh riding, multiple reader orgasms, dirty talk, praise, claim kink, boob worship, big dick Hyuck, sex in on the living room couch, physical altercation between new boy and ex, overstim, holding off an orgasm, cumming together, light spanking, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe .

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

“Dude,” Jeno sighs, staring at the man sitting on his couch. “You did not-”

“Except that I did,” Hyuck smirks. “You should be happy for me.”

“Is that what you’re going to say to Mark after you tell him you fucked his ex?” Renjun asks, narrowing his eyes at their naughtiest friend.

“Actually,” Hyuck sighs, leaning back against the couch, “I think we shouldn’t tell Mark, not yet at least.”

“So now you’re making us all culpable in your bullshit,” Renjun groans loudly, rolling his eyes.

Hyuck gaze shifts from the angry aries to Jaemin, who’s yet to say anything since Hyuck’s big reveal. “You’re cool with this, aren’t you?”

“I mean…” Jaemin cocks his head to the side, “you have wanted to be with her for years-”

“See, Jaemin gets it!” Hyuck grins, eyes turning to his part time gym buddy next. “And Jeno? You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

“Mark is not going to be happy about this,” Jeno frowns.

“And I wasn’t happy when he started dating my roommate crush,” Hyuck states, “or when he broke up with her unexpectedly.”

“Don’t lie,” Renjun scoffs, “we all know you probably celebrated when they ended things.”

“Only a little,” Hyuck confesses, grinning again. “Okay but for real,” his expression turns serious, “guys, I think I love her.”

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denimbex1986 · 5 months

Text

'...“It’s fun playing bad, but actually he’s not,” the actor says, smiling as he reflects on his character, Crowley. “He’s a villain with a heart. The amount of really evil things he does are vanishingly small.”

...As it always has, “Good Omens” dissects the view of good and evil as absolutes, showing viewers that they are not as separate as we were led to believe growing up. Aziraphale and Crowley’s long-standing union is proof of this. The show also urges people to look at what defines our own humanity. For Tennant — who opted to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Leave trans kids alone you absolute freaks” during a photocall for Season 2 — these themes are more important now than ever before.

“In this society that we’re currently living in, where polarization seems ever more present, fierce and difficult to navigate. Negotiation feels like a dirty word at times,” he says, earnestly. “This is a show about negotiation. Two extremes finding common ground and making their world a better place through it. Making life easier, kinder and better. If that’s the sort of super objective of the show, then I can’t think of anything more timely, relevant or apt for the rather fractious times we’re living in.”

“Good Omens” is back by popular demand for another season. How does it feel?

It’s lovely. Whenever you send something out into the world, you never quite know how it will land. Especially with this, because it was this beloved book that existed, and that creates an extra tension that you might break some dreams. But it really exploded. I guess we were helped by the fact that we had Neil Gaiman with us, so you couldn’t really quibble too much with the decisions that were being made. The reception was, and continues to be, overwhelming.

Now that you’re no longer bound by the original material that people did, perhaps, feel a sense of ownership over, does the new content for Season 2 come with a sense of freedom for you? This is uncharted territory, of sorts.

That’s an interesting point. I didn’t know the book when I got the script. It was only after that I discovered the worlds of passion that this book had incited. Because I came to it that way, perhaps it was easier. I found liberation from that, to an extent. For me, it was always a character that existed in a script. At first, I didn’t have that extra baggage of expectation, but I acquired it in the run-up to Season 1 being released… the sense that suddenly we were carrying a ming vase across a minefield.

In Season 2, we still have Neil and we also have some of the ideas that he and Terry had discussed. During the filming of the first one, Neil would drop little hints about the notions they had for a prospective sequel, the title of which would have been “668: The Neighbour of the Beast,” which is a pretty solid gag to base a book around. Indeed there were elements like Gabriel and the Angels, who don’t feature in the book, that were going to feature in a sequel. They were brought forward into Season 1. So, even in the new episodes, we’re not entirely leaving behind the Terry Pratchett-ness of it all.

It’s great to see yourself and Michael Sheen reunited on screen as these characters. Fans will have also watched you pair up for Season 3 of “Staged.” You’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you think is the magic ingredient that makes the two of you such a good match?

It’s a slightly alchemical thing. We knew each other in passing before, but not well. We were in a film together [“Bright Young Things,” 1993] but we’d never shared a scene. It was a bit of a roll of the dice when we turned up at the read-through for “Good Omens.” I think a lot comes from the writing, as we were both given some pretty juicy material to work with. Those characters are beloved for a reason because there’s something magical about them and the way they complete each other. Also, I think we’re quite similar actors in the way we like to work and how we bounce off each other.

Does the shorthand and trust the two of you have built up now enable you to take more risks on-screen?

Yes, probably. I suppose the more you know someone, the more you trust someone. You don’t have to worry about how an idea might be received and you can help each other out with a more honest opinion than might be the case if you were, you know, dancing around each other’s nervous egos. Enjoying being in someone’s orbit and company is a positive experience. It makes going to work feel pleasant, productive, and creative. The more creative you can be, the better the work is. I don’t think it’s necessarily a given that an off-screen relationship will feed into an on-screen one in a positive or negative way. You can play some very intimate moments with someone you barely know. Acting is a peculiar little contract, in that respect. But it’s disproportionately pleasurable going to work when it’s with a mate.

Fans have long discussed the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. In Season 2, we see several of the characters debate whether the two are an item, prompting them to look at their union and decipher what it is. How would you describe their relationship?

They are utterly co-dependent. There’s no one else having the experience that they are having and they’ve only got each other to empathize with. It’s a very specific set of circumstances they’ve been dealt. In this season, we see them way back at the creation of everything. They’ve known each other a long time and they’ve had to rely on each other more and more. They can’t really exist one without the other and are bound together through eternity. Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms, I think that’s fair to say.

Yet fans are trying to do just that. Do you view it as beyond romantic or any other labels, in the sense that it’s an eternal force?

It’s lovely [that fans discuss it] but you think, be careful what you wish for. If you’re willing for a relationship to go in a certain way or for characters to end up in some sort of utopian future, then the story is over. Remember what happened to “Moonlighting,” that’s all I’m saying! [Laughs]

Your father-in-law, Peter Davison, and your son, Ty Tennant, play biblical father-and-son duo Job and Ennon in Episode 2. In a Tumblr Q&A, Neil Gaiman said that he didn’t know who Ty’s family was when he cast him. When did you become aware that Ty had auditioned?

I don’t know how that happened. I do a bunch of self-tapes with Ty, but I don’t think I did this one with him because I was out of town filming “Good Omens.” He certainly wasn’t cast before we started shooting. There were two moments during filming where Neil bowled up to me and said, “Guess, who we’ve cast?” Ty definitely auditioned and, as I understand it, they would tell me, he was the best. I certainly imagine he could only possibly have been the best person for the job. He is really good in it, so I don’t doubt that’s true. And then my father-in-law showed up, as well, which was another delicious treat. In the same episode and the same family! It was pretty weird. I have worked with both of them on other projects, but never altogether.

There’s a “Doctor Who” cameo, of sorts, in Episode 5, when Aziraphale uses a rare annual about the series as a bartering tool. In reality, you’ll be reprising your Time Lord role on screen later this year in three special episodes to mark the 60th anniversary. Did you always feel you’d return to “Doctor Who” at some point?

There’s a precedent for people who have been in the series to return for a multi-doctor show, which is lovely. I did it myself for the 50th anniversary in 2013, and I had a wonderful time with Matt [Smith]. Then, to have John Hurt with us, as well, was a little treat. But I certainly would never have imagined that I’d be back in “Doctor Who” full-time, as it were, and sort of back doing the same job I did all those years ago. It was like being given this delightful, surprise present. Russell T Davies was back as showrunner, Catherine Tate [former on-screen companion] was back, and it was sort of like the last decade and a half hadn’t happened.

Going forward, Ncuti Gatwa will be taking over as the new Doctor. Have you given him any advice while passing the baton?

Oh God, what a force of nature. I’ve caught a little bit of him at work and it’s pretty exciting. I mean, what advice would you give someone? You can see Ncuti has so much talent and energy. He’s so inspired and charismatic. The thing about something like this is: it’s the peripherals, it’s not the job. It’s the other stuff that comes with it, that I didn’t see coming. It’s a show that has so much focus and enthusiasm on it. It’s not like Ncuti hasn’t been in a massive Netflix series [“Sex Education,”] but “Doctor Who” is on a slightly different level. It’s cross-generational, international, and has so much history, that it feels like it belongs to everyone.

To be at the center of the show is wonderful and humbling, but also a bit overwhelming and terrifying. It doesn’t come without some difficulties, such as the immediate loss of anonymity. It takes a bit of getting used to if that’s not been your life up to that point. I was very lucky that when I joined, Billie Piper [who portrayed on-screen companion, Rose] was still there. She’d lived in a glare of publicity since she was 14, so she was a great guide for how to live life under that kind of scrutiny. I owe a degree of sanity to Billie.

Your characters are revered by a few different fandoms. Sci-fi fandoms are especially passionate and loyal. What is it like being on the end of that? I imagine it’s a lot to hold.

Yes, certainly. Having been a fan of “Doctor Who” since I was a tiny kid, you’re aware of how much it means because you’re aware of how much it meant to you. My now father-in-law [who portrayed Doctor Who in the 80s] is someone I used to draw in comic strips when I was a kid. That’s quite peculiar! It’s a difficult balance because on one end, you have to protect your own space, and there aren’t really any lessons in that. That does take a bit of trial and error, to an extent, and it’s something that you’re sometimes having to do quite publicly. But, it is an honor and a privilege, without a doubt. As you’ve said, it means so much to people and you want to be worthy of that. You have to acknowledge that and be careful with it. Some days that’s tough, if you’re not in the mood.

I know you’re returning to the stage later this year to portray Macbeth. You’ve previously voiced the role for BBC Sounds, but how are you feeling about taking on the character in the theater?

I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve done Shakespeare. It’s very thrilling but equally — and this analogy probably doesn’t stretch — it’s like when someone prepares for an Olympic event. It does feel like a bit of a mountain and, yeah, you’re daring to set yourself up against some fairly worthy competition from down the years. That’s both the challenge and the horror of doing these types of things. We’ve got a great director, Max Webster, who recently did “Life of Pi.” He’s full of big ideas. It’s going to be exciting, thrilling, and a little bit scary. I’m just going to take a deep breath.

Before we part ways, let’s discuss the future of “Good Omens.” Gaiman has said that he already has ideas for Season 3, should it happen. If you were to do another season, is there anyone in particular you’d love to work with next time around or anything specific you’d like to see happen for Crowley?

Oh, Neil Gaiman knows exactly where he wants to take it. If you’re working with people like Gaiman, I wouldn’t try to tamper with that creative void. Were he to ask my opinion, that would be a different thing, but I can’t imagine he would. He’s known these characters longer than me and what’s interesting is what he does with them. That’s the bit that I’m desperate to know. I do know where Crowley might end up next, but it would be very wrong if I told you.

[At this point, Tennant picks up a pencil and starts writing on a hotel pad of paper.]

I thought you were going to write it down for me then. Perhaps like a clandestine meeting on a bench in St James’ Park, but instead you’d write the information down and slide it across the table…

I should have done! I was drawing a line, which obviously, psychologically, I was thinking, “Say no more. You’re too tempted to reveal a secret!” It was my subconscious going “Shut the fuck up!”

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holybibly · 5 months

Text

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part I Part 2

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 6,6k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more.

A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself (BTW, which of my styles of my work do you love most? Answer in the comments, it will help me much). One of the things I have to learn is the writing of shorter chapters. This one was so long that I had to split it into two parts. The second part won't take too long either.I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me.

There will be an update in a separate post about the rest of the work. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide.

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling.

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before.

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside.

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds.

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left. "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom.

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you.

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome."

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you.

2K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 9 months

Text

Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

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genderlessdude92 · 25 days

Note

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

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AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

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PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE)

SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons)

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

please don’t steal/copy/translate my work. But thanks for liking it, though!!! (๑ᵕॢ૩ᵕॢ)*౨˚ൗ

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. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night 3 times minimum

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

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master list ouuu

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #lucifer x reader

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months

Text

Bye Bi Bottom ~(s1)!Olivia Benson xFem SVUDetective!Reader

Summary— You, Jeffries, and Munch have a little debate about Olivia…

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, kissing, top/bottom relations, betting, light teasing, etc.

Enjoy (;

“What are you saying, do you hear yourself…??” You quietly exclaimed, sitting across from John in the SVU station.

Munch threw his hands up in defense, which you quickly swatted back down to not draw attention.

“I’m just saying…,” Munch defended his claim, “Olivia… she might be top with men, Cassidy being the perfect example, but she is not one with women…”

“Are you calling Olivia a bottom, Detective…?” You whispered harshly, “She’d have your head, you know…” you warily chuckled.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong!” Munch exclaimed.

The last bit was a tad too loud unfortunately…

“Wrong about what?” Monique chimed in.

You groaned lightly, putting your hands in front of your face. You couldn’t believe this. John was quick to fill Monique in.

“Hey.” Monique said, swatting you with the file in her hand, making you look up at her from your seat, “Just ask her” she said with a mischievous smirk.

Monique said it like there was nothing to it. Like it couldn’t crush all the time you spent cultivating a professional relationship with the woman. It wasn’t that easy. Or was it…?

“Fine…” You groaned again, “I’ll ask.”

Both Monique and Munch seemed far too happy with your decision, but you didn’t have the time or headspace to think about that right now.

As five pm came around, the team started to go home. You caught Olivia on her way out of the station.

To yo ur delight, the woman happily agreed to drinks down the street. You too walked down the road to the bar together, and pretty soon, you were sat inside and sipping on some drinks.

Talking seemed to come naturally, and you to talked late into the night. Before you knew it, it was 11pm. And you still couldn’t pin point the whole reason you had asked Olivia out in the first place. It was bugging you.

But before you could even ask, the two do you were leaving the bar and about to split to go your separate ways home. Suddenly, you felt the intense urge to kiss Olivia. Before the woman could walk away, you pulled her into a kiss. She gasped, but quickly reciprocated.

After a few minutes you pulled away, and her eyes told you everything.

“I’d like to take you home…” you breathed out.

Olivia bit her lips and her cheeks went a little red.

“I’d like that…” she confessed in a whisper.

~~~

The next morning you were at the station bright and early as usual. Munch and Jeffries had been giving you suggestive glances and gazes all morning, which you simply ignored. You weren’t going to give them anything.

However, when Olivia walked into the station, late and limping, they had their answer.

Monique seemed a little vexed as she handed John cash after Olivia had walked away for the moment. John couldn’t help but chuckled lightly.

“Wait… What was that…?” You said in a low tone, not wanting to be overheard.

Munch waves the money around with a grin.

“Did you… did you bet on me…??” You said with shock and awe.

“Yep.” He said proudly, “and by the way Olivia unsuccessfully walked into the station, I won.”

Your face went a little red at his words, thinking back to the night before.

~~~

Olivia Benson Masterlist

#olivia benson #olivia benson x reader #mariska hargitay #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law & order special victims unit #law & order svu #law and order fanfiction #law and order fic #Olivia Benson fluff

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somerandomdudelmao · 10 months

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I think this scene is so far my favorite part of the whole comic. Those three panels put my little writer's soul at ease. Major kudos from a storytelling point! It just accomplishes so freaking much. It highlights all of Leo's best character traits (love, strategic thinking, leadership skills), and fixes the problem of having an OP character in your story that otherwise would be able to solve the main conflict in a heartbeat. It does so much for Mikey. There is no one-person-per-portal limitation and I'll always end up wondering why they would not gather the resistance and simply take everyone and go. Sure Mikey might die or end up being left behind if he does so and of course, Leo/April/Casey would try to stop him but in the end, I feel like he would do it anyway cause as long as his family is saved Mikey does not mind. But with this clever twist, he can't do that, cause Leo would be stuck with him, alone and with no resources, and doomed. Not an option. Mikey loves his family above all. Don't get me wrong I think he'd sacrifice his own life to help everyone else (he does so already), but he would never sacrifice his brother. It's a greedy and beautiful love that always gets to me. The moral dilemma of one versus the many. Revealing the core of who you are and what you stand for. It makes him so much more real, more human. It elevates his character from good to great...

I don't know scenes like this - one willing to sacrifice himself and the other refusing - tend to come with a bitter aftertaste. But Leo is not brushing Mikey off. He says not 'no', therefore allowing Mikey's own agency to shine. And in adding his condition he still gives Mikey a choice ultimately helping to shoulder his brother's burden.

Don't get me started on Mikey's 'thank you' as a response cause I already have tears in my eyes! Here both of them bring the best out in each other and the thing I love the most is that it's never at the cost of the other.

All in all this scene is a great character moment, explains plot holes (from the movie), and did I forget something? Ah yes, sets up the upcoming conflict of Casey having to choose between them. And oh my gosh, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes. Leo's declaration to stay with Mikey makes it kinda unlikely for him to go with Casey and leave Mikey behind and though Mikey has some wiggle room in this regard, it is a decision that will not come lightly aka it hurts just to think about separating them...but then again they might even are not together in the first place. Wherever this may be. Who knows?

Thank you so much for creating and sharing this beautiful piece of art!!!

I..mhm..I mean...igdjndukvdjj sorry my brain don't want to do English words today. Thank you oh my god I don't know what to say it's just

T h i s

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rollinouttahere-writes · 6 months

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It took the better part of a year, but I've finally figured out where to go with Joyride. A lot of people have been asking for this, so I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Joyride (Part 2)

Part 1

Yandere Ace x GN Isekai Reader

4.8k words

Warning! This contains pretty much every Ace related spoiler btw!

When going into a world you already know everything about, you don’t exactly expect to be surprised by anything. Sure, there will be slight changes and alternate interactions now that you’ve been unceremoniously dropped in, but you had been anticipating for the story to follow all the same beats.

Which is why you were really thrown off when Ace didn’t go his separate way when he was supposed to.

Luffy had succeeded in defeating Crocodile and stopping his plan for dictatorship of Alabasta, but Ace was still here. Granted, having Ace around was hardly the worst thing that could happen, but you didn’t understand what was going on with him.

After your downright bizarre interaction during the little joyride he took you on, you’d honestly had every intention of avoiding him going forward. Then he threw a curveball at you by sincerely apologizing later that night. With everything going on right now he just got a little carried away, that’s all, he won’t harass you about it again. Or so he claimed.

You were skeptical initially, but true to his word, he hasn’t brought up you joining the Whitebeard Pirates since. Between that, and him having an unknown advantage over you by being a favorite character of yours, it was easy to find it within yourself to forgive him. You two have been borderline inseparable since, much to the chagrin of your crewmates.

While Ace hadn’t openly made further attempts to convince you to join his pops’ crew, he’d found a thinly veiled loophole in the form of telling you all kinds of stories about them. You knew this was in and of itself, a method to win you over, but deemed it not worth calling out. Besides, who were you to refuse the opportunity to get some Whitebeard Pirates lore?

There were many late nights filled with quiet conversations about various shenanigans the crew got up to in their free time, of which there were many. An unsurprising fact because of course having that many sibling jam packed onto a ship would turn it into a vessel of chaos.

If you had a weaker resolve, these stories might have won you over. But no, you need to go home.

Even though you weren’t convinced on switching crews, or even just staying here, there was a different problem arising from all your quality time together.

The longer you spoke and goofed around with him, the deeper and more intricate the conversations became, the more human he became to you. Or course, he’d technically always been a human being, but your mind had always registered him (as well as everyone else here) as a “character” first and foremost. A figure in a fictional story which you just so happened to be in temporarily.

Now? After spending so much time with him, aftering seeing him make decisions based off his own experiences and preferences rather than being dictated by some omnipotent author, things have changed. He wasn’t Portgas D. Ace, the fan favorite character from One Piece. He was just Ace, your friend.

With this came something you never saw coming. Guilt. An all consuming, agonizing guilt that picked away at you every single second of the day.

You knew what was to come. You knew what was going to happen to him. What were you doing about it? Absolutely nothing. And for what? For the sake of preserving a story that’s already been altered from your mere presence?

What a disgusting excuse of a friend you were.

The internal conflict you were going through hadn’t gone unnoticed, not when it was taking such a high toll on you. Nami was the first to start grilling you on it. Naturally, she immediately started pointing fingers at Ace as being the cause, which while not wrong, she wasn’t correct in the way she believed herself to be either. It was hardly his fault that you had a heavy conscience.

Sanji had also picked up on your struggles and was very concerned about the bags under your eyes, even offering to make some tea to assist with sleeping. An offer you turned down perhaps more harshly than truly necessary, but being trapped in a deeper sleep sounded awful with the nightmares you’ve been having.

It had been upsetting enough to watch Ace die through a screen, but in your dreams you were right there. It felt so real.

A suffocating heat burned at your skin and seared your lungs with every panicked breath, which only became more frantic as hot blood splattered over your face. Life was rapidly draining from Ace’s eyes as he collapsed into the waiting arms of his now deeply traumatized brother.

Your feet were rooted to the ground, all you could do was stare in horror as he looked up at you with tearful, pleading eyes. “Why?” The word was more so coughed out than spoken, spraying out more blood that he couldn’t afford to lose. An arm extended towards you, the hand locking onto your own. His nails dug into your skin, drawing out blood of your own to mix with his into a revolting cocktail. “You could have stopped this. How could you do this to me?”

The last word was wheezed out and his body went limp as his dead, lifeless eyes stared through you. A soul wrenching scream tore its way out of Luffy’s throat, only to morph into your own as you were mercifully ripped from your slumber.

The screaming damn near gave Ace a heart attack, you’re sure of it. This nightmare had occurred after you and him had become separated from the rest of the group while traversing the desert, and you had found a compact cave for the two of you to pass the night in.

What made it worse was how he reacted. He was so concerned, even fretting over you as you desperately tried to get your breathing under control. The compassion in his eyes had done nothing to comfort you, it only served to further sicken you. Here he was wanting to save you from something as trivial as a nightmare, yet you couldn’t be bothered to speak up on and prevent his upcoming demise.

The guilt was killing you, and the solution was not only clear, but easy. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to just tell him? To plead and beg for him to give up the chase and not throw his life away. Yet your lips remained sealed.

All of these elements came to a boil and demanded your attention, so you did what seemed to be the easiest thing to do in your situation. Drink it away.

Now that Luffy had awoken from his brief coma after fighting Crocodile, Alubarna Palace was hosting a lavish party in celebration and thanks for what everyone had done. And what high end party would be complete without absurd amounts of alcohol?

It started with one, purely to help ease your nerves. However, when it didn’t, you poured yourself another. And then a few more. Zoro had initially been thrilled to have you as a drinking buddy, but apparently even he had his limits and had cut you off.

“The hell’s gotten into you? You’re drinking like you’re trying to run from demons,” the bottle of expensive liquor had been moved out of reach when you tried to go for it again.

“You have no idea,” you slurred out, head spinning from your evening of poor decision making.

Zoro shot you a questioning look, but didn’t press it, likely knowing full well that getting a coherent conversation out of you right now would be impossible. He heaved out a sigh and stood up, “I’m going to get you some water, stay right there.”

Thoroughly defeated, you slumped back into your chair. After all that, you still couldn’t get your dilemma out of your head. Your “demons” continued gnawing at your soul, and all that your drinking had done about it was ensure that you would have a miserable hangover in the morning.

Your head lulled to the side, and you caught sight of a familiar orange hat. Speak of the devil. While you were in the throws of self inflicted misery, Ace was happily taking advantage of all the food being offered. Good for him. He deserved a nice night.

As if acting on its own, your body managed to get up onto its feet. You shambled towards him, doing your best not to fall flat on your face with each uncoordinated step. Whatever invisible force that had been helping you to make the walk to Ace failed you at the last second, and you crashed into him from behind.

“Shit! Wha- Oh, it’s just you,” Ace whirled around, visibly agitated, but his features relaxed when he realized who it was. He appeared to be ready to say more but you cut him off.

“I need to talk to you.”

Ace quirked a brow, “Yeah? What’s up?”

From the expectant look he was giving you, it’s clear that he’s waiting for you to spill your guts here and now. You shook your head, “No, it’s… It’s a secret. We have to go somewhere else.” Realization flashed across his face and he nodded. Fortunately for you, he led the way. You honestly did not think you’d be able to scout out a place for this discussion. You were finally going to come clean and tell him everything before you could sober up and come to your senses.

It was going well. At least it was, until he passed out and took you down with him. You both collided onto the floor with a resounding thud, him on top of you. The hall you’d slipped into was empty, meaning there was no one here to help you.

You groaned as you attempted to move, the fall had hit you harder than it should have thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol in your system. You were also mentally kicking yourself for not seeing this coming. He was eating when you stumbled into him, of course it was only a matter of time before this happened.

Whatever, there isn’t time to be bemoaning a minor inconvenience. You manage to shimmy out from under him and use the wall to get to your feet. Ace is snoring on the floor, not a care in the world. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.

Taking a look around, you see a door just a couple steps away. You inch your way over to it and try the knob. It clicks open, and you peer in. Looks like some sort of guest room, and it’s empty. Perfect.

Pushing the door open fully, you turn back to Ace. He’s still asleep, but you don’t want to wait around for him to wake up on his own and run the risk of being seen. You lean down to grab the closest part of him, his right foot, and pull. You’re not sure if he’s actually heavy, or if you’re just too drunk for this, but you tip over while trying to do this and fall flat on your ass.

“Huh?” Ace’s head snapped up and he looked around owlishly. The second his eyes connected with yours, he remembered what he was doing before his narcoleptic tendencies took the wheel. He laughed, a light blush on his face, as he got to his feet, “Sorry about that, you alright?”

“I’m fine, get in here,” you urged him to hurry, which he did. In the time it took you to stand again, Ace had already slipped into the room, closed the door, and flicked on a lamp so you two wouldn’t be talking in complete darkness. You eye the door for a moment, then grab a chair and drag it over to wedge it under the doorknob. Someone walking in on the conversation you were about to have would be something of a worst case scenario.

Ace watched this curiously, “Is everything okay?”

This probably looked weird, but oh well, it’s about to get a lot weirder. You decide to sit on the bed and motion for Ace to join you, which he does. You take one of his hands in both of yours and stare at him intensely, “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound insane, but you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

He repeated his previous question, asking again if everything was okay, but you cut him off, “Promise me, please!”

Your desperation got through to him, “Okay, I promise! What’s going on?”

Here goes nothing. You take a deep breath and take the leap, “You need to stop going after Blackbeard.”

Ace recoiled immediately, and if you hadn’t been holding onto his hand for dear life, he probably would have backed away from you. “What? I can’t do that, why would y-”

“Let me finish!” You snapped at him, only to immediately regret it. You sighed, “Please. There’s more, please let me finish talking first, and then you can talk.”

While he did not look happy about it, he did relax his shoulders and settled back into the bed. You took this as your cue to continue, “You need to stop going after Blackbeard because you will die if you do.” Ace exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes at this, assuming that this was coming from a place of fear and doubt.

“I know this because,” you took in a shuddering breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. “I know this because in the world that I came from… This world is a story.”

Ace stares at you wide eyed and slack jawed. He laughed, but was very clearly uncomfortable, “I, uh, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink tonight. How about I take you back to your room to sleep it off, okay?”

He tried to stand, but you yanked him back down, “No! I’m not drunk! Well, I mean, I am, but I know what I’m talking about! I can prove it.”

His expression was nothing short of incredulous, but he indulged you, “Yeah, okay, sure. Go ahead, prove it.”

“You’re hunting down Blackbeard because he murdered Thatch so he could steal his devil fruit,” you started light. Ace had told you about Thatch being the one he was avenging, but he’d never mentioned the devil fruit before, likely not deeming it an important enough detail. His brows knit together and his eyes drifted upwards as he racked his brain to remember if maybe he actually had said something about it.

“Before you were with Whitebeard, you were captain of the Spade Pirates. Your first member was Masked Deuce, who you met while being stranded on an island together. It’s where you found your devil fruit and built Striker,” he hadn’t told you anything in regards to his old crew, and his face reflected that. You definitely had his attention now.

“You and Luffy were raised by mountain bandits because Garp couldn’t raise you two himself. It wasn’t just you guys, though, you had another brother named Sabo, but he was killed when he tried to set sail and got shot down,” at this point, you were saying whatever came to mind with no regard to whether or not it was a good idea to say this right now. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep looking him in the eye, so you settled for staring at his hand in yours. It was completely slack.

“Your parents are Portgas D. Rouge and Gol D. R-”

Before you could finish the sentence, Ace’s free hand clamped over your mouth with such ferocity that you almost fell off the bed. Forcing yourself to make eye contact again, you see that his are blown wide and wild. The color has been drained from his face and he looked physically ill from hearing everything you just threw at him.

An extremely tense moment passed with nothing to be heard beyond his labored breathing. Then, he hesitantly let go of your face and with a shaky voice said, “Okay. I’m sorry. I believe you. What… What’s going to happen if I keep pursuing Blackbeard?”

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat, but it refused to go away, “When you catch up with him, you’ll fight, but lose. Your powers are no match for his, you don’t stand a chance against him. After your loss, he turns you in to the marines.

“Because of who your father is, they decide to make an example out of you and sentence you to death.”

“That bastard turns me in and I get executed?” He sounds like the wind has just been knocked out of him. Disbelief and bitterness are the two most prevalent emotions in his tone, but many others brew beneath the surface.

“Not exactly,” it’s true that he gets turned in and killed, but it’s nowhere near that simple and straightforward. “Luffy comes to your rescue at Marineford, and so does Whitebeard and a lot of his crew.”

Before you could go more into detail, Ace speaks up, “They… W-Why would they do that?”

“Why would they- You have to ask?!” Your voice raises and you have to remind yourself of just how much character development he has to go through in that arc to finally realize and accept the fact that he’s genuinely loved. “Because you’re family, their family! They care about you and don’t want to see you die!”

Your outburst shocked him, but not as much as seeing you start to cry did. His hand is abandoned and you lurch forward to bring him into a suffocatingly tight hug, “Y-You are so loved, you know that? They l-love you so much! A lot of people do! I do! We all want to see you live and be happy!” You limply hang off of him as more tears bubble to the surface, greedily taking the chance to escape with every sob as you finally let out everything you’ve been keeping in. Ace makes no move to return your embrace, he just sits there stiff as a board.

“A-And, at that battle, you’re killed by Admiral Akainu while protecting Luffy. He’s devastated by it, being forced to watch you die hurts him so bad,” you cling onto him tighter upon feeling him flinch from your words. “Whitebeard dies there too.”

“What?! How could anyone kill him? That can’t be right!” You’re wrenched off Ace violently and his stare is almost as unhinged as it was when you said his parents’ names.

“Blackbeard does it,” Ace freezes at this. “That should give you an idea of how strong he is. If he can kill Whitebeard, fighting you is nothing to him. Besides, you of all people would know how hard it is to kill him,” you chuckle but it’s humorless, empty even.

A heavy stretch of silence follows after that. Ace’s eyes don’t leave your face for even a second, desperately searching for anything that would tell him that this is all one big, sick joke. But there’s nothing of the sort.

Slowly, he releases your shoulders and he shifts away from you to rest his head in his hands. Without his support, you allow yourself to fall back onto the bed. Between all the alcohol and your emotional outburst, you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep. You try to force yourself to stay awake, but it feels like an insurmountable task.

“Hey, Ace?” There’s no answer, but you continue anyway, “I’m sorry. I know that was a lot. If, um… If you don’t believe me about knowing what’s going to happen, stick around until after we set sail again. Bon Clay- Mr. 2- is going to bring the Going Merry over here so that we don’t have to backtrack. Marines will be all over the place, but he sacrifices himself so that Luffy and his crew can get away. Once they’ve lost the marines, Nico Robin will reveal herself to have been hiding on the ship and joins the crew.”

Ace continues to not react to what’s being said, you’re not even sure he’s listening to you at this point. As much as you want to comfort him, your limbs feel like lead and your head is swimming. The last thing you see is the jolly roger of the Whitebeard’s staring you down as you fade into darkness.

—

Consciousness comes back to you slowly. Painfully so. Before you can even make out your surroundings, you’re assaulted by the worst headache of your life. The stabbing pain behind your eyes is crippling, all you want is to retreat back to the comfort of sleep, but you know that’s not going to happen.

It doesn’t help that your mouth is so dry that you feel like you’re back in the desert. One hand comes up to gingerly massage your eyes. The action brought more discomfort than relief, but it did clear up your sight a little.

As your senses ebb back into you, you hone in on the pressure all over your body. It takes considerable effort, but you manage to lift your head enough to take a look. Your nose is less than an inch from bumping into someone else’s. Chopper’s to be exact. He was curled up into your side and using your chest as a pillow. Looking past him, Luffy was sprawled across your lap, belly up. Both of them were still asleep.

You prop yourself up on one arm. Chopper shifts, but doesn’t wake. Off to your side is a bedside table with a glass of water on it. Oh, thank God. Using the arm you aren’t propped up with, you grab it and bring the cup to your lips. The water is divine, an absolute blessing for your dry throat.

As you enjoy your drink, your eyes glance around to observe the rest of the room. It’s the one you all have been staying in since saving Alabasta. Most of your friends are in their respective beds, except for Chopper and Luffy, obviously. Zoro was also not in his bed, instead being slumped over in a chair next to your own.

Your eyes flicker over to the massive windows of the room, and you spot Ace sitting in the windowsill. From the way he’s positioned, he appears to be awake already. Your gaze narrows as you focus on him. Something tickled at the back of your mind, demanding to be remembered. But what?

“Y-You are so loved, you know that? They l-love you so much! A lot of people do! I do! We all want to see you live and be happy!”

The water going down your throat is suddenly going out of it when you choke. Memories come back and hit you like a train as you realize what exactly it is you did last night.

Naturally, this wakes up Chopper and Luffy, who are both jolted from their once peaceful sleep by you choking on your drink. Chopper immediately starts to panic, “AH! Don’t die, (Y/N)!”

—

It was crucial that you speak to Ace again, but it seemed like the world itself was committed to making sure that didn’t happen. Ace slipped out of the room while everyone was fussing over you, and it honestly felt like he was avoiding you now. Everytime you thought you might be able to catch him alone, either he vanishes, or someone else comes out of nowhere to drag you away.

Today was the day you all set sail from Alabasta, and while that did put you in close proximity with Ace, it also put everyone else within earshot of you two. And considering the delicate nature of what you needed to talk about, that was extremely inconvenient.

The only good thing was that the events following leaving Alabasta played out exactly how they were supposed to. Hopefully that meant that Ace would believe you and give up hunting down Blackbeard, but you won’t be able to confirm that unless you speak with him.

You were so stressed that you’d barely been able to focus on Robin being here. She “introduced” herself to you as if she hadn’t had an extremely uncomfortable run in with you in an alleyway back in Rainbase, but all you could manage was a half-assed handshake before excusing yourself.

For probably the fifteenth time today, you checked to make sure that Striker was still tied to the Merry. It was, much to your relief. But where was Ace hiding? You haven’t seen him since Robin showed herself.

The stress of trying and failing to corner him was doing nothing to help with your hangover, your head felt like it was about to explode. Did you still have Advil in the bag you got isekai’d here with? Maybe. Pushing off the railing, you march to where your room is while praying that you’re right about the painkillers.

You open the door without much thought, only to stop dead in your tracks when you catch sight of Ace rummaging through your belongings and stuffing them into his backpack. The door opening did briefly make him stop and peer over his shoulder to see who it was, but the second he saw it was you, he went right back to pillaging.

“Can I help you? Why are you robbing me?” You stomp over to where he’s crouched down and shove his shoulder.

“I’m not robbing you, I’m packing for you,” Ace mumbled, sounding lost in thought.

“Why would you be packing for me? Actually, you know what? That’s the least of my concerns right now, we need to talk about last night.”

“We’ll talk about it later, not here.” He still hasn’t properly faced you, and you were getting sick of only making eye contact with his tattoo and not him.

“Where else would we talk about it?!” You hissed.

Seeming content with his work, he stood up and kicked the dresser drawer shut, “On the Striker. Or maybe the Moby Dick, I guess. I’m going back and you’re coming with me.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, “Excuse me?”

“I’m going back to the Moby Dick, and you’re coming with me.” Ace had finally turned to face you. His eyes were sunken and vaguely bloodshot.

The sight catches you off guard, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

He shook his head, “No, we’re going to have to stop somewhere else to sleep before going the rest of the way back home.”

“Ace, I’m not going with you. Look, I’m happy that you’re calling off your hunt, relieved honestly, but I’m staying here.” You will ideally be figuring out how to go home sometime soon, there’s no sense in hopping around from crew to crew now.

One of his eyes twitched, and he looked exasperated, “You can’t stay here. You aren’t safe here.”

“What are you-”

“Let me finish,” the words were spoken calmly, but very firm. “I don’t think you understand how serious this is. You apparently know everything about this world and what’s going to happen in it, do you have any idea what will happen to you if word gets out about this?”

“You’re the only person I’ve told, so as long as you keep your mouth shut, I’ll be fine.”

“Until you get drunk again and tell someone else, then what?” His words were just as scathing as his gaze.

Your face flushed in shame, “That won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know that!” Ace snapped at you, then sighed and dragged a hand down his face, “This is for your own good. Nothing good will come from anyone else learning about this. If it ever got back to someone like Big Mom, she would send every single one of her children after you so she could have you on her side. And that’s the nicer option. I’m sure the marines would be more than happy to kill you off so that no one else could have you if they can’t.”

Throughout this entire conversation, his face had remained uncomfortably neutral, but now it cracked. Fondness peaked through the exhaustion as his expression softened ever so slightly. He steps forwards and brings you against him in a crushing embrace. His skin is hot to the touch, effectively chasing away any chill that you may have had.

“You said you wanted to see me live, and I want to see you live, too.” The words are hushed, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he hadn’t been speaking right next to your ear.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself away. His face is serious again, “We’re leaving tonight, be ready to go.”

“But-”

“If you don’t come willingly, I will make you. The only thing that you resisting will accomplish is making this messier than it needs to be. Even if you don’t like this now, you will thank me for it later.”

Ace spins on his heel and heads for the door. All you can do is stand there gawking at him as he leaves. Just before the door closes behind him, he spares a glance over his shoulder to say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #monkey d luffy #nami #cat burglar nami #one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #roronoa zoro #platonic yandere

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ohtobeleah · 5 months

Text

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter One: [The Diagnosis]

Summary: The last thing you ever expected was to be diagnosed with breast cancer. To make matters worse? You’d been separated from the love of your life for just shy of a year. How do you tell the love of your life you might be dying? It’s simple really— You don’t.

Warnings: Mentions of Cancer Diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Separation. Marriage issues. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author Note: I've put so much love, passion and time into this series. I'd love to hear all your theories and concepts as each chapter is released.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

December 31st

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. He didn't want his kids to know how truly broken he was.

“What did mum get you for Christmas daddy?” Little Lenny asked cautiously, knowing the emotions were still raw for them all. He was just six years old but Lennox Seresin knew his life had changed forever. That something had been ripped from his heart never to be returned.

Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable.

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would.

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet.” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it.

“Alright, I better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest.

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it.

But before we get to that we need to go back a little. So settle in, grab your tissues and emotional support water bottle and hold on for dear life. Because this Christmas isn’t your average festive Christmas fic: No—this one’s something much more heartbreaking.

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November: 2nd

“I need you to take the kids for Christmas—“ It was the first thing Jake heard come through the phone as he held it up to his ear. It had been a few days since he’d last heard from you, not that you owed him daily check ins or regular updates, you owed him nothing, after all the two of you had been separated for just shy of a year now. January had been the start of his new beginning, Lieutenants Jake Hangman, soon to be divorced, couldn’t hack it as a husband, Seresin. The title was pretty long winded and riddled with self pity, but Jake wouldn’t ever let himself forget how much he’d let you down as a husband. As a father, as best friend.

The two of you had been college lovers. The star crossed kind of lovers with Jake being the very definition of Mr Popularity and yourself being the well mannered and reserved library dweller. You’d only stumbled across each other's paths one day in the unlikely event that Jake needed to borrow an actual hard copy of a Douglas A Howard book on the Ottoman Empire.

He ran right into you—and to this day had never stopped loving you. His Honey.

“Are we not splitting it between my family and yours like we said?” Jake frowned as he stepped out of his truck in the car park on base. You could hear the familiar jingle of his car keys as he shut the door of that black F150 he loved so much behind himself.

Your contact remained unchanged, it was simply Honeybee. That term of endearment that illuminated his entire phone screen never boded very well in Jake's favour when it came to his meaningless conquests. Hard Deck Badge Bunnies were a dime a dozen, but they were never you. Never the woman he longed for the most. Never the woman Jake let down more than enough times to count on two hands.

They were never you, because you left him January seventh at approximately four thirty in the afternoon. Jake would never forget that moment, that unimaginable heartbreak of finally coming to the gut wrenching conclusion that you had a limit. Hearing your voice through the phone as he pulled into work made him remember that you were across the country with his three kids in tow. You weren’t his anymore, he’d loved and lost you and didn’t know how to fix what he’d broken.

“I thought we were gonna—“

There wasn’t an easy way to explain to your ex husband how you were sitting in the doctor's office as you spoke to him looking at your last mammogram results. Aggressive Breast Cancer, Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma. Merry fucking Christmas. So, you interrupted him with a quick explanation, one so out of character and born out of pure panic to keep your newfound diagnosis of stage three breast cancer that needed to be treated as soon as possible before it could progress.

“I’ve been invited on a friend's trip, we’re going—“ Jake pretends not to hear the slight pause you took in your explanation, he decided it was because you feel guilty for dumping the kids on him like this. He knows you're not a bad mum, that’s why the kids he loves so dearly and with all his heart spend more time with you in Rhode Island than they do with him in North Island. “To Banff, yeah they booked a few rooms in the Sunshine Village but it’s a no kids trip.”

“You deserve it.” Jake doesn’t want to argue, it’s what ruined your marriage to begin with. The constant arguing back and forth over everything under the sun. But what Jake knew now that he didn’t back then was that over ninety percent of the time those arguments started because you were just begging him to love you the way you deserved. He’d never put you first a day in your marriage even though you’d selflessly followed him across the country to whatever posting, away from your family and friends, birthed his children, twins with heads just as big as his. You gave him love and support and thought he’d do the same in return.

But the reciprocal love in the form of equality never came no matter how long you waited or gave Jake, the love of your life, your best friend, the father of your children, the benefit of the doubt. It was you who cooked and cleaned and took care of the kids. It was you who stayed home night after night wondering when Jake would be home. It was you who stayed up riddled with anxiety that his last mission would be just that. It was you who heard the rumours about your husband in every city or small town you moved to. That he was a lady killer, a smooth talking guy with a cock sure attitude. He was the prize at the end of any lucky ladies night.

Except for you. But you never questioned your husband’s loyalty, never once asked or believed what everyone told you. That’s just who Jake was—a charismatic man with a heart of gold that was often overlooked. He was the best of the best and he’d stop at nothing to get where he wanted to go, to the very top. If Jake Seresin had to move a mountain to achieve his dream of becoming Commander of the Pacific Fleet then he was going to move that mountain. It was one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with his very closested dorky self.

You just never expected him to drop that very mountain on top of you and bury you alive under the pressure of keeping three beautiful kids alive, working, making sure there was food on the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The endless hours of housework that went unnoticed or the constant stress of being the default parent while deployments passed and new assignments came around.

Love sometimes isn’t enough, and Jake, despite the endless love you had for the man who made you a mother and a wife, wasn’t enough. He didn’t love you the way you loved him. Endlessly and without hesitation. Jake had always been your number one priority along with your kids, but you weren’t even on his list.

Jake knew he messed up when you told him you were leaving, he begged you not to, begged you on his knees to stay, that’s he’d change for you, be a better man for you and the kids. That he would do better, be better, be the man you fell in love with. But it was too late.

He wished he’d listened to you all the times that you had begged him to, so now? He didn’t want to argue, not with the woman he loved so dearly and missed so badly.

“I’ll take the kids, no problem, just tell me when I need to be at the airport and I’ll meet you guys there.”

You’d expected a fight, some sort of push back or argument to come from the other end of the phone call as you sat in your doctor's office with eyes trained heavily on your mammogram. But it never came and that made you sure that your ex husband had well and truly fallen out of love with you the way you wished you could with him. At least he cared enough before to argue, now? It was just passive stupidity.

“Okay, will do.” You pressed your lips together in an effort to not blurt out that you had asked your doctor if you were going to die and she had told you that she couldn’t answer that. In your mind that was a yes, yes you were dying and you felt like you couldn’t tell the one man you’d ever loved that you were taking that one way ticket to the place he’d once told you he wished you’d go in one of your long winded arguments. Hell. “I’ll uh—I’ll get the kids organised and explain what’s going on and I’ll text you all the information, sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan, Honeybee.” Jake had yet to kick that old habit. He cringed as the terms of endearment left his mouth and stilled in his tracks. “All good on my end.” His attempt to stumble awkwardly through his mistaken term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you in the slightest bit. Your stomach filled with butterflies at the terms that had slipped past your ex husband's lips on the other end of the line.

You missed him, you missed what the two of you used to be before things got so complicated. You missed the gentle nature of Jake's charisma before he fell so deep into the persona he played up for his colleagues and country. The Hangman. Always leaving people hanging, including his wife.

Jake was just and always would be simply Jake Seresin to you. Your now ex husband but still and forever the love of your life.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, bye Jake, have a good day.” You hung up before your tears could spill from your lower lash line and left out a heavy sigh. As you closed your eyes and imagined what it would be like to be held in this moment by the man who promised he’d be there for you in sickness and in health, you reminded yourself why you left. You weren’t good enough for him to love you the way you deserved. How could you expect him to love you now when he couldnt even fix a fucking faucet when you asked?

“Okay, so what’s the next step?” Your doctor just looked at you with sympathetic eyes that told you this wasn’t going to be easy. She took a deep breath and handed you a treatment plan that was in her opinion, the best case scenario for your specific type of cancer.

“You fight for your family, Mrs Seresin.”

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Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21@tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer

#was it over? // jake seresin #jake seresin #tw: cancer #tw: breast cancer #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun fandom #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader

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laneywrld · 4 days

Text

alienated | Lewis Hamilton

one shot

word count: 8.6k

warnings: angst

you've been on that spaceship all alone.

You and Lewis had been separated for three months, which, if you think about is very long when you compare it to the amount of time you spent apart when you were together.

For four years, you and Lewis were inseparable, never spending more than a week apart. But that was then, and this is now, with three months of separation stretching out before you.

The two of you separated for one straightforward reason: You were the only person present in the relationship. Between his silence and your overthinking, it became a mess in the end.

Leaving Lewis was a heart-wrenching decision. The man you once believed would be your future husband, the man you were once engaged to, was now a distant memory.

As you reflect on the past, you realize how much you had been neglected. This realization strengthens your resolve and affirms your decision to leave, reminding you of your worth.

You weren’t sure if Lewis loved you. He didn't communicate with you, show you any affection, or pay you any attention. He didn't put time aside for you. It was hell being in a one-sided relationship.

It began to be exhausting putting in all the effort and trying to get him to see you because lately, you hadn't felt that.

It was a painful realization. Lewis, the man you loved, was slowly but surely draining you. His presence no longer brought you joy or adoration; it made you miserable. You felt like a ghost, unseen and unappreciated.

But even then, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He'd had a hard season, was constantly stressed, and life wasn't going as planned. So, one more try: you would halt your efforts for one week while he was away in Miami.

It was a test, really, to see if he was still putting in the effort, a plan meant to expose whether he even thought about you or remotely cared. If he could go a week without you in any form, he didn't deserve you or appreciate you. That would be obvious. Or he would notice, and he'd get his act together. But a part of you lacked faith in the latter option. In the end, his actions would give you an answer to the question you've had for a while.

Would you want to stay with someone like that? Someone who's okay without you or, worse, doesn’t even notice your change?

May fifth, the day of the race, would mark your fourth anniversary, and while he would be away, you were still curious to see what he had planned or if he remembered at all.

Lewis left on Wednesday. It wasn't like your old send-offs. There were no passionate moments in bed, him leaving you something to remember him by or even your classic bye-bye brunches. He rolled his bags from your shared home while you were still deep in your slumber.

You awoke to an empty, cold house.

You spent that day alone, with Roscoe, of course. Spending the next two days cuddled up to your fur baby and taking him on exciting new adventures. You nearly slipped up and sent Lewis many pictures and videos of you and Roscoe plenty of times, only to remember your end goal and lock your phone with a sigh.

When Friday came around, and Lewis still hadn't so much as sent you a single text, you had an inkling of what you'd have to do come Sunday.

It was almost as if Roscoe could sense your turmoil; in return, he was extra clingy. He followed you everywhere, lying at your feet on the couch, snuggled into your side in bed, and even sitting patiently at your feet as you sat on the toilet. You could only sigh as you revel in the time you had with him. He was your good boy, your first child. The thought of missing him was nearly enough for you to call off your intentions, but then your therapist's words rang through your mind like a harsh reminder.

"Sometimes, you have to sacrifice your relationship with another for the sake of one; I know it might be hard to think about losing your friends and your little guy if you do find it's time to leave him, but in the end, your job is to save yourself. Never feel guilty for thinking of yourself for once. You'll always love them, yeah? He'll remember how much you loved him, and you'll miss him; he'll miss you. But how long can you survive in that relationship?"

You remember spending that entire session crying over how much you'd miss Roscoe as you contemplated the cons of leaving your relationship.

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

On Saturday, you stayed awake even when your eyes begged you to close them. You kept your phone tucked beside you, and your eyes dropped as the clock hit twelve.

Every year before that, Lewis celebrated your love immediately. For three hours, you waited for something as simple as a text or a post—something to acknowledge you. After a while, your exhaustion won, and you succumbed to your tiredness.

You tried not to get your hopes up when you awoke in the morning, your anniversary day. You felt like an idiot as you turned over your phone, and there was nothing from Lewis. Your expectations were still very much high, which is why you scrambled from the bed and rushed to the front door. Your intent to see if there were any florals delivered to your doorstep proved pointless as you swung open the door, and the only delivery had been your Amazon package.

With a disappointing sigh, you snatched it from the porch and called for Roscoe. You slipped on your Birkenstocks, leading him outside to relieve himself. You sat on the patio, bonnet on and nightgown pooling around you as you watched Roscoe run around in the yard.

It was becoming real then.

You stayed outside for an hour, playing around with Roscoe, chasing him, him chasing you, and even tossing his ball until you decided it was time to take action.

You hauled Roscoe into the home, giving him fresh water and food as you connected to the speaker and blasted your music.

Your impending decision wasn't so much impending anymore. You knew what you needed to do; sooner was better than later.

It was one in the afternoon, and if he hadn't shown any signs of acknowledgment at that time, you knew it wouldn't come.

A small portion of you wanted to cry, burst into tears, and scream because of how hurt you were. But the dominant part of you was just angry. Lewis would learn his lesson; he'd miss you, and you'd make sure he felt it.

You wanted him to miss you like you missed him. He'd find himself craving your random calls and appreciating your silly texts. He'd crave your warm embrace again, and he'd want to die without your unique smile and your loving eyes.

He'd want everything he had taken for granted because that is precisely what he had done. He made you feel alone, even when he was there. You were the shadow lurking in your home — the distant body in your shared bed.

You deserved someone who always told you he loved you, always hugged you, and never left without a kiss. You deserve a man who talks to you about everything, who cares about how your day went and how you feel. You shouldn't give everything and get nothing; you don't deserve that.

You've been nothing but superb to him. You always showed up for him when it mattered, embraced him when he was down or even when he was happy, cooked meals for him when he was home and made every dinner special for him. You asked him about his day every day, and you listened.

Lewis couldn't say the same, and he wouldn't be able to. And that was the straw on the camel's back. You refused to give that level of love to a man who wouldn't reciprocate it. You didn't care how much you loved him; that was a level of disrespect and negligence you weren't willing to tolerate.

You weren't raised to accept the bare minimum, which was precisely what he gave you.

That was your moment of realization as you packed your bags. Lewis was due back Tuesday night, so you had the remainder of Sunday and Monday to gather your belongings and make your furtive exit.

Lewis made P7; you knew this because as you separated your belongings from his, you had the race streaming on the TV mounted in your room.

On Twitter, you saw him later that night out partying, and that only angered you for approximately ten minutes before you were only feeling disappointed in the man. You'd never been good at the art of detachment until then.

Suddenly, you weren't angry or furious with Lewis anymore; you felt content with your decision as you zipped up your last suitcase and taped up the last of your boxes.

As night fell and night arrived, you lay in your shared bed for the last time, Roscoe's head on your tummy as he snored. Your hand caressed his head in gentle rubs, and you sigh.

When the clock hits twelve and your anniversary officially passes, you feel like an idiot for even having faith in the man.

First thing in the morning, the driveway was filled with moving trucks and workers. You sat patiently on the couch as you waited for Anthony to arrive. When the sun begins to set, and the loading is done, you see headlights beam through the windows.

The door opens and closes softly, and there they stand, Anthony and Nicholas with glum faces.

"Are you sure, love?" Anthony whispers as he approaches you. He looks so distressed that you can only nod back at him. He sits beside you, taking one of your hands in his.

"As long as you are sure." And you break down into a fit of tears as Lewis' father comforts you, even as you leave his son. Nicholas takes the spot beside you, his hand rubbing your shoulder to comfort you.

"You gave him time and chances," Anthony hums, his free hand rubbing circles on your back. "I love my son, and I love you just as much; we will always love you."

Nicholas hums in agreement. "Still going to be our family."

You know you must leave before you allow your love for his family to deter you. So you take one last shaky breath, standing to your feet, where Roscoe waits patiently. You squat down, tears falling from your eyes and soaking into his fur.

"I love you, buddy. So much, you're my good boy." You whisper, kissing his head over and over.

You stand again, looking at Anthony and Nicholas one last time and pulling them into separate hugs. "Thank you." You whisper out and pass the keys over and instructions on properly caring for Roscoe, even if they will only have him for less than a day.

"I'll be waiting to talk to you again," Anthony announces, and you nod.

"Don't tell him?" you request. I've left him a letter upstairs; I'd like him to find out on my terms.

They nod, and you trek through the house and out of the front doors to what used to be the home you planned on spending the rest of your life in.

As you close the door, you hear Roscoe's incessant whines and scratches against it, and you sob all over again as you continue your journey to your car.

In the end, your job is to save yourself.

You weren't selfish for choosing yourself, especially over a person whose life you're choosing to walk out of because you didn't feel as if you belonged in it anymore. You didn't belong in that house anymore, in that relationship. You didn't belong with Lewis. It was a harsh and painful reality. But change is unbearable, and from change comes growth. And that growth can also be painful. But nothing would ever compare to the pain of staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. Nothing would ever hurt you more than loving a man more than he loved you.

You always preached about "when you know, you know." You've always felt it, that gut feeling that it was time for something new. You were great at knowing when to move on and let go and acknowledging when those shifts needed to be addressed. You loved to say out with the old and in with the new. The point is that you never struggled with trusting the process of life until life told you that you weren't meant for Lewis.

This was the first time that you doubted the imminent change. This change meant that you were fleeing from your love. As you backed out of the driveway, your vision blurred by burning tears; you could only cry as you mourned the love you once had. But this was all for a greater purpose, the purpose of you finding joy in life again because you sure have felt drained of it.

Tuesday came and went, and as night fell, Lewis pulled into the driveway. Given the closed four-car garage, he did not find it suspicious that your car was missing. He grunted as he pulled his suitcase from the trunk and eased up the steps and into his foyer.

He isn't immediately greeted by Roscoe or your arms wrapping around him, and he squints when he sees how dark and cold it is inside the home.

That put him on edge.

You always liked a warm glow emitting through the home, so a dim lamp was always on to illuminate the open floor plan. At night, you liked the home to be slightly warm, like a spring breeze, yet there was an icy chill running through it.

He calls out your name as he settles his bags by the door. He even calls Roscoe, and when he hears nothing, he sets a fast pace up the stairs.

"Babe!"

No response.

When Lewis reaches the second level, he immediately heads to your guys' room. When he hits the light switch, he suddenly becomes aware of how cold and barren the room looks and feels.

You're not snuggled into the middle of the bed like he usually finds you; his pillow isn't locked in your arms and held to your chest. You're not there.

Your small trinkets are no longer scattered around the room, and he rushes to the closet; none of your belongings are there. Lewis feels his heart rate accelerate as fear creeps into his body.

He turns to face the bed again, and when he sees your nightstand, he rushes over; your ring sits in the same velvet box he proposed to you with, and a piece of paper is lying underneath it. He snatches them both up, his mind reeling, and suddenly, he feels like he could throw up.

I've made a decision that was hard for me in the beginning and became clearer as the days went on. I've gotten comfortable with the bare minimum. It's been my normal for a while. I'm choosing to evolve, grow, and learn to accept what I deserve. It'd be more challenging for me to stay with you than it would be for me to leave you. I've realized that. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was the same routine; you never noticed me or acknowledged me. I've tried to address this issue, and it's done nothing; you've done nothing but give me baseless promises. I can no longer stick around for a relationship where I've been the only one present. No matter how much I love you. And I really did love you, with everything in me. I should’ve never allowed myself to get comfortable with how you neglected and fell out of love with me. I've chosen you repeatedly, but this time, I must choose me; I have to, Lewis. Happy anniversary.

Your dad has Roscoe.

Lewis squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his chest with a firm grip. His body quivers as he slumps onto the ground, his back against the bed frame. Lewis wasn't new to panic attacks, especially with all of the stress he took on from his job. But this was his first time having to suffer through one without you.

The world seemed to close in on Lewis, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest as his heart raced uncontrollably. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the invisible hands that seemed to be squeezing the air from his lungs.

His vision blurred, the edges of his sight becoming hazy and indistinct as panic tightened its grip. Thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind, a cacophony of fears and anxieties swirling around him, threatening to engulf him in their dark embrace.

Desperately, he tried to ground himself, to find some semblance of stability amidst the chaos. He focused on his breath, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of his heart. But each attempt felt like grasping at smoke, his efforts slipping through his fingers like sand.

His body trembled with the intensity of his panic, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin as waves of nausea washed over him. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape, a relentless onslaught of terror that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, somewhere deep within him, a flicker of resilience remained. Despite the overwhelming darkness that threatened to engulf him, he clung to the hope that this too shall pass, that he would emerge from the storm-battered but unbowed. But this hope came to him as visions of you.

In the midst of the chaos swirling around him, Lewis found himself grasping desperately for something, anything, to anchor him to reality. And amidst the turmoil, your memories came flooding back like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth of those memories. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind, a melody that calmed the frantic rhythm of his heart. He remembered the way your smile could light up even the darkest of days, the way your touch could banish the shadows of doubt and fear.

With each breath, he summoned forth another memory, another moment shared between you two. The way you would lose yourselves in the conversation for hours on end, the way you would always know just what to say to ease his troubled mind.

It was as if you were there with him, a comforting presence in the midst of the storm. And with each memory, each recollection of your time together, the panic began to recede, like a tide slowly ebbing away from the shore.

In those moments, surrounded by the echoes of your love, Lewis found the strength to carry on and learn to breathe again. Though you were no longer by his side, your memory was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love endures. And with that realization, he took a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting ever so slightly from his shoulders as he found solace in the embrace of their shared past.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tide began to recede. His breaths grew steadier, the racing of his heart gradually slowing to a more manageable pace. The world around him began to regain its focus, the blurred edges sharpening into clarity once more.

As Lewis rereads your letter, a torrent of emotions overwhelms him, but solace is elusive. Instead, a heavyweight settles in his chest, burdened with the weight of misery and guilt.

Your words, filled with love and longing, only serve to magnify his pain. With each sentence, the guilt gnaws at him, a relentless voice whispering accusations in his ear. He replays the moments leading up to your departure, dissecting his actions and words, searching for where he went wrong.

The memories of your time together, once a source of comfort, now feel like daggers piercing his heart. Each moment of happiness is tainted by the knowledge of your absence, a constant reminder of his failure to hold onto what he cherished most.

As tears blur his vision, Lewis finds himself consumed by remorse. He wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script, and undo the mistakes that led to this moment. But the past is immutable, and he is left to grapple with the consequences of his actions.

In the depths of his misery, Lewis feels utterly alone, adrift in a sea of regret and self-recrimination. He longs for a reprieve from the agony that threatens to consume him, but it remains elusive, just out of reach.

And yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker of hope remains. Deep down, Lewis knows that redemption is possible and that forgiveness can be found even in the darkest of times. But for now, he must navigate the storm of his emotions, clinging to the hope that one day, he will find peace once more. That you loved him enough to give him one more chance.

In the quiet moments of the day, when the hustle and bustle of life subsides, you find yourself grappling with a sense of emptiness that lingers despite your efforts to embrace change. Three months have passed since you made the difficult decision to leave Lewis behind, and while you've tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, a part of you still aches for what was lost.

Life has moved on, as it always does, and you've thrown yourself into new experiences and opportunities, hoping to fill the void left by Lewis' absence. But no matter how hard you try, there's a lingering sense of incompleteness that tugs at your heartstrings, a yearning for the familiarity and comfort of what once was.

In the midst of laughter and celebration, there are moments when you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering back to the memories you shared with Lewis. The sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace – they haunt you like ghosts, reminders of a love that once burned bright but has since faded into the recesses of memory.

You've tried to convince yourself that you've moved on, that you're better off without him, but deep down, you know the truth. Life may be different now, but it's not necessarily better. There's a void within you that no amount of change or distraction can fill, a longing for something – or someone – that you can't quite shake.

And so, as you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you're left to confront the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, embracing change isn't enough to heal the wounds of the past. Despite your best efforts to move forward, a part of you will always be tethered to the love you left behind.

In the wake of leaving Lewis and embarking on a new chapter of life, there's a profound sense of loss that lingers within you. While you navigate the complexities of change and try to come to terms with the absence of Lewis, there's another absence that weighs heavily on your heart – the absence of your beloved canine companion, Roscoe.

Roscoe was more than just a pet; he was a faithful friend, a source of unconditional love and companionship through the highs and lows of life. His wagging behind and eager eyes greeted you each day, offering comfort and solace in moments of joy and sorrow alike.

In the quiet moments when the world slows down, and the noise fades away, you find yourself missing Roscoe more than ever. The memory of his warm presence, the feel of his fur beneath your fingertips, it all comes flooding back with a bittersweet intensity that catches you off guard.

You long to hear the sound of his paws padding across the floor, to feel the weight of his body nestled against yours as you curl up on the couch together. The emptiness left by his absence is palpable, a silent reminder of the void that he once filled in your life.

And yet, despite the pain of separation, there's a deep sense of gratitude for the time you shared with Roscoe. The memories you created together are a testament to the bond you shared, a bond that transcends time and distance.

As you navigate the complexities of life without Lewis by your side, you find yourself missing your tiny makeshift family, his family included.

Losing Lewis also meant losing the connection you had with his family, a connection that had become a source of warmth and acceptance in your life, especially given the complexities of your own family dynamics.

Growing up, your relationship with your family had always been strained, marked by misunderstandings and distance. But with Lewis' family, you found a sense of belonging that had eluded you for so long. Their laughter filled the air with joy, a stark contrast to the somber silence that often hung over your own family gatherings.

They embraced you as one of their own, welcoming you into their home and their hearts. Losing them in the separation felt like losing a piece of yourself, a painful reminder of the fragility of the connections we forge in life.

In the quiet moments when the ache of separation threatened to overwhelm you, you found yourself yearning for the familiar comforts of their presence. Their voices, their hugs – they were precious memories that you held onto tightly, like fragile treasures in the depths of your soul.

As you navigated the aftermath of the separation, you couldn't help but mourn the loss of not only Lewis but also his family. Their absence left a void in your heart, a sense of loss that weighed heavily on your spirit.

Leaving Lewis meant that you lost everything.

As you reflect on your decision to leave Lewis, the memories of his distance weigh heavily on your heart. It felt like you were carrying the weight of the relationship alone, like a lone traveler traversing a vast expanse of loneliness.

The moments of connection that once filled your days together had become increasingly rare, replaced by silence and a growing sense of isolation. It seemed as though you were the only one putting in the effort to keep the relationship alive while Lewis drifted further and further away, lost in his own thoughts and concerns.

You longed for the closeness and intimacy that had once defined your relationship, but it felt like an impossible dream, a mirage shimmering on the horizon, always just out of reach. No matter how hard you tried to bridge the gap between you, it seemed to widen with each passing day until it felt like you were living in two separate worlds.

In the end, you made the difficult decision to walk away, not because you stopped loving Lewis but because you couldn't bear the loneliness of being the only one fighting for the relationship. It was a choice born out of self-preservation, a refusal to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for the sake of a love that had long since grown cold.

And now, as you navigate the aftermath of the separation, you can't help but wonder if things could have been different if there was anything you could have done to save what was lost. But deep down, you know that sometimes, letting go is the only way to find the happiness and fulfillment you deserve. So you go about your day, cozied up on the couch in your cozy apartment, still missing Lewis but very much understanding of your decision.

As Lewis sits alone in his room, his phone is clutched tightly in his hand, and he can't shake the feeling of desperation that washes over him. He's tried everything – calling, texting, even reaching out through social media – but all his attempts to contact you have been met with silence.

Each unanswered call and unanswered message feels like a dagger to his heart, a painful reminder of your absence and the uncertainty that now looms over his life. He wonders what he could have done differently to prevent this rift from forming between you.

His mind races with questions, each one more torturous than the last. Was there someone else, or was it simply a case of drifting apart, with two souls heading in different directions? He refused to believe that because he loved you more than life, he still does.

The lack of closure gnaws at him, a relentless ache that refuses to be quelled. He longs to hear your voice, to see your face, to have just a moment of connection with you again. But no matter how hard he tries, you remain elusive, like a ghost slipping through his fingers.

In the depths of his despair, Lewis clings to the hope that someday, somehow, he'll find a way to reach you, to break through the walls that separate you and bridge the chasm that now divides your lives.

As you step out for your first date since leaving Lewis, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles within you. It feels like a tentative step forward, a chance to explore new possibilities and rediscover a sense of joy and companionship. Chris seemed nice, and he was attentive to you, something you hadn’t felt in a while.

But as you arrive at the restaurant, the atmosphere suddenly shifts, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy cloak. The flash of cameras blinds you momentarily as paparazzi swarm around, their lenses trained on you like predators stalking their prey.

Caught off guard, you freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. How did they find you? And more importantly, how will Lewis react when he sees the headlines splashed across the tabloids?

The date itself fades into the background as you're engulfed by a whirlwind of anxiety and fear. Thoughts race through your mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Will Lewis think you've moved on too quickly? Will he feel betrayed by your decision to start dating again?

As the paparazzi continue to snap away, you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if your every move is being scrutinized and judged by the world at large. It's a stark reminder of the price of fame, the invasive nature of public scrutiny that leaves you feeling like a prisoner in your own life.

But still, your biggest concern was how Lewis would handle it.

He wasn't okay.

As Lewis catches wind of your date through the relentless paparazzi coverage, a storm of emotions rages within him. Jealousy, misery, and anger collide in a tumultuous whirlwind, threatening to engulf him in their tempestuous embrace.

The thought of you with another man fills him with a sense of unbearable longing and regret. He's missed you, more than he ever thought possible, and the idea of you moving on without him cuts him to the core. How could you be okay living without him, when every moment without you feels like a lifetime of emptiness?

In his mind, he replays the memories of your time together, each one a painful reminder of what he's lost. He wonders if he could have done things differently or if he could have been the partner you needed him to be. But now, it feels like too little, too late, as he watches helplessly from the sidelines as you move on with your life.

The bitterness of jealousy twists in his gut, fueling his anger and resentment. He wants to lash out, scream, and shout and make you understand the depth of his pain. But beneath the anger lies a deeper sadness, a profound sense of loss that threatens to consume him whole.

As Lewis grapples with his conflicting emotions, he's left to confront the harsh reality of your absence and the painful realization that he may have lost you forever. But he refuses to give up on you.

As Lewis observes the subtle ways you've been avoiding him, a mix of frustration and longing wells up within him. It's become increasingly clear that you're actively steering clear of any situation where you might cross paths, and while part of him understands, another part can't help but feel hurt by your apparent avoidance.

He's noticed your absence at mutual friend gatherings, the empty space where you used to stand, and it feels like a painful reminder of the void left by your departure. Each missed opportunity to reconnect only serves to deepen his sense of loss, leaving him to wonder if you'll ever be willing to face him again.

But amidst the disappointment, there's a glimmer of hope – your unwavering commitment to attending his brother's birthday celebration. It's a small gesture, but one that speaks volumes to Lewis. Despite the distance between you, despite the pain of separation, you're still willing to show up for his family, to be there for them in their moments of celebration.

In that realization, Lewis finds a sense of solace, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for reconciliation. He knows that healing takes time and that wounds need time to mend, but seeing you make an effort to be there for his family gives him hope that maybe, someday, you'll find a way to bridge the gap between you and find your way back to each other.

"She's going to be here?"

Nicholas nods cautiously, "Yeah, but Lewis, you have to let her be, okay?"

"What are you talking about? She's my fiance?"

"But she's not." Nicholas interrupts.

"And she hasn't been for half a year."

The words dawn on Lewis, and they make his heartache in a festering way, yet he can't help but feel comfort in knowing that for the first time, he'd be able to see you again, face to face.

As you step into Nicholas' birthday party, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a tangible manifestation of the nervousness that courses through your veins. You know Lewis will be there, and the thought of facing him again fills you with a sense of apprehension and uncertainty.

Your heart races as you scan the crowded room, searching for any sign of him. Each familiar face you encounter sends a jolt of anxiety coursing through you, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the way you've been avoiding him.

Determined to keep your distance, you slip through the crowd like a ghost, carefully avoiding any areas where you suspect Lewis might be lurking. You plaster on a smile and engage in polite conversation with the other partygoers, but your mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of the man you're desperately trying to avoid.

As the night wears on, the tension in the air becomes palpable, a silent undercurrent that threatens to pull you under. You steal furtive glances around the room, half-hoping to catch sight of Lewis and half-dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits.

But as the hours pass and the party begins to wind down, you realize with a sense of relief that you've managed to make it through most of the evening without crossing paths with him.

The knot in your stomach loosens ever so slightly, and you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief.

That is, until you see him.

As Lewis scans the room, his gaze inevitably falls upon you, blending seamlessly into the crowd. There's a longing in his eyes as he watches you from afar, a silent ache that tugs at his heartstrings with each passing moment.

He can't help but notice the way you move with a grace that belies the nervousness he knows must be churning within you. Despite your attempts to blend in, there's an undeniable magnetism about you that draws his gaze like a moth to a flame.

Memories of your time together flood his mind, a montage of moments both joyous and bittersweet. He recalls the way your laughter filled the room, the warmth of your smile, and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief when you were up to no good.

But beneath the surface, there's a sense of sadness, a yearning for the connection that once bound them together. He longs to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that now separates you, but he knows that now is not the time nor the place.

With a heavy heart, Lewis watches from a distance, his eyes lingering on you like a silent prayer. He knows that healing takes time, that wounds need time to mend, but deep down, he can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for reconciliation, an opportunity to find your way back to each other once more.

As your eyes lock with Lewis's across the pulsating dance floor, a surge of panic propels you into action. Without a second thought, you pivot on your heel and dart through the crowd, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild drumbeat.

Every fiber of your being screams for escape as you push your way toward the exit, the urgency of your flight drowning out the thumping bass of the music. But even amidst the chaos, you can feel Lewis's gaze burning into your back, his presence a heavy weight that follows you like a shadow.

With each step, your pace quickens, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you try to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the man you once loved. But no matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the memories that haunt you or the longing that lingers in your heart.

And then, just as you reach the sanctuary of the exit, you feel a hand grasp your arm, pulling you to a sudden stop. You turn to face Lewis, his eyes searching yours with a desperate intensity that leaves you reeling.

In that moment, you're paralyzed, caught between the urge to flee and the desire to confront the emotions that swirl between you. But before you can make a decision, Lewis's voice breaks through the chaos, a whisper of longing that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a sense of inevitability, you realize that there's no escaping the truth – no matter how hard you try to run, the bond between you and Lewis refuses to be broken. And as he reaches out to you, his desperation palpable, you know that you can't ignore the pull of fate any longer.

"Baby, please, let me talk to you."

As you finally turn to face Lewis, the sight of him stops you dead in your tracks. His eyes, usually so full of life and vitality, now seem dulled with a sorrow that cuts you to the core. They glisten with unshed tears, twinkling in the dim light of the club, and his fluttery eyelashes betray the vulnerability that lies beneath his stoic exterior.

At that moment, he looks like a kicked puppy, abandoned and alone, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the pain you've caused him. His expression is a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness, and it tugs at your heartstrings with a force you can't ignore.

Despite your best efforts to steel yourself against his gaze, you find yourself crumbling under the weight of his sorrow. The walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble, and all you can see is the hurt reflected in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out to him, your fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek. In that moment, you realize that you can't bear to see him hurting like this, that despite the pain of the past, your love for him still lingers like a ghost, refusing to be silenced.

You turn, allowing his grip on your arm to remain as you continue out the door. You are in a dark alley, he's still looking at you with that same miserable pout lodged onto his face.

"You left me," He whispers.

As Lewis's voice trembles with emotion, his words pierce through the barrier you've erected around your heart. The sincerity in his apology is palpable, each syllable weighted with the regret of past mistakes. You can't help but feel a tug at your own heartstrings, a flicker of empathy for the pain he's endured.

"And I don't blame you, I was shit to you. I've been struggling more than I care to admit," Lewis confesses, his voice heavy with the weight of his words.

"The season has been relentless, and the constant setbacks with my car... it's been a mental battle I haven't been winning."

He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his anguish. "I know I haven't been myself lately, and I've taken that out on you. I'm sorry, truly. I never meant to hurt you, but I let my frustrations get the best of me."

There's a vulnerability in his voice as he lays bare his struggles, a raw honesty that cuts through the silence between you. "I see now how my actions have affected you, and it breaks my heart. You didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my pain, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

His gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I'm trying to work through this, to find my way back to myself so that I can be better for you. I want to be better for you."

His admission hits you like a wave, washing away the bitterness and resentment that had taken root within you. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, the burden of hurt and anger finally dissipating in the face of his vulnerability.

With a heavy sigh, you meet his gaze, seeing the turmoil reflected in his eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the pain of the past, the love you once shared still lingers between you, a flicker of hope in the darkness of your regrets.

And as Lewis continues to pour out his heart, expressing his remorse for the loneliness you felt in the relationship, you find yourself nodding in understanding. You know all too well the toll that suffering in silence can take, and you can't fault him for wanting to shield you from his own pain.

In the quiet of the moment, you find solace in the shared acknowledgment of your struggles, a silent understanding that binds you together even as you stand on opposite sides of the divide. And as you reach out to him, offering a tentative embrace, he physically brightens as if you have taken the sun and held it right above him.

"I need you to know," Lewis begins, his voice laced with a raw vulnerability, "how miserable I've been without you. Your absence... it's been like a gaping hole in my chest, a constant reminder of what I've lost."

His words tremble with the weight of his emotions as he continues, "I've missed you more than I ever thought possible. Every moment without you felt like an eternity, and the emptiness of your absence was impossible to ignore."

"I know I've made mistakes, pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer," he admits, his voice thick with regret. "But please understand, it was never because I stopped loving you. If anything, it was because I loved you too much and didn't know how to cope with the pain of making you feel as miserable as I was, but in the end, that is exactly what I ended up doing."

Lewis's gaze meets yours, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me, how lost I am without you by my side."

As Lewis pours his heart out, his words piercing through the walls you've built around your own heart, you feel a lump form in your throat. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek as you struggle to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside you.

His vulnerability is a mirror to your own, and in that moment, you realize just how much you've missed him, how much you've longed to hear those words spoken from his lips. With a trembling breath, you close the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean in to kiss him.

The touch of his lips against yours is like coming home, a familiar warmth that envelops you in a cocoon of love and longing. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away – the pain of the past, the uncertainty of the future – leaving only the two of you reunited at last in a tender embrace.

As you melt into each other, the weight of the world falls away, replaced by the sweet promise of a new beginning. And as you pull back, breathless and teary-eyed, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

"Lewis," you begin, your voice soft but firm, "I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise that you'll open up to me next time, that you won't keep your struggles bottled up inside."

Tears still glisten in your eyes as you speak, but there's a determination in your voice that wasn't there before.

"That's how it works in relationships, you know? We're supposed to be there for each other through the good times and the bad. And I want to be there for you, always."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"I love you, Lewis, and I care about how you feel. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to internalize your emotions like you have to suffer alone. I want to walk through them with you, hand in hand."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue, "If we're going to make this work if we're going to have a future together, that has to change. We have to be able to lean on each other, share our burdens, and lighten each other's load. Can you promise me that, Lewis? Can you promise to let me in?"

"I promise I'll try," Lewis responds, his voice tinged with sincerity and determination. "I know I haven't been the best at opening up, at letting you in, but I want to change that. I want to be more vulnerable with you, to share my struggles and my fears."

He reaches out, gently wiping away the tears that still linger on your cheeks.

"I love you more than anything, and I don't want to lose you again. If that means being more open and honest about how I'm feeling, then I'll do whatever it takes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips as he continues, "You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I want to be there for you, too, to be the partner you deserve."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Together, we can get through anything. I believe that with all my heart."

As Lewis holds your hand, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, he can't help but notice the absence of the familiar weight of your ring. His heart clenches painfully in his chest at the realization, a sharp pang of regret shooting through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't help but notice... your finger, it's bare." The words catch in his throat, choked with the weight of his own guilt and remorse.

His grip tightens ever so slightly as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away. "It pains me to see you without it," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I'm the reason you took it off, and I hate myself for it."

Tears gather in his eyes as he meets your gaze, his own filled with a mix of sorrow and longing. "I miss the way it sparkled on your finger, a constant reminder of the love we shared. I miss us, and I'm so sorry for everything."

With a gentle squeeze of Lewis's hand, you offer him a reassuring smile, your eyes soft with affection. "I missed you too, Lewis," you admit, your voice tinged with sincerity. "And I still love you, all the same."

You can feel the tension in his grip ease slightly at your words, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "As for the ring," you continue, a playful twinkle dancing in your gaze, "I suppose you'll have to put it back on my finger when we get home, won't you? Can't have everyone thinking I'm single, now can we?"

The corners of Lewis's lips quirk up into a hesitant smile at your jest, the heaviness in his heart beginning to lift. "I'd like that," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'd like that very much." And in that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll face them together, hand in hand, forever bound by the unbreakable bond of love.

Lewis's eyes widen in disbelief as your words sink in, a glimmer of hope flickering to life in their depths. "You'll come home?" he repeats, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

A rush of emotions floods through him – relief, gratitude, and a profound sense of joy that threatens to overwhelm him.

A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features with an infectious warmth. "Roscoe will be so thrilled to have you back, and so will I," he adds, his voice filled with genuine happiness. "I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong. Losing you has been hard on all of us," Lewis confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But seeing how miserable Roscoe has been without you at home... it breaks my heart."

He pauses, his gaze drifting to the floor as he struggles to find the right words to express the depth of his concern. "He's been moping around, refusing to eat, just waiting by the door for you to come back. It's like he knows you're not coming back, and it's killing me to see him like this."

You can hear the pain in his voice, the weight of his worry pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I know he's just a dog, but he's family to us," he continues, his voice cracking with emotion. "And I hate that he's suffering because of me, because of my mistakes. I'm happy that you're coming back."

"I've missed you more than words can say, and I can't wait to have you home again where you belong."

With a sense of renewed hope and determination, Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish into thin air. In that moment, surrounded by his love and warmth, you know that coming home was the right choice and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

As Lewis's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, a sense of clarity washes over you like a cleansing wave. In his embrace, surrounded by his love and warmth, you realize that the change you needed wasn't leaving him but instead learning to communicate with him all over again.

The weight of your decision to leave lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of lightness and freedom. You see now that leaving him only made you miserable, that true happiness lies in facing your challenges together, hand in hand.

With Lewis by your side, you feel stronger, more resilient, and ready to tackle whatever obstacles life throws your way. You understand that change isn't always easy, but it's necessary for growth and renewal.

In this moment, surrounded by his love and support, you know that change is indeed good and that together, you can navigate the twists and turns of life's journey with grace and resilience. And as you bask in the warmth of his embrace, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to start anew, to rebuild your relationship from the ground up, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

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